I don’t know where he found the time to see her and me, but he did. He had someone else, someone that he loved more than me. Someone he made just as sweet love to. Someone else he kissed softly in the morning. It broke me when I found out. But that’s not even the worst of it all. That wasn’t even the event that drove me to venture to the train station every night. That wasn’t the catalyst that drove me to Mr. X’s Bed. You see, there is more you don’t know. But I have to go now. I’m going to meet Mr. X at 9 p.m.

  You see, we have another rendezvous planned and I wouldn’t miss that for the world. Not even to tell you more about what’s been going on in my life. But don’t worry, I’ll fill you in later. I need to get everything out just in case I need an alibi.

  Chapter 3

  At 9 p.m. on the dot, I opened the hotel room door and walked in. It was always the same room. I don’t think he lived there, but I didn’t ask any questions. It was much easier that way. He sat there on the bed waiting for me like he always did. He had a book in his hands. I’d never seen him sitting there with a book in his hands. It felt … staged. Normally, he was just there waiting for me. Naked.

  “Hi,” I said, my heart beating like it did every single time that I saw him. His dark hair was growing out and was slightly wavy. He brushed it back past his dark eyes and I held in a breath. There was a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his jawline that made him look equal parts dangerous and hot.

  “Hi,” he replied.

  I walked over to him slowly as I imagined ripping his clothes off of him.

  “What are you reading?” We never had this sort of mundane conversation, but I guess there was a first time for everything.

  “Kerouac,” he held the book up. “On the Road. Ever read it?”

  “Maybe a long time ago in college,” I nodded, “Pretty good book.”

  “It’s not bad.” He put the book down on the bed, stood up, and walked over to me. “Hi.” He kissed me on the lips.

  “Hi, yourself.” I pressed my lips back against him and breathed him in. He smelled like sandalwood. Normally, he smelled like whiskey or pine, but tonight, he smelled like sandalwood.

  “Long week?” I looked up into his eyes and chewed on my lower lip. We never asked each other about our weeks. I don’t know why I was starting now.

  “Not particularly.” He shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was bothered by the question or not. “You?”

  “Kind of.” Why did I say that? That would only lead to more questions.

  “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. His dark eyes bore into mine.

  We both knew we were walking down a slippery path right now.

  “Nothing bad.” I smiled and turned away. “So, I’m just going to wash my hands.” I walked to the bathroom quickly and closed the door behind me and took a couple of deep breaths.

  I wanted to tell him about the letter and the photograph, but I was scared because opening that box would mean he could ask me questions, and I didn’t know if I was ready for that. This was too special, too unique, too outside of the real world, and I liked it that way. I didn’t want to bring him into my world, and I didn’t want to bring myself into his world. That’s when things got fucked up. That’s when they got complicated. This was nothing but sex. We didn’t need to complicate it.

  I took off my clothes quickly, dropped them on the floor, and then opened the door and walked back into the room, naked.

  He turned around and stared at me, a low whistle coming from his throat. “Wow,” he growled and marched over to me, “Did I tell you to take your clothes off yet?”

  “No.” I swallowed hard, wondering what he was going to do to me. Wondering if he was going to be rough tonight. He wasn’t always rough, and he was never too rough. He could have been even rougher with me, I wouldn’t have minded. In fact, I’d have liked it. When he flipped me around like a rag doll, I felt a surge of sensuality that I’d never experienced before and I loved it.

  “Get on the bed,” he ordered in his commanding voice.

  I wondered if he was a police officer. He had the look of someone who could be in the police force or maybe military. Maybe he was ex-military, an ex-Navy SEAL or something. Something about him looked wounded, and not just because of the scars on his body. There was a haunted air to him that told me that he’d experienced pain and seen things that no man should ever see.

  Part of me wanted to know what he’d seen, to delve deeper. Another part of me was scared because what if it was something horrific? What if I flinched? What if I couldn’t look at him the same way again? I didn’t want to know and yet, I wanted to know everything.

  I walked over to the bed and laid down on my back.

  “No, sit up,” he walked over, undoing his shirt.

  “Okay, forward, or—”

  He looked at me with a smirk. “Do you really have to ask?”

  I shook my head, turned around, and got down on all fours, my ass in the air. He liked doggy style, and I liked it too. I never thought I’d like it as much as he liked it, but I loved it. I laughed slightly as I thought about how good it felt fucking him in the brightness in the room. He’d seen every part of me and I wasn’t even ashamed of it.

  There was a crack! as he slapped me on the ass.

  “What was that for?” I yelled. I looked over my shoulder at him and glared. “That hurt, you know!”

  “Why were you laughing?”

  “I wasn’t laughing.”

  “You had a smirk on your face.”

  “I wasn’t—” I stopped myself as he gave me that look that meant I mustn’t lie. “I was just smiling. I was just thinking about something, okay?”

  “Thinking about me inside of you?” He rubbed my ass cheeks, and I shivered. His hand felt warm, and I loved the feel of him, the touch so light and so gentle. And then his finger went between my legs and rubbed my clit, and I fell forward.

  “You like that, huh?”

  “Yes,” I moaned.

  “How much?” he growled.

  “I like it a lot,” I moaned as he slipped a finger inside of me. This man was touching me in such an intimate way, yet I still didn’t know his name. Part of me felt shame.

  The other part of me just felt amazing.

  His finger slipped out of me, and I moaned.

  “You want me inside of you, huh?”

  I heard him undoing his zipper, and I looked behind and saw his pants falling to the ground. I swallowed hard as I saw his cock, rigid and thick, springing forward. He was big; probably the biggest guy I’d ever been with. That first night? Whoa. That first night had been absolutely crazy when I’d first seen him naked. And when he’d first entered me, well, I hadn’t been sure that I could take all of him. But when you see something that magnificent and you’re being a dirty girl, you can really do anything. He filled me up all the way. And I mean all the way.

  “What are you thinking about?” he demanded.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting him to know that I was thinking about the first time that we’d met and fucked. It still felt like a dream.

  “You’ve got a lot on your mind tonight.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You’re talking too quickly. That tells me everything I need to know.” He sat on the bed next to me.

  I frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “No, we don’t. We don’t talk. That’s not our thing.”

  “We need to talk.” He sighed as he lightly stroked my breasts. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

  I shivered. “What do you mean?”

  “I said I think we’ve got a problem.” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I stared at him nervously. What was going on? What did he know?

  “What’s the problem?” I said, so softly I could barely hear myself.

  “I think you’re being followed.”

  “What do you mean?” I sat up straight. “How would you even know that?”

  “The last couple of times you’ve come here—” His voice lowered.

  “Uh huh?”

  “... someone else has arrived about five minutes later and has entered the room next to ours.”

  “What? How do you know that? I’ve never noticed that.”

  “I make it my business to notice.”

  “Well, maybe someone’s just checking in.”

  “No one’s ever in the room next to us.” He shook his head. “No one stays at this shitty-ass hotel.”

  “Well, we’re here.”

  “The reason I chose this hotel was because no one ever comes here. So we have a problem.”

  “Well, we don’t necessarily know that I’m being followed. I—”

  “Every time you arrive, they come five minutes after,” he said softly, “Not after me, after you. And when you leave, they leave five minutes after as well.” He touched my trembling lower lip. “So yes, I think we have a problem. Is there something that you need to tell me?”

  “No … Well, maybe one thing.”

  “What?” he said quickly.

  “I got a letter in the mail yesterday. It was a photo of you and me at the train station that first night we met.”

  “A photo of both of us?” He frowned. “In your mailbox?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded, “so, maybe I am being followed, or you’re being followed?”

  “No one follows me.” He shook his head. “No one. So you got a problem, then?”

  “I guess I do.”

  “You want my help?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  And it was true. I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to tell him everything because I was in a whole heap of trouble, more trouble than he probably would ever expect—more trouble than I ever could have expected myself.

  I swallowed hard. “Make love to me. I don’t want to think about it right now.” And I didn’t. This was my time to forget everything. This was my time to just be anonymous. And that’s all I wanted, hot sex with this perfect stranger. “Fuck me.”

  I pulled him down towards me. I was someone different when I was with him. I was someone who demanded and took what I wanted, but it was okay because he demanded and took what he wanted as well.

  “Fuck me,” I ordered. “Now.”

  “Okay,” he positioned himself over me, his cock rubbing against my clit, and I moaned as my legs spread.

  I wanted to feel him inside of me, so hard and deep. I needed him. I dug my fingers into his back.

  “Now,” I said because I wanted it, and I needed it, and he was going to give it to me.

  “Okay, Rosie,” he said.

  I gasped. How did he know my name? But I couldn’t respond because he thrust inside of me deep and hard, and all I could think about was his cock pleasuring me as his eyes bore down at me, his hands gripping my wrists tight.

  “Oh, Rosie, Rosie, Rosie. You’ve been a really bad girl,” he said as he continued to fuck me, my breasts jiggling and brushing against his chest as the bed rocked back and forth.

  I cried out in pleasure, and I cried out in frustration and fear. How did he know my name? I should stop him and get to the bottom of everything. But I couldn’t stop.

  All I could think about was the pleasure that was coursing through my body and the way his thick cock was thrusting into me so hard that I was already close to coming.

  Chapter 4

  Have you ever been mid-sex, having the time of your life, but your brain just starts going haywire? Well, that’s how I felt at that moment. I screamed and cried out in pleasure, my fingernails digging into his back, but what I was thinking to myself was, How does he know who I am?

  So I guess this is the point where I should tell you a bit more about myself and why I was so upset that he knew who I was. If he knew my name, that meant he knew a whole lot more.

  If he knew who I was, then he also knew who my dad was. My dad was kind of a big shot. He was a senator, and now you understand why I can’t tell you exactly where I live because if you knew who my dad was then, yeah, you’d know who I was because I’m his only daughter.

  Not only is my dad a senator, but there are plans for him to run for the president of the United States. If you know how politics works, the party chooses a couple of guys that they want to run for the most powerful office in the world, and my father is one of them.

  He has a lot of powerful people behind him. A lot. And I’m his only daughter. So, you see, that’s why I liked the mystery and the anonymity that this whole situation afforded me. A senator can’t have a slut for a daughter, especially not a senator who cares about “family values,” but I guess I was wrong to think that I could keep my identity secret.

  “Hey.” Mr. X looked down at me after we’d both come and were lying still, panting. “You okay?”

  He kissed me on the lips as he pulled out, and I nodded slightly. He’d come inside of me. But I’d already indicated to him that it was okay on that first night when he’d held up a rubber and I had shaken my head. I was on the pill and I’d been feeling reckless that night. It was stupid. I knew that.

  I should have made him wear a condom because pregnancy isn’t the only thing to worry about when you have casual sex. You’d better believe I went and got myself checked for STDs the day after I had sex with him, and then again two weeks later. The third time we’d met, I actually asked him about his status. Better late than never, I suppose. He’d been a gentleman and had brought me proof of his latest STD test results and he’d been clean. He’d covered up his name, of course, and his date of birth, but the tests were all clean, and I trusted him. Maybe I was stupid to trust him, but I did.

  “Rosie, you look upset. Didn’t I please you?” He kissed the side of my neck.

  “How do you know my name?” I sat up, brushing my hair back.

  “Does it matter how I know?”

  “I don’t know your name,” I pointed out.

  “You’ve never asked me,” he replied.

  “Well, you never volunteered.”

  “Do you want to know my name?”

  “If you want to tell me.”

  “Don’t be petulant, Rosie.” He sighed. “Do you want to know, yes or no?”

  “Yeah, I want to know your name. If you know my name, I want to know your name. How do you know my name?”

  “That’s two questions.” He smirked.

  “What do you mean, that’s two questions?”

  “Well, you want to know my name and you want to know how I know your name.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You only get one question.”

  “What do you mean, I only get one question?”

  “That’s what I said. You only get one question.”

  “Okay. I don’t know what to say to that.”

  I was flummoxed. Everything had changed, shifted so quickly, and I didn’t know what to think. I needed to go home. I needed to be in my room. I needed to write things down and think about what I wanted to ask him before I had this conversation. I couldn’t just have this conversation with him in person with no planning. It was crazy. I was just too all over the place.

  “Who’s following me? Who’s in the room next door?”

  “That’s the third question.” He grinned. “Actually, a fourth question now.”

  “Not funny. I want some answers. Do you know who is following me?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you said you weren’t being followed.”

  “Well, you’re pretty sure that I am being followed if they’re coming right after I arrive, and they’re leaving right after I leave, which ... I should be leaving soon because I’m expected at home, and—” My mind was spinning. I was overwhelmed and I needed to go home. Everything was spinning out of control now.

  “Hey. Slow down.” He pressed a finger to my lips. “It’s okay, Rosie.”

  “It’s not okay. How do you know who I am?”

  “Is that your question?”

  “Why do I only get one question? Why can’t I get as many questions as I like?”

  “We’re not playing 20 Questions.”

  “We’re not playing anything. We’re... I just don’t know. This was a mistake. I never should have come here.”

  “Isn’t a bit late for that?” He smirked. “Shouldn’t you have said that a month ago?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean, how many women meet a man at a train station and go back to a hotel with him and fuck him, no questions asked?”

  “I don’t know how to respond to that. I mean, how many men meet a woman and do the same thing?”

  “I don’t suppose many, but I guess if the woman looked like you, a lot would.”

  “Is that meant to butter me up or something?” I growled. “Because it’s not.”

  “You don’t like to be told you’re beautiful?”

  “Of course, I do, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s empty words. It’s—”

  “You’ve really been hurt, huh, Rosie?”

  “Stop saying my name if you’re not going to tell me how I know it and if you’re not going to tell me your name!”

  I was sputtering now. This was the most we’d ever spoken. Normally, we met in the hotel room, we had hot sex, we lay there for about five minutes, then I’d get dressed.

  Before I left, he’d suggest a day. “Monday?”

  And I’d agree.

  It was always the same time. I always came at 9 p.m. He just told me the day.

  “You don’t want to go. I know you don’t.”

  “Of course I want to go. I never want to see you again. This is craziness. I never should have come here.”

  “Do you not enjoy being with me?”

  “Yeah, I enjoy fucking you, obviously. That’s why we do it.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7