Hotel Saint Marie

Hotel Saint Marie

By: Bikerider



The bamboo blades of the ceiling fan turned slowly overhead, its pull-chord swaying in the warm air. Amelia struggled against the black silk scarves securing her wrists and ankles to the four-poster bed. Antoine stood over her, his dark eyes taking in her naked body, a black fur glove covering one hand.

Amelia had watched him work in the hotel garden for a week, his muscles glistening in the hot sun, sweat dripping down his back. Her mother had warned her not to hire him, but she needed a maintenance man at the hotel. "He's dangerous," her mother had said. But the reasons were never clear. She wondered about her mother's words; she wondered about him.

She had invited him to her room, lying about a broken television. What happened next was a blur of kisses, groping, and erotic suggestions. And now apprehension clouded her deep-blue eyes as she wondered what was next; goose-bumps tightened her nipples with the possibilities. How dangerous is he? She wondered. She chewed her bottom lip.



Antoine picked up a pair of black panties from the floor and stared down at her as he sniffed the small triangle of silk. He dropped the skimpy material, walked closer to her and knelt on the bed. His gloved hand danced over her breasts, across her quivering belly, then over the red curls between her legs. Her knees shook as the soft fur caressed her inner thighs.

Amelia's heated blood pulsed in her ears as she fought off the desire building between her tanned thighs. "I can't believe I am letting you do this to me."

"You think you're letting me?" He chuckled. "It's exciting to dominate a woman who should be beyond my reach—a woman like you." He stood, pushed his jeans down, his obvious excitement bobbed above her.

"I'm frightened," she said between clenched teeth.

"Good...I like fear in my women."

His words ripped through her, horrifying her—thrilling her. Trepidation turned her palms moist.

He dipped his head and sucked at each breast, taking his time with each. Amelia passed her tongue over her lips and felt the liquid heat spreading through her belly.

His tongue left a wet trail on her stomach as he slid down between her legs and lapped at her swollen clit. Amelia pressed her head against the satin sheets as a deep moan escaped her. Antoine looked up between her heaving breasts and smiled. "I'll stop if you tell me to."

"Don't stop." She closed her eyes. "Oh damn, don't stop!" Antoine returned his tongue to her sensitive nub and then slipped it inside her hot opening, moaning as he lapped the juices flowing from her. Convulsions rocked under her belly as she came.

He rose and knelt on his knees between her legs, his eyes locked on hers. She dropped her gaze to his rigid manhood, then back to his eyes. Her tongue moistened her lips, her breasts rose and fell with each breath—she nodded at him.



"Oh," was the only word she spoke as he entered her. Then, "Oh, oh," as his rigid girth drove past her resistance and pressed deeply into her. She arched her back, thrusting out her breasts, tugged at her ties, as Antoine began a slow rhythm over her.

She closed her eyes, pressed her head against the sheets and shuddered as Antoine glided back and forth above her, slowly at first, then quickening, then slowly again. She reached for something to hold on to, grabbed the silk scarves in her sweaty palms. She gave a little moan as she came again.

Antoine rested his face on her shoulder and reached under her. She felt his finger massaging where she least expected, the unexpected pleasure spreading through her. "Oh, that feels good," she said, her ragged breath caressing his ear.

Amelia raised her hips to meet his quickening thrusts, sweat soaked her red hair. She pulled against the ankle restraints, stretching the silk until her feet locked behind his legs.

Antoine pushed his palms against the rumpled sheets and rose over her, threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, his face clenched in pleasure. Amelia felt him pulse inside her as he spilled himself into her, his warmth spreading inside her.

He lowered himself onto her, his forehead against hers, their sweat mingled. Amelia's hips gyratrf against him until she held her breath and shuddered one more time.



He slowly released her wrists, then her ankles as he stared at her. He stood, sweat dripping down his chest, and pulled on his jeans.

"I guess I'm fired, huh?" He looped his belt around his waist.

"No, you're not." She rubbed her wrist. "But you just added to your regular duties here at the Saint Marie Hotel."

Antoine smiled down at her, his eyes narrowed. "Did your mother tell you not to hire me? Did she say something about me?"

Her smile widened as she stretched against the wet, rumpled sheets. "Yes, she warned me about you. She said you're dangerous."

He pushed his hands into his jeans pocket and said. "She would know."

Amelia watched him walk through the door into the corridor.



Word Count: 862