Page 13 of My Dad's Best Friend

“Really?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond other than to stand and hold his hand out to help me to my feet.

I follow him to the elevator, not sure what to say, not sure if I should say anything. For the first time I feel like I want him for more than just the hunk of a man that he is, but as someone who would actually care for me. I know he’s said that I’m his, though that part is still ambiguous to me.

The room is at the end of the hall. This hotel isn’t known for being dingy, to say the least. In fact, it’s mostly known for its expensive rooms, and it was the kind of place that had a ballroom for events to be held. When Conner said he had a reservation at the Chat Noir, I never dreamed he would have gotten us a room here, especially since we’re staying in the same house.

And I never thought he would have gotten us a room on the top floor, either.

Conner opens the door to the luxury suite, and I gasp.

Lamps and wall lights are lit, though at a comfortable level. There is a set of sofas in the middle of the room with a coffee table between them, and floor to ceiling windows on the side, overlooking the dark sky interrupted by the twinkling city lights. In the corner is a massive jacuzzi tub, allowing for a relaxing soak along with the view.

“I can’t believe this place,” I say as I wander in.

“I thought you might like it,” Conner says, moseying to the couch where there is, indeed, a bottle of champagne on ice along with a silver platter with a silver bowl of strawberries and a smaller bowl of whipped cream.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” I say.

Conner doesn’t say anything but takes two of the strawberry halves and puts them in each flute before popping the cork, and pouring the bubbly. Like a pro.

He passes me my glass, rimmed with gold.

“Here’s to you,” he says.

“To me?”

“To you,” he repeats, clinking his glass against mine. Our eyes meet and we each sip. It’s a sweet bubbly, which I’m pleased about. I haven’t quite gotten my head around the taste of wine yet, and I find most of the time champagne or sparkling wine to be too dry. But this is perfect.

“Why to me?” I ask.

“You don’t think riding my face the way you did doesn’t deserve a toast?”

I giggle, and feel my face blush. I don’t answer, but instead move to the window and lean on the hot tub. “I can’t believe this view.”

“You’re telling me.”

I can feel how close he is behind me, his breath hot on the back of my neck. I tilt my head to the side, letting my hair expose my neck, wanting his lips on me like they were before, for him to press me against the window and have me here with the whole world below watching.

“I don’t want to push you into anything, Marie,” he says, his voice so soft its like thunder in the distance, rippling through me and making me grow wet between my legs.

“You’re not pushing me,” I say, seeing his reflection in the window, his eyes watching me.

“When I make you mine, you’re mine for good,” he says. “I won’t leave any doubt about that.”

“I want to be yours.” I can hardly make my voice work as our eyes hold each other’s.

His hand rests on my hip, almost pulling me back toward him, beginning his claim.

“There’s no turning back once I claim you,” he says.

I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want him in this moment. His cheek grazes against my neck and I nearly whimper at his touch. His hand presses into me, moving me closer to him as it slides down and then up my dress, feeling my mound over my panties. His thumb runs along the hem of my underwear before he fully holds me. His fingers curved around my pelvis and I ache for more pressure, ache for even the slightest movement.

I watch myself in the reflection of the window, leaning back into him, rolling my head to the side as he begins kissing my neck.

“I want you,” I breath. “Oh god, I want you.”

“Drink your champagne,” he says. “Don’t forget to eat the strawberry. You’ll need the energy.”

His hand reaches further below, feeling the curve between my legs, going inward toward my entrance as I inhale, wanting so badly for the tips of his fingers to dip inside of me, to penetrate me right there.

I do has he asks, letting the bubbles make their way down my throat as his other hand runs over my body, feeling my breasts, moving up to my throat and feeling me swallow my drink as his lips move lightly over the back of my neck. If his hand wasn’t holding me up by my pussy, I’d be on my knees begging for him in this moment.

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