Page 17 of Champagne Kisses
I lean back and let my mind wander, remembering how her eyes widened when she saw me. Maybe she felt it too, that crazy connection. A connection that left me, a guy who's normally "Mr. Charming" completely speechless. Like an idiot, I just stood there, gaping at her. The moment I saw her, I couldn't help but imagine getting her alone so we could…get to know each other better.
Not that I let on.Mr. Smooth, as Emily called me earlier, would never admit he liked a woman he'd just met. That would come off aswaytoo thirsty. But judging by the glare on Maya's face when she sprinted out of here earlier, I may have overcorrected.
I should've invited her to the party, maybe asked her to dance. It would've been the perfect excuse to get close to her, put my hands on her body. I'd press myself against her and whisper all the hot things I wanted to do to her until she suggested we head back to my room. Then she'd be here with me now instead of wherever she ran off to when Emily showed up. Now I'm stuck jerking off in my hotel room like a pervert.
I breathe deeply and enjoy the sensations building in my balls. She probably smells good too, like vanilla or roses or something. I should’ve hugged her when she arrived. She drove all that way and then I didn't even shake her hand? God, she must've thought I was a total jerk. If I'd hugged her, not only would I know for sure whether she smells as incredible as she looks, but I also would’ve gotten to feel those luscious looking breasts pressed against my chest.
I groan thinking about all opportunities I missed with Maya. If she'd stayed, we definitely would've danced, and my hands would've ventured lower, down to that plump backside I barely got a glimpse of. Just from that glimpse, I could tell she has more than enough to grab onto under that hot skirt of hers. It almost didn't cover her ass, especially when she bent down to get those boxes. Just a glimpse had me tongue tied the whole way to thebanquet room. If she came up for drinks, maybe she would’ve let me put my hand on her knee to see how soft her skin is. If it's half as soft as it looked, I’d be in trouble.
I slip my hand inside my slacks now and start stroking more purposefully. Her lips were full and pink. I imagine them parted and out of breath from the feel of my hand caressing her leg. I'd inch up higher and higher until I reached the apex of her thighs. I would tease her through her panties, feeling her wetness against my hands, until she sighed my name, the waves of her orgasm crashing down on her.
Satisfied and still breathless, those eyes of hers would turn molten as she dropped to her knees to take me in her mouth. I bet those lips would look great wrapped around my dick. I would lean back while she catered to me, licking every inch of my hard length as I pulled out that messy bun to see just how long her hair really is.
She called me "Mr. Park"…Again. If I’d been nicer to her, I could see if she still called me “Mr. Park” when I bit her shoulder while pulling down her bra strap. Would she still be so formal if I unsnapped her bra and sucked and caressed her dark brown nipples? Would she finally call me "Adam" if I nudged those thighs apart and pushed into her hot center until she screamed my name?
“Fuck!” I grunt as I cum in my pants like a teenager. I hated these pants anyway. I pull them off, along with my boxers, and head to the shower, resolving to apologize tomorrow and get to know Maya a little better.
Chapter eight
Maya
Astream of sunlight breaks through the crack in my curtains and hits me right in the face. I knew I should've brought my sleep mask. Half of my pillows are on the ground and my left leg is tangled in the sheets. I slept horribly.
It could have been my room, which was clean but looked like it hadn’t been updated in decades and came complete with paisley wallpaper and a hammock chair hanging from the ceiling. It could have been the nonexistent water pressure or the two-ply sheets which resembled toilet paper. My hotel falls quite a few stars short of what I'm guessing is available at the Chatham Bars Inn.
More likely, however, was that I was still a bit shaken from yesterday. After checking into my room, I called Denise back and told her all the juicy details, from showing up woefully underdressed, to being scolded by some blonde bimbo thatmust've been Adam's girlfriend. And that dick had the nerve to flirt with me!
After she was sufficiently appalled when she heard about “Ms. Plan B”, and even threatened to drive up just to “beat her ass”, we laughed about the state of my room until she had to leave for her kickboxing class. According to her, it sounded like Scatman Crothers’ room in “The Shining”. All it needed was a poster of Cleopatra Jones over the bed and a lava lamp.
I did leave a few things about yesterday out, though, like how hot Adam was, or how even though he didn’t shake my hand, he stared at me the whole time. He seemed to be silently sizing me up. For what, I don’t know. If I hadn’t felt so out of my depth, I might've snuck a few glances myself. I snuggle deeper into the bed, trying to convince myself the sheets aren't scratchy and the pillows aren't lumpy.
Thinking about him now, his good looks were almost dangerous. Dark hair just long enough to brush his eyebrows and fall around his ears. Deep, nearly black eyes that made me nervous with their close scrutiny. A full, sensual mouth I could see even through his frown. Shoulders broad enough to be a comic book hero.
And the rest of him? Well, he clearly spends his free time in the gym or running instead of making blackberry cobbler like me. I could see his muscles subtly flex beneath his clothes as he walked (more like stalked) towards me, his well-defined abs apparent even under his dress shirt. I felt like he was crowdingme just by standing next to me, looming a good six inches taller than my 5 foot 5 frame.
Men who look like Adam don’t usually spare me a second glance, so his quiet, undivided attention had been unsettling. If he’d been just a little less good looking, I would guess he was into me. But that doesn’t happen anywhere except my private fantasies. Fantasies where those midnight eyes promise pleasure as they rake up and down my body. He sprinkles light kisses on my lips, my cheeks, my neck, then across my chest, giving a bite to each nipple before soothing them with a warm, wet suck.
I notice what I’m doing, my hand cupping my aching breast thinking of him. A peek at the bedside radio tells me I have time for a “sneaky tweak” before checkout. I won’t be able to canvas effectively if I’m too worked up. I lay back and imagine Adam going lower still, his delicious mouth cracking into a mischievous grin as he reaches my round tummy, hooking both thumbs into the sides of my panties.
Justin, my ex, never went down on me. He always said eating out was for men with no stroke game. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that meant he should be eating me out daily. He was an accountant, specializing in due diligence for mergers and acquisitions. Despite never forgetting my birthday and bringing me flowers once a month like clockwork, he had all the sex appeal of a guidance counselor. I wasn’t broken up when his work had taken him overseas. Maybe if my g-spot had been a tax error, he would have found it.
Something tells me Adam doesn’t have that issue. I kick the tangled sheets off and imagine him inhaling deeply between my thighs to smell my essence, nuzzling my clit with his nose before biting down through the fabric. Wow! Thank goodness that mouth can do more than frown at me.
I haven’t been this wet maybe ever, my fingers sliding around with ease as I spread the juices flowing from my feminine folds. I’m close now, breathless as I imagine him tugging my panties down, firmly kissing my mound before placing a tentative lick against my womanhood. I jerk up in pleasure and his grin turns positively wicked. He pushes my legs wider, his lips inches from my dripping pussy, and finally…
Buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz.
Seriously?! Can’t a lady have a few minutes to blow off some steam before starting her day? I yank my hand out of my panties and check the display on the offending mobile device.
Adam (Champagne Flutes)
What the hell? He's never called before! I blush as if he could somehow know what I was doing just seconds ago, and wipe my hand on the sheets before answering.
“H-Hello? Mr. Park?” He laughs a low, sexy laugh.
“I thought I asked you to call me 'Adam'. Did I catch you in the middle of something? You seem a little out of breath.” If my skin were any lighter, I’d be bright red all over from blushing sohard. I clear my throat and try to sound put together. Surely I can manage that for a quick client call.
“Um, no, no! I was just…packing up since I’m about to check out of my hotel.”
