Hooked (Hooked #1)(13)

He pulled away, suddenly, and brought his arm out to gesture to the building directly next to him. I looked up at it, noting that it was a Four Seasons hotel. A fine one. A luxurious door opened before us, bringing a concierge toward us. “Sir Thompson,” the man said. “You haven’t any bags today, do you?”

“No, no, John,” Drew said, nodding at him. “Thank you.”

The concierge bowed his head and backed away, giving him his space. I looked up at Drew, amazed. He was rich, I knew. But this was ridiculous. “Do you live here?” I asked him.

He nodded slightly, bobbing his head back and forth. “Just for now, you know. Until I find something better, something bigger. A place to—perhaps—settle down.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want to go up?”

I looked up at the windows, all of them glowing in the soft sunlight of the coming evening. I felt my body quivering, quaking. I looked at him with large, orb-like eyes, and I nodded ever-so-slightly.

“Follow me,” he ordered, taking my hand once more. We wound through the doorway, through the illustrious foyer. I had never seen such a fanciful hotel. Concierges, dressed in their red outfits, scurried everywhere, bringing drinks or carrying suitcases. The general grandeur of each of the many guests was so apparent in my eyes. My heart was beating so fast. I wanted to note everything so I could tell Mel about it the next day. I could hear my own voice in my head saying, “Imagine, Mel. Me. Who can hardly pay for anything. In the Four Seasons.”

We walked into the elevator with such purpose. We turned, and I eyed some of the women in the lobby who looked at me with such jealous zeal. I was with the most handsome, most money-laden man in the room. I held my hands together, self-conscious, as Drew turned to me and positioned his hands on my ass. “You really are so beautiful,” he said before he dove his head into my neck, kissing me with his large, romantic lips. I leaned my head back, allowing him to dip down to my collar, my breasts. A large sigh came from my lips.

Finally, we reached the tenth floor. I followed him down the wide hallway, wondering about all the people in each of the rooms; each with such money, each probably f*cking their wives, their mistresses. Drew opened the last door on the right—room 371—and allowed me to enter first, streamlining his arm forward to usher me in.

My breath was caught in my throat as I entered. I looked back at him only for a moment before stepping forward, finding myself with the greatest view of the city I had ever seen. I walked to the window, watching as the sun petered out over the clouds, leaving the city lights to shine. Behind me, I felt a warm shadow. Drew had come up behind me, wrapping his arms around my thin waist. “Look at it, baby,” he said. “Look at it.”

And I did. I placed my hands on the floor to ceiling window, watching as the city came to life. I sighed into it, feeling so utterly complete. My breasts bobbed into the window. I felt so full, so cherished.

Behind me, Drew had pulled away. I heard him on the telephone, ordering champagne. Was this what rich people did? I couldn’t be sure. I walked toward the bed. It was a fine king-sized bed with crisp white sheets and a white comforter. I imagined us f*cking on it, and my eyes began to roam over his tight body, his thick, muscled arms. I licked my lips. He hung up the phone, turning back toward me and clapping his hands.

“You ordered champagne?” I asked him, bringing myself back into the moment.

He nodded, walking toward the bed. He wrapped his arms around me again.

I spoke in a husky, sexy voice. “What are we celebrating?” I asked him. I swallowed firmly, feeling the rush, the sexuality forming in me. My * was wet; it seemed to beat beneath me. My nipples were hard in my bra.

He spoke back. His penis was hard against my leg. Suddenly, I placed my hand over it, kneading it. I sighed as he spoke. “I bought a building today. In Wicker Park. I’ll be having my bookstore there,” he said, leaning in and beginning to kiss my neck, my cheek. “I’ll destroy the whole goddamned building. You can watch me knock it down.”

I grabbed his chest, needing him, pulling him closer. “Yeah? You’ll destroy it?”

“Just like I’m going to destroy you,” he said. He teased me, licking lightly at the tip of my nose. I laughed, loving the playfulness of it.

“You’ll destroy it and build a new building?” I asked him, kissing him again, barely able to concentrate on the details.


He nodded, beginning to unbutton my dress, pulling off my jacket. Suddenly, one of my buttons popped and flung itself across the room. He knelt at my breasts and began rubbing them, kissing them. He grabbed my nipples and began playing with them, forcing my head back. I started breathing hot, wanting him to touch me. I thought about it; how he would work in Wicker Park, so close to me. How I could rush to his bookstore and f*ck him, there in the midst of the books, whenever I wanted. I pictured it in my mind in a flurry of nervous, sexual energy. I let out a loud moan.

“Yeah, baby. Yeah.” This was Drew, below me, unbuttoning still more of my dress, revealing more of my abdomen. My breasts bounced in his face, and his tongue met them easily.

At the door, there was a knock. So swept up in Drew’s touch, I leaned back against the bed when he let me go, touching myself, feeling myself. My eyes were hardly open. Drew opened the door, revealing the concierge from below, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. I flung my arm across my exposed breasts. The concierge looked back at me, seeing my breasts bouncing and spilling out of my shirt, my hand on my *. He nodded at Drew, his face nearly stricken. “Here you are, Mr. Thompson.”