All That He Requires(4)

We’re in Vegas, I realized.

“…what… oh my God… I can walk,” I protested, struggling against him sleepily.

No use. His arms were too powerful.

“I can carry you even easier.”

I looked around. My eyes, which had been dazzled by the bright sun just a moment before, could barely focus in the gloom, but I could make out well-dressed people staring at us as we went by.

Tall, handsome man carrying tiny chick.

Well… not so tiny, to be honest. Just short.

“…what are people going to think…?” I asked anxiously, struggling to keep my head up.

“Why would I care what other people think?”

That was true. Connor didn’t care what anybody thought.

Except you, a little voice whispered in my mind, and I smiled sleepily.

There was a musical chime, then the sound of doors sliding open. Connor stepped inside a mirrored elevator, and suddenly I could see myself in his arms, reflected hundreds of times, getting smaller and smaller, inwards to infinity.

Johnny stepped through the doors just before they closed.

“…oh… hi, Johnny…”

He grinned. “Hi, Lily.”

The elevator was so smooth, I barely noticed the transition from stillness to movement. But I could hear a hum, which rapidly increased in intensity. We were moving fast.

“…oh my God, this is embarrassing… put me down…” I told Connor.

“Mmmm…” he said, looking into the air as though pondering the question. Then he shook his head, as though he’d thought it over and decided otherwise. “Naaaah.”

“…Johnny… tell him to put me down…”

“Yeah, like that would do any good. In case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t listen to me at all,” Johnny said with a reproachful look at his boss.

The elevator began to slow. Within seconds, the hum died away to nothing, and the doors opened again. Johnny walked out first, followed by Connor with me in his arms. I saw a corridor painted light yellow. A dozen beautiful paintings covered the walls. Some of them looked vaguely familiar.

“…seriously, this is…” I said, then let my head loll against his shoulder. It was too difficult to finish the sentence.

“We’re almost there,” Connor whispered.

I heard an electronic beep and the click of a lock.

Connor stepped through a doorway into a darkened chamber, and moved through the shadows.

“I’ll take the room at the other end,” Johnny said.

“Sounds good,” Connor agreed. “Order up whatever you want – just keep things quiet.”

“You got it.”

Then we were past Johnny and inside a pitch-black room.

“Okay, now I put you down,” Connor whispered.

I felt his right arm slowly descend so that my feet lowered to the ground. But his left arm gripped my upper body so strongly that I never once felt in danger of falling.

My feet touched the floor, and I wobbled unsteadily.

“Hold on, hold on,” Connor said. He knelt down in front of me and removed my shoes, one by one. Then he stood back up and unzipped my skirt.

“…whoa… you move fast…” I murmured as it fell to the floor.

He laughed, then lifted my blouse up over my head. “Don’t you remember our conversation in the car? The one about me undressing you?”

“Oh yeah… and the nap…” I yawned.

“And the nap,” he agreed.

I felt my bra tighten, then release. The straps slipped off my arms.

“…where’s the bed…?”

“Right behind you,” Connor said as he hooked his fingers through my panties, bent into a crouch, and pulled them down my thighs to the floor.

I moaned a little, and ran my hands through his hair before he stood back up.

“Not now,” he smiled. “Later. After we sleep.”

I stood there as he took off his clothes twelve inches away from me – his jacket, his shirt, his shoes, his pants. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, and I realized that the room wasn’t pitch black – though it was close. I watched his arms and shoulders as they moved in the gloom, his outline little more than a muscular silhouette.

The light from under the door let me see a little of his lower body, though. Which was very nice. He stood before me clad only in boxers made of black material.

“…hey… if I’m naked, you gotta be naked, too,” I whispered.

“Do it, then,” he challenged me.

I could hear the smile in his voice even if I couldn’t see it with my eyes.

I hooked my fingers over the edge of his waistband and felt some sort of soft material under my skin. I pulled down slowly and watched the fabric move past his sculpted hipbones and the muscular curve of his lower abdomen, until I saw the thatch of dark curls and the base of his long, thick, limp manhood.

My mouth watering, I bent down in front of him, my knees touching soft carpet, and kept pulling until the boxers moved past his cock. Unrestricted, it bounced slightly, then slowly settled into a heavy, pendulous swing.

I leaned over and kissed it.

I felt the heat of his body on my face, the soft silkiness of the skin against my lips.

His shaft immediately began to grow with every pulse of his heartbeat.

But before I could do anything, I felt his hands grasp my arms and pull me gently to my feet.

“…hey,” I protested sleepily.

“Later,” he purred in my ear. “After our nap.”

Without the glorious sight of his manhood in front of me, I was easily distracted.

“…okay…” I yawned.

There came the sounds of fabric moving, and then Connor swept me up again like a doll and laid me in bed. The softest sheets I’d ever felt caressed my skin. They were cool to the touch, and a shiver ran through me.

Then the mattress dipped as Connor climbed in next to me and nuzzled against my body. He radiated warmth. I turned towards him like a plant does toward the sun, and nestled my head against his powerful chest.

He stroked my hair and whispered into my ear, “Sleep.”

And as his strong arms enveloped me… I did.





7





I awoke with no idea of where I was or what time it was.

I opened my eyes halfway. I was on the edge of the bed, facing outwards. Dim shapes of furniture lined the room, but I couldn’t see a clock or a window or anything that might tell me whether it was day or night.

As I lay there in a muddled haze of brain fog, I replayed the last events I could remember, though they were like images from a fading dream:

Connor carrying me into the room…

…slowly undressing me…

…me pulling off his underwear…

At that particular memory, something inside me woke up a little bit more.

I turned over in the bed.

There he was a few feet away, lying on his back, one arm sprawled above his head, eyes closed and lips slightly parted.

Perfection.

I began to remember everything: the screaming match with Klaus… finding out my car had been towed… bursting into tears in the parking deck… Connor driving up… his impassioned speech… me crying in the car… his kissing my hand… the conversation with Johnny over the phone… the feeling of Connor’s strong arms encircling me… the spectacle we must have made as he carried me inside the hotel…

None of that mattered.

I listened to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, and was happy just to be lying there beside him.

I was at peace.

And then my eyes wandered.

At first down to his pecs. Bronzed, massive, powerful.

Then to his washboard abs, which slowly moved up and down in time with his breathing.

And finally to the silken bed sheet, which lay draped across his lower abdomen, as though someone had positioned it there out of modesty…

…but had failed to completely cover everything.

I could see the curve of one hip, and the muscles at the top of his thigh.

I so wanted to see more.

I glanced at his face. He looked so calm and peaceful… I didn’t want to disturb him.

…but I did want a peek.

I probably lay there for a full minute debating it in my head. Leave him alone and let him sleep, or peek under the sheet and potentially wake him up?

If it had been any of my previous boyfriends, I absolutely would have let them sleep.

Not that I wasn’t concerned about Connor getting enough rest. I was.

It’s just that, if it had been any of my exes lying there next to me, I wouldn’t have been that interested in what was under the sheet.

I wouldn’t have had the same hunger that gnawed at me now.

I reached out my hand.

I probably shouldn’t have. I suppose it was selfish… just because I was hot and bothered as I lay there looking at him…

…but I rationalized it by thinking that most guys would love getting woken up to have sex, even if they were dead tired.

And I made an agreement with my libido that if I did wake him up, I’d do something extra nice for him.

What that would be – more ‘nice’ than what I’d done over the last couple of days – I didn’t know.

But I figured we could hash it out.

My heart was hammering as my hand lightly grasped the sheet above his hips. I kept glancing at his face, worried that my slightest movements would wake him.

It felt so naughty.

Spying on him when he wasn’t able to say ‘no’…

…about to uncover him…