La sala de conferencias

The hotel bar smelled of stale beer and expensive perfume, and I was on my second whiskey when I saw her. Lena. My neighbor from three doors down, the one who always waved from her driveway in those tiny running shorts. She was in a navy dress now, hair down, laughing at something her colleague said. When our eyes met, she didn't look away. She smiled, slow and deliberate, and my cock stirred against my zipper like it had a mind of its own.

Her name came out rougher than I intended when she slid onto the stool beside me. "Didn't peg you for a conference guy."

"Regional sales." She signaled the bartender. "You?"

"Same bullshit, different city." I watched her order a martini, the way her fingers curled around the stem. "Where's your room?"

"Twelve-oh-four." She didn't blink. "Yours?"

"Twelve-oh-six."

Lena laughed, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through me. "Well, isn't that convenient."

The elevator ride was torture. She stood close enough that I could smell her shampoo — something floral, expensive — and her hand brushed my thigh when the doors closed. I didn't wait for the doors to open fully. I pushed her against the hallway wall, my mouth on hers, hungry and desperate, my hands finding the hem of her dress.

"Fuck," she breathed against my lips. "I've wanted this since June. Since you fixed my sprinklers in that tank top."

I kicked my door open, pulled her inside, and had her against the door before it clicked shut. Her dress was already bunched around her waist, her panties a scrap of black lace that I tore aside without ceremony. She gasped when my fingers found her, already slick, already swollen.

"God, you're wet."

"I've been thinking about this for months." She bit my earlobe, hard. "About your cock. About how big it must be."

I proved her right, shoving my pants down just enough, guiding myself against her slick folds. She moaned when the head pushed in, her nails digging into my shoulders.

"Jesus — yes —"

I drove into her, deep and slow, savoring the way her walls clenched around me. Her head fell back against the door, mouth open, and I watched her face as I set a rhythm that had her whimpering.

"Look at me," I demanded.

Her eyes met mine, dark and glazed. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I didn't. I fucked her against that door until my thighs burned, until her moans turned into ragged cries, until she came with a shuddering gasp that had her knees buckling. I caught her, carried her to the bed, and laid her out like a feast.

"You're not done," she whispered, spreading her legs.

I wasn't.

The second time was slower, tender in a way I hadn't expected. I knelt between her thighs, watching my cock slide into her inch by inch, her pussy so tight and wet it made my eyes roll back. She whispered my name like a prayer, arching her back, and I buried myself to the hilt.

"Come inside me," she begged. "Please. I need to feel you."

I came with a guttural groan, my forehead pressed to hers, her legs wrapped tight around my waist. She pulsed around me, milking every last drop, and when I collapsed beside her, she laughed, breathless and light.

"Eso fue..."

"Yeah." I pulled her close, her head on my chest. "Yeah."

The morning sun came through the cheap curtains, and I woke to the smell of coffee. Lena was sitting on the windowsill in one of my shirts, nothing underneath, holding two paper cups.

"Room service," she said, smiling. "Cream and sugar, right?"

I watched her cross the room, the shirt riding up her thighs, and grinned. "You remembered."

"I remember everything." She handed me the cup, then leaned in, her lips brushing mine. "Same time next year?"

I pulled her onto the bed, coffee forgotten. "I'll book the room now."

CATEGORIES: [Dick, On a Business Trip, Just the Two of Us, Married, Neighbor]