Hotel Mistake: Part 2

I closed the distance.

Three steps brought me to the bathroom threshold. Steam still hung in the air and clung to my clothes. Noah stood fully naked on the mat, water beading along his shoulders and chest, his cock now heavy and half-hard between his thighs. He watched me approach without moving to cover himself. The towel stayed on the floor where he had dropped it.

“Last chance to turn around,” he said.

“I’m not turning around.”

Something satisfied moved through his expression. He reached out, took the strap of my duffel from my shoulder where it had started to slip again, and tossed the bag onto the carpet behind me. Then his hands settled on my waist, warm and damp from the shower, and pulled me the final inch into the bathroom.

The tile was cool under my shoes. His body radiated heat. I could smell the hotel soap on his skin and the cleaner scent of water. My nipples had drawn tight against the inside of my bra; the friction of the fabric felt suddenly unbearable.

Noah’s eyes dropped to my mouth, then lower, over the blouse stuck slightly to my chest from the humidity, the jeans, the obvious tension in the way I stood. He lifted one hand and popped the first button of my blouse. Then the second. He worked downward without rushing until the fabric hung open and the simple cotton bra was the only thing left covering my tits. He pushed the cups down beneath them, exposing me to the steamy air. My nipples tightened further under his gaze.

“Been a while since a wrong key turned into this,” he muttered.

“Does it happen often?”

“Never.” He thumbed one nipple, slow, watching it peak harder under his touch. “You always walk into strangers’ rooms and stay?”

“No.”

“Just mine, then.”

He lowered his head and closed his mouth around the same nipple. The wet heat of his tongue pulled a short sound from my throat. He sucked firmly, then moved to the other side while his hands opened my jeans and shoved them down over my hips along with my panties. I stepped out of the pooled fabric and my shoes at the same time. The bathroom air touched my bare cunt and the slickness already gathering there.

Noah straightened and looked at me fully naked in front of him. His cock had risen thicker, the head flushed and wet at the tip. He wrapped one hand around the shaft and stroked once, open and unhurried, while his eyes stayed on the bare shape of me.

“Shower’s still warm,” he said. “Get in.”

I stepped under the spray. Water hit my shoulders and ran down my chest, over my tits, down my stomach. Noah followed me in and closed the glass door behind us. The space was narrow. His body filled most of it. He backed me against the cool tile wall and kissed me for the first time—deep, searching, the taste of clean water and heat. His cock pressed hard against my lower belly. I reached down and closed my fingers around it, stroking the thick length while he kissed me harder.

A low sound left his chest.

He broke the kiss and looked at me through the falling water.

“You can still leave,” he said. “Walk out with your clothes and the wrong key and pretend this stayed a story about a front-desk mistake.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Then say what you do want.”

Water ran between us. My hand kept moving on his dick, feeling it throb against my palm. The ache between my legs had become a pulse I could no longer ignore.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said. “Right here.”

Noah’s eyes darkened. He reached down, hooked one of my knees over his hip, and opened me against the glass wall. The head of his cock slid through the wetness of my cunt, coating itself, before he pushed upward and filled me in one continuous thrust.

The stretch forced a broken cry from my throat that the water only half swallowed. He seated himself deep and held still for a second, forehead against mine, letting both of us feel it. Then he started moving—steady, powerful strokes that drove me up onto my toes against the tile. The glass wall at my back fogged with fresh steam and the heat of our bodies. Every thrust dragged his cock against the sensitive place inside me until my free leg trembled.

“Harder,” I managed.

He gave me harder.

The wet slap of his hips against mine filled the small shower. Water poured over our shoulders and down the place where his dick disappeared into my cunt. He gripped my raised thigh and fucked me with controlled force, the other hand braced on the glass beside my head. My tits moved with every stroke. He lowered his mouth to one nipple again and sucked while he thrust, the dual sensation winding the need inside me tighter and tighter.

“I’m close,” I gasped.

“Come on my cock. I want to feel it.”

The words tipped me over. Pleasure tore through me in hard waves. My cunt clamped around his dick in rhythmic pulses while I cried out against his shoulder, shaking under the spray. He kept thrusting through it, dragging every last tremor out of me, until the sensitivity made me whimper.

Only then did his rhythm break.

He drove deep and came with a rough, low sound, flooding me in thick spurts while the water ran over both of us. I felt every pulse of his cock as he emptied inside me. For several seconds he stayed buried, breathing hard, my leg still hooked over his hip, the shower continuing to pour across our joined bodies.

When he finally pulled out, his come slid down the inside of my thigh and washed toward the drain in pale trails. Noah set my foot back on the tile and steadied me with a hand on my waist when my knees threatened to give. We stood under the spray looking at each other while the water cooled the heat on our skin.

He reached past me and turned the faucet off.

Silence replaced the white noise of the shower. The glass around us had fogged completely. Outside the bathroom the hotel room waited with my discarded clothes and the wrong key card still somewhere on the floor.

Noah pushed the shower door open, stepped out, and offered me a clean towel from the rack. I took it. Our fingers touched in the exchange. The contact felt different now—less like strangers, more like the aftermath of what we had just done against the glass.

“Stay the night,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “We’ll sort the room situation in the morning.”

I wrapped the towel around myself and met his eyes through the residual steam.

“All right.”

He nodded once, as if that settled the practical part, and stepped aside so I could move past him into the main room. My legs still felt unsteady. His come continued to slip out of me with every step, a warm reminder that the wrong key had stopped being a mistake the moment I chose to stay.

Behind me I heard him pull a second towel from the rack.

The night was only beginning.