Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three (28 page)

“Yeah, right there. Right...”

“Yes. Cum for me.”

“Fuck!” she shouts. Our chests slide and my balls smack into her
aroused flesh. Slamming. Pounding. Wanting more. Needing to hear her cum. She
pulls me closer and speaks faintly. “Give it to me. Give it... give it.” She
fades and her legs tremble around my waist. “Don’t stop.” Her eyes glaze over.
“Ah.” A high-pitched sound escapes her mouth, then another and another. “Ah,
ah, ah.”

“Let yourself go, beautiful.” My hand moves from her garter and wraps
playfully around her neck. “Disappear into that sensual world. Escape.”

My chest is clawed the instant her vibrating pussy lays siege to my
cock.

“Yes,” I whisper. Her body is an earthquake swallowing me whole. I’m
disappearing inside of her. Following her. Being led by her seducing, beating
muscles. “Yes,” I say again. “Own it.”

My tongue runs along her lips in a slow and suggestive manner. My dick
was ready. I was ready. But I wanted her to relish this moment as her own. But
now... now I can cum.

I hold her tightly, turning us around so she can look over the city
while we fuck. I notice the tiny lights reflected in her eyes as she watches in
bliss.

“I love the way your cock feels inside of me.”

I close my eyes and listen, knowing every word from her mouth is
significant.

“Can you hear us?” she whispers. “Listen... listen to our bodies and
our heavy breaths.”

“Uh.”

“Keep fucking me.” She wraps her arms over my shoulders. “Your cock’s
so hard... grab me, Mark. Pull me closer. Cum inside of me.”

“I’m close.”

“Fuck me with that big cock and fill me.”

“Oh fuck,” I pant. “Fuck, my dick becomes a giant when you talk like a
dirty slut.”

Her hand slides down my chest around to my ass... then... her finger
sneaks inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Fucking you.” She grins.

I grasp the back of her sweaty neck and our heads connect. “Holy fuck!”
I yell. My dick’s
gonna
burst. I love her finger in my ass. Another quick jolt... one more thrust. One
more. One more. “I’m
cumming
.” Our eyes meet. “I’m
cumming
,” I growl, clenching her finger. “Fuck! Don’t pull
out. Don’t!”

“That’s my man.”

My cock heaves cum into her pussy. Shot after shot. And then I call
out, “I surrender,” like a blithering idiot when her finger slides another inch
inside. “You have all the power.”

Standing on my tiptoes with tense legs, narrow vision, and a
constricted heart, the only sounds left to escape are, “uh, ah, and oh.”

“We both have the power,” she whispers. “We’re one.”

I collapse onto the floor and she falls on top of me, both of us
consumed by deep breathing and aching legs.

“Shit, that was good,” I wheeze, in a daze.

“Everything was.”

“I can’t believe I just came and I still want you.”

She laughs. “That’s telling.”

“I guess so... I’m dizzy... hell... let’s fuck like that again
sometime, like tomorrow.” I grin. “By the way, is your ass healed?”

“It’s much better, thanks for asking.” She takes a napkin from the
table and wipes my dick.

“Oh, don’t do that. Someone’s going to wipe his mouth on it.”

“Yeah, after it’s washed.” She shakes her head. “And since when do you
care?”

“Trust me, I care about cleanliness. My hotel sheets are laundered
after every guest, not every third guest like most hotels.”

“Hotels really do that?”

I nod and look at my watch. “Oh crap.” I sit up. “We need to get
dressed before we’re putting on a show for some resort worker. We’ve got about
five minutes left. Time flies when you’re fucking in the air.”

She places her cut underwear in her purse and reaches for her dress.
“Do you think people saw us?”

“No. We were too high and the lift is dark.”

“So are you about to explode from all of this?” She motions around the
space. “You’ve been so kind, but this must be shrinking your balls to the size
of a pea.”

“I can’t answer that because my balls have been missing for weeks.” I
smile, buttoning my shirt. “Come closer.” I pull her by my side, fixing her
wandering strands of hair. “You happy?”

“I’m happy, Mark.”

“For how long?”

She laughs, even though it was a serious question. I let it go for now
while I fix my hair and straighten my tie.

She’s dressed and tucking her
Berti
into the
box it was gifted in. I’m sort of jealous that I don’t own such an attractive knife.

“There’s no reason to touch my weapons now that you have your own.”

She nods. “Can I ask you something and get a truthful answer?”

“No,” I say, tying my shoes. “It depends on the question. What?”

“Are you the one who killed Roland?”

I stand and sigh, hovering over her, unsure why she needs to hear me
say it. “You already know.”

She looks down as if she’s thinking and then asks quietly, “Would you
kill for me again?”

“When necessary, yes. For the right reason.”

“What if Roland never hurt me? Would you have killed him anyway, if I
had asked?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

The lift stops and the door opens. We’re no longer alone.

“I just want to know how far you’d be willing to go. Did you ‘get rid
of’ people based on
their
‘actions?’ What they did? Or
did you do it because of the way it made you
feel
?
Which is it? Was it about you, or them?”

“
Shh
,” I hush her. We’ve got company. The guy
could think we’re talking about firing my employees, but still.

“It was probably both,” she whispers, stepping into the bitter night.
“And I don’t blame you.”

She walks joyfully ahead while swinging her gift, delighted by the way
the date turned out. Her silhouette fades into the darkness as I slip into my
jacket, noticing the cut on my chest has stained my shirt - a red
bullseye
over my heart.

She got her target, dead center.

UNSETTLED

J
ules decided to
sleep in her own room, separate from me, which pissed me off considering the
three grand I spent on the fucking
Berti
. She said
it’d be better if we ended the evening on a high-note and not to push it.

“It was perfect,
Mark. Let’s leave it at that,” she said.

“Whatever,” I sigh,
while lying in my dark bedroom. “I’m not even going to try to decipher what’s
going on in her head. I’ll assume she’s tired, nothing more.”

That was three hours
ago and once again I’m in my usual bothered state - staring at the ceiling,
unable to sleep, thinking about my family, and listening to a shitload of
people hanging out poolside in a drunken stupor. I’m glad they’re happy, but
they’re keeping me awake, and if I’m awake, guests are too. I’m surprised I
haven’t heard from the front desk about any noise complaints.

While I enjoy the
fresh air and nearly always prop open my bedroom door when I sleep, tonight may
be one of those times I have to lock myself away from the outside world.

“Loud, obnoxious,
fucks,” I mutter.

Maybe I should get
up and kill
Mera
to pass the time, or... I check my
watch... past midnight... still early when you own a wine bar. Maybe my
brother-in-law can keep me company for a while. I bring up Cove’s office number
at The Dark Scarlett then decide it’s a bad idea, considering I just saw him
yesterday. He needs a day of peace. Damn, one of these days I’m going to figure
out a way to get him to fall in love with me. I’ve tried everything I can think
of, but he refuses to appreciate my company.

I decide to send him
a text instead, but keep it short, after all, I don’t want to ‘push it,’ like
Jules so eloquently said.

We make a great team. Can’t wait to work with
you again. Hope
Dax
is well. Come back soon,
dickhead.

I sigh. Hell, I have
to get out of bed and do something besides sending loving texts into
cyberspace. If I don’t, I’ll go completely insane.

A text sounds as I’m
tying my robe. That was fast. I didn’t expect him to respond... ever.

Swim with me, Mark Jameson.

No shit.

I check the number,
seeing it’s from a Vegas area code and know immediately
who
it’s from. Damn her. That bitch
Mera
Calloway better
not
be
in my pool.

I reply while
heading to my deck. She must’ve picked up my number from
Daxton
the other night.

You
wanna
hang out in my suite? I’ll show you a good time.

I’m too far away to
see if she’s really here. It could be a prank.

Neutral ground, in the pool, no weapons.
She responds.

Fuck, I wish I could
see her. Come on, get out of the pool and show your face.

Fog hovers over the
warm water, causing the guests’ heads to disappear. There’re a lot less people
than I thought, considering the amount of noise. Around ten total, some of them
holding drinks from my bar, and luckily, they’re dressed. Every once in a while
I get a group of skinny dippers after a night of drinking. Glad these people
know how to behave.

But I don’t see any
women, only men.

I’m up for this.
I’ll head down and have a little fun, if that’s what she wants. I haven’t been
in my pool in ages and I should take more time to use the hotel facilities,
especially since I own the fucking place.

Wearing my swim
trunks under my Jameson Hotel robe, my black loafers, and my towel in hand, I
make my way to Jules’ suite, hoping she’ll join me for a moonlight dip.

No answer.

Wait, a moan. She’s
stirring. I knock again. “Jules, it’s me.”

A muffled “huh”
sounds.

“Open the door,
princess.”

A moment later my
groggy-eyed woman opens her door in an unbuttoned pink pajama top with her tits
hanging out and her tan flesh begging to be caressed.

“Nice.”

“I was sleeping,”
she whispers.

“You
wanna
join me for a swim?”

“Now? No, Mark.”

“Why not? It’s a
clear night. The moon and stars are out, and who knows, the pool may be full of
surprises.”

“Are you talking
about your dick again?” she sighs.

“You should come
down and find out.”

“I already told
you...”

I block her body as
a guest walks by, bringing her closer to my chest. “I know, I know. Suit yourself,”
I whisper. “Sweet dreams. And if you change your mind, bring JAB along. Get
used to carrying that weapon.” I assert, tossing the towel over my shoulder and
walking away. Her door closes as I head down the corridor, alone. Once she’s
out of her drowsy state she might decide to show her face, but for now, I’m on
my own - just
Fantasia Cocker
and me.
God, that’s such a fucking ridiculously horrible fake name. Amateurish.

I take a detour and
stop at my front desk, inspecting the guest list to see if she’s checked in or
just being a parasite on my property. There’s no
Mera
,
Fantasia, or any other name that looks familiar, so my guess is right - she’s
being a freeloader, taking advantage of my backyard oasis like it’s some
urine-filled public pool.

My second stop is
the bar. I’m
gonna
take my
time and get a beer, two, actually. One
for me and one for
me,
because real men swim with a beer in each hand.

Last, I walk out the
side door, checking the parking lot for her truck. Sure enough, the orange
rusted beast is parked next to a classic red Corvette.

“Like apples and
oranges,” I mumble, turning back inside and entering the hallway toward the
pool. Whistling and thinking about trolls, I drink from one bottle then whistle
and drink from the other. I didn’t invite this bitch into my ‘home.’

I am a troll,
foldy
roll.

She’s rushing this,
just like
Dayne
, and dealing with a novice can irk
the fuck out of me. She’s trying to act tough, but doesn’t have a clue what
she’s getting into; it’s obvious with the text. Some people need a septic hose
jammed down their throats to get the, ‘my shit don’t stink
,
’ sucked out of their systems so they learn the world doesn’t
revolve around them.

“I’m going to eat
you for supper,
Mera
,” I whisper, exiting the door
that leads outside, ignoring the
no
alcoholic beverages in the pool area
sign.

I place my robe over
a chair, slip out of my loafers, take both beers in hand, and stand on the
stairs leading into the water. It’s fucking colder than a witch’s
titty
tonight and my cock is a shriveled nub, but the water
feels like
it’s
ninety degrees, making it easy to slip
in quickly.

My pool is a decent
size and the heads that appear next to me dissolve into the fog a moment later,
moving from the shallow end to the deep end then back again... in and out.
Everyone standing poolside, above the fog, is within view; it’s the swimmers at
the
surface that are
in a haze. I lean against the
wall in the shallow area, spreading my arms wide, holding each beer, and
waiting for my
friend
.

“Marco,” I call out
to announce my arrival.

“Polo,” some drunken
dude yells, hanging out poolside about six feet away. I raise my bottle and
nod, getting a cheer from him and his friends as they start chanting Marco,
Polo.

Fucking assholes.

I walk further in,
my beers above the water, taking a swig every couple of feet, then stopping at
the five foot mark.

“
Mera
,”
I say, directing my voice toward the deep end.

“Polo,” the dumbass
behind me shouts.

I look around, only
catching glimpses of people here and there... a head bobbing, splashing, feet
kicking, then... a woman swimming underwater. Black bikini, long dark hair
flowing behind her body, six feet, four feet, two, a touch... hands sliding up
my legs, over my abs and to my neck... a head surfacing a few inches from my
face... her arms and legs wrapping around my body. I’m encased.

“Hello, Mark
Jameson,” she says in a sexy voice holding on to me like we’re lovers. Her
hair’s slicked back and mascara is smeared under her bright blue eyes. “How’s
it hanging?” She grabs my dick and I almost vomit in her face.

“Looking good
Mera
Calloway.” I smirk, taking a chug of beer, hoping to
get drunk so I can handle her touch.

“I didn’t realize
you were so small.”

I look down at her
fondling fingers. “The chilly fall air will do that to a man.”

“Ha.” She taps my
cheek, rubbing her slimy snatch across my leg. “I’ve heard that lie one too
many times from men. Nice try, little
Marky
.” Her
hands slide over my hips and around my ass, patting me down like she’s a cop.
“No weapons... unless you’re hiding something up your butthole, which wouldn’t
surprise me, being Paul’s son and all.”

“No weapons.” I
place the second bottle to my mouth and drink.

“One of those for
me?”

“Fuck no. I was
hoping to pick up a good-looking woman tonight, gift her a beer then take her
back to my room and fuck... trust me, you’re not her. I’ll keep drinking both
beers until my dream woman shows up.”

She digs her nails
into my back and I jerk forward, smashing into her chest. Our eyes are inches
apart and her face smells like chlorine. I’m freed for a moment as she massages
her tits, putting on a ridiculous show that does nothing but make me ill.

“Those are fake.”

“You like ‘
em
?” She unties the bikini strap from around her neck and
lowers her top. Her tits are disgusting as far as I’m concerned, but they’re a
foot away and I can’t help but look.

“What a woman,” I
whisper. “Now put them away, this isn’t some fucking porn video. I’ve got kids
staying in my hotel.”

I watch her retie
the top while I drink from one bottle then place the second to my mouth. She
licks her lips as my tongue circles the rim before swallowing a mouthful.

“Hot,” she says with
a second tug at my cock. “Give me a drink.”

“Tell me what you
want and I might.”

She moves in for the
kill, running her tongue up my neck and to my ear. Fuck, I hate it. I swallow
the vomit that gets caught in my throat, but next time it comes up, I’ll kiss
her and expel it into her mouth.

When her cold tongue
reaches my ear, she whispers, “Where did you bury my husband?”

“How and why did you
get mixed up with
Dayne
?” I give her a repulsed look
while taking another drink. “That piece-of-shit was twenty-five years older
than you. Your marriage wasn’t real. Tell me what you were using him for?”

My nuts get
clutched. “You’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

“Shit.” I wince.

“Dead. Fucking.
Wrong.”

I take a deep breath
to control the pain.

“
Dayne
loved me. He wrote to me almost every day over the past year and we had wild
master and slut fucking conjugal visits. We made truffle butter together and
would beast fuck until the morning sun came up. He treated me with respect too,
unlike most men, including washed up porn stars like yourself, Marcus Wild.”

I’m released from
the bitch’s wicked grip and seriously consider choking her, right here and now.
Her head would be held underwater if we were the only two in this pool.

“It’d be insulting
to every woman on this earth if I ever said that you were one. You’re trash and
nothing more. Too bad you ruined your life starting when you became one of my father’s
whores.”

A hardy echoing
blast of laughter exits her mouth and ricochets into the woods.

“You too, kiddo,”
she says, using one of my dad’s favorite expressions.

I stare at her
incoming crow’s feet and the start of a double chin. She looks fifty, not
thirty-something, and her flabby arms double in size when distorted in the
water. After two more slugs of beer, I hold the second bottle above us, ready
to pour it over the water. She sticks out her tongue, waiting for a drop to
fall.

“Don’t be so stingy,”
she says, as I bring it back to my mouth, stopping before the liquid touches my
lips. She waits, watching me chug half of it down.

“You’re not very
upset about your husband,” I say.
Dayne
may have
loved her, but it’s obvious she didn’t feel the same way about him. Especially
since she’s more focused on the fucking alcohol than showing any emotion toward
the guy. She reaches for the bottle and I finally hand it over, watching her
take two big swallows.

“I can tell by the
marks on your face that he didn’t go down without a fight.” I turn my head,
repelling her attempt to touch my skin.