Choosing Her Lover

Chapter 3

And so, not for the first time, I enter a stranger’s hotel room. This is where I find out if he’s really what he appears to be.

A nervous tingle runs down my spine, the doubt of the unknown; the knowledge that, just possibly, I have misjudged and this man is…. a crackpot, a loony, a weirdo….

And of course, the doubt is part of the thrill….

“When did you book this room?” I ask.

“I’m staying here anyway. I wasn’t making assumptions. As I told you, I travel for my work and I use this hotel regularly.”

“Ah….”

He hangs his jacket neatly over a chair, then dims the lights

“Would you actually like some coffee? Or would you prefer wine?” he asks. “It’s always a little embarrassing, isn’t it? The first time with someone. So, just in case…. I got a bottle in….”

I nod. “Yes, those toe-curling minutes between the last cup of coffee and….”

He throws a side-glance at me then, chuckling, he produces a couple of glasses and a bottle from a cupboard.

“Music perhaps?” he suggests, waving me to a player. Have a look through the list, see what appeals to you. Make yourself comfortable.”

It’s a pleasant room, and looks expensive; beautifully decorated, with fresh flowers by the window, fruit in a bowl and elegant furniture. Eyeing the pale, thick carpet, I slip my shoes off.

I watch Ryan as he wrestles with the corkscrew, then pouring two glasses, passes one to me. Such a good-looking man; in the lowered light, his chocolate eyes are almost black.

Together on the settee, we sit in awkward silence for a minute. The wine glass is a handy prop, giving me something to do as I sip, waiting for….

…. for what comes next….

“So, who makes the first move, mmm?” he says, his arm slipping around my shoulders. “This may not be the last of the great romances, but I think we can both enjoy this.”

Taking my face in his palms, he brushes back a stray lock of my dark hair, finger-combing it back behind an ear.

He doesn’t smile, but his expression is intense as he gazes at me. “No, not pretty. Little girls and flowers are pretty. Kittens are pretty. You are beautiful.” He leans in to me, his mouth close to mine, not touching, but halfway, inviting me in closer. As I sway towards him, his lips brush my skin, just barely.

And now he smiles, his lips curving as he inclines his face to mine. This time, the kiss is deeper, the soft flesh of his mouth pressing to mine. He tastes of wine and a sweet, lustful masculinity.

The fingers of one hand twine through my dark chestnut locks. The other hand glides around my shoulders, pulling me in.

His face resting by mine, “How do you like it, Debbie? Hard? Soft? Do you want to take the lead? Or do you prefer me to?”

I didn’t expect him to ask me this. Most men simply get on with it.

“I like to be man-handled a bit….”

He pauses. “You enjoy pain?”

“No, not pain, or not too much. But I like the man to take charge.”

He nods. “Take charge? Dominate you, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s just what I mean.”

He pauses, collecting his thoughts I think, then, “Stand up.” He takes my wine glass from me. “Go on. Stand up.”

uncertainly,

says, head-pointing

then spinning me by the shoulders, a hand on my chest, pushes me

He’s strong….

by the wrists, he raises them over my

close, he looms over me and my

“Answer me, Debbie. I’m not going to play these sorts of games without an answer

“Yes, like that.”

heartbeat drumming through our joined bodies. “Do you undress yourself,

breath juddering, “Strip

I’d known that before. I’d have made some arrangements

down to the hem of my pullover, he tugs at it, jerking it up and over my head. “I’d like to rip it off you, but not

chest heaving. He reaches back around me, deliberately rough, unclipping my

breasts freed, he fastens his mouth around one, stooping to take it between his lips. The

he murmurs. “So do I. Let’s see

the bed, then turning me, pushes me down on the mattress, flat on my back. The zip rasps as he unfastens my jeans

shirt, and shrugs off shoes. Through his black trousers, the unmistakable bulge of his erection presses tight. Bare-chested, he is

to enjoy

pressing all my

my pussy knots and clenches, and my

Ah, Jeez….

“…. Kirstie.”

“What?”

Debbie. My

an eyebrow. “It suits you better. You didn’t really look like a ‘Debbie’ to me. That’s a ‘pretty’ name.” He clambers over me, hovering on all fours, straddling my quivering body. “I’ll rephrase it then. I’m going to

“So, you like being dominated…. Do as you’re told then.” He cocks his head

“Show you what?”

see what I’m going to

“You want me to….?”

to be coy, you should have worn black. Now….” he traces a finger over the

smiling anymore. Instead, his gaze alternates between my eyes and my liquifying

sending a shudder skipping through me. Very, very gently, he winds

Then it stops….

get until I get what I

at me, his eyes following my movements, I glide hands down into my panties, sliding them away. My movement is blocked by his legs straddling

garment slides off, leaving me naked to this near-stranger, arching my spine, I display

but open your legs

my thighs further apart to display

want

hot flush is spreading over my breasts, perspiration beading my skin, and despite my

Instructed….?

pussy is welling;

now. You’re sopping. Now, fuck

myself, dipping

“Deeper,” he says.

not easy;

me with his long fingers, they curl up inside me, rubbing at my inner

while my hips rise involuntarily, my body arching to

sucks them

in again, pushes his hand at my mouth. “Taste yourself.

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