SWNOVELS Resisting Mr. Kane: Chapter 4
I skulk through the hotel lobby self-consciously trailing behind Tristan. Two growing mounds of dampness cling to my T-shirt from my soaked bra, the same at my crotch. A passing hotel guest looks at us suspiciously before dropping her jaw when she notices the massive tent in my companion’s jeans. He strides towards the elevator bay like a man on a mission.
Adrenaline courses through me. In minutes I’m going to have Tristan in a private room.
He jabs at the elevator button impatiently. The doors slide open, and he wastes no time pulling me into the steel box. Before they can fully close, he has me pinned against the back wall, thrusting his large thighs against mine. For a second, I wonder if he’s going to try to fuck me here in the elevator. His mouth crashes down on mine, and my mouth and hips both respond at the same time, craving closeness. I swing my leg around his hip, tilting my hips up, so his erection is right in my apex. Let’s hope there aren’t any cameras in here.
The door springs open, and we stumble down the hall, grunting and moaning as my greedy hands ravage his body. With ragged breathing, he fumbles in his pockets to find the door card.
The door flashes red. He curses, flustered, and tries again, slamming the door open when it flashes green. We fall into the room, panting, hands clawing clothes and flesh.
His fingers find the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it up over my head and onto the floor. One hand expertly unfastens my bra from behind, grunting as my breasts come free.
He needs no invitation. His lips drop to my breasts and he sucks each nipple in turn, sending a message straight to my clit.
I fumble with the hem of his T-shirt, clumsily trying to pull it up over his chest. I need skin on skin; I need my breasts naked against his chest. He releases my nipple from his mouth to pull the T-shirt off, exposing his ripped, muscular chest.
Grunting, he undoes his jean buttons and pulls them down, taking out each thick muscular leg in turn.
My breath comes out in jerky moans.
“If you keep whimpering like that, I’m not going to last.” Fixing a slow sexy smile on me, he pushes his boxers down to stand naked in front of me. His cock stands thick and powerful, pointing upwards, waiting for me.
I’m dickmatized.
“Take your jeans off.”
I swallow, my throat dry. I do as he demands until I’m standing naked before him.
For a moment, Tristan stands and watches me with a feral gaze that tells me exactly what he plans to do to me, and I wonder if I have bitten off more than I can chew. He lunges and sweeps me up by my thighs, so my wet core grinds against his stomach. Every step he takes causes hot friction as he gracefully walks me to the bed.
Then I’m dropped on the mattress. My arms fall over my head.
Climbing on top of me, he pushes my legs apart and stares down at my freshly shaved opening. His knees force my legs wider, and his hand travels downward. I gasp sharply as his fingers spread my lips apart.
“Do you know how beautiful you are, Elena?” His voice is thick. “Lie back and let me take care of you tonight.”
I feel two fingers enter me and I shudder. My legs tighten against his knees like a vice as he starts to plunge his fingers in and out of me, groaning at the sound of my arousal.
It’s not enough. His mouth travels down my stomach planting soft kisses then bypasses my core and finds the skin of my inner thighs. Slowly, sensually, like he has all the time in the world.
I don’t. I can’t wait. “Please…” I moan, my legs bucking at his mouth trails my inner thighs. His stubble on the side of his jaw tickles my entrance with a delicious friction.
“Please, Tristan!” I say, more urgently.
I let out a loud moan as his tongue dips deeply into me, his fingers holding me wide open. That’s the spot. I’m so exposed, so spread open. I writhe on the bed, but he has me in a vice, merciless, fucking me with his tongue, his eyes on mine the whole time.
My back arches like a woman possessed and my hands fist the sheets.
“Wait,” I rasp, struggling for air. “I want you inside me when I come again…please.”
He looks up through hooded eyes, then his expression is laced with irritation. “Damn. I wasn’t expecting to have sex. Do you have condoms?”
“In my purse.” I flap a hand towards my bag on the table.
Tristan jumps off the bed and strides towards the bag, pulling it open roughly. The contents spill all over the floor. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’ll put them back later.” Finding the condom, he tears open the foil and gives himself a few long strokes before rolling it onto his length.
Good God, this guy is packing. That thing should have its own passport.
Then he is back on the bed like he means business, his knees pushing my legs apart and his hands wrapping them around his waist. Caging me with his body, his cock juts upwards between my thighs, nudging my opening, teasing me, torturing me.
“Please…” I moan, surprised at how much I am begging. I dig the heels of my feet into his buttocks impatiently.
“Are you trying to give my butt a sports massage with your feet?” He chuckles.
I dig my heels in deeper.
Mischief dances in his eyes as he runs his tip along my slit a few more times. “Is this what you want? Say my name.”
“Yes, Tristan.” I groan. “Hurry up.”
His mouth comes close to my ear. “What would you like? Fast and hard or slow and deep?”
I don’t usually get a menu. “All,” I croak. “I’ll take it all.”
He chuckles then he slides in deep, and he’s fucking me, fucking me so hard, I’m seeing stars.
“You’re so tight,” he says, grunting in my ear. He stops for a second, deep inside me, watching me. “You okay?”
I nod because no words can do justice. My hands palm over his thick chest as he thrusts into me, deeper and faster.
He’s stopped trying to be gentle now; he’s too close.
I moan as another orgasm swells inside me, stronger than before. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I pant over and over again.
I drape my hands around his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into him. I come hard on his cock, and a muffled groan escapes him as he releases into me with heavy, furious pulses.
So, this is how it should feel.
When he finally catches his breath, he trails a finger down my cheek, smiling softly.
“Απίθανο,” I stutter in Greek.
Amazing indeed.
A few hours later and I’m spent. I think he is too if he would admit it. We lie in bed facing each other, my face so close I feel his hot and minty breath on my cheek.
“I don’t usually do this.” I slide my bottom lip between my teeth. Something makes me want him to believe me. “This is my first one-night stand.” I laugh. “Said every girl after every one night-stand. Ever. But honestly, it’s true.”
“One-night stand?” Tristan smiles. “You make it sound so sordid.” He leans forward and lightly kisses my nose. “You don’t need to justify yourself to me, Elena.”
“It’s not that I’ve never wanted to,” I continue in case he thinks I’m building this into something bigger than it is. “It’s just rare that I meet guys I want to jump into the sack with right away.”
“Or the sea.” His blue eyes sparkle. “I’m honoured you chose me in that case.”
This close, I can see every blade of dark stubble on his square jaw. I trace a finger lazily down his arrogant, masculine nose, his lips and his jawline. “I think this jaw is sculpted out of marble. Sorry, cliché but it’s true.”
“You flatter me,” he murmurs lazily. “You know, you’re very witty.” His eyes hold mine. “Since we are telling the truth, I’m quite taken with you.”
My heartbeat quickens. Are you supposed to talk like this on a one-night stand? “You’re very direct, Tristan,” is all I can manage.
He reaches out to brush a strand of hair off my face. “Are you not used to it? Yes, I’m direct. I’m a man, not a young guy.”
A man? I stare back at him in silence.
I’m starting to think you’re a god.
***
For the first time since I arrived on the island, I slept through the night. Most nights, there’s something keeping me awake: mopeds, drunks, lack of air conditioning, and cockroaches having a nocturnal party. They thrive in the drainage pipes and our shack has shit drainage.
I awoke this morning to silence, hotel quality sheets, a comfortable room temperature and a gorgeous man lying beside me. Last night was indescribable. I’m done with college slobs. This is a real man. This is the type of man I want. I don’t want to settle for less.
He lies on his back, mouth slightly open, sound asleep. It gives me the opportunity to stare at every curve, every ripple of muscle, every line, every hair on his perfectly moulded body.
The sheets bunch around the defined V of his lower stomach, daring me to push them down. I can tell he’s hard under the covers.
I stifle a laugh. I could study his face for a lifetime. That square jaw, those dark eyebrows, defined cheekbones. He told me his parents were Irish. I might need to pay Dublin a visit if this is what they are mass-producing in the Emerald Isle.
What time is it?
I didn’t have a cockroach alarm this morning.
My watch says 7:40. I have exactly twenty minutes to get dressed, run a mile to the dock and meet Megan to start our cleaning shift. I’ve no time to change, I’ll have to go as I am.
As promised, Dimitris demoted us from sales to cleaning crew. We’re receiving this week’s pay in two days, after that we can tell him to shove his placard up his ass, but we can’t risk it beforehand. Talk circulates amongst backpackers about not getting paid after quitting early.
I sneak out of bed and tiptoe over to where my jeans are discarded on the floor. There is a clothes trail of destruction from when we fired everything off us in a lust haze. I dress as quietly as possible and gather up the contents of my bag.
The tip he left on the bar two nights ago slips out. I place four of the notes, making up eighty Euros, on the bedside table beside him. Twenty euros was more than enough for a generous tip.
“Goodbye, my handsome Adonis,” I whisper, stealing one final stare. He told me he was leaving for Athens this morning. With his ship sailing, so too is ours. Ours sailed the moment I let a guy I met twenty-four hours before finger me on a beach. You do that and you lose any hope of something more meaningful.
If I sneak out now, it won’t be awkward.
I creep into the bathroom to wash my face. In daylight I see just how lavish this hotel is. An extensive selection of expensive toiletries is arranged across the sink and a remote control sits on top of the bath. I spot more knobs and levers on the bath than a plane. Can that thing fly?
Pity I don’t get to enjoy the five-star treatment.
Scanning the room, I do what any normal backpacker would do. I open my bag and sneak in a few mini shampoo and shower gels. He’s leaving today, he’ll never notice. It would be a shame to waste them.
Then I tip toe towards the main door and close it behind me. Who knew I was so good at being a hussy and a thief?