ROOM 313

CHAPTER TWENTY -EIGHT: ROOM 313

The Grand Meridian Hotel had many secrets, but none as persistent as Room 313.

It was a luxurious suite on the top floor. With a private terrace, huge windows overlooking the city skyline, a king-sized bed that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, and a bathroom with a marble tub big enough for two. The room was almost always booked, but never under the same name twice. Different credit cards. Different aliases. Always paid in advance. Always for one night a month.

As the night concierge, I saw everything.

My name is Lena Langford. Twenty-six years old. I had worked at the Meridian for three years, and I knew every regular guest, every VIP, every scandal. But Room 313 was different. The guest or guests never showed their face to the staff. They used the private elevator. They left before dawn. And they always left the room spotless, with a generous tip for housekeeping.

I was fascinated.

Tonight, the storm was one of the worst the city had seen in years. Rain hammered against the glass walls of the lobby. Flights were cancelled. Roads were flooded. The hotel was at full capacity.

And then the system glitched.

A double booking for Room 313.

One reservation under “Mr. Elias Voss.” The other under “Ms. Lena Langford.”

My name.

I stared at the screen, heart pounding. This had to be a mistake. I had never booked Room 313. But the system showed my employee ID had somehow been used.

The private elevator dinged.

A man stepped out.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered, his dark hair slightly damp from the rain, a sharp jawline and an expensive suit. He carried a small leather bag and moved with the quiet confidence of someone who owned every room he walked into.

He stopped when he saw me behind the concierge desk.

“You’re early,” he said, voice low and smooth.

I blinked. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s been a system error. Room 313 has been double-booked. I can try to find you another suite—”

He smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “No need. We’ll share.”

My stomach flipped.

“I… I can’t do that, sir. It’s against policy.”

He stepped closer, placing his keycard on the desk. His eyes, a striking blue held mine.

“The hotel is full. The storm is getting worse. And I’ve had this room booked for months. So unless you want to sleep in the lobby , I suggest we make this work.”

I swallowed hard.

He extended his hand. “Elias.”

“Lena,” I whispered, shaking it. His grip was firm, warm, and sent a spark straight through me.

We rode the private elevator up in silence. The tension was thick enough to cut.

When we stepped into Room 313, the storm outside seemed to fade. The suite was breathtaking. With soft lighting, a massive bed, a living area with a fireplace, and a terrace that was currently being battered by rain.

Elias set his bag down and loosened his tie.

“You can take the bed,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I nodded, but neither of us moved toward sleep.

The storm grew louder. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room.

Elias poured two glasses of whiskey from the minibar and handed me one.

“To unexpected company,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.

We talked for hours. He was charming, intelligent, and mysterious. He asked about my life, my dreams. I found myself opening up in ways I never did with anyone.

At some point, we moved to the couch. Closer. The conversation grew quieter. More intimate.

“You’re beautiful,” he said suddenly, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I should have pulled away.

Instead, I leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, then hungry. His hands slid into my hair as he pulled me onto his lap. I straddled him, my skirt riding up my thighs as we kissed like we had been starving for each other.

Elias’s hands roamed my body, unbuttoning my blouse, cupping my breasts through my bra. I moaned into his mouth, grinding against the growing hardness in his pants.

He stood up, lifted me with him, and carried me to the bed. He laid me down gently, then slowly undressed me, kissing every inch of skin he revealed.

When I was completely naked, he stood back and looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

He stripped off his own clothes, revealing a powerful, toned body and a thick, hard cock that made my mouth water.

He climbed over me, kissing down my body until his mouth found my pussy. He ate me like a man starving. Fucking me with his tongue until I was writhing and moaning his name.

I came hard on his tongue, my thighs shaking around his head.

Then he moved up and thrust into me in one deep stroke.

We both groaned at the feeling.

He fucked me slow and deep at first, savoring every inch. Then harder, faster, the bed creaking with every thrust. I wrapped my legs around him, nails digging into his back as he pounded into me.

“Elias, fuck, yes!” I moaned.

He flipped me onto my hands and knees, gripping my hips and slamming into me from behind. One hand fisted my hair, the other reached around to rub my clit.

“Cum for me again,” he growled.

I did. Hard. Screaming his name as my pussy clenched around him.

He followed soon after, burying himself deep and filling me with his hot cum.

We collapsed together, breathing hard.

The storm continued outside, but inside Room 313, something had changed.

In the morning, I woke up to find a note on the pillow.

Thank you for the best night I’ve had in years.

— E

And a single rose with a card.

I smiled, already wondering when I would see him again.

Little did I know, Room 313 had many more secrets.