Page 77 of The Vow Thief
The show was sharp and unpretentious. The talent knew how to read a crowd. Sarah laughed the way people do when they’ve forgotten how much they needed to. It wasn’t polite laughter; it was real. The kind that draws attention. I found myself watching her more than the stage.
Between sets, she leaned close, whispering,“Thank you for this. You should write manuals on how to date. You are kind of a pro at it.”
“I have hidden depths,” I said.
“I’m starting to see that.”
After the show, we slipped out into the cool night. I led her to the entrance of the Langston Hotel. The lobby smelled faintly of bergamot and old wood. A jazz singer’s voice floated from the bar, low and rich enough to make conversation optional.
“Another pro tip for those in the dating pool?” she asked.
“I’m not one to date, Sarah,” I said with an edge to my voice.
“Then what do you call this, Eli?” she said, mocking my tone.
A laugh bubbled out of me, unwarranted.
We took a table near the stage. The singer crooned something slow and familiar, a love song that had been covered too many times but still managed to sound new. Sarah leaned her chin on her hand, watching me.
“I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” she said softly.
“I am so glad you enjoyed it. That makes me feel like I’ve already won tonight.”
Her smile deepened.“You’re dangerously charming.”
“You’re dangerously beautiful.”
I took Sarah’s hand, brushed my thumb along her wrist, and felt the quiet tremor of connection.
“I want to make love to you,” I said, my voice steady but low.“I have a suite here, we should go get lost in each other.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away.“You have a suite upstairs?”
“I do.”
“Then what are we still doing here?”
We stood, hands still joined, and took the elevator to the top floor.
In the suite, I poured her a glass of champagne while she slipped off her shoes. She turned toward me, unguarded now, her eyes softer than I had ever seen them.
I set the glasses aside, stepped close, and traced a fingertip along her collarbone.
“I meant what I said downstairs,” I whispered.“Tonight, I just want to make you feel good.”
She nodded once, slow and certain. Her eyes spotted the massage table I had brought into the room. It was for her and was already dressed with warm sheets and a thick comforter.
I undressed her carefully, reverently, like unwrapping something too precious to rush. Then I eased her onto the table, poured a massage oil that was also a lubricant into my palms, and began to work over her skin, inch by inch.
Her breath deepened. Her body softened under my hands. I spent time on each area of her body, worshipping her flesh.
I undressed and slipped on a condom. Then I began oiling my dick with what was left on my hands. Needing the touch for a moment of relief.
Standing at the end of the table, I tapped Sarah on the inside of her leg.“Turn over for me.” She did, and I froze at the sight. Her hard body, lush with a set of breasts sculpted by the gods themselves. Her hips flared in just the right way and molded down to muscular legs and polished toes.
Our eyes met as I separated the bottom of the table, spreading her legs and walking between them. The table was positioned at the perfect height.
I took her hand and pulled her to a sitting position, and ran my hands from her neck, down her breasts, and rubbed the oil around her nipples. She threw her head back and moaned.“Mmm, that alone might make me come,” she said through a heavy breath.
