Page 13 of Beauty
I tilt my head, tuning out the waves in the distance, and sure enough, I hear the distinct echo of a moan. It’s breathy and indecent. Ayesfollowed by another whimper. Then afuck yes.
All the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. Holy shit,that’sSienna.
Eyes squeezed shut, I remind myself that storming back to her room and banging on her door is a bad idea. That jumping this gate and rushing through the open doors is wrong.
I take three steps closer, my free hand locked tight around the fence separating our decks, getting as close as I can. From here, I can hear every whimpering breath she lets out as she pleasures herself.
It’s not quick. No, I should have known that Sienna would take her time. She edges herself, breathing out yeses over and over again, her tone sultry and dripping with need, until I’m leaking in my shorts. I don’t dare touch myself. I should go inside and close the doors, but I can’t pull myself away. I stand stock-still, listening as her voice carries over the ocean breeze until she’s wrung every ounce of pleasure out of her body and comes with a loud moan.
Only when I’m sure she’s finished, only as the wind teases her curtains, taunting me, telling me that if I’d leaned forward a little more, I could have seen her, do I go back into my bedroom and fist my cock until I’m spurting cum all over my goddamn stomach to thoughts of her and those damn sounds she made.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re completely booked.” The man behind the counter eyes me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
He’s not wrong.
I’ve already gotten off twice this morning, thinking of Sienna, replaying her sounds. Once in bed because I was too damn hard to even walk after waking in the middle of a dream of her bouncing on my cock, then again in the shower as I fantasized about her red lips circling my crown.
If I have to hear those moans again, I won’t survive. I’m already in danger of rubbing my dick raw.
“Give someone else the upgrade. I’ll switch. I’m sure there’s a couple here who’d be thrilled with a villa on the ocean.”
Yes, I’m begging him to downgrade my accommodations. It’s ridiculous, but I’m desperate. I haven’t even tasted the woman, and already, I know she’d become an addiction. One taste could never be enough.
“A villa, huh?”
I turn and assess the two older gentlemen standing a couple of feet behind me. One is tall and bald, his head as shiny as a bowling ball, with a round face to match. His cheeks are red from the sun and his grin is wide. The other is even taller, with a full head of white hair like Ted Danson and wears a cocky smirk.
“Sure sounds nice,” the man with the white hair says. “What’s wrong with it? Infestation?”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Nope. Gorgeous room. Just too nice.”
In unison, their smiles fall and their eyes go narrow, scrutinizing. “Too nice?” the bald man says.
Crossing my arms, I back up against the counter, leaning on it for support, and fully embrace the excuse. “Yup. The bed is too soft and the comforter is too silky against my skin. And the shower? Fuck, don’t even get me started on the shower.”
“And you don’t want to stay there,” Ted Danson’s lookalike says. It’s not really a question. There’s no lilt to his tone. Just a plainly phrased statement.
“I’m used to crappy hotels. Hockey player.” I raise a hand. “So it comes with the territory. My mattress at home is terrible, and the places they put us up while we travel are worse. If I stay in that villa, it’ll throw off my sleep when I get back. Superstitions and all that.”
“I don’t even think that was a sentence,” Baldy says.
Ted Danson shakes his head. “He said he plays hockey. Probably been hit in the head a few too many times.”
I nod. “Definitely true. So where’s your room?”
“Sir, we don’t allow the bartering of rooms,” the concierge says.
Ted Danson’s twin holds up his hand. “No bartering happening. We’ll leave you alone. Let you get back to your work.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder and guides me away from the desk. “Does this room have two beds?”
I shake my head. “No, but it’s a king.”
The two men share a look, and movements in sync, they shrug. “Why don’t you take us to it? I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
Clearly out of my mind, I guide them down the paths of the resort toward the villa. Did I mention they’re both taller than I am? Like, ridiculously tall. “I’m Noah, by the way.”
“Bert,” Baldy says.
“Ernie,” says Ted Danson.
