The room doesn't matter. It's dark and could be anywhere. Her phone is turned off, there's no sense of time and no reason to care. The blinds are closed; a sliver of mid-day sun frames the curtain. The Do Not Disturb sign hangs from the door and the silence is occasionally broken by the faint squeak of the housekeeping cart as it trundles down the hall.
They're alone.
All that matters is the bed she's stretched out on, and the dark-haired man that steps slowly around, his green eyes lock down on her. The silence is deafening, they agreed not to speak, and with no music or TV or annoyances all around, all she can hear is his careful movement around the bed. She wonders if he can hear her heart beat faster as he crouches down.
He takes the silk scarf from his suit jacket, and drapes it across her face. She can see his shadow through the red mesh. The scarf cascades from her chin, the fibers tickling at her neck, as he glides it across her white blouse. His hand stops, and carefully smoothes out the scarf across her front. The material molds her bosom; a slight sigh escapes her lips as the palm of his hand cradles her soft breasts. It's a fleeting sensation that she wants to continue. He can sense her enjoyment and breaks the pressure. The scarf snags on a button as he glides it down to her waist.
Her stocking feet slide together, and her skirt crinkles as she grinds on the bed. His rough hands trace down her skirt and stop. Fingers slowly slide under the hem, and trace the tops of her garters. She gasps as the tips of his fingers find skin. She obeyed him and took her thong off before she even left work and drove to the hotel. A slight smile grows on his face as his fingers move and dance across a sensitive patch and inch closer to her growing warmth.
He bends down to kiss her, soft and sweet, his teeth and tongue play against her bottom lip. Her hands reach and slide across his shoulders. "I want you." The first utterance since the door closed. And the first rule broken. His body tense like a wire as he pulls away from her touch. His rough hands pin her to the bed, no longer gentle, as he grabs her arms and tugs them above her head. The scarf wraps tight around her wrists and twists and locks. Her eyes watch his every move, but he doesn't once acknowledge her. His concentration remains on his work as he tests the tension of the knot, and steps back to admire the result. She rests on the bed, with her hands pulled up above her head. Her blouse and skirt wrinkled, the only sound above steady breathing is the abrasion of her stockings as her legs rub together.
Their eyes lock; he licks his lips and breaks the quiet. A soft voice barely masks his hunger. "You don't say anything. You don't ask anything. All you do is answer. Is that understood?" She doesn't respond, but doesn't look away. His shirt expands as he takes a breath and leans forward, a hand wraps through her chestnut hair. His arm stiffens; her head jerked forward. "I said, do you understand?" She tries to pull away from his grasp, "Yes." The word stuck rough in her throat.
His hand stays gripped in her hair, as his mouth finds hers. The kiss grows as his hunger rises; his mouth explores the contours of her neck. Fingers begin to clutch and fumble at the buttons on her blouse as her mouth reaches up and finds his ear, her tongue swirls and lips suck at the lobe.
His composure cracks as he rips at her top, the buttons pop and bounce on the sheet. She catches her breath as the cold air hits her skin. His fingertips explore the cut of her bra, shoving the material aside as a nipple rises against his thumb.
She wants him, but can't move her bound wrists, and is aware enough not to make a sound, not to say a word. If she speaks, he stops. He told her that in the break room, with a sly smile on his face. In the room, his smile is nowhere to be found. She watches his every movement, and can feel his fire burn. As the passion rises, the effect is obvious. Waves of desire pulse and she can feel the result as the material of his dress pants bulges tight.
His hands slide to the back of her bra, and deftly release the clasp. Cold air hits her erect nipples, as a moan escapes him and his warm mouth descends to beat back the chill. His tongue circles an erect nipple and takes her breast deep in his mouth.
Her body writhes on the bed, straining for him. His mouth moves across her breasts, in teasing licks and swirls. Wet lips trail a path down her stomach. His hand claws up her thigh, pulling up her skirt. Fingers wrap around the garter, the sensation builds and causes goose-bumps.
His body glides up next to her until his mouth reaches her ear. His hand stays under her skirt, and touches sensitive skin.
"Do you like this?", he whispers. The answer is obvious. He doesn't have to ask but she remembers the rules. "Yes.", she obediently mutters. He explores the wetness around her swollen lips. Her moans sputter and increase as he continues to brush against her clit. "What do you want?" He continues to explore her, warm and wet with desire. Breathing steadily, her face turns to look at him. His body motionless, his green eyes on her, his hand continues to move as her body lifts off the bed with the rhythm. "I want you. I want to feel you inside me." His fingers punctuate every word, her body eager and ready; her passion mounts with every soft touch. He leans in, a slow kiss; their tongues wrap and explore. He breaks the kiss with a drawn out bite across her lower lip, and watches her. Warm breath on her cheek, his chest hovers above her; his motions sway with her response as his fingers dance and stroke against her.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Sweet kisses along her cheek and the flick of his tongue and nip of his teeth under her chin. "Say it. I want to hear you say it." She grinds against his hand; her moist mouth reaches and runs along his stubble, teeth bite along his ear. Her voice husky and burning, "Fuck me. God, fuck me. Take me. You can have me any way you want."
Their mouths come together, deep and wet. He pants against her cheek. "I don't want you.", he whispers. The words cloud her thoughts as the focus remains with the movement of his hand. He says it again, he turns away from her, and her body stiffens. A shock flows through her as he breaks the carnal spell, the energy changes. She tries to inch up on the bed, her waist pulls away; legs kick from his touch. "What?", her puzzled expression morphs to pain.
He snaps at her, and shoves her on the bed; his body weight holds her in place, his hand travels rough and firm under her skirt. A finger slides inside her, wet and inviting. She tries to fight, tries to push away from his touch, but melts as he works the digit back and forth; her pussy engulfs his finger, her body willing. "I said, I don't want you. What I want is a dirty fucking bitch. That's what I want. That's what you are." His aggression subsides, his fingers glide steadily, a jolt of electricity races through her as he bends his hand and continues the pressure. A second finger slides inside; her back arches and stockings spread on the bed. Hair in her face, her head twists into the pillow as her body responds. A series of moans escape as he flexes and shoves his fingers deep inside.
His mouth at her ear, their bodies move together with the rhythm of his hand. She bucks off the bed as he works faster. "Did you hear me?". He ends the question with a deep thrust. "Yes.", she spits out, her bound wrists strain against the bed post, the scarf pulls tighter. She tries to wriggle and force her arms free, but ignores the bonds as his mouth descends and covers her breast. His teeth graze and tongue circles her nipple. His thumb shadows her clit, a constant tease as his soaked fingers continue to thrust and flex inside her. He comes off her breast and stares down at her. Strands of dark hair tickle at her neck. "Then say it. Say the fucking words. You're my dirty fucking bitch."
Her eyes burn into his, their rhythm flows together. "No. No, I'm not...I won't say--". His hand thrusts harder, fingers work and bend faster, his thumb steady and slow on her swollen clit. Her legs slap together and trap his hand in place as he drives inside her. "Fucking say it.", he hisses through clenched teeth.
Her face and cheek thrash against a pillow, the pressure intense until the warmth and wetness covers his hand as his fingers continue to work. She moans, "Don't stop, please, don't." Her legs unlock and spread wide, her pussy bucks hard against his hand. "Say it, or I'll stop. You hear me? Fucking say it.". The first wave of spasms race through her, she rolls and kicks on the bed as the orgasm takes control of her rigid body. The words spill from her open mouth. "A bitch. I'm your fucking bitch."
He glides down on her body, his hands firm, fingers massage as his mouth moves to taste her. His lips kiss along her swollen pussy, inner thighs slick and wet. His tongue slides inside her, a sweet and juicy peach that he steadily savors and devours.
She tries to pull her legs together but his hands shove her far apart as he repositions on the bed and buries his face between her thighs. She pushes into him as his dark head moves with the rhythm of his tongue. His hands glide along her garter as his mouth sucks at her sensitive place. He glances up at her, his nails trace the pattern of her stockings. His face slick; he licks his lips through a smile.
"You're my fucking whore. Say it. I want to hear you say it." He moves back down to taste her, a gentle touch on her skin as he blows warm breath across her thighs and begins to play at her clit. She cries out as he swirls and sucks. His moans muffled as he continues the pressure. His arms glide up to her waist and his face continues to grind. "I'm your whore. Fuck me, oh God, fuck me." She pants at him and bounces on the bed. "Fuck your whore. Fuck your dirty fucking bitch."
