Chapter 18
This was a turn I hadn't expected. I'd come here with some sort of fantasy of making her fuck me, and then deciding I wasn't up for it. I hadn't expected her to offer to fuck me. Was that what she was doing?
"I don't know. Maybe."
Maybe if she was really damn good in bed.
"I guess it would depend on how good you were," I said.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She had the gall to look genuinely offended.
"It means that if your ability to fuck is on par with your ability to be socially aware or empathize with people, then you're probaby pretty bad at it."
"I-"
"I'm done with this conversation," I said, cutting her off. "I'm going to my room."
And without waiting from another reply from Bobbi, I gathered my phone to leave. As I made my way toward the door, she screamed at me.
"Don't you fucking dare walk away from me, Marcus!"
When I didn't even slow down or look back at her, I heard her scream and then heard the shattering of several plates. Fuck, the staff was going to need to be well compensated for that.
I ran into Roderick just on the other side of the door. It looked like he was rushing to get to our private room. I pulled out some of the 100 dollar bills Helen had given me and stuffed them in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Roderick. This is for the mess. Just wait till she's gone and then take care of it. Let me know if you need more than this. Oh, and the wagyu beef tenderloin looked good. Could you send it up to my room?"
Roderick looked a little worried, but then nodded. He glanced down at the bills in his hand and the tension seemed to ease out of his shoulders. "Alright Mr. Upton. Thank you, and I'll have it taken care of."
I immediately left the private room behind, headed to the front desk of the lobby, and picked up my key to the room. During the elevator ride to the top, I tried sorting through my mixed feelings. I was disappointed in myself that I hadn't gone through with it. For Christ's sake, she'd even mentioned sex!
Part of me felt good about my decision. It didn't matter how horrible Bobbi was, she didn't deserve to be forced into sex against her will. No one deserved that. Something about the way I'd treated her this afternoon hadn't set well with me, nor how Helen had acted after Bobbi left, and deep down, I felt a little bit of relief that I'd proved I was still a decent human being. By the time I got to my hotel room, I'd come to the realization that Bobbi was either going to find some way to skip town, or she would end up going to prison. Whatever fantasies I had in my head would remain there… I'd never get to fulfill those things in real life.
The room itself was massive, with a full king-sized bed, sliding glass doors opening to a large patio, and a bathroom with a large claw tub that could easily fit two people. The man at the front desk had informed me that I'd reserved the honeymoon suite for the next two weeks, and that he hoped I enjoyed my stay while in New York. A large bouquet of roses was in a vase on a full dining table with a card that also wished me a pleasant stay.
I stripped off the jacket of my suit and sighed, suddenly feeling alone and a little disgusted at myself. At least the bath looked inviting.
Just as I finished removing all my clothes, there was a knock on the door. I sighed, picked up the road draped on the bed and slipped it on. I cinched the belt tight as I made my way over to the door to get Roderick's delivery.
"That was quick," I said as I opened the door.
Standing in the doorway was Bobbi. She was looking up at me with those big grey eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and causing her mascara to run.
"Can I come in," she asked with a light quiver in her voice.
I simply stared down at her in complete silence and hoped she couldn't see the shock I was feeling. After a moment of recovery, I stepped aside and held the door open. Head hung low, Bobbi walked inside, and I shut the door behind her.
As she walked into the hotel suite, I could tell by her gait that Bobbi was uneasy at being here as she moved down the hall in front of me. Her steps were slow and deliberate, making the journey into the main bedroom take much longer than it needed. Not that I was terribly worried about how fast or slow she was walking; I was still trying to process the fact that Bobbi Nanford was in my room.
Despite my wariness, I couldn't help but feel a certain level of arousal as I took in her form. Like I've said before, Bobbi was a relatively small girl. I guessed that she was about 5'2" tall when she wasn't wearing heels, which wasn't often. She wasn't overly curvy, but she had an impressively tiny waist, and her smaller frame made the assets she did have seem more pronounced. Her hips flared outward from her small waste, giving me the impression that there was plenty to hold onto. Her completely natural B-cup breasts appeared slightly larger on her petite figure. She looked as if grabbing her by the hair and dragging her around was actually possible, and I felt the stirring of my cock under my robe thanks to that image.
After what felt like an eternity, Bobbi made it through the entry hall and entered the main bedroom, where she took some time to study her surroundings. I watched as she became aware of my clothes piled on the floor near the entrance to the bathroom. Eventually, she dropped her purse on the bed and turned to look at me.
Bobbi Nanford was in my hotel room. No matter how many times I repeated that in my head, I couldn't quite make it compute. She was standing beside my bed in a little black dress, wearing fuck-me heels with black straps wrapped most of the way up her calves, and half her light brown hair was pulled back and held in place with a silver clip while the rest fell around her lovely face.
She looked like a wet dream version of a disney princess.
At least, she would have if not for the tears running down her face, stained dark from her mascara.
"What are you doing here, Bobbi?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level and free of emotion.
Moments ticked by as she simply stared at me with big, grey doe eyes full of sadness and… was that fear?
"I don't have anywhere else to go." Her tone was faint and scared.
"What do you mean?" I asked. It wasn't like I'd taken away her car or changed the locks on the door of her house. I hadn't decided to go that far, yet.
"You turned off my phone. I… I can't get a rideshare," Bobbi clarified. "I don't remember my roommate's number. I tried…"
Bobbi bit her lip and looked around the room as if looking for some sort of lifeline… something to hold onto as she tried to grapple with the fact that she had nothing. At that moment, with tears streaming down her face and no one to turn to, I felt sorry for her.
And then I remembered that a few short hours ago she tried to smash me in the head with her phone. All the insults she'd hurled at me over the past year and the people she hurt flooded my mind. She wasn't a helpless girl. She was more like a wounded predator trying to use every last trick she had to survive, and I had to remember that.
"That sounds like a 'you' problem, Bobbi. I'll ask again. Why are you here?"
"I don't want to go to jail," she said, her voice cracking with emotion.
I crossed my arms over my chest, "I don't care."
"What do I need to do?"
We stared at each other in complete silence for several awkward moments before I finally said, "I don't know."
Bobbi regarded me through red-rimmed eyes lined with ruined mascara, and I simply stared back at her, not willing to do anything to break the uncomfortable silence that permeated each passing moment.
Then Bobbi made the first move. Her hips swayed as she stepped toward me, her footsteps silent on the plush carpet beneath her. The look on her face transformed as she came closer. The quivering of her chin stilled as she adopted a sweet smile on her beautiful lips. The dimples in her cheeks made her look more like a girl-next-door rather than the Macheavellian siren she actually was. Her eyes smoldered behind that mask of puffy eyes and runny makeup.
"I know what you want," she said. The fact that she looked like she'd just been crying surprisingly didn't detract from the sexiness of what she was trying to do. "I know why you brought me here."
Curious to see where she would take this, I didn't respond.
Reaching me, she placed her hands lightly on my robed chest, her perfectly manicured fingers grazed the plush terry cloth as she looked directly up into my eyes, "You brought me here because you want me."
She lowered her gaze to the V where the flaps of my robe crossed over my chest; a bit of hair peeked past the cloth. The crimson-painted nail of Bobbi's right index finger raked through it, scratching delicately over my skin. Her eyes flitted back to mine.
"You weren't sure how to ask me. That's why you left me down there. I get it." Her hand drifted lower until it found the knot of my belt. She began toying with it as she said, "So how about I ask you, Marcus?"
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