The Boss chapter six

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 Chapter Six

The W was a classic New York building with bas-relief elephant faces decorating the facade above a modern glass awning. I realized, as I stepped through the door, that it might look a bit suspicious, heading into a hotel with just a garment bag and my purse. Fuck it, I thought, feeling giddy and naughty as I strode through the lobby. I'm not here for an extended stay, I'm here for amazing sex.

I refrained from making such a proclamation at the front desk, but only just barely. I stopped a bellman for directions, but I declined his offer to show me to the room. I rode the elevator up and, reaching the door, used my key and stepped into the "Wow" suite.

It was easily larger than my apartment. I wandered through the living room, where long couches framed the floor. A huge installation of acrylic panels, each with an image of glowing golden sky and abstract black tree branches, covered the subtly grayed white wall perpendicular to the floor-to-ceiling window that provided an astounding view of neighboring sky scrapers.

I dropped my garment bag and looked up to the second floor loft, where I presumed the bedroom was. "Wow."

I wasn’t in the room for two full minutes before there was a polite knock at the door. I opened it to find a uniformed waiter with a silver bucket and a bottle of champagne.

"What's this?" I stepped aside and let him enter the room. He took the champagne to the wet bar. The bottle he set on the marble countertop had a long neck of green glass, and matte silver foil over the cork. I glanced at the label. Krug Clos du Mesnil. 1995.

The waiter smiled as he unwrapped the foil. "Mr. Elwood requested that it be sent up upon your arrival."

He’d had someone on look out for me? Sneaky man.

"Is it good?" I knew nothing about champagne. I was more of a red wine girl.

The waiter's eyebrows lifted and he chuckled. "Oh, it's very good."

After the waiter departed - declining gratuity because, "It's been taken care of," - I wandered the suite with a glass in hand. The room’s decor straddled the line between modern and comfortable; nothing too pretentious, nothing absurd for the sake of design. I went up to the loft, where I found a bathroom with a European-style shower and, to my surprise, a black leather shaving kit and some cologne and shampoo in commercial sized bottles. Those weren’t standard hotel toiletries.

Was Neil staying here? I went to the bedroom and peeked in a drawer. There were some neatly folded clothes inside, and I quickly shut it. I didn't want to snoop. Clearly, he'd been staying for some time.

I checked the clock. It was quarter to seven. My stomach knotted with excitement. I had just a little over an hour before Neil would arrive, and I intended to seduce him from the moment he stepped through the door.

I showered carefully, so I wouldn't get my hair wet, then dried myself and rubbed some of the divine smelling hotel lotion into my skin. I frowned at my hair in the mirror. I’d worn a tousled up-do all day, but it was work hair.

To my unbelievable good luck, when I pulled out the pins my hair let down into waves I couldn't have possibly achieved with a curling iron and infinite patience. If there were a patron saint of sexy hair, I would be lighting candles to her, for sure.

I touched up my makeup, thickening my eyeliner just a bit and swapping my nude lip color for a dark berry gloss I’d found in the bottom of my purse. I dressed, neatened up the bathroom, then hurried downstairs.

Standing before the mirror in the living area, I tugged down the hem of the short dress that clung to my body like a glove. The wide sleeves fluttered from my elbows as I reached up to fluff my hair one last time. I thought back to what I'd looked like that day at the airport six years ago. This was a definite improvement to greasy teenager skin and bad highlights in a tee-shirt and jeans.

I found an iPod plugged into a stereo dock, and I took the liberty of scrolling through the albums. I was pleasantly surprised to find some genuinely cool choices - Peter Gabriel, Florence + The Machine, Damien Rice - and ultimately I selected some TV on the Radio. A slow, moody song filled the entire suite from built-in speakers.

After some searching, I’d found the switch to lower the shade over the huge window. There was a dimmer switch in the main living area, so I turned down the lights, then arranged myself on the wide white couch. I wriggled my skirt up a bit and spread my legs, my attention fixed on the door.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I couldn't believe it was actually happening, after six years. After I had given up hope of ever having a sexual experience as satisfying as my night with Leif. Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. My breath caught in my chest as my fingers ventured down, under the black lace of my panties. I thought back to my white cotton underpants that night at the Crowne Plaza, and I giggled to myself. If anyone had told me back then that I'd be sex ambushing the man six years later, I wouldn't have believed I would have the nerve.

I closed my eyes and stroked two fingers down my slit. My hips lifted. I'd been so eager for this moment, now it seemed like my skin was too sensitive to touch. I thought of what Neil would see when he walked in, and remembered the undisguised appreciation in his eyes while he'd watched our hands on my body.

My stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies. What if he was expecting the girl from six years ago, who'd only had sex with fumbling teenage boys? What if he got here and was turned off by my initiative? After all, he'd found my naiveté so endearing the last time we were together.

Oh shut up, I scolded myself. Would you really want to fuck a guy who only wanted you for your sexual inexperience? No, because that would be weird.

I’d made a salient point, I had to concede.

My fingertips circled my clit, and a shaky breath stuttered across my lips. My flesh felt hot and heavy under my hand, and I cupped myself, letting my fingers slip between the folds of my sex.

The door clicked open, and the weight of my desire became like an electric current. My lungs seized, my limbs quivered. I opened my eyes, a soft groan escaping me when I saw Neil there. He closed the door and dropped his messenger bag. His gaze met mine and held it as he walked toward me in his long black coat and leather gloves. I don't know I managed to maintain eye contact, but I did, and I had never felt so sexy in my entire life. Why had I ever doubted that this would please him?

His maddeningly neutral expression gave nothing away, but he couldn’t disguise the hunger in his eyes. Oh, he wanted me. He stood over me, looking down as I continued to move my hand beneath my panties.

"Take those off." His voice was soft and deep, the tone firm. I was being commanded, not asked. A perverse thrill shot through me, and I shivered.

His eyes followed my hands as I slowly peeled the scrap of black lace down my thighs. He stepped closer and ran one gloved hand up my calf, raising goose bumps on my skin. I moaned my appreciation, and he grasped my panties, jerking them down the rest of the way. I slipped my feet from them and watched him lift the lace to his nose.

"Oh god." My exclamation tore out on a ragged breath, and I pressed my thighs together against the pounding ache in my cunt. I wanted him so badly I trembled, but I was afraid of what would happen when we actually touched. The longing, the desperate, clawing sexual need that had been missing from every encounter I'd had in the intervening six years crashed over me, turned my blood into liquid desire coursing to every throbbing cell in my body.

"Don't stop," he said, removing his gloves slowly, tugging one fingertip at a time. I spread my legs a little, and he ordered, "Wider."

I heard my pulse in my ears as I parted my thighs further. Neil took off his coat and tossed it across the ottoman, on top of the gloves he'd already discarded. He moved to stand between my spread legs, looking down at me with his hands in his pockets. He was hard, his cock a visible ridge against his fly beneath his unbuttoned jacket.

I stroked myself, letting my fingers wander further, to dip inside before tracing upward again, coated in the evidence of my overwhelming desire. I smoothed the silky wetness over my clitoris, into the short, neatly trimmed strip of hair on my mound.

Wordlessly, Neil watched me rub my clit in slow circles. Being like this for him, my legs open, my pussy exposed and gleaming wet, while he stood there fully dressed, turned the naughty factor up to eleven and then some. Just thinking about what I was doing spiked my arousal higher. I had done things with him that I'd never done with anyone else, and that knowledge made me feel oddly safe.

My thighs tensed, and I planted my black pumps firmly against the rug. My orgasm wound tight inside me, ready to spring and uncoil me from the inside out. A yelped, "Ah!" of frustration escaped me, and I lifted my hips from the sofa. I was going to come, I was so close, I was going to come while he watched me, without him ever touching me, and I was so goddamned close -

"Stop."

The word was confusing in the context of the moment, and that was enough to shock me into actually stopping. My internal muscles clenched painfully, reaching for the climax that had been suddenly denied. "What?" I panted, gripping the hem of my dress to physically restrain myself from relieving the ache.

"Come here." He held out his hand to me, and unthinking I offered him the one that had just been busy between my legs. He pulled me to my feet and braced my swaying body against him with a palm at my lower back. Being so close to him made me dizzy; his faintly spicy cologne filled my head, and my skin became hyper aware of his body heat, even through our clothes.

With his other hand, he brought my still damp fingers to his mouth and sucked them between his lips. I gasped at the touch of his tongue against my fingertips as he tasted me, and he released them with a small, strangely serious smile.

I rose on my tiptoes, my hand sliding around his neck and into his hair to tug his mouth down to mine. His groan was muffled by our kiss, but the hungry sound went bone deep, vibrating off my every nerve ending. He swayed with me to the low, insistent beat of the music. My thighs stuck together with the wetness that had smeared between them. My body wept for his touch, for his cock, for fulfillment.

His tongue stroked against mine, while one hand slid down my arm to lace our fingers together. He broke our mouths apart, dropping kisses along my jaw on a path toward my ear. His tongue traced the edge of my earlobe, and I shivered in his arms.

"I have fantasized about this every day for the past six years," he whispered, the ragged edge of need apparent in his voice. I almost sobbed in relief to hear those words. It wasn't just me, then. There had been something incredible between us, and clearly there still was. I hadn't been crazy, looking for this kind of passion. It did exist.

He held me tight, his arm locked behind my back, holding me on my feet as he nibbled the shell of my ear. The prickly, over-sensitive feeling made me gasp. I leaned heavily against him, my breath speeding up, my muscles tensing as he laved over and over the same, extremely erogenous spot. It was like being tickled, but the feeling shot straight to my groin, and he didn’t let up even as I writhed away from his mouth. I squeezed my legs together, my toes curled in my shoes, and I only realized what was happening when my cunt spasmed with a flood of wetness and grateful relief poured through my muscles. It wasn't the most mind-blowing, intense orgasm I'd ever had, but it did take the edge off my painful need, and he had managed to do it just by kissing my ear.

"Oh," I managed on a shaky breath as I looked up at the dark amusement in his eyes. "I think I'm in trouble."

"Yes, it appears so." He grinned, boyish and self-congratulatory, and released me, leaving me to stand helpless and shaking as he went to the wet bar. "You had some champagne, then?"

Champagne? I just had an orgasm in his arms, from him sucking on my ear. Not from fucking me or fingering me or eating me out, but from tame, backseat-in-high-school necking. And now he was asking me about champagne? I could barely stand upright.

"I did," I smoothed down my skirt, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

He poured some and came back to me with maddening slowness. "I didn't see another glass. Do you mind if we share?"

The other glass was upstairs on the marble countertop beside the bathroom sink, but someone could have offered me a million dollars to leave the room and I wouldn't have. Not when Neil was so close to me, so oddly self-possessed while I was still trembling with my need.

"That is a very pretty dress.” His eyes moved over my body in open appreciation. He took a sip from the glass and handed it to me. "Now turn around, so I can get you out of it."

I turned slowly, my ankles still weak and wobbly from my climax. Neil stepped up behind me, so close that his trousers brushed the backs of my bare legs. He found the zipper between my shoulder blades and smoothly pulled it down. The music stopped, leaving us with only the sound of the metal teeth parting to punctuate the silence. He pushed down my sleeves one at a time, as I shifted the champagne from one hand to the other. His palms followed the path the fabric took, every touch igniting a scorching trail across my skin. The dress fell to the floor, and I shivered. I still wore my black lace bra and my heels. When my hand moved to the clasp at my back, Neil brushed it aside.

"Leave it on, for now. The shoes as well." The rustle of silk told me he'd taken off his jacket. When I turned, he was unbuttoning his shirt.

"Should we go upstairs?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I sipped from the glass in my hand.

He pulled his arms free and tossed the shirt to the floor. Which was slightly alarming to me, because I knew it probably cost more than my share of the monthly rent. But Neil was standing in front of me, shirtless, and that kind of took precedence over everything else. He was fit, and not just fit for a man who was almost fifty. Brown hair with a smattering of silver lightly shadowed his tight chest, and narrowed into a line down his flat stomach. He crushed me to him, and the shock of his bare skin on mine made it impossible to stand on my own.

He kissed me hard, his hand tangled in my long hair, and when we were both breathless he lifted his head to answer my question. "Not now. I thought I'd lay you down on this sofa and bury my face in your cunt first. Unless you object..."

My jaw dropped. "I remember you being direct, but I'd forgotten how direct."

He winked and took the champagne from me. After a long swallow, he set the glass on the small table beside the couch. "I haven't heard an objection. And I've been looking forward to this all day."

The pure, molten heat that suffused me had nothing to do with the champagne. I took his hand and pulled him with me to the sofa, where I reclined as I’d been when he'd arrived. He dropped to his knees between my spread legs and rested his cheek against my stomach. The evening stubble on his jaw scratched my skin. I thought of how it would feel against my inner thighs, my labia, and I moaned, raising my hips and silently willing him to reach his destination quickly.

He didn't need my urging. He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder, then the other, and bent his head. His tongue parted me, and I curled up with a choked exclamation, burying my hands in his hair. He gripped my hips and pushed them firmly against the sofa. I fell back, letting him hold me captive, his big hands pressing me down as he sucked and nibbled. When his tongue slipped inside me I sobbed aloud.

"God, the taste of you," he murmured against my thigh. "I could stay here all night."

He pulled my clit into his mouth, the stubble on his cheeks rasping my slick, open flesh, and my body tightened. The stiletto heels of my pumps dug into his back, but if he didn't care, I didn't either. I lifted myself against his mouth, and he slipped a hand beneath my ass to hold me. He pressed two fingers of his other hand to my cleft as he sucked me, and with the slightest tilt of my hips they were inside me. He pushed deeper and crooked his fingers, pressing hard against my g-spot. I felt my pulse center under his tongue, felt the edges of his teeth teasing my clit, and white-hot pleasure seized every muscle fiber in my body.

I shouted, "I'm coming!" and fervently prayed I wouldn’t break his neck as my knees clamped on either side of his head. He moved his fingers in and out, rasping over that delicious spot, and all the tight, tense sensation that had built up in me shattered. My legs jerked. One of my shoes flew off. My lungs emptied on a high-pitched wail. If there were a prize for biggest orgasm, I would have won it then declined to attend the ceremony, because the orgasm was reward enough.

I came down slowly, every nerve attuned to my surroundings with intense clarity. The plush sofa under my back, the feeling of Neil's hair between my fingers and the heat of my sopping wet center against his mouth. He lifted his head just as the touch became too much for me. His fingers remained inside me, though, pulsing and fluttering. I should have been satisfied, bone tired, and I knew I would be, eventually. Not until he'd fucked me, though. Even as his stroking fingers brought me back to the precipice I'd just fallen from, I knew I wouldn't be satiated until he was inside me.

"Please," I begged him, trying to drag him up my body. I needed him to fuck me, needed him so deep in me that it hurt. I wanted him to fuck me hard, to wear me out. I wanted to feel soreness in my muscles for days. We'd waited long enough. We'd waited six years, and that was long enough.

He eased his fingers from me and covered my body. I wrapped my legs around his waist, not caring that my wet pussy was plastered against his very expensive trousers. He had to fuck me, or I would die, I was absolutely sure of it. We could worry about the dry cleaning bill later.

He kissed me, and I tasted myself on his lips before he raised his head. "We have to go upstairs." He brushed my hands away from the slender silver buckle on his belt, laughing as he did. "We have to go to the bedroom; it's where the condoms are."

I let him help me to my feet and balanced with a hand on his shoulder as I plucked my remaining shoe from my foot before we attempted the stairs. Halfway up, he stopped me and pressed me against the wall, burying his face in my neck to nibble at my throat. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and his hand fell to the clasp of my bra, releasing it. We left it behind on the steps, his shoes, as well. Somehow, we made it to the bed, and I lay naked on the thick white duvet while he unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers and boxers down.

For the first time all night, my resolve somewhat wavered. I remembered Neil being big. He was definitely the most well endowed man I'd ever been with. But in the intervening years I'd somehow lost my perspective on just how big he really was. To say he was intimidating would have been an understatement. Professional porn stars are less well hung.

He correctly gauged my reaction, his expression going suddenly grim. "I would understand, if you didn't -"

"No, no. I still want to." I felt like an asshole. He must have gotten my reaction more than once. Hell, he'd gotten it more than once from me, because six years ago I'd practically fled the room. But I'd trusted him to be gentle then, I didn’t know what I was afraid of now. I knew I had nothing to worry about. I shook my head, embarrassed. "Sorry. I can't believe I forgot such a substantial detail."

He laughed, his relief evident. "I was worried you might have changed your mind."

"Never." I cupped my swollen, slick sex in my hand and plunged two fingers into my body. His lips parted as he watched me, and I saw his indrawn breath in the rise of his chest.

"Please," I moaned, moving my fingers slowly out, then pushing back in. I plucked at my hard nipple with my other hand, writhing against the duvet. "Please fuck me."

He got a condom from the bedside table drawer and sheathed himself, then he was on me, covering me, pinning me to the mattress. The wide tip of his cock pushed against me, and I held my breath. My body opened reluctantly, my flesh engorged from the pleasure he'd already given me. The head of him slipped in faster than I expected, and I startled at the burning stretch. I willed myself to relax as he sank into me. That made it easier. I held onto his shoulders as I opened around him, taking him in.

He braced himself with a hand against the bed and gasped, "You're so tight. Am I hurting you?"

“No, it’s just… been a long time.” I lifted up, taking him deeper. He groaned and pulled back, almost entirely out, before slowly pushing in again.

All my earlier feelings of disbelief vanished. I was no longer shocked that this was happening, after such a long time. I was completely lost in the moment, desperate to commit every sensation to memory, knowing I would never accurately remember, no matter how hard I wished. When he withdrew, I clung to him with my cunt and my legs, trying to bring him back. I matched his every move, rolling my hips, taking more of him on every thrust.

 Everything ceased to matter. Our strange relationship, our ages, what would happen at work… none of that remained attached, and for some blissful, sweaty minutes we were just two people caught up in a primal drive. My fingers dug into his back, my knees hugged his waist as he pumped into me.

He caught my hand and tugged it between us, murmuring, "Touch yourself," close to my ear. I moaned when my fingers encountered the obscene thickness of him spreading me, and I rubbed my clit furiously with my fingertips, arching and gasping as I raced toward another climax. My already sore muscles protested as my body tensed once more, and I muttered nonsensical pleas against his neck as he sped his thrusts. When I came, I saw bursts of white behind my eyelids.

Neil wasn't far behind me, shoving hard, almost too hard, my eager cunt still spasming around him as he groaned and stilled. The deep pulse of his cock sent shivers of delayed pleasure through me, and I whimpered, clinging to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked breathlessly, the persistent throbbing still touching off mini-fireworks for me.

"Uh-huh." That was the most intelligent thing I could manage to say.

He eased out and rose from the bed to step into the bathroom. I cautiously felt my puffy flesh. Oh, I would definitely pay for that tomorrow. I grinned to myself at the thought.

"I think this was a really good idea," I called to him, pushing myself up on my elbows. “It’s been ages since I’ve felt this good.”

When he came back, he was wearing a pair of black flannel sleep pants. He stopped beside the bed and smiled down at me. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"No," I admitted. "I'll grab some on my way home."

"Don't try to be cool," he scolded. "I'm not kicking you out. I thought we could order room service and see where the evening takes us."

"Oh ho," I laughed, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "You want to do this again?"

"Not exactly this. More, and similar. It's been six years, Sophie. You can't imagine that I've had my fill of you after just an hour."

The raw hunger in his voice obliterated the playful mood between us. He looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Sorry," he said quickly. "That was a bit intense. If you have somewhere to be -"

I stood and looked down at myself. "Well, I'm not exactly dressed for dinner, is my only problem."

Instantly, that playfulness returned, and he swatted my behind as he moved past me to the dresser. He rummaged through a drawer then tossed me a soft gray t-shirt. "That's as covered up as I'll allow you to be in my presence, young lady."

I snorted and pulled the shirt over my head. It hung to just below my ass cheeks, and had a faded white outline of Led Zeppelin's Icarus logo on the front. I twirled in it as though it was an evening gown, and he admired me for a few seconds before heading toward the stairs. "I'll give you a moment, come down when you're ready."

* * * *

We ordered heinously overpriced room service burgers, which Neil absolutely refused to take any money for.

"I understand that we're not dating, but I think we can go so far as to call ourselves friends at this point. There's nothing wrong with a friend buying another friend's meal."

"As long as I get to return the favor some time," I warned. I didn't like the idea of being beholden to anyone, especially not a man with money and power. And I didn't want him to think that's where my interest lay. "Just remember, I'm in this for hot sex, not hot meals.”

We opened the shade over the huge window and sat on the long couch, the room service tray between us. While we ate, we chatted and watched the lights of the skyscrapers and streets outside. It was a full moon, and the night was almost as bright as the day, albeit in a weird, fluorescent blue way. From inside the soft, warm light of the room, I felt like I was looking out on an alien world.

"Can I ask you something?" I folded my legs criss-cross and tugged the hem of the t-shirt down when I noticed his gaze drop to my crotch. I cleared my throat, and he looked up with a crooked smile.

"You can ask me anything. I just might not answer." He dipped two fries in ketchup and bit them, chewing thoughtfully. "Depending on what your question is."

"Are you living here?" I plucked at the front of the t-shirt I wore and jerked my thumb toward the loft overhead.

He took a sip from a bottle of water before answering. "Just for now. After the divorce was finalized, Elizabeth had sixty days to move out of our apartment. I spent most of those in London, but I had to return before they were up. In ten days, she'll take possession of the house in L.A., and my life can go back to normal."

I thought it was pretty sad that "normal" for him was being alone, even though he had been married for two years. Still, I didn't know all the particulars. I didn’t feel it was my place to judge.

"Do you want to know what happened?" he asked, gesturing with a fry. "It isn't tragic, I wouldn't be offended if you asked."

"I wasn't fishing, if that's what you think," I clarified firmly. "But sure, if it isn't tragic, what happened?"

He shrugged. "We didn't communicate our expectations well before we got married. She interpreted my not wanting any more children to mean that I didn't want another child right now. And it took two years for the both of us to figure out that things weren’t going to change for the better."

"Yikes." There wasn't much else I was qualified to say.

"I certainly don't recommend it. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, forging ahead as though nothing is amiss is definitely the wrong tactic."

"Thanks for the tip," I snorted. I felt weirdly possessive, though I had no right to be. I didn't want to talk about his ex-wife. I didn't like the idea of him being with anyone. And I certainly didn't like the fact that I felt any of those things. I wiped my lips with my napkin and pointed out the window, continuing the game we'd started while waiting for the food to arrive. I drew an invisible circle around the window of a neighboring building. "What about the people in that one?"

Neil embraced the change of subject gladly. "They're enormous perverts."

"Really?" I giggled, tipping my head to one side.

"It's disturbing, the stuff they get up to."

"What if I wanted to get up to something disturbing?" A little thrill went through me. I didn't really know how to do anything truly disturbing, but I was pretty sure he would.

A slow smile spread across his lips. "Forgive me, if you've extensively broadened your repertoire in the past six years, but when we slept together before you seemed to be under the impression that a bit of light spanking was disturbing."

"I was only eighteen," I reminded him, and I took a little selfish pleasure in the momentary flash of shame that crossed his face. "But no, I haven't been going crazy with the whips and chains."

"Is that something you'd be open to?" He asked the question so casually it threw me for a moment. He'd seemed more uncomfortable asking me to eat dinner with him than asking if I wanted to be chained up.

I cleared my throat. "Well... I'll try anything once. Though whips might take some convincing."

"Then we'll save that for the second date." He laughed, and my heart skipped a beat.

"How do you do that?" I shook my head and smiled to myself, looking down at my nearly empty plate. "It's not fair that you get to be cool and rich and own a company."

"And I have a huge cock," he reminded me, and I threw a fry at him. "I suspect what you're perceiving as 'cool' is the fact that I have the emotional maturity of a toddler coupled with the libido of a seventeen year old boy, and absolutely no one in my life telling me no."

"That's a pretty specific and insightful answer," I mused, dropping my napkin to my plate.

"I've heard it enough. Sometimes shouted at me in anger. It's not as attractive an existence as it may appear." He took another sip of water then moved the room service tray from between us, settling it on the rug at our feet.

"I don't know, I can see at least one upside to it." I rose on my knees and scooted toward him. "You have this crazy hot girl who's using you for sex. That has to count for at least one good thing."

"It's a very good thing," he murmured against my throat as he pulled me into his lap. His hands fell to my hips, pushing the t-shirt up.

I glanced at the window. "Isn't someone going to see?"

He lifted his head, gazing out at the city beyond the glass. "You're right. I suppose we should make it worth their while, then."

My witty retort was lost in the flutter of fabric up and over my head, and then Neil's hands and mouth were on my breasts, and I didn't care if the entire world was watching.