Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three (3 page)

A slight difference is that my suite has a
set of stairs leading to a private underground four-car parking garage, two
spaces for my trucks and two that are currently empty - used for winter boat
storage. The private garage allows me to come and go without being seen. To
hell if I’m going to park my vehicles in the guest or staff parking lots...

I see the door.

It’s been a week since I’ve approached this
suite. My staff thinks I use it for storage, which was true up until about
three weeks ago. Now it’s occupied with something I find most precious.

I could call, but I need to see someone’s
face instead of having a discussion through our cell phone watches.

I knock once, a hard pound, and wait.

There’s one knock in return, then silence.

Placing my head against the door, I whisper
my first warning...

“He’s here.”

***

Nights are my mornings…

I
don’t sleep
more than a few hours each night because of troubling thoughts and an
overactive cock. I have two unstable heads dominating my life and both get a
thrill from suffocating my softer side. I want to tame them for Julia, but at
the same time I’d rather come across as her alpha, than as a pussy with a
heart.

Damn, look at her applying a fresh coat of
dark lipstick for my dick and me. I can’t wait for that precious mouth to open
wide later. And there’s something about seeing my name embroidered over the
chest of my staff, especially hers, the name Jameson bouncing with each
movement makes me feel all-powerful.

She sees me and I let out a faint laugh. It’s
not for her, but because I just realized those embroidered names remind me of
the tattoos my father forced his porn stars to get on their shoulders, labeling
them as Jameson Industries whores. I even have one of the company tats on my
shoulder. And according to Jules, I’m an egotistical bastard to have my last
name inked on my body.

I’m fine with that assumption. She doesn’t
need to know the truth as to why it’s there.

“Hey, where’re we going?”

I raise my hand in the direction of the back
hall and she lowers her purse in disappointment.

“Really, Mark? Taking me to your own
restaurant isn’t taking me
out
for
dinner.”

“Of course it is,” I grin, “you joining me or
not?”

Her eyes roll as we walk side-by-side on the
red and gold carpet to the dark wooden doors, reminiscent of a castle entrance.
She’s always in heels, even when she’s in my bed. Without them, I’d guess she’s
about three inches shorter than me.

“After you,” I say, letting her enter first.

“Why so nice all of a sudden?” she asks with
a look of suspicion and disbelief.

My main hostess leads the way to my usual
table and pours two glasses of wine. It’s a quiet spot, just off the main room,
with floor to ceiling windows that are perfect for viewing the lake.

“Stunning,” she whispers with her first sip
of wine. “My parents own a boat, but I haven’t been out on the water in over a
year. Do you have one?”

“Two.”

“Two boats, why?”

“Just in case one breaks down.” I snap my
fingers for a basket of bread and pour a second glass of wine after chugging
the first in under a minute.

“Are you getting wasted tonight or are you
hoping I will, so I’ll be less protective of my foxhole?” she jokes.

I pull her chair closer and devote my hand to
her athletic thigh. Julia’s different from most of the women I’ve been with.
Besides the fact that her skin is never cold or dry and she seems at ease with
her clothing and makeup, in such a way that those things come naturally to her,
she also says what’s on her mind. And when she can’t answer, she keeps silent,
which is a hell of a lot better than telling lies.

“Your other two interviews seemed to go well,
at least I think they did since there wasn’t anymore yelling after that guy
Dayne
left. Did you find someone?”

“Yeah, two. Both experienced with open
schedules. They’ll start immediately.”

She nods. “Are you worried about your staff
talking about us?”

“Obviously not if I brought you here. Does it
bother you?”

“No, if anything it makes me feel special,
like I’m here for something other than to give you head.”

She chews a piece of bread and smiles at the
decor, admiring the lush carpet, fine linens, and the Mariposa lily next to our
wine glasses, then her heel inches under my pants. “It’s working, Mark
Jameson,” she whispers.

“What is?” I ask innocently, knowing full
well I brought her someplace romantic to get laid.

I’m given a second sign when she slides my
hand under her skirt. Fuck, women my age never get this wet. I can feel how
slick she is through her underwear. It
is
working.

“So you’ve been holding out for this? Dinner
with a lakeside view?” I ask.

“No, but it helps.”

I nod. “Why don’t tell me what’s on your mind
then? I’m curious as to what I’m doing wrong. You said it helps, but
something’s still missing.”

“Don’t laugh.” Her tone is serious. “It’s not
really you, Mark. The last two guys left after they got it. I’m jinxed that
way. And since they’re the only two I’ve been with, it makes sense to believe
you won’t come back for seconds either.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, Jules. Trust me,
I’ll be back for seconds and thirds. I like pussy, a lot. If I could handle the
pain, I’d have a pussy tattooed on my dick so I could fuck it everyday. You’ll
be begging for a break... not wondering why I left.”

“But...” She looks around with hesitation.

“What?” I demand an answer.

Her delicate hand covers mine and then she
hides it away. “Chloe and a few of the other women have mentioned they’ve
fucked you. You’ve been with
a lot
of
your staff.”

I start to speak but she raises her hand for
a chance to continue.

“I understand you’ve got a dick and you want
to use it and it doesn’t really bother me that you’ve been with a lot of
people, I mean...” she sighs. “How old are you?”

“Late thirties.”

“Yeah, so you have a lot of experience,
that’s okay, but what I
am
bothered
by is the fact that you didn’t stay with anyone. Why? What happened?”

“I didn’t give a shit about them. That’s what
happened.”

She flashes her
I knew it
expression. “I’d rather get my mouth used and tossed away
instead of my pussy, and with the answer you just gave me, I can tell that’s
what would happen.”

“Look,” I exhale and take a gulp of wine,
wanting to tell her I could have some random woman bent over a chair in my
suite within the hour, but because of her I’m giving up on that shit for now.
One-
nighters
lately are beyond boring and I’m up for
a new challenge. I’ve been working my ass off for Julia’s warm pussy and I can
tell I’m not wasting my time.

“Look what? You didn’t finish your sentence,”
she says, setting her wine down. I watch her unfold her napkin and place it on
her lap then turn toward the lake.

“It’s not just about my dick getting inside
some of the staff. What else is stopping you?”

She looks surprised that I know her so well.

“You’re stunning, Jules. The type of woman
who walks into a room and heads turn, which means I’m not the only guy around
who’s noticed you, especially if you’ve been to Kick’s Bar. I’m sure a few men
were admiring your ass at that place. Right?”

Her face turns red and she shrugs. “So?”

“I bet those men don’t have workers they’ve
fucked, but I haven’t heard about you sleeping with them, so it’s not just
about me. You’re not giving it to anyone else either. Why?”

“Maybe I’m not a slut.”

Smirking, I lean back while our dinner
arrives and wait for her to take the first bite before I begin. I’m always
served the daily special for my evening meal and having that planned in advance
with the kitchen staff is better than wasting time with my head in a menu. It’s
also nice that Julia didn’t complain about not having a choice.

“You find that amusing?” she asks while
nursing her wine.

“Well, you’re not a prude.”

She halts my hand from cutting into the meat
on my plate then moves the conversation away from herself. “Tell me why that
guy
Dayne
was arguing with you earlier.”

My face feels warm as I push her hand away
and continue cutting my food, slowly at first, but then with more power and aggravation.
“It’s a family issue and none of your concern.”

“
Gah
. Saying one
wrong thing puts you in a sour mood. So he’s family? Like, your dad or uncle or
something?”

I slam my silverware on the table and throw
back my second glass of wine.

“Sorry I asked,” she says softly.

“You’re too young and innocent to understand,
so give it a fucking rest. I already told you I didn’t want to talk about him
tonight anyway.”

“I forgot, we can only talk about sex,” she
fires back. “You think I’m young and innocent, well let me tell you something,
I’ve been through hell too and my trust in men disappeared when my last
‘boyfriend’ held me down and stuck a freaking hairbrush handle inside of me as
punishment for not putting out on our second date.”

“Excuse me,” I whisper.

“That’s right, he got pissed, took the brush
off my dresser and stuck it in. I let him fuck me that night so he’d stop
abusing me with the brush, and when it was over he said he didn’t want to deal
with my drama. I never saw him again.”

I loosen my tie then unbutton my suit jacket,
unable to breathe. She won’t look at me and when I raise her chin with my
finger a tear rolls down her cheek. Shit.

“Were you hurt?” I question. “Besides
emotionally.”

Her head’s down while my eyes look to the
ceiling, away from her tight lips and shaking head.

“No,” she whispers. “He wanted to humiliate
me and nothing more.”

I have white knuckles and a clenched jaw.
“No, trust me, the fucker wanted to do more than humiliate you. Did you press
charges?”

She shakes her head again. “I wanted that
night to disappear from my memory, not relive it with a detective, besides, I
told him we could do it. I agreed to it.”

My fist slams the top of the table
transmitting my fury to her and the rattling dinnerware.

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere,” I
say, rushing away from the table, through the kitchen, past my staff, and out
the back door in need of fresh air.

“Fucking son of a bitch.”

I pace with my head down, hands in my
pockets, and listen to the fall leaves crunch under my shoes. What the fuck
am
I getting myself into? This isn’t the right time for
this, not with
Dayne
here. I need to stay focused on
him, and now I have this situation to deal with.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, those words were selfish.”
I bite my lip in anger and frustration. “That
scumwad
,”
I whisper. There’s nothing I hate more than a rapist. I’m a prick and I know I
can be an abusive ass, but I’d never sink so low... I’d never rape a woman...
unlike my father. That’s one trait he didn’t pass down to me; the other is
having a man do his dirty work for him. I’m not hiring some chump to teach
people a lesson. I’ll take care of business when necessary with my own two
hands.

Some people are pussies.

I take a slow walk around the outer edge of
the pool, inhaling the heady scent of the mountain pines. Slow and calm.
Breathe steadily, Mark. Take a moment to think and chill out.

The sky is clear, full of stars, and the
moon’s reflection dances on top of the water; it’s beautiful, unlike life.

My outdoor pool is heated year round and has
blue lights shining upward from the bottom. Guests can enjoy a relaxing swim
even in the dead of winter. The lone swimmer this evening disappears in the
rising steam from the water’s surface then reappears in the shallow end by the
stairs. At this time of the night people swim at their own risk, but during the
day when the pool is full of bobbing heads, my pool boys keep a watchful eye
out for safety.

I need to figure this shit out. Either I step
up to the plate and start a real relationship with this woman or I walk away,
and I know I can’t do that. I’d be like the last piece of shit in her life that
said he didn’t need the drama. Well, fuck that. Life without drama isn’t
living. It’s like spending your days in a fucking coma. And it’s amusing that
earlier she said someone needed to help
me
when she’s been wrestling with her past as well.

“Mark?” Her soft voice glides to my ears.
“I’m not all that hungry, I think I’m just
gonna
go,
but thanks, it was nice.”

I can tell she hasn’t calmed down. I haven’t
known her for long, but from some of the shit I’ve put her through, I do know
she’s not a crybaby or a weak woman. She’ll bitch me out before she cries, so
the tears a few minutes ago were an eye opener.