A/N: A couple of warnings. This story is about adultery, so fair warning to those that don't really want to read that. It's loosely based on the movie, 28 Hotel Rooms, and it's very mature. There's definitely a plot, but this is more about the characters' physical relationship and the feelings that build out of that. If you've never seen the movie, it's worth a watch. It's been a while since I've seen it, so I hope my story is unique enough to keep it interesting.

Also, because I'm not one to promote unprotected sex, don't EVER do what my characters in this story do. This is fiction, people, and the consequences in a story are far less devastating than real life. Be smart. Always.

Phew! Enough seriousness. I promise to be quiet for the rest of this story. Expect an update for the next six weeks leading up to the March premiere. My gift to my fellow Captain Swan shippers to finish up the hiatus.

Disclaimer: Most definitely not mine, although they'd definitely be having fun if they were.

One - Washington, D.C.

She never meant to cheat on her husband. It just…sort of…happened in that obscure way that accidents occur and mistakes are made with no preconceived thought or malicious intent. She definitely didn't wake up that morning deciding to break her marriage vows and screw a complete stranger.

There was a point early in her life when breaking rules had meant survival, but those days were long gone. She was an adult, in control of her destiny and as such, was a follower, an enforcer, and a lover of rules…an upstanding citizen with a strong moral compass and an unwavering sense of loyalty to those she loved. She was not a person to disregard the consequences of her actions and choose a path that would only benefit her selfish desires.

Except on one random weekend in November that was exactly what she did and who she became. She never had any intention of ever having to make such a choice, but all her good intentions didn't change the fact that still she found herself pressed against a door as a man who was most definitely not her husband ate her out with an autumn rain falling gently outside her hotel room.

What is it they say…life happens when you're busy making other plans?

She had noticed him first thing that morning, his pretty blue eyes and dark scruff catching her attention while they were in the buffet line. He had been chatting to the woman next to him, asking her a question and listening politely to her response as he reached for the serving spoon sticking out of the scrambled eggs. She had reached for it at the same time, their fingers bumping and he'd given her an apologetic glance and a half smile, turning back to his companion as he bypassed the eggs for the home fries instead.

The moment was innocent, something she should have forgotten by the time she finished her coffee. It should not have been the start of a luxuriating descent into sin.

That was the moment life happened to Emma Swan.

She was a happily married woman and had been for the past four and a half years. She didn't notice other men, had no reason to look elsewhere, but in that moment, as green eyes connected with blue, every truth she knew about herself fell like ash at her feet. She was discombobulated by his smile, her pulse jumping to think of it later, dazed by how the brush of his fingers against hers had lit a fire in her veins.

Guilt shot through her at the desperate want that settled at the apex of her thighs and she decided then and there to avoid him for the rest of the day, which would be a challenge given the small size of this particular conference. Only the heads of university departments were invited, the list of attendees kept small to invite in-depth discussion and networking. They would spend the next two days together in a large ballroom that served as a makeshift conference room, tables pushed together and covered with nondescript white tablecloths.

There weren't a whole lot of places for her to hide.

She sat in the back of the ballroom after breakfast, her laptop opened in front of her and her phone out in case she received any emergency texts from her co-workers back in the office. Feeling relatively safe back there, she kept her eyes peeled, watching as people began to trickle in and choose their seats. He was one of the last to arrive, snagging one of the numerous empty seats left in the front row.

While he was safely not near her, he was now in her line of sight and she found herself staring at him throughout the morning. She could make out his profile from her seat, the strong, scruffy jaw and the dark head of hair, the perfect nose and the full bottom lip. Her body's response to him, even feet away, was instantaneous and primal. There was a damp heat pooled between her thighs, her heart racing each time she closed her eyes and remembered the vibrant blue of his eyes.

Almost as if he could feel her gaze, he shifted, arm draped along the back of his chair as he looked behind him curiously. Their gazes met, a blush creeping into her cheeks and she quickly tore her eyes from his, mortified that he had caught her staring. Face red, she pretended to check her email, fingers shaking against the keyboard of her laptop.

She managed to avoid him during the fifteen minute break between the morning sessions, bypassing the coffee bar and heading straight to the bathroom when she saw him walk in her direction. She hid in the end stall of the bathroom, taking her sweet ass time before returning to her seat.

By the time lunch rolled around, Emma was antsy, feeling as if his gaze was following her, which was ridiculous because he'd been sitting with his back to her all morning. She didn't know his name, hadn't taken a peek at the name tag clipped to his suit jacket…she knew absolutely nothing about him but that he had a cute smile, in a scruffy, corporate sort of way and that he had electric blue eyes.

Oh, and that he liked scrambled eggs, but would make due with home fries.

They were all superficial details, nothing important or life affirming, but they were enough to keep her on edge, her body thrumming with inappropriate interest.

When she found herself in the buffet line next to him at lunch, she knew it wasn't a coincidence, but rather a matter of his careful maneuvering. She made a point of talking to the woman next to her, avoiding reading his name tag despite the fact she was burning with curiosity to learn his name. Thankfully, she was able to secure the only empty seat left at one of the tables in the dining room, breathing a sigh of relief when he had to walk past her to find the next empty chair two tables over.

She really didn't want to think about why the dejected look in his eyes made her feel guilty.

The rest of the day was never ending, one session bleeding into the next, dragging on for hours. It became harder and harder to stay focused no matter how captivating the presenters were or how relevant the topic was to her line of work. She couldn't keep her eyes off him. She found herself watching the way his fingers tapped at his keys or the way he would nod in agreement when a panelist said something sage. When he raised his hand at one point to ask a question, she held her breath, hoping fervently that he would sound effeminate or nasally, anything that would turn her off. What she heard was a crisp, lyrical English accent relaying his thoughts with a dry and intelligent wit that earned him a chuckle from the crowd and a begrudging smirk of appreciation from her.

Dammit, why couldn't he be gay?

When the day's sessions were finally over, she decided against the formal dinner reception, dropping her laptop bag on her bed and replacing her business suit with a cable knit sweater and tight black jeans. Not wanting to hide like a complete loser in her room, she made her way to the bar, confident he wouldn't be there.

She was wrong.

"Is this seat taken, love?"

Looking up, she quite literally gasped in surprise. She had been checking her emails, fingers dancing over her phone's screen, deleting some messages and flagging others for follow up. She hadn't seen him enter the bar, hadn't heard the click of his shoes on the floor as he approached her.

His eyes were brighter than she remembered, the blue sparkling in the dim lighting of the bar. He had been staggeringly attractive when seen from a distance, but up close and personal, she found him to be darkly seductive and sexy in a way people just weren't in her every day life. Not able to get any words past her suddenly dry lips, she shook her head in the negative, turning back to her email and keeping her head down as he gracefully plopped down onto a barstool next to her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that he had changed out of the grey suit he'd been wearing earlier that day, casually dressed in a light blue dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and dark wash jeans. He hooked the heels of his shoes on the rungs of the barstool, legs bouncing like he was a live wire, exposed and sparking with energy.

It drove her slightly mad, but she refrained from making comment, not wanting to encourage conversation.

Since he was on her right side, she was able to see that his ring finger was bare and it made her thumb at her own wedding rings, turning them slowly around and around in guilty contemplation. She shouldn't be attracted to this guy, shouldn't even be thinking about how long his eyelashes were or what his hand might feel like if he were to reach for hers.

He may not belong to anyone, but she certainly did.

Despite the incessant jiggling of his legs, he was otherwise still, one solitary figure sitting next to another. She appreciated it, even if she did wish he'd chosen to sit at the opposite end of the bar, far away from her. They seemed to have agreed upon a subversive, anti-social silence that was exactly what she needed after a long day of networking.

Quite frankly, she could give a shit about networking right now, her brain fried on small talk and her body longing for activity and movement.

The bartender stopped in front of her handsome companion to ask if he wanted anything. He ordered a bottle of rum and two glasses. She looked up at that, raising an eyebrow in question and he answered with a wink, turning back to thank the bartender when he dropped off the bottle and glasses. He poured the rum them pushed one of the glasses across the bar to her, picking up the other and holding it out in offering. She hesitated for only a moment, clinking their glasses in thanks before tipping hers up to her mouth. It was smooth, like vanilla and molasses and heat as it slid thickly down her throat.

He tossed back his first shot, the tip of his tongue sliding over his bottom lip to capture any wayward drops. It was a sinfully luscious movement and she clenched her thighs tight, her desire to suck the rum off for him hitting her squarely in the clit. Sensing her gaze, he turned his head, his curious blue eyes meeting hers. They really were the prettiest shade of blue she'd ever seen on another human being and she swallowed hard as they stared at each other in silence, the ache between her legs blooming into a hollow agony that she hadn't felt in ages.

She looked away then, the light over the bar catching her engagement ring and causing it to sparkle distractingly. She blinked, once and then again, forcing herself to stare at it and remember her vows…remember that she was not a cheater and that no matter how attractive the man beside her was, he wasn't worth breaking the rules over.

She was blond with jade green eyes and a dimple in her chin. He noticed her right away, his interest piqued as he met her eyes across the buffet table. His normal type, leggy brunettes with blue eyes and big boobs suddenly held way less appeal when he took in her shy smile and gorgeous halo of blond curls. It was clear she was an athlete from the way she carried herself, her petite body toned and compact, but somehow still soft in the places where angles met curves.

She was the most interesting discovery he'd made at this conference, her lithe body and pretty smile affecting him instantaneously.

He tried to engage her in conversation all day, but she was clearly not having it. He figured out why during lunch, her massive engagement ring catching his attention as she stood in line next to him, her head turned purposefully away as she chatted with the woman on her right.

Someone was clearly trying to compensate for something, he thought with a bitter smirk, the twinge of jealousy in his chest taking him by surprise. For fuck's sake, he didn't even know the woman's name, but the thought of another man sharing her bed had him seething. He followed her into the dining room, then threw her a disappointed glance over his shoulder when he was forced to walk past her full table in search of an available seat.

The day had been long and he found himself unable to focus on the lecturers, inexplicably feeling her gaze on him from the back of the room. His mind had wandered, his imagination taking on a life of its own as he visualized her in any number of compromising positions, all of which had him hard and throbbing against the white linen tablecloth draped over his lap. In an effort to get his raging libido in check, he forced himself to focus on the presenter, picking an idea at random and then raising his hand to ask a pointed question, needing the shot of adrenaline that came with public speaking to force his hard-on to leave. It had been a risky move, but worth it when he settled back in his chair, managing to forget the green eyed vixen for a while as the lecturer answered his question.

The last session of the day broke up around five, folks coming over to chat and shake his hand, wanting him to expound on his statement from earlier. He caught her out of the corner of his eye as she made a quick exit, laptop bag slung over her shoulder, blond tresses falling in elegant waves down her back. He silently cursed as his body once again responded to her, hardening at the sight of her rounded backside as she dashed out of the ballroom.

It was bloody ridiculous, he admonished himself as he packed up his bag; she was married and while he hadn't had any qualms about chasing after married women in the past, he was older and wiser now. Seeking his pleasure with her was not worth the demise of a marriage, no matter how desperate he was to taste her.

Deciding against the torture of a meal sitting tables away from the off-limits blond, he skipped the dinner reception, changing out of his suit and heading for the hotel restaurant instead. He took two steps into the room when he was brought up short, the swaying of a messy braid against a slender back catching his attention. It was her, dammit, his blond siren sitting at the bar, wearing a white sweater that emphasized her lush curves and a pair of sinfully tight black jeans.

Well, he had tried to be good and avoid her, he truly had, but the Fates had made another decision. With an amused smirk, he sauntered over, asking if the seat beside her was free and apparently startling her, if the wide green eyes and shocked gasp were any indication.

They didn't speak at first. For a long while, it was just her checking her email and him staring into the bottle of rum sitting before him. He wanted to ask her name, but had a feeling she wouldn't give it. He didn't want to talk shop, either; it had been a long day of that, his thoughts fuzzy and body aching for any activity that didn't involve him sitting on his arse, pretending to be politely enthralled.

The bartender checked on them once they had managed to put away half a bottle of rum, asking if they wanted to order any food. He gave her a glance, eyebrow arched in question and catching her small nod and a cute shrug. He took the menu from the bartender, turning in his seat to hold it between them. She leaned in closer, the scent of vanilla tickling his nose. God but she was distracting, he thought as he watched her furrow her brows in concentration, her lips moving as she silently read the menu.

He ordered a reuben and a salad, she asked for grilled cheese and soup, which suited the chilly November weather and sounded so good it made him want to change his order to match.

"Split the soup and salad?" she asked. It was the first thing she'd said since he had sat down and the husky tenor of her voice hit him like a punch in the gut. Holy hell, the desire to hear that voice under different circumstances, moaning in his ear while he fucked her perhaps, made him swallow hard as he stared at her.

"What?" she asked, eyes wary.

"Nothing, lass." He thankfully found his voice again, giving her a distracted smile before agreeing to her offer to split their meals. Reaching over with the rum to top off her glass, he was amazed to see that his hand was steady despite how desperate he was to curl it around her arm and yank her into his chest. She watched him pour out the rum, then quickly downed her shot. She barely grimaced as the alcohol slid down her throat, giving a lick to her bottom lip then trailing her teeth over the plump flesh after.

He nearly groaned at the sight.

He didn't actually make a sound, but she looked up then, their eyes connecting. An emotion that he couldn't place flitted through the jade green, her brows furrowing as she stared at him. The silence between them was intense, and it was clear that she was wrestling with some pretty heavy thoughts. He wanted to ask if she was okay, if he could help in someway, but she spoke first, her voice stern, spine ramrod straight.

"No more of that." She nodded to the bottle of rum and he glanced at it; it was nearly empty. Giving her a nod, he ordered her a glass of water when the bartender dropped off their food. He continued to nurse a glass of rum, not as concerned about getting tipsy as she apparently seemed to be.

They ate in silence, heads down as they stole occasional glances at each other. He hadn't picked up a woman at a conference in a long time and he couldn't deny the fact that he was hoping to do just that, but he could tell she was struggling with their attraction. She kept absentmindedly twirling her wedding band around her finger, biting her lip each time she caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye.

He finished his half of the salad while she slurped up her half of the soup. They switched the plate and bowl, giving each other shy smiles as they pushed them to each other along the wood bar. He gave a contented sigh at the taste of the thick potato soup, flavored with bacon and celery. She'd made a good choice and he told her so, the compliment coloring her cheeks prettily and leading him to believe she wasn't used to receiving them. That was a bloody shame.

The silence stretched, becoming more and more fraught with sexual tension the longer they sat there. Not able to take it any longer, he opened his mouth to ask her name and finally find out who she was, but she stilled beside him, her green eyes wide with unmistakable panic.


She didn't have to say anything else; he understood what she wanted and more importantly, why she wanted it. There were to be no names, no introductions. She wanted to keep this, whatever this was, anonymous. He obliged her request, because, well, he was a gentleman and he didn't want to risk her walking away.

Which led to the reason for her demand…with that one little word, he instantly knew how this night would end. It explained the panic in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks. She had decided somewhere between the rum and the soup that they would fuck, her husband be damned, and in order to keep her choice from being anything other than a one time thing, she had to keep her distance. No names or personal details, just anonymity and pleasure.

He hardened at the thought.

Their sandwiches arrived. These they don't share, munching in companionable silence as he pressed his thigh fully against hers under the bar, the heat of her body driving him mad. Once they were finished eating, she swallowed the last of her water then turned to him, one hand settled on his thigh as she slid a white rectangular card toward him.

"Room 1110," she said, those green eyes promising him paradise if he followed her to her room. Then she stood and left.

The invitation lingered for only a heartbeat before he was standing, telling the bartender to charge the food and drinks to his room. The man gave a knowing look, probably having seen this particular exchange many times during his career, none of it shocking or disturbing any longer.

Killian dropped a few bills next to his empty glass. Grabbing the key card off the bar, he turned and walked quickly after her.

They don't wait to get to her room to touch, his hands on her hips as she tugged him into the elevator. He didn't kiss her, though, not yet. Instead, he pressed her up against the wood paneled wall of the elevator, his mouth hovering over hers, teasing. Breath warm on her face, he smelled of rum and spice, the combination making her lick her lips in anticipation, a move he didn't miss. His blue eyes flared with interest as he focused hungrily on her mouth.

She felt like he was trying to memorize her, as if he was counting the freckles on her nose for future reference or trying to determine the exact shade of her eyes to remember long after they had parted. It was only because she was trying to do the exact same thing when she looked at him that the thought even occurred to her.

Then her captivating stranger with the soulful blue eyes dipped his head and danced his tongue over the erratic pulse in her neck, moving on from counting freckles to counting heartbeats instead. She stopped thinking then, her fingers tangled in the soft hair at the back of his head, liquid heat pooling between her thighs as he pinned her against the wall with his hips.

The ding of the elevator broke them apart and she pushed him back, hands shaky on his chest, legs wobbly as she tried to pull herself together long enough to get to her room. It was at the end of the hallway, the last door on the right, with a view of the Washington monument and the Capitol and all the darkness of a city at rest in between. It was a gorgeous view and one she wanted to look upon with her hands pressed to the window and his cock deep inside her. The thought had her reaching back for his hand as she tugged him forward, wondering at the easy way she linked their fingers.

She got the door open, pulled him inside. It was barely shut before he pressed her back against it, her wrists caught in his hands as he yanked them above her head and trapped her there. They stared at each other, breath equally harsh in their chests before he finally, finally kissed her, the taste of rum thick on his talented tongue.

She had never done this type of thing before; she knew what it was to be betrayed by the people who were supposed to love you. She would never wish that on anyone, but there was something about this man that had her disregarding everything in her life to have him. He made her feel like the most gorgeous woman in the world with just a glance, made her feel wanted and needed.

She wasn't ready to let that go.

He dropped to his knees, pushing her sweater up to tongue at her bellybutton, palms hot on her hips. His thumbs dipped under the waistband of her jeans, easing down the material enough to nose at the expanse of her lower belly, his teeth dragging over the line where little blond hairs had started to grow back after her last wax. That was ages ago now, she realized with a guilty jerk, the comfortableness of her marriage such that keeping herself bare was no longer a top priority.

But she didn't want to think about that. She wanted to think about the gorgeous man on his knees before her, his intent clear when he looked up at her and grinned salaciously. Pushing away her guilty thoughts, she reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, slipping them down her legs, shoulders still pressed against the door for leverage. He groaned when he spied the small scrap of jade green material covering her sex.

"If I'd known you were hiding these pretty panties under that business suit, love, I'd have spirited you away hours ago." She giggled, a breathy little sound that turned into a gasp as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her mound, the deep intake of air through his nose making her drop her head back against the door. "I'm tempted to take you with them on, to be honest."

She squirmed as his fingers slipped down to grip the sides of her panties, gently sliding them to her ankles. He grinned when he looked back up, gaze on her face for a tantalizing second before he slid it back down to her lightly furred mound, his tongue now firmly lodged in the corner of his mouth. She had left the light on in the hallway when she left the room earlier that day; there was enough illumination to see the way his pupils were blown wide with desire.

It made her hot, made her want.

"Sweater off, love. I want to see if there's a matching bra." She did as he said, throwing the sweater…somewhere. His gaze moved slowly up her torso, his hand following it to cup a green clad breast, finger and thumb giving her nipple a hard tweak through the lace.

Her underwear were still around her ankles, but when she moved to kick them off, he shook his head, giving her a feral grin and her nipple another pinch.

By this point, she was shaking against the door, leaning heavily back because her legs wouldn't support her weight. Her skin felt like it was pulled tight over bone and muscle, stretched to the point of pain. He seemed to realize her agony because he let go of her breast, reaching down to wrap her panties more securely around one ankle, the same ankle he lifted up to rest on his shoulder.

There was something erotic about seeing her underwear hanging off her leg like that, as if they had both been too turned on to bother completely stripping.

"Oh, you've been wet for hours, haven't you, sweetheart?" he crooned, eyes between her legs. He looked up at her again, a dark brow raised in inquiry and she gave him a glare, her nails scraping against the door as she sought purchase. He trailed a hand up her inner thigh, his thick fingers dancing over her skin, a careful tease on her too hot flesh. "We make quite the pair, love, I must admit. I've been hard for you all bloody afternoon."

His admission made her blush, made her want to ride said erection until neither of them could walk, but then he dipped his head for a closer inspection of her damp flesh and she forgot her nefarious intentions. Lifting a hand, those devastating fingers slid over her swollen nub, causing electric shocks to fire along her skin. He circled her clit a few times then moved to lightly rim her entrance. Groaning at the thick wetness he found, he added his other hand to the proceedings, holding her open before he leaned forward and flicked his tongue over her.

"Like honey," he whispered to himself, as if he was answering a question he'd been curious about all day, his breath a hot breeze over her.

He doesn't saying anything else, sensing that she wasn't looking for words but rather action. That gorgeous head of hair moved forward again, the tip of his tongue flicking against her aching bundle of nerves, his index finger delicately slipping inside her. Despite how quickly they had found themselves in this position, he seemed somewhat timid now, his brash ego disappearing as he took her with gentle, slow thrusts.

She didn't want that; if it was, she'd simply go home to her husband.

No, she wanted what his flirtatious smile and heated gaze had implied…she wanted to be fucked. Hard. Deep. Reaching down, she threaded her fingers through his dark hair, tugging until he looked up in question.

"I don't need foreplay."

She doesn't know how such a thing was possible, but his blue eyes go black at her words. He gave her a biting kiss on the inner thigh before bringing his mouth back to her wet flesh. His timidness was gone as he tongued her clit viciously. She began to moan incoherently in appreciation as one finger became two then three as he fucked her.

She was embarrassed that it only took a few hard swipes of his tongue over her clit and she was falling, her cry harsh as she rode his fingers with abandon. He clearly didn't mind, though, leaving her to enjoy the fading waves of her release as he stood and stripped. Once gloriously naked, he yanked her into his arms and she was forced to find her way back to reality, the door no longer at her back to hold her up.

Kissing her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, he walked them backward to the king size bed. As she stumbled after him, her panties were left behind, bra roughly removed as well. Her nameless lover steered her toward the bed, but she spied the big window with the drapes open and she groaned, a rush of heat making her recently sated body ache with desire. She wanted him to fuck her in front of it, the image hard and bright in her head.

"No," she said, pushing against his chest to get him to release her. He did so quickly, attuned to the tension in her body. He gave her a worried glance, perhaps concerned that she had changed her mind about this. She smiled to reassure him, grasping his hand and tugging him over to the window.

Both hands to the glass, she angled her ass back at him, her stance wide. She glanced back over her shoulder to find him standing there with his mouth gaping open, his cock proudly bobbing between his legs.

"Like this?" she asked, her voice taking on a breathy, begging quality that sounded nothing like her normal self.

"Bloody hell, woman." Her request didn't faze him she was happy to see, her clit giving a grateful throb.

She turned giddily back to the view outside the window, an unknown city far from home. Her eyes slipped shut, her lover stepping up behind her, his breath featherlight and teasing as it caressed her skin.

She wanted him to fuck her in front of the window, an exhibitionist request that he was only too happy to fulfill. It suited the occasion, he supposed. She was cheating on her husband and if she was going to do this, she might as well throw caution to the wind and go all out, her body naked and on display for an entire city. Realistically, no one could see them here on the eleventh floor, but there was still an erotic thrill in the request, a societal taboo that made his cock harden more.

Stepping up behind her, he palmed himself to take the edge off, smoothing his free hand down over her lovely spine, the small ridges bumpy under his palm. Down, down, down then over the rounded curve of one ass cheek on his way to dip between her splayed thighs, finding her swollen and hot from her recent orgasm.

Fingers now coated with her, he wrapped his hand around his cock, smearing her slickness over himself in preparation. Placing one hand on her elegantly flared hip, he tugged her into position. He was just about to slip into her waiting heat when she looked back over her shoulder again, eyes intense as she focused on his face.

"I'm clean. And on the pill." He swallowed, her words causing his stomach to drop into his feet. Protection hadn't even crossed his mind, which was proof of how much he wanted her, how careless they were being. He was always careful, always, but since meeting her, he had thrown his carefully constructed rules about good form away, wanting nothing more than to ride her into oblivion.

Searching those wide eyes as well as his gut, he decided to trust her despite the fact that he didn't even know her name, never mind her character.

Her husband, though…

"I'm clean," he replied back, voice gruff.

He brought his hand back to her center, slipping two fingers into her as he thumbed teasingly at the puckered circle of muscle between her ass cheeks. She gasped, face turned away from him as her thick braid snaked over her back. He worked to keep her nerve endings firing as he asked the question that had to be asked before they could go any further.

"Your husband…what about him?" She shook her head, back arching as he played with her. It was an odd moment, questioning the loyalty and trustworthiness of the man she'd given her hand to while he brought her closer and closer to an orgasm.

"He's clean," she finally breathed, her hips rolling into his touch.

She was gorgeous, riding his fingers, gasping as he pressed his thumb gently against her asshole. He simply couldn't wait anymore to have her. Removing his hand, he grinned when a disappointed moan fell from her lips.

"Patience, love, patience." Coating himself once again in her slickness, he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, stepping forward to close the gap between them. He trailed his belled head over her swollen flesh, groaning at the wet heat he encountered. "Oh, bloody hell, love, so ready for me."

She gasped when he finally slipped inside, her body opening wonderfully for him. Instinct took over and with one hard thrust, he was buried deep, his head dropping to her shoulder as he cursed. His fingernails dug into her hips, holding her in place because he knew that with one roll of her hips, he would be coming, quick and hard.

Eyes squeezed shut, he breathed deeply once then again, the scent of vanilla surrounding him. Everything stilled, the pleasure rolling through him in waves as he waited for his impending orgasm to abate.

The palms of her hands were clammy against the window, the faint outline of their bodies visible in the glass, if not the expressions on their faces. She could see his dark head pressed to her shoulder, could feel his lower belly trembling against her ass. He hadn't moved his hips since joining their bodies, his chest brushing her spine with each breath, the only movement he was making. That first tantalizing stretch of his cock had wetted her appetite and his not moving wasn't what she'd thought this would be, what she'd been hoping to experience.

She wanted hard and fast and deep, a good screw that had her sore for days and right now, he didn't appear to be able to even move.

"You…you okay back there?" she finally asked, lifting one hand from the glass to reach around and touch his side. The movement startled him and he chuckled darkly, her fingers tickling as she tried to find something to grab onto. His laughter caused him to press ever deeper inside her, hinting at the depth to which he could reach, and she became annoyed, gripping enough of his skin to pinch and twist.

"Ouch!" he grunted, laughter dying. He lifted his head, biting down harshly on the top of her shoulder in retaliation. She cried out, the pain intense where his teeth pressed into her skin, but then he soothed her with the flat of his tongue, giving long swipes over the indentations he had left behind.

"Don't leave a mark," she ordered as she rolled her hips, groaning when he pushed back against her, mercifully hitting her deep. "God, just fuck me already."

"Tsk, tsk, love. Has no one ever told you that good things come to those who wait?" The pain of her pinch seemed to have pulled him out of whatever haze he had sunken into because he finally began to move, hands gripping her waist as he slid out and then in on a long, wet slide. He groaned at the sensation, his voice strained as he praised her. "So wonderfully greedy for my cock, darling."

Emma shuddered at the stretch and burn of him, at the sound of his accent panting in her ear. He was thick and long, more than she had ever taken before. Luckily, her body was beyond ready for his intrusion, so he slid easily into her, his girth delicious as he took her with languid, measured strokes. Given the heightened state of her arousal, it didn't take long to get her off, her legs trembling as she fell headlong into another explosive orgasm.

She cried out, loudly, and he shushed her, lips dancing along the back of her neck as she twitched through it. Not remembering the last time she had come so hard, she rested her head on her raised arm, panting and whimpering as he continued to lazily fuck her.

"Have another one in you, love?" he grunted, taking her with an especially hard thrust, one hand sliding up from her waist to palm her breast.

"Does it matter?" she panted back to him.

"It matters a great deal, love. I've a reputation to uphold."

He seated himself fully in her then, shuffling them over to a wing backed chair that faced the window. He sat, keeping her hips tight to his and she was forced to follow, sitting perfectly in his lap. He helped her shift and settle, so that she came up on her knees, astride him with her hands pressed to the plush arms of the chair. He gripped her ass in his hands, urging her to ride him slowly. The window was splayed out before them, the city privy to their sinful act.

Groaning, she hung her head back, her spine arcing as she trembled above him. He helped her maneuver into the perfect rhythm, his cock unerringly hitting her womb as his hips stayed hard beneath her. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, the pleasure radiating out in wonderful pulses. Her arms and thighs shook with the effort of riding him, sweat covering her with the exertion.

She had never been able to orgasm without manipulating her clit during sex before, but here she was being carefully fucked toward her second of the night, her hands pressed not between her thighs but rather to the arms of the chair.

"Bloody fuck," she heard him groan when she came again, her body slamming down on his as she cried out. He sat up, both arms wrapping around her waist as he held her though it. He flexed his hips as much as he could, pressing so deep inside that it extended out her pleasure in trembling waves.

When she was finally done, he pressed a chaste kiss between her shoulder blades, flopping back against the chair and pulling her with him. Her head came to rest on his shoulder. He slipped out of her, still hard and throbbing, poking up from between her splayed thighs. Leaning her forehead against his temple, she breathed in the scent of sex and sweat and the industrial strength detergent that all hotels use to scrub away the filth left behind.

Filth left by people like them, she supposed.

Looking down, she spotted his hard cock glistening against her inner thigh. He made no move to take her again, letting her catch her breath, their bodies pressed intimately together as she basked in the afterglow.

They don't talk, just breathe and relax in each other's arms.

His hands were pressed to her stomach, her forehead resting against his temple. When she finally opened her eyes again, she slid her head back enough to stare at his profile. She was mesmerized by how his long eyelashes brushed against his cheek and the way his inky dark hair fell in sweaty swaths over his forehead.

He's pretty, she thought, in a way that was rare and unparalleled. How in the world had she turned the head of such a man? Feeling a bit in awe, she licked her lips and felt her mouth curl up in a pleased and sated smile. He felt her stare and turned his head, giving her an answering grin and a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows. She giggled, breaking the dense silence.

Shifting forward in his lap, she stood, his hands falling to the arms of the chair as he watched her. Turning, she stood between his thighs, looking down at his nakedness with a wondering and open stare.

"Pretty" isn't the right word for what was displayed before her and she was suddenly sorry she'd used such a woefully inadequate word. He was lean in build, muscles not bulging, but well defined and toned. It was obvious he took care of himself and that was a rarity in their profession, dominated as it was by doughy academic staffers.

She didn't fit that mold either, though, she conceded, her daily workouts her one form of stress relief. He certainly seemed to appreciate her efforts, his eyes trailing over her body with longing heat. She knew it wasn't bright enough in the room for him to see the history of her life on her skin, the scar above her breast or the stretch marks on her stomach, but he can see enough to give her a lecherous grin of approval.

She knelt before him, reaching over to grab a pillow for her knees. Leaning forward, she bit at the tender inner flesh of his thigh, making him jump in surprise. She giggled, gripping his length then leaning down to lick a strip on the underside of him, moaning at the tangy taste of herself she found there.

"Sweet Jesus," he muttered, settling back to watch as she cleaned away the evidence of her on his skin, one hand tickling over his chest and thighs as she worked. She let it wander down between his legs, searching with her knuckle for the spot she knew would drive him crazy then pressing up and massaging when she found it. He moaned, biting his lip as his head dropped back against the chair. He watched her with hooded eyes, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Her tongue traced the throbbing vein along his cock, tickling his tip as she searched for all of his sensitive spots. He lifted a hand, trailed his fingers along her jaw as she laved him. When she had finally traveled the entire length of him, she raised up on her knees and took him into her mouth, which earned her a delighted groan of appreciation. Bobbing her head in slow, deep glides, she managed to take in his intimidating cock once she relaxed.

"Ah, that's a lass," he murmured as she fell into a rhythm.

He pressed his fingers lightly to the hinge of her jaw, tracing back to her ear before gathering her hair up for her, holding it at the back of her head so he could see her better. He didn't press or force her movements, just rested his hand there as if he simply wanted to feel her move over him.

When she began to palm his sack, trailing her fingers over the tightness there, he encouraged her with a breathy curse, his other hand suddenly grasping her upper arm. He was close, she could tell by the way his moans lengthened and the way his thighs tensed against her. Looking up, she caught his gaze, his eyes dark as midnight as he watched her.

"So good, love. So bloody good," he whispered.

She redoubled her efforts and a moment later he warned her of his impending release. Then he was coming, his salty flavor coating her tongue and mingling with the lingering taste of herself still in her mouth. She hummed as she swallowed his release and he gave a mighty groan at the vibrations it caused. When it was over, she pulled back and gave him a proud grin, swiping at the corners of her mouth.

She was a bloody goddess, staring up at him with swollen, glistening lips. He struggled to right himself, leaning forward to grasp her by the back of the neck and tug her forward enough to give a lingering kiss that she returned with fervor. He tasted a mixture of them on her lips, salty and sweet. Only moments before she had given him the blowjob of a lifetime, but he stirred to life again, the intoxication of their combined flavors too much.

He wanted to be inside her, the consequences of his desire be dammed, and he pulled her to her feet, grabbing her around the hips and lifting her over his shoulder to carry her to the bed. A giggle burst from her lips as he dropped her onto the mattress, a sound so melodious it gave him pause.

"What?" she asked, settling on her side and propping her head on her hand to give him an appreciative glance.

"You look good with a smile on your lips," he replied, following her to the bed and stretching out beside her. "Whatta you say, love? Have another in you?"

"Another?" She pondered him, a spark of something he couldn't define in the darkened depths of her eyes.

"Mmhmm. Another," he confirmed as he pushed her to her back, leaving a kiss on her belly then moving up higher to place one on the under curve of her breast. "And then, maybe another."

"We do have a full day tomorrow, you know. Sleep would probably be a good idea."

"Do you really intend to spend another day listening to a bunch of pompous windbags, love?"

"My job is paying for me to, so…yeah."

"Your job isn't paying you to spend the evening with me, lass, and yet, here you are." He gave her a teasing grin, shifting higher still to wrap his lips around a pretty pink nipple. She watched him, ended up threading her fingers through his hair as he gently suckled her.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Here I am."

He took her again, cradled between her silky thighs as he held himself above her, determined to watch her face when she came undone. It was a sight he knew he would carry to his grave, this beautiful stranger who so willingly gave her body to him, a gift he knew he didn't deserve. His chest ached with the knowledge that she would soon go back to her life and he back to his.

It should worry him that she had gotten to him so quickly, shouldn't it? She was just a one night stand, a quick fuck to scratch his itch…

Wasn't she?

They fell asleep after their combined releases, his body tangled with hers. He woke up hours later and took her again, slipping into her satin warmth from behind, his lips on hers as she turned her head and offered him her mouth. He could tell she was sore, so he went slowly, wanting her to remember this night with nothing but fondness and appreciation.

Wanting her to remember him as the best lover she'd ever had.

It ended up being the first time that she had to have help to get herself off, her hand slipping down over her mound to press against her clit. He didn't take it personally; his immediate need for her upon waking meant that he hadn't prepped her properly for this. Wanting to make up for it, he brought his hand down to join hers, eager to learn the secrets of her body.

"Show me, darling?" he asked, breathless as he continued to flex his hips, the grip of her walls making it hard to keep his coordination. She moaned, wrapping her fingers around his to show him the tempo and the pressure she liked.

They worked in tandem, her slickness painting both their fingers. When his cock hit her deep, brushing over the spot that made her tremble, he grinned triumphantly against her mouth.

"Ah, found it."

"Found what?" she panted back as he fucked her in slow, languid drags.

"Why, hidden treasure, of course. The kind wars have been fought over. The kind men seek their whole lives to find."

"Seriously?" she asked and even though he couldn't see her in the dark, he imagined her rolling her pretty green eyes at him and he nipped at her bottom lip, teeth catching on the plump flesh.

"Aye." he groaned when he lifted his head, hips picking up a faster rhythm, fingers dancing on her clit. Her hand fell away, wrapping around his wrist as the other grasped the edge of the bed in an effort to anchor herself. "You've clearly never seen what you look like when you come, love. I'd kill a man to keep that look of perfection on your face."

She came then, the rhythmic pulsing around his cock making pride surge through his chest. She cried out, head dropping to the mattress as a drawn out "fuuuck" pierced the air. Pumping his hips twice more, he joined her, the spasming of her body pulling him swiftly into oblivion.

When she woke at dawn, he was gone. Groaning, she stretched out for her phone, hitting snooze on her alarm and laying back to think over the events of the previous night.

She was an adulteress now, the used feeling in her muscles a testament to that fact. She had swept aside all propriety and fucked another man. Not once, not twice, but several times over, the evidence of his dried release flaking on her thighs. Yesterday she had been a content wife and today, just twenty four hours later, she was a cheater, the scent of it thick in the air around her. But as shameful as that felt, there was a larger part of her that simply wanted her dark haired lover back in her bed, his lips soothing her sore body into another soul shattering orgasm.

What had changed in a day to make her okay with this? Not only okay, but hungry for more?

There was a knock at the door, startling her from her thoughts and she sat up, rechecking the time on her phone. There was another rap, this one shorter and more demanding. She was up like a shot, panicking at the sudden insane fear that it was her husband at the door.

Grabbing a terrycloth robe from the closet, she pulled it on and peered out the peephole, sighing when she found only her blue eyed lover there and not her husband. He was holding two cups of coffee, giving her a raised eyebrow of amusement as if he knew she was staring out at him. She pulled open the door, accepting the cup of coffee he handed her, the spicy scent of his cologne wafting past her as he sauntered into the room.

"You'd better get in the shower, love. We'll be late."

The rest of the conference passed in a blur, the sessions one long, torturous event that dragged on and on. She decided to make a game out of it, spending as much time away from her lover as she could, wondering how far she could push it until they simply had to have each other again. She focused on networking, chatting up several people she hadn't yet met and using small talk as a way to distract herself. By the time the day was over, she felt like she had met every damn member of the conference, handing out a million business cards and depleting her stash.

She felt his gaze on her throughout the day, his desire clear in the stormy depths of his eyes. There was another dinner that night and they both attended, knowing they couldn't get away with two nights absent. She tried to ignore the fact that he positioned himself two tables over, facing her so he could watch with a hungry gaze as she laughed and chatted to the others at her table.

It was a one time thing that bled into a second when later that night she opened her door for him. He had a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and two spoons with him. He set the sweet treat down on the bedside table then took her bent over the wing backed chair they had used so wonderfully the night before.

Desire sated, at least for the time being, they settled naked on the bed and enjoyed the ice cream, giggling over the porn they ordered. They stopped laughing once they decided to try a few of the positions the enthusiastic couples in the movie were performing, betting on which one of them could last longer.

He won and she really, really didn't fucking mind.

They didn't tell each other about themselves, still hadn't shared names, but she was really okay with that. This conference would end tomorrow morning and she would go back to her life, to her married and happy life, and forget him. He wouldn't know how to find her, wouldn't have anything of her but the memory of her kiss and the lingering bruises she left on his body.

It was just the way she wanted it.

When she woke the following morning, he was gone and this time he didn't return with coffee. She packed up her room, giving everything a once over. The sheets were tangled on the bed, the heavy scent of sex lingering in the air as she stepped into the hall. The flight home was spent remembering her dark haired lover, his kisses still tingling on her lips.

She wondered as she exited the plane if her husband would see the guilt in her eyes.

He didn't.

She slipped back into her life, her days busy with meetings and student appointments, nights filled with dreams that she didn't remember when she woke in the morning, body aching for a release that she couldn't find in her marriage bed.

A week after her trip, she was rummaging in her purse, emptying out the trash she had accumulated while in D.C. and hadn't had the time to clean out. Slipping her hand in a front pocket, she found her business card holder and pulled it out, flipping it open to stare down at the single card left inside. That didn't surprise her; she'd nearly emptied it the second day of the conference, retiring to her room that night with only one card left.

What did surprise her, though, was that the card left in the holder wasn't hers. It had been replaced by someone else's, a man's name printed in definitive black font on the front. Her heart raced and her hand trembled as she plucked it from the holder, tracing the edges carefully as she mouthed his name in the quiet of her office…

Killian Jones

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