Cassie Kingston stood in the door of the hotel room and couldn't believe her eyes. A big, king-sized bed stood proud in the room and took up pretty much all of the available floor space. All in all, the whole room fit just a humble dresser, a minibar she fully intended to raid in a minute, and this perfectly made giant bed she was apparently expected to share with the bane of her professional existence.
The worst part was that the bed itself was luxurious compared to the usual hotel special, two twin beds pushed together, and in normal circumstances she would be absolutely thrilled about it.
Just my luck, she thought. When I want the double one it's always the bullshit setup, and now when I really, really, REALLY need it separate, of course it's the real deal.
"Are you done being awestruck, or do you need five more minutes to admire the amenities?"
Ugh.
Of course. Of fucking course. Of all people on the Earth who could have been stuck with her in the hotel room with a single bed, it had to be him. The infuriating Julian-also-Kingston, the newest and brightest addition to the company marketing team, silver-tongued man always dressed in pristine suits, winning them deals left and right. Today included.
The man was devilishly handsome, she had to give him that. With his dark eyes and dark hair, he looked like taken straight out of a romance novel. One of those found in dollar bins, with fainting heroines and excessively detailed descriptions of the hero's junk she'd always read with bated breath.
Too bad she preferred blonde hair and blue eyes. Too bad.
And to add insult to injury, half of her department suspected the goddamn man was her husband. Their mutual ice-cold stares were just proof of how professional they both were. To her dismay, the harder Cassie protested, the more the ladies winked.
Ugh.
"I only hope they get us two separate single rooms," she'd grumbled to Maddie sitting one desk over. "We're not a couple. If they do, I'm going to sue the company into oblivion."
Maddie had nodded, and Cassie thought that was it. Well, it turned out Cassandras had been delivering ignored prophecies for millennia.
And so here they were, the infuriatingly smug Julian in his professional charcoal suit, the frustrated Cassie in an equally professional pencil skirt and a silk blouse, only one of them clearly enjoying the situation. Obviously not her.
"Do you want to sleep on the left side or on the right?" he offered like a gentleman, closing the heavy door behind him and leaning on a dresser.
"I was hoping you'd be a gentleman," Cassie sneered and dropped on the left side, already kicking off her high heels.
His stare lingered on her bare legs suspiciously long.
"You mean sleep on the floor? You have to be kidding me. Come on, Cass. The bed is huge. We can act like adults."
She couldn't remember giving him permission to use her nickname, the one she only let her friends use at that. The side eye she gave him had to break a world record. Too bad he paid no heed.
"It's one in the morning." He let out a theatrical yawn. "I'm too tired for games. I will not be sleeping on the floor."
"Fine," she sighed, rubbing her temples. The drinks they shared at the bar, celebrating the win of a six-figure contract, really got into her. With enough luck, they'd both fall asleep the moment their heads touch their pillows. "As long as you don't sleep naked."
A slow, infuriating smirk spread on his face. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the chair. The movement pulled his perfectly tailored shirt tight against his chest. Cassie stubbornly refused to look.
Okay, she peeked. She was only so strong.
"As a matter of fact," Julian drawled, his voice dropping into the smooth register that had him charm the contracts even out of their toughest clients, "I am."
He said that to get a rise out of her, she was sure. He expected her to flush or stutter, or at least demand he put his underwear on; after all, this was what he was good at. Talking. Bluffing. Bending people to his demands. Making them sign contracts with their company and not any other.
Making her lose her calm.
Her jaw tightened. Not today, asshole, she decided. I'm not giving you the satisfaction.
"Very well then," she cooed. "Because so am I."
That was the worst bullshit in the history of bullshit. Cassie slept in an oversized t-shirt almost every day since she was a teen, excluding a short time spent with one of her exes who had gifted her a tiny lace thing to wear in bed. It had as many holes in it as the man's memory, which was why it remained in the drawer long after he was gone.
She shook her head and raised her chin, staring right into Julian's eyes as her fingers worked the buttons one by one. She shook it off her shoulders and just to be petty, took her sweet time to fold it and drape it over her suitcase. Her fingers unclasped the bra—a professional thing, plain beige cups without as much as a scrap of lace, chosen for practicality and not sexy looks—and tossed it over with the rest. With her hands propped on her hips, she stared at him again.
He was staring, and didn't even have the shame to hide it. His eyes raked over her chest down to her hips and back to her tits once again. It was a nice view, she was sure. Whenever she wore a low neckline, men forgot she even had a face above it. Not that she had an ugly one, but apparently what was below was more interesting. Even though she personally thought her butt was much better. Their loss.
She could see Julian thought the same as the rest of his brethren. He still had his trousers and the unbuttoned shirt on, had not even loosened his tie, but he might as well have been the one laid bare. Because right there, straining against the expensive fabric, was the hard evidence of his reaction.
The worst part was that Julian was definitely just as well-endowed as the romance novel heroes Cassie read about.
Goddamn show-off.
She thanked heavens that the heat pooling low between her legs was completely invisible. One tiny win for womankind. He had to wear his shame open for everyone to see, hers was a private secret.
Her eyes lingered on the straining bulge before she raised one eyebrow and dragged them back to his face.
"Try to keep it on your side of the mattress, husband," she chuckled, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and panties both.
He swallowed and opened his eyes. No sound came out. For the first time since he had joined the company, the mighty Julian Kingston had nothing smart to say.
For a grand total of seven seconds, but still. A win is a win.
"I thought you might want a shower first?"
Oh. Oh. Of course. Silly me.
"I do," she said sweetly, closing the distance between them and running a finger down his shirt. She hoped her bravado would convince him that was the plan all along, and the surprise striptease was… she had no idea what it was supposed to be. "Do you want to shower together too? Save the water while we're at it?"
Her finger stopped right over his waistband, just above his dick.
"Ladies first," he murmured, ever the gentleman.
"Suit yourself."
Cassie shrugged and let her hands go back to her skirt, pushing it down her hips together with her underwear and shimmying out of it until it pooled at her feet. She left it there on the floor, grabbing a towel off the bed instead. That she leaned over it further than was necessary, just to show off the curve of her ass she had worked so hard in the gym for, was only a coincidence.
"Try and not miss me too much," she chuckled, seeing his face, blew him a kiss and marched off to the bathroom.
The moment the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, breathing hard.
What's gotten into me? I'm not even that drunk. And I just let him see me completely naked. Jesus fucking Christ, Cassandra. He's gotten under your skin, hasn't he?
She stared at her own wide-eyed face in the mirror. The corporate make-up she'd done in the morning still held. Whatever she let Julian see tonight, he had no reason to complain.
Why am I even worried what he thinks of me? she scoffed to herself, dabbing her cheeks with a wet pad and removing all traces of Cassandra Kingston, the professional. As if I care.
She was still thinking about him when she stepped into the shower. It would absolutely fit them both like she suggested, but barely—standing close, chest to chest, or maybe his chest to her back, his big dick grinding against her ass, his soapy hands sliding over her tits, over her stomach, eventually slipping between her legs—
Oh fuck, Cass, don't even think about it.
Too late. Her brain gave her one heavenly vision after another. His mouth on her neck and his hand on her clit. Her bent over the sink, him fucking her from behind, both staring into each other's eyes in the mirror. Them in the giant bed, her riding his cock as he sucked on her tits. Her against the hotel door, held up by his strong hands, her legs wrapped around his waist, his dick driving into her over and over, her letting everyone outside know how much she enjoyed being pounded like that. Him on his knees on the floor, her standing proud with both hands in his hair, holding him in place and grinding her hungry pussy against his smart mouth.
Oh god. Yes. The last one.
Her fingers trailed down her stomach and toyed with her clit. It wasn't what her mind conjured; it couldn't be, could it? She grabbed the shower head instead and set it to a single jet, directing it straight to where she imagined his tongue would be. Her hips buckled at the sensation.
"Oh God, yes…" she moaned and immediately clasped her mouth with her free hand. Hopefully the noise of the water had swallowed it down.
She chased the water, imagining it was him instead. Her hands in his hair, tugging him exactly where she wanted him, him looking up at her with those dark eyes she hated, unable to say anything because his tongue was too busy lapping at her pussy, paying her back for all the times he'd been the bane of her existence. With interest.
In her imagination, his silver tongue was as good at this as it was good for winning contracts. He'd know exactly how she liked it, he'd kneel at her feet, he'd worship her as he should have from the beginning, he'd be just a tool for her pleasure, devouring her cunt like he was made for it.
She came to that image under her eyelids harder than she had with some of her boyfriends, hell, most of them if she was being honest. His goddamn name slipped out of her lips, her hips jerked violently against his tongue—except it wasn't there, it was just the water, she was alone in the shower, and the fucking Julian Kingston was just outside, separated by ten feet of space and one flimsy wall, as infuriating as ever, and if he knew how hard she came fantasizing about him eating her out, he'd never let her live it down.
Good thing he never had to know.
At the other side of the wall, Julian stood leaning on the dresser, the image of naked Cass blazed onto his retinas forever and filed away into his extensive bank of Late Night Fantasies Involving Cass Kingston.
The problem was, the real deal was a thousand times better than what his dirty mind had conjured. With her curves and her dimples, Cass was the talk of the entire company. Ice queen, they'd told him. Sworn off men forever, someone else had said. What a shame a woman like that sleeps in a cold bed every night, he'd thought himself. But before he could make a move and prove them all wrong, it became apparent that Cass Kingston hated his guts. For what, he had no idea; they barely said two words to each other, and those words were "Good morning," hardly anything offensive.
He was supposed to be the smooth one. That was his superpower since the day he opened his mouth as a little kid. He could out-talk everyone, get every girl he wanted—he did, in fact, with this one glaring exception. Maybe this was why he set his sights on her and nobody else.
He crossed over to the pile of Cass's discarded clothes on the floor. The underwear the woman was wearing was a disgrace. He had never once in his life seen a bra this unsexy covering a set of tits like hers, and he'd seen a lot of tits and a lot of bras. She was made for cream lace, barely visible against her skin save for those dark nipples, and a matching set of panties, thong preferably to show off that amazing curve of her ass she just flaunted in his face.
Instead, what he held in his hand was a matching sibling to the bra, smooth skin-toned fabric, seamless, about as sexy as a pair of granny panties, if it wasn't for the fact that it was worn by her.
Before he realized what he was doing, he brought it close to his face and inhaled her scent. Intoxicating. Cass used this sweet, woodsy perfume, sandalwood and caramel if he had to guess, something that reminded him of tropical vacation, and he caught a faint echo of it. But mostly it carried a heady scent of her arousal. There was a glistening trace of it on the inside he had to fight himself hard not to lick off the fabric like a caveman.
Instead, he imagined he was the one to take them off. God, he spent so many nights dreaming of it. He'd kneel where he stood, gripping those perfect hips, burying his face in her stomach.
A muted sound of water hitting the tiles echoed from the bathroom as the fantasy went on.
He imagined her saying "Oh god, yes" as he hooked his teeth in her panties and dragged them down her thighs.
She hated him, he knew that. And God help him, it made him want her even more. The friction, the eye-rolls, the constant need to put him in his place… fighting with Cass in the boardroom was better than sleeping with most of the women he'd met in his life. Every glare she threw his way made his dick twitch.
There was a rumor in the office that they were a married couple that he might or might not have originated himself. The day he discovered they had the same name, he'd leaned on the reception desk and winked at Debbie sitting there, murmuring "What a coincidence… we make a rather convincing power couple at the meetings, don't you think?"
And it led him here, sharing one room with the king-sized bed, where Cassie dropped off her clothes and let him see her whole, gloriously naked, utterly unashamed, just as he imagined her.
Husband, she'd called him. Try and not miss me too much.
He reached for his zipper and freed himself from the too tight trousers. He was so hard it ached. His hand closed on his dick and started moving, the other still holding her panties close to his face, and he stroked himself fast, imagining Cass's perfect ass slapping against his thighs as she took his cock. She'd be tight, he could tell; he could picture her on all fours, completely naked, her glorious tits bouncing with each move of his dick, her pretty little smart mouth unable to say a single thing except for Julian, please, harder, don't stop, I'm gonna come—
And then he came into his own hand, pathetic, with his face buried in her panties, his shoulders shaking with the force of his frustrated release.
The shower was still running when he came back to his senses. Thank God. He reached for the box of tissues on the dresser and patted himself dry, briefly considering taking the panties as a souvenir—they could buy him many more nights like this—but eventually put them back with the skirt, still breathing hard, too scared she'd notice when exactly it went missing.
He had absolutely no idea how he was going to survive the night. Not with the real Cass sleeping naked in the same bed he did.
Cassie was, by any reasonable measure, thoroughly pleased with and by herself when she left the bathroom. With the towel wrapped around her tight, she marched into the room. Julian was sprawled on his side of the bed in his dark boxers, his arms folded under his head, pretending to watch the ceiling and not waiting for a second round of the striptease at all.
Without looking at him, she turned her back to him and reached for the knot of her towel and let it drop to the floor. She stayed like this longer than was necessary, stretching her hands over her head and yawning, making sure he had a good look before she slipped under the thin sheet. It was so cold against her skin, still flushed from the shower and everything that happened in it that was her sweet dirty little secret.
"Not even a goodnight?" he murmured, apparently gutted by the disrespect.
"Goodnight," she said, whacking her pillow.
"That's it? No parting shot? I'm disappointed."
"Go shower, Julian. My side of the bed is pristine. You smell like scotch and airport."
"I've been told ladies dig it."
"Then maybe you should have found one of those ladies to spend the night with you," she bit back and laid on her back, very aware he could see how hard her nipples were through the thin white sheet. She could swear he was looking right at them. She could hear how his breath hitched.
But he went to shower. She heard the steady hum of water and his voice humming along. Of course he was a shower singer. Why not. As if he wasn't irritating enough without it.
By the time he went out, she had at least ten minutes to make her face into something convincing enough that she was asleep. She did not see the towel hanging low at his hips at all, nor his damp hair, nor the stray droplets on his perfectly sculpted abs that she wanted to lick off his skin. And when the towel slipped to the floor, she absolutely did not see the dick, now soft and completely useless, but impressive nonetheless.
The mattress dipped as he got in. Cassie still pretended she was asleep.
"You know I can tell you're faking it," the smug bastard said.
"Shut up. I'm sleeping."
"You just answered."
"You woke me up. Go to sleep, Kingston."
"Which one of us?"
"Both."
"Come on. Not even a little kiss for your husband?" he murmured. "After you put on such a nice show for me earlier, too."
"Welcome to marriage, Julian," she snorted. "It's not my fault you stared like a teenager who had just discovered his father's magazines."
"Come on, Cass." He laughed so low she felt it in her bones. "I'm a marketing director. I know a targeted ad when I see it. You dropped that towel like a porn star for a reason."
"P-uh-lease," she scoffed with as much dignity as she could muster. "I didn't even know you were looking."
"I was looking," he continued in his honeyed voice. "I was looking when you took off your bra and your panties. And I was looking when that towel went down, too."
"Pervert."
"Sue me. I can't just not stare at an ass like yours, Cass. You can pretend you don't like me any way you want."
"I don't have to pretend."
"And yet you do." The mattress dipped as he shifted his weight, and she felt his hand move to her hip. "I know what you did in the shower," he whispered against her ear, the fingers sliding dangerously close to where she wanted them.
Cassie's breath hitched. No way. No way he could hear it, the water was still running—
And I moaned his name like he really was sucking on my pussy.
Thankfully the sheet was guarding her secret. Was it?
"You took a long time there, Cass," he continued, like the snake he was. "And you came out looking flushed. You were touching yourself, weren't you? Did you at least think of me while you were doing it?"
"Oh shut up, Julian," she snapped. "As if you weren't hard enough to drill through the wall. Did you come dreaming of my tits or my ass?"
"Why not both?"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Make me."
And God help her. She did. Before he could react, she threw back the sheet and crawled across the mattress, swinging a leg over his chest and not stopping till she was right over his smart mouth, naked as the day she was born, her thighs caging his head.
"You think you know it all?" she sneered, looking down at him. "You think you're so smart? Let's see if that mouth of yours is good for something else other than annoying the hell out of me."
Julian swallowed hard and met her gaze just as she lowered her pussy right into his mouth.
The moment his tongue slipped between her folds, her eyes rolled in her head. Her hand tangled in his hair. It was just like her fantasy; no, it was better. He didn't even hesitate, he straight up dug in and devoured her. His mouth was hot and wet against her, licking all of her arousal as if it was the sweetest nectar, tongue tracing her folds and finding her clit and teasing it with relentless, steady strokes that made her hips buckle and grind harder against his face.
"God, Julian," she moaned, her grip in his hair tightening so much it had to hurt—as if she cared.
He hummed in response, sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine. His hands closed on her hips and pulled her down as if he didn't want her to stop the wild ride either. His tongue lashed at her with a frantic, desperate rhythm, and all the thoughts died in her head. The hate was dead. The fight was dead. There was only the man underneath her, right where she liked to have them, and his tongue doing wonders, his hungry mouth drinking her in, unable and unwilling to stop until she commanded him to.
Her fingers scrambled to steady herself on the headboard as her hips ground against his face faster and faster.
"Julian," she sobbed, chasing his tongue. "Please—"
If he wanted to say something, she didn't let him, pressing her pussy against his face as close as she could. His hands gripped her ass hard, not letting her go either, and he sucked down on her sweet spot.
Cassie shattered.
She came violently, for the second time today, the real deal proving much better than her imagination, crying out as her whole body locked up, her thighs trembling against his ears. Julian drank down her release, holding her steady through the aftershocks, his mouth not leaving her until she collapsed forward, completely spent, forehead pressing into the padded headboard, her long hair falling all over her tear-stained face. She was panting, completely spent, trying to come back to the Earth.
Julian moved beneath her, sliding out. She felt his hands on her ass, and soon his mouth was on her again. He started at her already spent cunt, pressing a line of kisses and licks along her folds, and then his fingers spread her cheeks and dove deeper. His tongue found her asshole and she flinched.
"Julian," she protested weakly, looking over his shoulder. "What are you…"
"Let me," he groaned, placing a wet kiss right on her right buttock, sucking a mark on it, as if she needed a Julian Kingston's brand on herself. "Those tight skirts you keep wearing. You know what they do to me? Fuck, Cass, I dreamed about that ass. It's an absolute masterpiece, you know that? I wanted to do that since I first saw you." The left one got the same treatment, and he even had the audacity to graze his teeth over it. "Please?"
He dove back in before she could even say anything, his tongue darting back and forth between her ass, the groans he made while doing so driving her absolutely crazy. As if he was the one taking pleasure in it. There was something poetic about it: the asshole licking her asshole clean.
And then he pulled off his mouth, and she felt his hard length pressing in its place.
He rubbed his cock all over her slick folds to coat himself with her arousal before entering, and before she had a chance to protest, lined them up and pushed inside her pussy. Cassie cried out, her fingers digging into the smooth fabric of the headboard. He filled her completely. It was too much, he was too big, the sensation too intense after the brutal orgasm he'd just given her.
Julian groaned, ignoring her cry and burying himself to the hilt, his hands gripping her hips like a vice. She sobbed again, unsure if she wanted him to pull out or start moving, his name falling from her lips again and again.
"Fuck, Cass," he groaned somewhere above her as she clenched around him. "You feel incredible."
He didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled back almost all the way and slammed into her again, and then again and again, setting a pace that felt more like punishment than pleasure. Cassie's breasts swayed with the force of his thrusts, his hips slapping against her ass. She could hear the obscene, wet sounds even over the sound of their moans.
She lost herself to it. She pushed back against his every thrust, the competitive streak flaring back to life, chasing the friction. Her spine arched, letting him hit the sweet spot from the inside over and over, trying to break his control just as he broke hers.
"That's it," Julian choked out, pulling her hips tight against his as he hammered into her. "You like it? I knew it—take it—fuck, Cass—take me deep—"
Cassie reached between her legs, her fingers finding her clit, and Julian completely lost his mind. One hand flew out to her hair and grabbed it hard in retaliation. Her back arched so far she didn't even know she could do that, letting him pound into her with feral intensity as her fingers darted across the swollen nub.
"Cass," he growled as his pace increased even more.
Cassie let out a wordless grunt in response, already beyond any coherence. She was right on the edge again, climbing the cliff faster than she thought possible. She tightened around him, a sharp cry tearing out of her as she came for the second time—third, if her little solo bathroom stunt counted, which she now didn't think it did at all. Her inner walls convulsed around his cock.
It was all he needed. He drove into her one last, impossibly deep time, letting out a raw, guttural sound as he spilled into her. His head dropped between her shoulder blades, hair still damp, though no longer from the shower, and he pressed a long kiss right where he was.
Slowly, he withdrew, and she felt the hot trail of their shared release drip down her thigh. Ever the gentleman, he reached over the bed for his towel and cleaned her gently.
"Sore?" he murmured, his mouth following his hands, pressing soothing kisses all over her pussy.
You should have asked before you pushed your giant dick inside me, she wanted to bite back, but what came out was "Ask me tomorrow."
"It's already tomorrow, Cass."
"Don't call me that. Only friends can call me Cass," she protested out of habit, sliding boneless over the headboard to the pillows.
"But I'm your husband, remember? You said so yourself. You're my wife now, Cass. And our marriage has just been very thoroughly consummated."
"Oh fuck me," she murmured into the softness, already halfway to falling asleep.
Julian rolled her over to her back and settled over her, stroking a hand down her side. His face still had the same infuriating half-smile she hated so much.
"Gladly," he said, sliding to the edge of the bed, his smug mouth once again hovering right over her cunt. "At your service, Mrs. Kingston."