Mr. Kingsley

I placed my bag on my right shoulder and headed to the door of the suite. I paused as I walked passed the kitchen counter. There was a thick envelope resting against the white granite surface. 

I smiled and stepped to the counter to pick it up before counting the large bills. It was a little extra than the usual bonus he gives me. I chuckled and pocketed the envelope into my handbag. 

I strode down the hall after closing the door behind me. Its self-lock mechanism came in handy. My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my denim jeans as I waited for the elevator to ping. 

It vibrated again and I slipped it out of my pocket to glance at the screen. Two messages from a number I couldn't recognize.

'Meet me at The James New York hotel in Soho at 9 o'clock tonight.'

'Dress elegant.'

I scoffed and slid the phone back into my pocket. The elevator pinged and I stepped inside. I sighed and took out my phone again to read the messages as the doors closed.

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A quarter to seven, I stepped out of the bath and wrapped my body with a towel. The salon should still be open now. I glanced at my closet and frowned. I was a little reluctant to wear that dress, but the text did say 'dress elegant.'

I huffed and dried myself. I got dressed quickly and opened my closet door to retrieve a black dress cover from its hook. I stared at the zipper and sighed. You can do this, Stella. 

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It was 8:30 pm and my limo pulled up. After an hour and a half and calling in several favors, I made it early in full makeup, and hair. My curls  were bleached and colored a light blonde. I clutched at my pocketbook as the limo pulled up to the hotel. The black Mallory formal off-shoulder dress hugged my bust and torso. The slit emphasized my long legs as I climbed out of the passenger door to a waiting bell boy .

It was an odd sight. I was unaware of a formal event that required my presence. Nonetheless it wasn't uncommon to have an escort as your date. Tonight my partner was unknown, but I had to act as though we've met. As I was helped out of the car with gentle hands, a man in a mask approached me.

"Name?" He asked

"Stella Henry."

He took out a small and flat black book from his blazer and flipped though a few pages. He nodded to himself and smiled at me as he reached into his blazer again and removed a black lace mask. He handed it to me and gestured toward the steps.

"I was told to retrieve you upon arrival and get you acquainted with several dignitaries."

I looked around and spotted a few men lollygagging against the walls of the hotel with young women clinging to their arms. So it was one of those parties? I should be able to blend well. As we walked through the doors of the hotel, we were greeted by staff that bowed with a rehearsed smile. I smirked at the irony and glided to the front desk.

"I have his guest with me," the man said, "please let him know she's arrived and the brief tour will begin shortly."

The receptionist nodded and picked up a phone. I couldn't hear her hushed conversation. I was guided to the lounge where there was a small gathering of people. Drunken laughter filled the air. The smell of cheap cologne and caviar filtered through the large space. I sighed and nodded at my guide's commentary. 

About 45 minutes had passed and I was beyond exhausted. I bade my guide a quick break to which he obliged and escaped toward the bar. This was torture. Not only had my date not arrived yet, but I was running out of patience. 

I ordered a whiskey on the rocks and sat toward the middle of the empty bar. A few minutes passed when I was approached by a seemingly tall man in a navy suit and blue tie. He wore a mask as well, which looked to be made of satin. 

His black hair was slicked back, and he wore a rather confident expression. It wasn't difficult to picture his whole face. His square jaw and soft cheekbones. Those luscious lips. As I continued to mentally devour him, the man took the stool next to me and ordered a Bourbon straight.

I watched as he took the rock glass the bartender had poured, and downed the drink in one gulp before placing the glass carefully on the counter. He looked at me and smiled before nodding to the bartender again for another. I gazed at him until he looked back and smiled.

"Are you able to find your way around?"

"Pardon?" I looked at him bewildered.

He chuckled and turned his body toward me.

"I noticed Parker giving you the historical grand tour of the hotel. Do you think you know your way around now?"

My answering sigh made him chuckle again. His laugh was deep and attractive. I couldn't help, but smile. He stretched out a hand to me and cracked another smile.

"Name's Don, and yourself?"

I accepted the formal handshake and smiled back.

"Stella"

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I shuddered as he thrust deeper. Annoyed that I was stood up, and satisfied the night ended on a good note, I sighed in pleasure. Don hovered above me and continued to plunge into me. Loud moans escaped my lips.

"Keep fucking me. Don't stop," I breathed into his ear.

I gasped as his thrusts became faster. I dug my acrylic nails into his back and gripped him tightly to my chest. I wanted him to finish inside me. To feel his release drip out of me. He didn't. As he reached his climax he pulled out of me, grabbed my neck and pushed his cock in my mouth to release his load.

It was sweet, but thick. How long did he hold out? 

I swallowed as he slowly began bobbing my head to finish sucking him off. When he was dry he gently pulled out of my mouth, and slumped onto the bed. He let out a low grunt and fell asleep.

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I woke up to my phone lighting up. At 7:30 am who could possibly message me at this hour? They were messages from Camellia with an attachment. 

'You mean Don?! As in THEE DONOVAN KINGSLEY?!'

I looked at the message confused, and clicked on the attachment as Don emerged from the bath with a towel tied around his waist. 

I looked up at him as he walked toward the open kitchen and looked around before picking up an apple from a bowl on the counter.

He turned to me and smirked  "Were you able to get enough sleep last night?"

I looked at the picture on my phone, then at him.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, taking a bite of the Granny Smith apple in his hand.

I took a breath and smiled.

"You must be Mr. Kingsley."