A Summer Affair

2

Chapter 2

___ Arora's POV ___

"So, Miss A, do you want to eat in the restaurant or have room service in the room I'm about to get for us?"

I paused for a moment, considering his question. The thought of indulging in a private meal in our hotel room had its appeal, allowing us to prolong our new intimacy with privacy. However, there was also something enticing about the prospect of dining in a public setting, surrounded by the energy of the restaurant. Plus, I had a feeling that there would be plenty of room service in the near future.

"Let's start with dinner in the restaurant," I suggested with a mischievous smile. "I want to enjoy the thrill of building anticipation as we engage in a public display of desire. However, the night is still young, so we will definitely find our way to the room for some more... private entertainment."

Owen's eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation as he nodded, clearly sharing my desire for a night filled with both sensuality and adventure.

As we walked towards the hotel, Owen's arm wrapped around my waist, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and I found myself eagerly looking forward to exploring this newfound connection.

Before we made our way to the hotel's restaurant, we stopped at the reception desk. Owen asked the receptionist, "I wanted to book a room for..." he turned to look at me. "Honey, how long did you say you wanted to stay?" I laughed but stepped closer to him, my hand on his chest. He instinctively pulled me closer. "Oh honey, I can only stay for 2 weeks." He literally pouted. He turned to the receptionist and said, "Okay, make it 3 weeks." But I retorted, "Oh sorry sir, you can make it only 1 week now." Owen's head snapped in my direction as if he had given himself whiplash. "Okay, okay. 2 weeks it is." The receptionist smiled and typed on his computer. He looked up and then back to his computer, scratched the back of his head, and cleared his throat. "Sir, ma'am, I only have one room available for that time period. It's the honeymoon penthouse suite. Will that be okay?" I chuckled because this 5-star hotel has 3 penthouse suites. I'm in one and someone else is possibly in the other. But the honeymoon one is by far the most expensive because it is the only one where a butler is not optional. In the penthouse, it is optional, and I'm very independent, so I always decline the service. I allow the cleaning service, but nothing else. And I'm not even sure if Owen has that type of money. For all I know, he could be the poorest person in this hotel who just decided to chat up a pretty girl for some s*xual fun. I feel bad now. I was about to protest and suggest something else when Owen answered with confidence radiating off of him. "That's not a problem at all. I'll take it." He reached down to get his wallet to pay. I've always had money, so it's never been an issue in my life. But living in the university dorm room like a normal student during my studies, I witnessed first-hand a lot of financial struggles and plenty of people overcommitting just to impress others but then suffering from it later on. So I've become cautious not to expect extravagance from just anyone. I pulled Owen closer, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear so no one else could hear. "Are you sure?" He smirked took out his black card and handed it to the receptionist. I rolled my eyes because I knew what having a black card like that meant. He is also financially well off. My previous guilt vanished incidentally.

We proceeded to the restaurant, but before we even had time to find a place to sit, our butler came forward, greeted us, and led us to a booth with a U-shaped wraparound bench. We sat opposite each other. The table wasn't that big, so we didn't feel disconnected. Owen was holding one of my hands across the table, not gripping it, but more like playing with it. His fingers danced over mine, turning my hand palm up and tracing circles on my palm. The feeling of his touch sent goosebumps up my arm. We ordered food and drinks with the help of our butler. Our conversation flowed effortlessly as we discussed various topics, occasionally punctuated by lingering glances.

As we savored our meals, the atmosphere around us seemed to fade into the background, and it felt like there was only Owen and me. The air was heavy with anticipation, and I could feel a magnetic pull drawing us closer together with each passing moment. His subtle touches of my hand and arm continued. I had a wicked thought that hinted at the electric tension simmering between us, so I followed through. I raised my foot from out of my sandal and placed it on his crotch. His eyes showed a moment of shock before I started moving my foot over his member. The shock soon turned into lust. I could feel his arousal growing under my foot. He looked at me, and as if a wicked thought of his own was now playing in his mind, he grabbed my foot and tickled it, causing me to retract it. As I retracted my foot, he moved his plate and drink across the table. Then he proceeded to shimmy himself to my side of the table. His leg was now pressed up against mine. He leaned in and whispered into my ear. "Are you being a naughty girl, Beautiful A? Remember, two can play that game." He nibbled on my earlobe, making shivers run down that side of my body, pooling in my core. Then he kissed just below my ear down to my jaw and captured my lips with his. But at the same time, he placed his hand on my exposed thigh and moved it up. At first, I closed my legs, stopping his adventure. But then he pinched my thigh, the same time he lightly bit my tongue. I gasped at the sensation and instinctively opened my legs. As I did, his hand brushed my bikini-covered heat. I've been dripping like a percolator since he first sat down next to me, so I'm sure he will be able to feel my wetness through the fabric. He released my mouth and grunted something under his breath, but my mind couldn't focus on what he was saying because it was too focused on what his hand was doing. He is now running it up and down the surface of my bikini front. The sensation has me shivering. His lips touch my ear as he says, "Wow, Beautiful, is all that nectar for me? I can't wait to have my 'shot'" He said teasingly referring to the shooter, then proceeded to nibble on my earlobe again, that, coupled with his relentless petting, had an involuntary moan slipping from my lips, which had him grunting something under his breath again. With his free hand, he takes my hand that is closest to him and places it on his fully erect self, saying, "Look, can you feel how you are affecting me? It's trying to break free from its restraints so that it can also get to play." I close my eyes, feeling his very large and firm package under my hand. I squeeze it lightly a few times, which has him grunting and slightly increasing the pressure of his petting. But I'm desperately in need of another drink or two. You see, I'm not technically a virgin, but I can't remember that night. I was so drunk out of my mind that I don't remember anything except for a blurry vision of his back as I made my walk of shame. But even that image can't fully be trusted. And that had also been years ago. So now, the closer we get to the physical deed, the more my nerves are getting the better of me. I take a deep breath and say, "I need another drink, please." The words come out, but my voice betrays me. It is hoarse and breathy, something I've never heard it sound like before. He looks at me and smiles, then asks, "Hey, Beautiful, are you nervous?" I nod slightly, not trusting my voice at the moment, but also not wanting to look weak by fully admitting I'm chicken-sh*t scared right now. The concern and admiration in his eyes and voice when he asks the next question has me hesitate about what I want to do. "Do you want me to stop, A? Just say it, and I'll stop immediately." I stare into his eyes and can see the honesty. I don't say a word. Not a sound leaves me. I don't shake or nod my head. I don't even think I blinked. My indecision is as clear as day.