Part 11 (2/2)
”I don't have s.e.x without a condom.”
”Neither do I.”
”The pull-out method is one of the least reliable.”
”I've heard that.” What the f.u.c.k is wrong with me, suggesting such a thing and not being the least bit concerned about it, either? I'm a f.u.c.king nut job of the highest proportions right about now.
I blame the woman squirming beneath me.
”Yet you suggested it.” She's calling me out yet again.
”You think too much.” I kiss her nose and climb off of her, standing by the side of the bed with my hand held out. ”Come on. Let's go take that shower.”
She studies my hand warily, looking as unsure as I feel. There's a heaviness in the room. A sense that the two of us are about to embark on a crazy adventure neither of us will ever fully recover from.
Will she take my hand? Or tell me to get the h.e.l.l out? She should do the latter. It's the safest bet. The easiest out. And I'm always about the easiest out.
But she takes it. Curling her fingers in mine, she allows me to help her out of bed so she's standing in front of me, naked and beautiful. Without a word I lead her into the bathroom and let go of her hand, admiring her a.s.s as she walks over to the shower and starts the water, flicking her fingers in the spray as she waits for it to warm.
”Ready?” she asks when steam starts to billow out of the shower stall.
As I'll ever be.
We end up at a hotel in Trafalgar Square, taking a taxi to get there, one of those little black cabs you see on TV when you're a kid. I've been to England once before, but I was too young to care and not really paying attention to my surroundings.
London is exactly what you'd expect it to be. Bustling and full of people, quick paced and crowded, its streets packed with those red double-decker buses. History is everywhere, staring down at you in the form of one statue or another. They give everyone a statue in this d.a.m.n city. I bet if I paid enough money I could have my own motherf.u.c.king statue erected in some small park.
I tried to feel Rose up in the back of the cab since the driver wasn't paying us any mind but she wouldn't have it, slapping my hands away every time I tried to grab her. You'd think I wouldn't feel the need to grab her, since she gave me a soapy hand job in the shower that had me coming so hard I had to brace myself against the shower wall for fear I'd slip down the drain.
Not that I hadn't returned the favor, fingering her into another o.r.g.a.s.m while my mouth remained tight around her nipple. She's so d.a.m.n responsive, I had her coming in minutes.
”Why are you taking me to another hotel?” I ask her as we enter the building. There's a noisy bar to the right, filled with people around our age dressed to trendy perfection, standing around drinking and talking, loud music blaring over the speakers. I start to head toward the bar but she stops me, dragging me toward a short bank of elevators to the left, just beyond the registration desk.
”We're going to the restaurant up on the roof. It's supposed to be one of those hidden-gem secrets of the city. Violet told me about it. She came here with Ryder a few weeks ago and said the view and the food were excellent.” Rose hits the up b.u.t.ton and we wait for the elevator to make its way to the ground floor.
”Better than The Shard?” The newest skysc.r.a.per, close to the London Bridge, is one of the more popular spots for tourists to check out a view of the city. Not that I'd been there, but I'd heard all about it from Whitney.
”Not as crowded, at least. I don't know about better.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing a crazy interior.
I start to laugh as we walk inside, earning a weird look from Rose. ”What's so funny?”
”This elevator looks like a d.a.m.n nightclub.” It's dark inside save for the glowing purple and green lights that s.h.i.+ne on the black floor, the little glints of silver embedded in the solid surface s.h.i.+ning bright. The walls are mirrored and covered with a faint black brocade print, and there's even mood music.
”It does,” Rose agrees with a little smile. She starts to move as if she's dancing, and I watch in fascination as she sways her hips in time to the music.
She's wearing a short pastel-colored lace dress and I'm not sure if she has panties on beneath it, but now is not the time to check. I'm hungry after expending my energy for the last five hours or so of straight f.u.c.king and eager to get to this restaurant so we can order something to eat.
”You trying to turn me on?” I ask her.
Rose flashes me a smile over her shoulder and shakes her a.s.s. Jesus, the woman is hot. ”Maybe.”
”It's working.” I grab hold of her hips and pull her to me, stifling the groan that wants to escape when her a.s.s brushes against my c.o.c.k. It stiffens, though I can almost hear it protesting in agony, enough already. Let me rest.
She swivels her hips, her a.s.s pus.h.i.+ng against my c.o.c.k, and I hold her still, my mouth against her hair as I whisper, ”Do you want me to f.u.c.k you in the elevator?” I bought condoms at the Boots drugstore not far from her hotel, running in to purchase them while she was getting ready, blowing her hair dry and all of those other things women do before they go out on a date.
My entire body goes still. Is that what this is? A date? I've never been on one in my life, not even when I was young. It was all about the hookup. That's all it's ever been. Why let someone get close to me when I had all of these deep, dark secrets I didn't want to share? My life turned into a tragedy, and then it turned into a joke. But the joke was on me and Mom, no one else. We became the punch line and it sucked.
I didn't want to share that with anyone else. Of course, I'd never met anyone like Rose, either.
”I'm just playing.” She rests her hands on the outside of my thighs, her touch burning me even through the thick denim of my jeans.
”With fire,” I murmur just as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open.
Rose pulls away from me, practically running out of the elevator, and I follow after her down the narrow hallway that turns into an even narrower staircase. She glances down at me, making sure I'm right behind, and I fall into step after her, c.o.c.king my head so I can sneak glances up her skirt.
Just as I thought. The little tease isn't wearing panties. She's going to drive me straight insane before the night is done, I swear.
We reach the top of the stairs and the night air hits me, cool but with that hint of lingering heat that declares summer is coming. Rose sends me a smug look over her shoulder and I'm about to say something when the hostess approaches, a cute, pet.i.te thing dressed all in black, the skirt of her dress so short I'm afraid one wrong move and she'll be showing the world-or at least us-everything she's got.
”Two for dinner or just drinks?” the hostess asks, her accent thick, a little sneer curling her upper lip.
”Dinner, please.” I wrap my arm around Rose's waist, pulling her into me. She goes willingly, her curves fitting perfectly against my side, and we follow the hostess to a high table that faces directly out over Trafalgar Square. She hands us our menus with a quick smile and then scurries away.
”If she would let me, I would so give her a makeover,” Rose says as she flips open the menu. ”If I suggested it, though, she'd probably be insulted.”
”You think she needs a makeover?”
Rose glances at me from over the top of her menu. ”Did you see all the eyeliner she had on? And mascara? h.e.l.l yes, she needs a makeover. When I was in high school I worked the Fleur counter at Bloomingdale's for one summer. I was sixteen and loved it.”
”Really? One of the Fowlers working the makeup counter?” I'm surprised. Figured they would think that sort of work beneath them.
She sends me an irritated look. ”My grandma made me and my sisters do it at one point or another. I'm the only one who enjoyed it, though. I loved giving makeovers.”
”Why?” I forget about the menu and my hunger and wait for her answer. I like that she's opening up to me. Though of course, her opening up means she probably expects me to do the same.
And I don't know if I can.
”I don't know.” She shrugs, her expression thoughtful. ”It was fun, to make that transformation happen. And to see the joy on the women's faces when they saw what I did, it made me feel good. I didn't even care about selling them the product. I just wanted to make them happy.”
”Isn't that the point of a makeover at a cosmetics counter? So you can sell them the product?”
”Yes, and I failed miserably at that part. I'd take over an hour on a woman's makeup and let her walk without spending a dime.” Rose shakes her head. ”I was awful.”
”Sounds like you did it just for the fun of it.”
She smiles wistfully. ”I did. That was the one time when working for Fleur truly felt like fun.” Her smile falls, and it's as though she just caught herself in a terrible confession. ”Lately working for Fleur, sometimes it feels like so much ...”
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