He laughed. “I own the chandelier and I give you permission.”
With that, I popped it open and only spilled a little bit near my shoes on the hardwood floor.
“Question for you,” I said. “I swear when we first met, I asked if you owned hotels, and you said you didn't. Does the honesty start right now?”
“Ah. You asked if I owned 'hotel chains' and I don't. I own hotels, but they're all boutique hotels. Not chains.”
“Same difference.”
“Okay, I was evading your question. Can you forgive me? I barely knew you. It's a reflex to be vague about … my business.”
I nodded slowly, as though convincing myself. “Okay, I can sorta see that. Actually, I get it. Sometimes I meet people socially and they're so nosy about what I make as an organizer. I don't want to say the annual figure, because it's up and down, plus it's none of their business, but when they find out the hourly rate we charge, they get all weird and stare at me like I'm Donald Trump or something.”
“You look nothing like Donald Trump.”
I laughed. “You would know. You guys are probably golf buddies.”
Luthor made the funniest face, which I took to mean they were not.
I brought the glasses over to the piano. “Good thing I booked the afternoon off work,” I said.
He peered at me through raised eyebrows. “Had you been planning to seduce me?”
“Not consciously.”
He stopped playing long enough to clink his glass to mine and we both took a sip. The champagne was delicious, the bubbles going straight to my head and heightening my excitement.
“You play beautifully.” I leaned my elbows on the piano and stared at him in awe.
“Music helps me focus. When I was studying in college, I could always study better after I played music.”
“I used to go for long walks.”
He smiled. “That's good too.”
He began to play a new song, a different one, and he started to sing.
If my knees hadn't been weak before, they certainly were after Luthor began to sing. His singing voice was even lower, deeper than his speaking voice, and so rich. At first, I thought I was so overwhelmed I'd stopped understanding words, but he was singing in French.
After a few lines, he'd speak softly after singing a line, translating into English. The song was about a person being reminded of someone in the Fall, when the leaves fell from the trees. It was so beautiful and sad at the same time.
When he finished, he stood and wiped a tear from my cheek—a tear I hadn't realized was there.
He said, “Too dreary, I know. I can play something by Elton John maybe?”
I set down my champagne glass and wrapped my arms around him. “I'm torn. You have an incredible singing voice, but I can't kiss you when you're singing.”
“Mmm,” he said, pressing his lips to mine.
The vibrations of the piano and him singing were still in the room, wrapping around us.
His tongue parted my lips and met mine. His arms went around my waist and we swayed to the memory of the music, our h*ps moving together. We'd danced like this at the resort, and I was amazed that although we were so new together, we already had so many wonderful memories. And there was still so much more to come.
He picked me up and carried me all the way over to the bed, where we both stood, and he slowly undressed me as I undressed him.
With both of us naked, he rolled down the coverlet of the bed and climbed in, then patted the sheet next to him. It was still mid-day, and the room was brightly lit, the curtains wide open. We'd had plenty of sex before, including at the hotel, but this time it was different. We were being honest.
“I'll want you to meet my mother,” I said.
He pulled the sheet up to cover his erection. “I'd love to. But can we not talk about your mother when we're … you know.”
I put one knee up on the bed. “Okay. And I want to meet your family, too.”
“They're dying to meet you, too.”
I pulled my knee off the bed. “I thought we agreed, no more games.”
He rolled toward me and reached for my hand. “I'm not playing. I told them about you, after the stingray. I was so scared, and after you fell asleep, I called my parents and we had a big talk.”
“Luthor, I need to tell you something else. There was another man I was dating.”
He caught my hand and squeezed it. “Is it in the past?”
“The very recent past.”
He pulled me toward him. “Good enough.”
I climbed into the bed and lay alongside him, the length of our na**d bodies touching. “I'm all yours now,” I said.
He kissed my hand. “If you'll have me, I am all yours, too.”
A smile spread across my face and a matching one on his. He pulled me in tight to him and kissed me, softly and then fiercely. I lay back, and he moved around me, kissing every inch of me, from the top of my head, to the spot on my leg where the stingray had cut me. He pulled my legs apart and returned to one spot with great interest.
I closed my eyes, feeling only his touch as he pushed his hands against my inner thighs, moving up, and then kissed my mound. He kissed me there, and his tongue came out, parting those intimate lips. As I shuddered from pleasure, he licked up and down, tongue darting along my opening and then moving up, over my nub. He gradually moved the focus up, licking and touching me, nudging a finger into my opening to extend the sensations.
My pulse quickened and my body arched as he deftly brought me to orgasm with his tongue. I sighed and moaned in pleasure, letting him know how good he made me feel.
As I was still trembling with the ripples of pleasure from coming, he moved up on the bed and pressed his c**k between my legs and then against my opening. I grabbed his bu**ocks and pulled him into me.
He moaned in pleasure as his thick shaft moved into me. He moved quickly, and then desperately, thrusting against me, eyes closed.
The tingling around my pu**y grew stronger, and my muscles ached with hot pleasure, ready to come again. As he came inside me, his breathing raspy and rough, his whole body wrapping around and inside me at once, I came with him. We moved together, the key and the lock, turning, opening.
When we finished, he had my hair in his mouth and bite marks on his shoulder from where I thought I'd been kissing him, but apparently had done more than that.
We pulled apart, both glistening with sweat.
He shifted up and reached along the wall with one hand.
I said, “Are you looking for the switch for the fan?”
He glanced up at the chandelier. There was no fan, because we weren't in Indonesia.