“Yeah.”
“You need this.”
“I want this,” I say, looking down at her.
Our heads inch closer together until I can smell the scotch on her lips. I’m breathing so fast, I’m sure she can feel the heat of my quick pants. I’m about to kiss her—to devour her—when the elevator doors suddenly open. She jumps back from me, chuckling softly, her cheeks pink from arousal, or surprise, or both.
“We’re here.”
She steps into the carpeted hallway and quickly consults the sign which directs us to the left. As she walks down the hall without looking at me, I’m treated to a fine view—curvy hips, small waist, and a perfect ass in tight jeans. I’m still staring at her assets when she stops in front of our room.
I grab the envelope from my back pocket, take out the keycard and shove it in the slot, watching as the light flickers from red to green. Go, go, go!
She pushes down on the lever and steps into the room, making her way down a short, dark hallway, past the bathroom and bed, and stopping at the windows. She throws open the curtains, which brightens the room. It is Alaska, after all. It won’t be dark until almost eleven.
I give her some space, standing by the bathroom door, on the other side of the bed.
My hunger for her, for what we’re about to do, hasn’t diminished in the last five minutes, but she’s not a whore and I’m not calling the shots. I don’t know how many other men she’s been with, but she just made it clear that this—having sex with random men—isn’t a regular occurrence for her. Until we’re both naked and she’s asking me to fuck her, this is her show. She decides how far this will go. If she chooses for it to go all the way, I’ll do everything I can to make it good for both of us.
After checking out the view, she turns around and looks at me.
“What now?”
“Whatever you want,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall.
“It’s all up to me? That’s a lot of pressure.” She cocks her head to the side. “What turns you on?”
“Consent.”
Her face, which was tense, relaxes instantly, and she grins at me. “Oh. You’re just making sure…”
“… that you’re comfortable.”
“I am,” she says softly. “I want this.”
I take a step forward and sit down on the edge of the bed. She’s such a little thing, and if I’m this aware of her body she’s got to be just as aware of mine. I don’t need to tower over her.
“What do you want? Exactly?”
“Um.” She licks her lips, then tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth. Even from here, about ten feet away from her, I can tell how heavily she’s breathing. Her breasts rise and fall rapidly, and in the dim light I can see her cheeks are still pink. Not surprise. Arousal. She takes a deep breath, then blurts out: “Take your clothes off.”
“Okay. You too?” I ask.
“Mm-hm.” She nods, toeing off her sandals before her fingers land on her zipper.
I shrug out of my flannel shirt, then reach behind my neck and pull my t-shirt over my head so that my chest is bare. Her eyes are wide and locked on mine as her jeans slide down her legs.
I stand up and unbuckle my belt, trying to ignore the trembling of my fingers
as I unbutton, then unzip, my jeans. I look up in time to see her pull her sweater over her head and let it drop to the floor on top of her jeans.
I’m in boxer briefs now, and she’s in a white bra and matching panties. She’s backlit by the sunshine outside, but here, in this room, the light is spare and shadowy. It silhouettes her form, which is the female equivalent of my own. Neither of us are nubile teens anymore, but we’re both in good shape. She has curves, like a woman should, but she’s taken care of herself the same way I have. I like that about her. I like it that she cares about herself.
“Count to three?” she asks, her voice breathy.
“Okay.”
“One…two…”