Lovers' Redemption

Part 2: Rapture

“This is really nice,” she said admiring Tom’s hotel room. Everything was either white or golden-colored, and the view of the city was breathtaking. A room like this had to cost at least $25,000 a night.

 

“I’m only here for another day,” Tom said handing her the wine glass. More wine was probably the last thing she needed, but tonight was a very special occasion indeed. She was with Tom.

 

“But you must stay at places like this all the time, right?” She asked walking towards the glassed walls to admire the view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

 

“I don’t mean to brag, but usually, yes,” he said standing next to her.

 

“Hmm,” was all she said. She walked over to the couch and took a seat. Tom turned around and eyed her with apparent bewilderment in his eyes. She liked to keep him on his feet, guessing.

 

“How long are you in the city for?” Tom asked now taking his seat beside her.

 

“A week. Then I’m back off to New York,” she replied.

 

“You’re never leaving New York, are you?”

 

“It’s my home, Tom. Has been for the last 35 years. You know that,” she said matter of factly.

 

“So, unless you have other plans, would you like to get together again before you leave?”

 

“I’ll try. I’m here for business so I’m booked up with meetings, but I’d love to,” she replied as she sipped the chardonnay. It still warmed her that he remembered so many things about her, such as what were favorite wine was. It was always the little things that made a difference.

 

Meanwhile, he couldn’t keep his gaze off of her as they sat on the golden couch sipping their wine. They both knew what was going to happen next. The mood was set. She remained mellow so as to not give away any hint of having THAT kind of interest in him, but nonetheless she could feel the desire building up. There was nothing that she wanted more.

 

He swiftly went for her glass and put it on the coffee table. She braced herself as he reeled in closer to her, making his way to her neck. She let out her breath once she felt his warm lips pressing against her skin. His lowered his hand to her thigh, stealthily sliding it underneath her skirt and gently gliding up until he reached the apex between her legs.

 

“Talk to me,” he whispered, making her tremble at the coolness of his breath on her ear. “Are you enjoying this, or do you want me to stop?” By now his hand was over her womanhood, lightly rubbing against her over her underwear. She could sense herself getting wet, very wet.

 

She helplessly gasped and leaned her head against the top of the couch, looking upwards at the massive cathedral ceiling. “Please,” she tersely exclaimed. She was practically begging for it. Her body needed this.