Second Chance Layover — Part 11 (FREE Holiday Blog Serial)
Sandra Bunino and I have collaborated to bring you a FREE holiday blog serial that runs in 18 parts of usually less than 1000 words for each post—easy reading on your lunch break.
Prefer to read on a Kindle or Nook? No problem, just head over to Smashwords every Wednesday to download last week’s (parts 1 – 4) and this week’s (parts 5 – 9) volumes, FREE! I also post the volumes on ARe on Thursdays. Really, there’s no excuse not to read this serial!
And now, PART 11 of Second Chance Layover (Click title to read a quick summary of the story.):
I shoved my room card into my pocket and headed to the elevator, the first step to making my way to the third floor, to room 312, to Charli’s room. I slapped my palm against the elevator button. What was taking the stupid thing so long?
What would she be wearing when she opened her door? Would she invite me in or would I have to finesse my way inside? Would she want to talk first, to get in the mood and shed any nerves, or would she expect me to pounce? A man could hope…. God did I hope.
An image of Charli stretched out naked on the crisp white sheets curled sensuously through my thoughts before slithering down my spine to tease my more primitive brain. The image expanded and took on the scent of coffee and lust. My mouth watered at the taste of her skin, her lips, her nipples, pink and taut with her arousal, her pussy wet and ready for me. Echoes of ecstasy joined the daydream.
I slammed the elevator button three more times. “Come on, come on.”
Maybe she’d have a sheet pulled up over her breasts. Maybe she’d lie on her bed, every inch of her delectable body exposed, and crook her finger at me. I’d take my time walking to her, fucking her with my eyes and fighting every instinct to leap on her and pound her into the mattress. Anticipation fizzed through my veins. Was the same hurricane of want overwhelming her?
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Only a single occupant stood in the car, a lock of hair twirling between her fingers the only hint of nerves that couldn’t possibly be as jangled as mine.
I charged into the elevator. I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh risk and reward or ponder consequences. I didn’t ask. I didn’t hesitate. I took.
I didn’t offer her the possibility of protesting, of saying “no”. She was in my arms before my brain even registered that I’d slammed her against the back wall of the elevator and was kissing the living daylights out of her.
And when the first coherent thoughts clawed their way through the red haze of lust and desire, I realized she held me as tightly as I held her. Her fingers gripped my hair and held my mouth against hers. She hitched a leg up around my hip. My hands cupped her luscious ass and lifted her up. Both legs wrapped around my waist. Adrenalin flooded my system and powered my muscles because she felt no heavier than a cat, a lithe languorous cat purring in my arms.
I plundered her mouth with my lips and tongue. God, she took everything I gave and returned it in multiples.
Between kisses, she squeezed out, “I didn’t—”
“I want you,” I said, my voice hoarse with need.
“Oh, thank God,” she said smiling. With both of her palms pressed against my cheeks, her forehead against mine, tiny puffs of air from her laughter caressed my mouth.
I kissed her again, taking my time, savoring her mouth, her scent, the smooth delicacy of her skin. All the tools in my seduction arsenal I wielded with deliberate intent. She molded her warm body to mine and moaned. More! my body urged in response. “I’m hungry for you,” I said half growling. I spun her around and out of the elevator.
Thankfully my room wasn’t far because I had a hot, snickering woman in my arms and a cock so fucking hard I wouldn’t even need my room key. I could smash down the door with the damned thing. It was practically clawing its way out of my pants to get at the feminine heat a few thin layers of clothing away. I was hornier than a sixteen year old with a stack of porn magazines, and if I didn’t get myself under control, she’d know it too.
Where was the blasted key to my room? Oh yeah, my pants pocket. I shifted and held her with one arm, just like fucking Superman, as I fished out the card and gave it a swipe. The door handle didn’t budge. Another swipe, another rejected entry attempt.
“Goddammit!” I swiped it again. Somebody hated me.
“Give it to me,” Charli said taking the card from my hand. One swipe with her magical touch, and the lock surrendered. She’d unlocked my Pandora’s box unleashing all that was wild and unholy.
Oh, that ended too quickly and too soon, didn’t it? And now we have to wait until Monday? Curses! Who planned the serial this way?? **snicker, snicker** Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.
Please be sure to come back Monday for Part 12! 😉