"Hey, can I leave a message behind the desk please?" I tapped the sealed envelope against the spotless, shiny surface of the reception counter and gave the perfectly made-up woman behind the desk a tight smile.
"Is it for a guest at the hotel, Madam?"
Yes. No. Kind of.
"I'm a guest at the hotel," I offered.
"Room number?"
"Seven oh three."
She tapped her way across the keyboard for a moment then looked back to me.
"Ms. Mac?"
"That's me."
"We can certainly hold onto a message for you. Is it to be picked up today?"
"It is. This afternoon."
She held out her hand for the envelope and I passed it over, eyes raking over the name neatly stencilled across the front. Her perfectly manicured fingers slid over the surface and I knew what she was feeling - the key card tucked neatly inside. Something changed in her expression, a tiny twitch of her lips.
Yeah, she knew what I was up to.
I fought not to blush as I stammered my thanks and scurried across the Lobby. My taxi was waiting for me on the kerb, my agent already inside. I settled in the seat, shifting a little uncomfortably, and tried to focus on chit chat, and not my plans for the evening.
The day was interminable. I met with my publisher, signed more books than I wanted to think about, then did several press interviews before giving a talk to a large group of school children at a library. Through it all I was beyond distracted, my thoughts sliding back towards my hotel room.
In the car ride back, I noticed my agent was similarly preoccupied, his fingers tap, tap tapping across his phone screen.
"We could do dinner, if you want," he offered. Reluctance was written all over his face.
"You got a better offer?" I asked, smirking.
"It doesn't matter, you're my client. We can get some food, have a few drinks."
"That sounds fun," I said teasingly, enjoying watching his struggle to look enthusiastic. "But I have a much better offer."
"You do?" His curiosity was utterly piqued, the hand holding his phone dropping limp into his lap.
"Where should we drop you?" I asked, sidestepping the barrage of questions I knew would come if I gave him half a chance.
"Oh." He glanced out the window, took in where we were. "Here actually."
I dropped him and then continued to the hotel, sliding my phone out of my purse as we turned into the parking area.
I'm here.
I sent the text and thanked the driver. The lobby was busy when I breezed in through the front entrance, guests lounging in the array of fancy armchairs and chaises, the bar to the far right crowded with people in business attire. I tugged at the tailored trousers I was wearing as I clopped past on high heels that had started rubbing at me hours ago and were now crippling me. For the first time in hours I wasn't thinking about that, or about the fact my filmy blouse was a bit tight across my shoulders. I raked my gaze across the area, just in case, but I knew if he was here he wouldn't be here.
The lift came as soon as I called it and I waited as a couple exited, their hands locked together, their eyes only for each other. He had a smear of lipstick across his cheek and she was giggling madly. I smiled as I stepped inside and hit the button for the seventh floor, but as soon as the doors slid closed, the butterflies that had been simmering in my stomach all day erupted into full force. I blew out a breath, trying to calm myself, and checked my phone.
Nothing.
When I slid the key into the lock on my room door and the light changed to green, I pushed my way inside to utter darkness. When I stepped forward and let the door closed behind me, it engulfed me.
"Baby?" My voice was hesitant, warbling in the quiet. "Are you here?"
Uncertainty slid quickly into crushing disappointment. He hadn't come.
Thinking about ordering a bottle of wine from room service along with the most calorific thing on the menu for dinner - and a whacking hunk of cheesecake for dessert - I reached out to flick on the lights.
A hand wrapped around my wrist, tugged hard until I lost my balance and fell into a warm, solid body. A moment later, I was moving again, disoriented in the dark, until I felt the wall at my back and that body pressed tight into me, my hands trapped behind me, both of them wrapped in one large fist. His head dropped down and sharp teeth nipped at my earlobe.
"Hello, Kitten."
"Hey baby," I breathed.
I felt him still, push into me just a fraction harder.
"What's that now?" The edge in his tone, the quiet threat, pulled me out of the dizzy spin of relief.
"Hello Sir."
"Better, Kitten." His mouth trailed down from my ear to my neck, planting soft kisses, the slight scrape of his stubble sensitising my skin. I tilted my head to the side to give him better access and sighed happily, barely noticing as he brought my hands around to the front.
I did notice when he clipped cuffs around my wrists, a short length of chain between them meaning I could still move them, but not much.
"I like this hotel," he said. "It comes with helpful little hooks for hanging up your jacket... and other things."
He lifted my arms up above my head and hooked them just over my head, my elbows bent and dangling either side of my temples.
He kissed me then, properly. His mouth slicked over mine, tongue invading, as his hands got to work on the buttons of my blouse before parting the sides and sliding his hands around my ribs. A moment later they travelled up to cup my breasts, thumbs flicking over my nipples through my bra and sending little darts of lightning through my nerve endings.
Frustrated that I couldn't touch him too, I nipped at the tip of his tongue. He jerked back, and as my sight adjusted to the gloom I could just make out the gleam of his eyes, the white of his teeth as he grinned.
"You sure you want to go down that road, Kitten?"
Sorry Sir. The words drifted through my head but they stayed on my tongue. Instead I raised an eyebrow and tugged on my restraints meaningfully.
His grin widened.
"Thirsty for it are you, Kitten? Not a chance. We go at my pace. And I want to inspect what's mine." He paused. "Speaking of inspections, were you a good girl?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Let's see, shall we." He stepped back a pace and then hands on my hips urged me to turn. It was awkward, with my hands trapped above me, but I managed. He reached around and slid the button of my trousers free and tugged the zip down a millimetre at a time. He ran his fingers beneath the gap between my waistband and my skin before slipping the trousers over my hips and down, helping me kick them off my high-heeled feet. When his hands ran back up my legs to my ass, they met no resistance. My underwear was in my suitcase where I'd been instructed to leave it.
"Hmmmm," he murmured. His hands sculpted my ass, kneading and squeezing, before he delved deeper. "Oh good girl, Kitten."
His fingers wiggled the jewelled princess plug I'd inserted with a wince and a gasp and a lot of lube that morning. That was hours and hours ago, and to say I was feeling over stimulated down there was putting it lightly.
"How has it felt, wearing this all day, knowing no one else knew about it. Just me. Hmmm, Kitten?"
"I... good, Sir."
"Did it make you wet?" He didn't wait for an answer, sliding his fingers forward until they could feel just how soaked I was. "Christ, Kitten."
I mewled and arched my back, hoping he might slide his fingers inside and ease the ache, or move further forward to my clit, which was pulsing and twitching, feeling left out.
He didn't. He went back to the plug, fingers grasping it lightly.
"You like feeling this inside you, then?"
"Yes, Sir," I said. "But-,"
"But what?"
