Page 20 of Scarlet Secrets

A shudder of need passes through me and the pressure inside builds. I stroke and push against my clit with one hand and with the other I press into the bite, setting off a good pain, like he’s doing it to me now, and it mainlines straight down to my sex.

I want him again. I do. He’s divine, and how can one night be enough? In my fantasy, it’s every night, all the time, and I never get tired. I want him in every way. I want him to take my ass, my pussy, my mouth. And as I remember the way he stretched and filled me, how I could feel that cock everywhere, almost like I could feel every vein of him as he pushed into me, invading in the best way possible, I come, shaking and moaning.

My hand’s pretty good. It does the job. I used to say it’s second best to my rabbit vibe, but now he slides into the top space, the man whose name I don’t know.

That deflates me. I finish my bath. Once I’m dried off, I get ready, do my hair, and put on some makeup, more than usual so I can cover the mark a little, then I get dressed. I pack up my case and head down.

As the elevator arrives, I start to laugh. I never even got to see my upgrade, though I’ll take that hot man any day.

The hotel lobby is busy, and since I have both key cards, I head to reception to check out and hand in his.

Then I do something I’d normally never do. The guy at reception is cute and young and he’s trying to subtly check out my dress and my breasts. I straighten my shoulders and put on my best high-class escort aura—whatever that is—and smile sweetly at him, leaning in.

“The second card?” I say.

He turns red as he realizes he’s staring at my cleavage again and I’m looking at him, but I’m still smiling as he looks up and his relief is palpable. “The grande rooms?”

“Yes, I wanted to thank him. I want to make sure I got the name right.” I flutter my eyelashes. “Can you spell it for me?”

“Sure. I mean, I shouldn’t, but you were there, so… uh… hold on. I’ll write it down.”

“Even better. Thank you,” I say, glancing at his name tag, “George.”

“My pleasure, Miss Banks. Do you need us to look after your bag until later?”

I completely forgot hotels do that and I nod. “That would be extra perfect.” I hook my computer bag on my shoulder with my handbag and take the card.

It’s not until I’m outside that I look at it.

Viktor Verev.

Russian, like I thought. Viktor. I guess I can get behind the name?—

“What are you thinking? You just got out of a relationship, and you need to work on your career, woman,” I mutter.

I’m not in any kind of headspace to stalk my one-night stand. Still… I drop the card into my bag where his note is.

But just because I’m not about to embark on somestalking mission, doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have a name for him. Viktor.

Name and face locked in.

And who knows? This is going to be nothing more than one night out of time, but in the future if I run into him? Maybe… Or maybe I could even one day look him up. If I’m brave enough to do that.

But the fantasy of it is enough. Knowing I can do that now is enough.

I like that. I really do.

Ever since Igot back from New York, my life’s been frantic. Work has doubled, and the pay hasn’t. And I slog away at it, even though I’ve caught some kind of stomach bug.

When Sarah brings in donuts, the smell of them makes my insides revolt and I know I’m going to be sick.

Again.

I get up, rushing off to the bathroom, making it just in time.

When I’m done, I collapse and hug my knees, wishing I was home where I could be truly pathetic and lie on the bathroom floor.

But I don’t think I’ll ever be sick enough to do that here. I can’t even drink coffee; the scent is like garbage right now.

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