Lying in silence, neither of us feeling the need for unnecessary conversation, he turns his head to me. "I'm dying for some water. Can I get you something while I'm up?""Mmm. Water would be fantastic. Thank you." I smile genuinely at him. He's a sweet guy. It's too bad my inner slut muffin decided to pick him for a quickie. He probably would have made good relationship material.He returns with two bottles of ice-cold water, but before handing me mine, he rubs the bottom of it between my breasts, causing me to gasp from the sudden temperature change, then down my stomach, before nudging my legs apart, settling the bottle between my thighs. It feels good, refreshing in an odd way, but damn I'm thirsty, too.He opens the other bottle and hands it to me. I take a long swig while he continues to use the other bottle in his hand to massage my overused lady parts. It's not erotic but definitely intimate. Intimate in a tender way; he's not trying to arouse me, just take care of me.I
I follow him down the hall to the kitchen where he pulls out a pound of ground turkey, a box of angel hair pasta, and a jar of marinara sauce. I laugh realizing what he meant by cheating. Essentially, he's heating stuff up and putting it together. No real cooking, but I don't care. It's ready in less than ten minutes, and moments later we're sitting at his counter eating.I swear this is the best spaghetti I have ever had. He laughs when I tell him, and insists anything would have been good since I haven't eaten in almost twenty-four hours. He may have a point, but we will never know since this is what I'm eating and I love it."Tell me about the bike," he says. It's random but he's certainly not the first person to ask.I start to go into the statistics of my motorcycle. With a mouthful of food, he shakes his head and waves his hand, finishing the bite he's chewing. "No, silly. Tell me why.""Hmm. It was an impulse buy. I was hurt, feeling rejected, and I wanted to regain cont
I'm terrified, plain and simple. It's an irrational fear, but a fear just the same, and it ravages me any time I enter an airport. It never fails: every time I fly, something always happens. My friends think I have adventures. I think it's hell-some of which I bring on myself, some out of my control.I'm embarking on my latest "adventure," driving to the Greenville Spartanburg Airport. My hands are clammy. Mentally, I run down a list of items I need to bring with me. Surely I've forgotten something. The closer I get, the heavier my breathing becomes, the more the paranoia takes hold. Exiting from the freeway, I take the long road, following the signs to long-term parking.Eventually, I'm at the security checkpoint. There must be two hundred people in line. The crowd heightens my anxiety, but I do my best to get through the line without losing my shit. People bump into me, and the TSA agent repeats the same instructions over and over again in a monotonous tone.I finally reach the
Holy hell. When I say gorgeous, I mean fucking stunning. I don't want to stare, so I quickly distract myself by removing my backpack trying not to listen to the people around me continuing to make snide comments. I fish around for my iPad then stuff the black bag under the seat in front of me.I wipe the sweat from the side of my head on my jacket sleeve, then quickly shed that major part of my discomfort. I'm on the verge of throwing up, and apparently, Male Model here next to me is acutely aware he may be caught in the cross fire. I notice him reach up to the call button before I try to hide my face in my hands.Taking several deep breaths, I try not to cry. I'm a total mess. If I don't get myself under control before this plane takes off, not only will I have an anxiety attack, but I'll be suffering from motion sickness as well. When the stewardess approaches, I tense in preparation to hear the complaints of my co-passenger."Ma'am, can you get the lady some water before we ta
I search the sea of drivers waiting for their passengers as I come down the escalator, but I see no one holding a sign with "Waters" written on it, as I was told I would find. I wander the area but see no one as the hordes of passengers make their way to the different carousels. I stand there like an idiot trying to figure out what to do.Digging my cell phone out of my pocket, I call my corporate office to see if they can get in touch with the limo company and find out where my ride is."Trudy! Oh my gosh. I'm so glad I caught you before you left. Do you have a number for the limo service? I can't find the guy anywhere?"Standing in the middle of chaos, waiting for her to locate the number and call the company, a hand settles on my shoulder and startles the shit out of me. I jump, dropping my phone, and see my flight buddy next to me. I realize just how tall he actually is. He's close to a foot taller than I am, towering over me."You scared the crap out of me," I say to him a
In true Mila Waters fashion, the hotel reservation mimics the rest of my trip and the hotel attendant speaks very broken English. I silently send up prayers of thanks to my father who insisted I learn Spanish growing up. Tyler looks pleasantly surprised when I break out in my second language to discuss the situation, and the guy at the desk looks relieved. He finally finds my reservation, misspelled, and quickly hands me my key card, pointing me to the elevators.I love this hotel. I stay here every time I come to Houston. The lobby is modern with an open feel, and the rooms mimic that. Tyler follows me up, pulling my bag behind him with my backpack on his shoulder as we make our way down the sultry hallway to my door.After letting us both inside, he sets my suitcase on the bed and motions toward the bathroom. "Do you mind?""Not at all," I say as I start digging through my suitcase for clean jeans and blouse to match. Thankfully, I brought my black leather ankle boots to wear t
I giggle all the way out to the car. The wine began to take over, warming my body and relaxing the anxiety. With my hand in his, he ushers me to the limo where Jeff is waiting.Tyler sports a sexy grin as we climb in the back of the car where Jeff seals us in our private venue. Situating himself close to me, he takes my chin in his hand, turning my face to meet his. He captures my lips again, but this time, he doesn't let up. The thrust of his tongue in my mouth ignites my lady bits, effectively soaking my panties.I can't help myself as I climb onto him, straddling his lap, never breaking contact. He welcomes me, adjusting his position so I'm right on top of his rigid package, silently letting me know he is as turned on as I am. His hands go to my ass rocking me into him. I moan through the kiss as he rubs me along his jean-covered shaft.Just as things become hot and heavy, I realize the car has stopped moving. The tap on the glass breaks the kiss and I slump in his lap, my obv
Once in the bathroom, I realize how grimy I feel. Between the sprint to the terminal and the romp in the hay, I need a shower, desperately."Hey, Tyler," I call through the door."Yeah? Everything okay?""It's been a long day. Do you mind if I jump in the shower and rinse off?"I hear his footsteps coming toward the door. "Not at all. Do you need some help?" His voice changes from concerned to eager.I giggle as I turn the knob, opening the door for him. He stops long enough to kiss my lips, then reaches past me to turn on the water. Another of the things I love about this hotel is the bathroom. There's no bathtub, just a huge, tiled shower, and instead of a curtain, there's a glass wall. There's no door to the shower, just an opening in the glass, allowing entrance. The tile is a deep, rich brown, which suddenly seems warm and inviting. There's a lot of room to enjoy each other in this space.Tyler leaves his hand under the water, waiting for the temperature to rise to a c