Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Fuck sake, Ian could be any one of the guys in here. So many different options.
I remind myself he might not even be in here and concentrate on my food.
I don’t want to know who he is anyway. Not really.
I want the anonymity of a stranger sliding himself into bed beside me. Such sleepy intimacy with someone I’ve never met. It gives me flutters. An innocent vulnerability at the idea of being asleep and taken from behind under the covers.
I’ve only eaten half of my food, but I can’t take any more. I pat my lips with my napkin then get to my feet, making a show of picking up my wine glass and drinking it down. I pick up my coat and bag but don’t put the coat on, just hook it over my arm as I saunter out of the bar, so many guys glancing my way, the horny chick in faded jeans and a cami top.
In the elevator, I rest my shoulder against the wall and press at my clit through my jeans.
Exhaustion, carbs, red wine, and the need for cock, is a tantalising mix.
Back in my room, I strip off everything and flop onto the bed. I’m wet already – flashing through the images of the guys in the bar, wondering which one will be fucking me. I rub myself as I think, the fantasies coming alive as I dig three fingers deep, moaning and shuddering as the orgasm jolts through me.
Fuck, that was nice. So heady. So dirty. I could drift so easily…
And almost do.
I force myself up and off the bed, and after a heavenly shower, I don my satin slip and check myself in the mirror. I wonder how much my client will be able to see of me as I slip under the covers. Should I leave a lamp on when I’m faking sleep? Damn, my kinky client wasn’t very specific at all. Ok, I’ve got it. I open the curtains, just enough to give the room a slight glow of light from the car park outside. I check the time on my phone. It’s just gone eleven. An hour until he gets here.
I turn the lamp off and relax, getting myself comfortable under the covers, facing away from the door.
And then I play with myself, again. Teasing myself for a second round. I work my clit just enough to keep me on edge, knowing I’ll be wet for my client when he sneaks into my bedroom later, the dirty intruder.
The world contracts around me, and the minutes slow down. Time becomes irrelevant. My adrenaline eases and blurs into the darkness, and sleep begins to take hold. Dozy half dreams. The bliss of in and out consciousness.
I must be in a deep sleep when midnight comes, because I barely stir at the sound of… the room door closing. Not gently closed. Closed loud enough to warn me.
And now my heart is thudding, my ears pricked high and I can only just hear his footfalls.
He’s watching me. Should I kick the covers back? Or stay still and pretend snore? I have no fucking idea but this is way hornier than I imagined it would be.
I almost gasp when I feel the slow movement of the sheets being pulled back. I get goosebumps as the warmth is removed. I stir a little, and I know that he’s looking. The sheet is all the way down now. I feel the fabric of my slip move, he’s lifting it, exposing me. Should I roll onto my back? Or is that too obvious?
I remain still, on my side as my slip rides further, exposing my tits.
I can hear his breathing now, heavier. I wonder if he’s hard. Of course he fucking is.
I hear him move away, shuffling, he’s stripping off.
And then stillness.
It’s bizarre how exposed and on display you can feel in virtual darkness. I know full well his eyes are fixed on me, lying still. My goosebumps get worse, dancing down my arms. I feel prickly by the time I feel his weight sink back down onto the mattress beside me.
I imagine him naked, stroking his cock at the thought of what is to come. The urge to open my legs and play for him is so damn strong, but I stay asleep, stay still as he leans in closer. I feel his every move.
I can’t help jerking a little when he touches a nipple. I calm my breaths and stay still, hoping he forgives me.
He strokes my nipple, his fingernail catching, and it’s so nice, so good. What a fucking tease when his fingers move to my thigh. He eases my leg to the side, exposing me more. I wonder how wet my pussy must be. I’ll be so slick when he touches me.
Anticipation is a killer, waiting for fingers to touch and probe. But he moves away, to the bottom of the bed. What is he planning? I haven’t got a clue. Anticipation turns to the instinct of fear, and my eyes open in the darkness, but I catch hold of myself before I jump or freak out. User 1222 is bulky. Really fucking bulky. I can feel it in the way the mattress moves under him every time he makes a move. I think of bulky guy at the bar. It could be him. He stalks up higher and I hear his breaths behind me. It’s all I can do to keep mine steady – breathing in and out, in and out, long and slowly. Asleep. I need to be ASLEEP.