Graphic sexual content in this section!
Part 2 # The Hotel
All the way through the limo ride, pulling up to the hotel, waiting in the foyer - he had, he realized, been wearing the slack-jawed expression of one blinded by opulence, lights, luxury and cut glass chandeliers. He realised this by virtue of a small bunched fist coming into sudden, painful contact with his gut, winding him.
"Hey, gormless! You gonna stand there all day catching flies?"
He made a sound rather like "Brbrlb?"
"Not bad is it?" She shrugged. "C'mon dickwad, heel."
He followed her obediently across the foyer, feeling stupid. "Where we goin'?"
"Er…to our suite?" she said, as though addressing a very special child.
"Oh." He gulped, following her into the elevator. "Goody."
He was, he realized, extraordinarily tired by now, almost falling asleep in the wrought iron elevator as it sailed up towards the penthouse suite. Amber, on the other hand, had entirely woken up, and was bouncing around with *far too much energy and singing to herself in an utterly exhausting manner. He smiled, indulgently, not having the heart to tell her she was doing his head in. Besides, he found himself thinking fondly, she was so sweet when she was happy. He was almost nauseated by the pooling of affection in his own chest.
"What you lookin' at?" she accosted him suddenly. He realized he must have been gazing at her with all too n*** warmth and, too tired to deny it, stroked her cheek gently.
"Pretty lady," he grunted, so as not to tell her quite how beautiful she was. She smiled a great grin all the same and leant in to kiss his hand, then broke away like an excitable child as the lift dinged to a stop.
"Hey!" she squealed, "we're there, c'mon!" She took his hand and dragged him, far too energetically, down the corridor to their rooms, flanked by their patient staff.
"Woah," he said flatly as they left the guards outside the door, turned the key and surveyed the room. Her eyes lit up at the glamour of it and she flitted about the rooms, examining things, while he stood at the door, half in shock.
"It's so - shiny - and...white -"
She skipped across the checkerboard floor and took his hands, standing on tip toe to kiss him on the lips. "Well, it is the bridal suite, baby," she teased.
"Y'know," he grumbled, sullying the room's perfection by dumping his coat on the floor and letting her lead him to the bedroom, "the white thing is supposed to symbolize purity - I'm really not sure we qualify."
She pouted and wriggled out of her jacket, turning back to him.
"I can do pure," she grinned, fluttering her eyelashes in a manner that made it perfectly clear that she couldn't. She slung her jacket on to a chair and sprung at him suddenly, pushing him onto the bed and straddling him before he had a chance to do anything about it. He held up his hands to ward her off, for all the good it would do.
"Amber!" he groaned. "Tired! Really tired!" She pouted back at him hugely and wriggled, leaning down to kiss him. He shifted uncomfortably.
"I really don't think I…" he tried to object, but her hands had slid between his legs, rubbing his rising e***, straining his jeans beneath her fingertips.
"Oh I really think you do." She grinned. He sighed, wondering if she would ever stop working on him the way she did, if he would ever stop wanting her so badly, ever be able to control even a fraction of his lust for her.
After all, it had been absolutely *hours - ever since they had gotten on the plane. He had foolishly asked her what the mile high club was, and she had licked her lips, grinned, jumped him, and made him an instant member. It was all part of Living With Amber Rule No. 1: What Amber wants, Amber gets. There was no point in fighting it, even if he had really wanted to.
He remembered their wedding night; how beautiful she had been, looking up at him with dark, frightened eyes, filled to brimming with desire and fear - fear that she was letting him in more than she had ever let anyone.
"I only feel alive when you're inside me," she had whispered, her eyes liquid, deep and trembling. He had loved her at that moment so much that he had determined then and there to give her as much life as he was capable of giving; and he had loved her at least that much ever since.
She leaned back, smiling, slowly unbuttoning her shirt, and he took the opportunity to slide a hand up her skirt, tormenting her already pulsing need with a touch that crackled and sparked, caressing her thighs and pressing into her dampness.
He slid two fingers up inside her and felt her spasm excitedly around him. He smirked; she was so easy to please he wasn't sure whether to be flattered or angry. She was so hot, so wantonly shameless, he wondered if anyone could have made her react like this or if it really could be him. Her sharp cry when he stroked her throbbing c*** was so nearly o*** that he removed his hand quickly, not quite ready to let her have it so easily.
Having Amber at his beck and call - and she was, however much it may have appeared to be the other way around in public (though he did half-happily jump when she called) - was a bit like having his own private harem. So many different looks, so many different moods - yet all of them so essentially Amber that he could easily fall for any one of them. She was adorably incapable at hiding her real self from him, she always had been. He couldn't help but wonder if he, in turn, was enough for her, if she would not have turned to anyone she found, indiscriminately, to satisfy her urges. The very idea made him blindingly, irrationally angry - angry enough to find the stregth to flip her onto her back on the bed and hold her there.
She continued to wriggle, but her smile turned to alarm when she saw the anger in his eyes, his lips curling into a snarl of need, his need to possess her, claim her as his only, his jealously heightened by how beautiful and sudenly vulnerable she looked.
"What is it?" she whispered, afraid she had done something wrong.
"W***!" he spat. "What if it wasn't me, just some Graverobber you didn't know? Would that be just as good for you, you s***?"
He held her down so hard she gasped for pain and her eyes brimmed. She couldn't answer aloud, but her lips replied well enough, and something in her kiss convinced him of her love so that he fell back onto her, kissing her urgently, bruising her lips with his fierce passion, releasing her hands, which went straight to unbuttoning his shirt.
"God, Amber," he groaned, leaning back. "You'll be the death of me one of these days."
She smiled a smile that quite plainly said "my work here is done, then", and banished his shirt to the floor. His hands gloried in the sweet softness of her skin, which pulsed and trembled into him wherever he touched her. He slid his hands over her body, divesting her of the rest of her clothes, determined to caress and lay claim to every little inch of her. In return, she got him out of his clothes, and they drowned in an ecstasy of one another that still felt curiously new; he was still terribly conscious of their nakedness - of feeling her skin against his and of how well they fit together, of the intertwining of their bodies and how much more complete it made him feel than he had ever known.
In return he was conscious of her timidity, her uncertainty of herself when there was nothing to hide behind, of how afraid she looked - something in her eyes begging him not to hurt her - and worst of all, when she looked at him like that, he wouldn't hurt her, couldn't even have hurt her for the world. Expert a s*** as she was at fuckintg, when it came to making love she was positively innocent, quivering and virginally unsure.
2 days ago
Aaand the rest of chapter 2:
He took her tenderly, his hands and lips showing her how beautiful she was to him - not just her scarred, altered, perfect body, but who she was. He was determined to get to know the little girl who looked out at him through the w***'s eyes, determined to penetrate right into the heart of her - right into her soul. He wondered if she even remembered how she had offered it to him so blithely so long ago now.
Nevertheless, her half timid, answering caresses stirred his soul and he thrust into her deeply, urgently, nowhere near unselfish enough to give her pleasure without taking his own in return when the pleasure she gave him was so intense. And she moaned and cried and was soon screaming, deep hoarse cries ripping from far inside her, clinging to him with all her limbs, her legs locking around him, holding him tight and fast inside her and he held her crushingly close in return, kissing her as she came, as he shuddered into her in such a game of give and take that it was impossible for either of them to know where they ended and the other began.
When, eventually, she unlocked her limbs from around him, he fell back into the bed, utterly and completely spent. She got up on hesitant legs to lay claim to the bathroom and remove face and hair. When she got back she wriggled into bed, nuzzling up against him like a contented cat.
"Graverobber?"
But answer came there none. She raised her head a little.
"Graverobber?"
A faint snore. She shook her head in despair and sank back down on his chest.
"Idiot" she muttered fondly, smiling to herself and kissing him with more affection than she would have done if he had been awake. Then, the jet lag caught up with her, too, and sent her off to sleep.