Natalie
After I let Edgardo know I’m going to spend the night, and he tells me he’ll be here until Johnny, another bouncer at the bordello, arrives to take his place, Liam and I take the private elevator up to the Presidential suite. There are three at his hotel and he tells me he, Nate, and Jack all booked them, so nobody will be taking the elevator or be on the floor.
When we step into his room, I expect him to attack me—not in a bad way but in a sexual way—but Liam doesn’t seem to do anything I expect of him. Instead, he hands me a shirt and a pair of sweats of his.
“Do you mind if I rinse off?” I ask, trying to tamper down my nerves.
“Make yourself at home,” he says before disappearing to change.
Once I’ve showered—the warm water effectively soothing my nerves—and changed into his clothes, which smell like him, I head out of his massive room to find him. The suite is more like an apartment than a hotel room. It has a full kitchen, living room, and dining room—and that’s just from what I’ve seen as I walk through the place to find Liam.
When I get to the back of the suite, I find him sitting on the balcony, with an identical bottle of wine from earlier next to him. He also has a tray of chocolate covered strawberries and a piece of cheesecake on a plate. He must’ve requested for it all to be brought up.
“Keep it up and I’m going to think I’m in the movie Pretty Woman,” I joke, pointing to the wine and desserts. When I was little, it was my mom’s favorite movie. She would tell me that one day a man like Richard Gere would save her. I didn’t understand it at the time, but once I grew up, I did. My mom was a prostitute, and the men in her room were paying clients. And I followed in her footsteps…
Liam doesn’t laugh. “You’re not a prostitute and I’m not paying you to be here.”
“I was just joking,” I tell him, having a seat in the lounge chair across from him. “Besides, you were willing to pay.” I shrug and take a strawberry off the tray, biting into the fresh, juicy sweetness. I glance out at the twinkling lights that make up Las Vegas. From up here, it all looks so beautiful. Too bad it’s an illusion.
“I was,” he admits. “But that’s only because it’s the only way to have fun and have discretion. Everywhere we go where we live, people know us. Anyone I’m seen with, everyone assumes is the next Mrs.—” He cuts himself off before he reveals his last name. “We thought being in the States would make it easier to have a good time, but all week we’ve had to be careful. We haven’t been able to really do anything fun because we might be seen and photographed. We just wanted one weekend to let loose, be ourselves.”
My heart breaks for Liam, and in a weird yet completely different way, I understand him. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to completely be myself. Hell, I don’t even think I know who my real self is.
I climb over the chair and into his lap. I straddle his thighs and place the other half of the strawberry up to his lips. He opens slightly and takes a bite. When a bit of the juice drips down the corner of his mouth, I lean in to lick it up.
“I can’t remember the last time I got to be myself,” I tell him. His fingers grab ahold of my hips, and his eyes lock with mine. “Let’s spend the weekend being ourselves. And come Monday, we’ll go back to being who everyone else expects us to be.”
Liam swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down, and nods. Then his hand wraps around the back of my neck and he tugs me to him, his mouth crashing against mine. The strawberry falls from my fingers, and my hands grip his forearms as I get lost in our kiss.
When I feel the hardness between his thighs, I grind down on his erection. He moans against my mouth and then breaks our kiss. He trails kisses along my jaw toward my neck, and I tip my head slightly to give him better access. He places open-mouthed kisses across my heated flesh and I revel in his soft touches. I’ve never felt anything like this, and it feels good.
When his mouth gets to my collarbone, he stops, the material of my shirt blocking him from going any farther. His gaze connects with mine, silently asking if he can continue, and to answer him, I lift the shirt over my head and drop it to the ground. I took my bra off earlier when I showered and never put it back on, so my breasts are bared to him.
With a swipe of his tongue across his lips, he dips down and takes one of my breasts into his hand and mouth. He licks my nipple and then sucks on it. An electrical current zaps through my body, going straight to the area between my legs that’s been dormant my entire life.
“Let’s take this inside,” he murmurs, lifting me by my ass and carrying me inside. He drops me onto the bed and then removes his shirt, exposing his hard chest and steel-cut abs. I knew he was fit underneath that suit, but I didn’t know just how fit he is. He pushes his sweats down, leaving him in only his briefs, which are outlining his rock-hard dick.
I lie in his bed, waiting for him to tell me what he wants, but then it hits me… I’m not his escort. This is consensual, which means I can do as I please. Take what I want. Give how I see fit.
Excited to actually be able to participate instead of having to take orders, I sit up and tug his briefs down. His dick springs free and I take a moment to admire it. It’s thick and long, the surrounding area neatly trimmed. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting him.
He glances down at me, as if he’s waiting to see what I’ll do next, so I take charge, fisting his shaft and pulling him toward me. He dips down and his mouth closes over mine. I stroke his dick up and down, using the bit of pre-cum from the tip of his head to create friction.
He pushes me back slightly, never breaking our kiss, and climbs over my body, separating my legs so they wrap around his torso. His strong arms cage me in, and he grinds his hard length against my center.
“I need you,” I moan against his mouth, but he ignores me, continuing to kiss me. “Please,” I beg, when his pelvis rubs against my own.
“Shhh,” he murmurs. “We have all night.”
He breaks our kiss and untangles my legs from around him. He pulls my sweats and panties down my thighs and legs and tosses them to the side. I’m completely naked and exposed to him, and yet I’ve never felt so comfortable.
He drags himself slowly down my body, placing random kisses all over my skin. His lips land on my hipbone, and he kisses the tiny quote that reads, “Still I rise.”
“What is this for?” he asks.
“I got it the day after my virginity was taken from me,” I admit.
His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he kisses it again, his lips lingering on the words. Then he trails his lips across my belly until he gets to my other hipbone, where another quote lies.
“This doesn’t define me,” he reads, before he kisses the tattoo. When his lips softly press against my flesh, my throat clogs with emotion. Nobody has ever been close enough to read my words, my thoughts. They were for me, to remind myself that even when I felt weak, I was still strong. No man has ever paid enough attention to my body to notice them, to care to notice them.
As Liam peppers kisses along my inner thigh, I shouldn’t feel as emotional as I do, but I can’t help it. I’ve seen it in movies, listened to my friends Aria and Amber tell me about the way their men worship them, but I’ve never felt it myself. I know this is just a fling and it doesn’t mean anything—isn’t going anywhere—but it doesn’t stop my heart from feeling like it’s so full, it’s about to spill over.