A stolen glance across the hotel lobby
# The Hotel Lobby You were laughing and having a good time with your coworkers at the local watering hole after work. But you were also feeling the weight of your wedding ring like a shackle. The memory of your husband’s disinterested han
Chapter 1
You were laughing and having a good time with your coworkers at the local watering hole after work. But you were also feeling the weight of your wedding ring like a shackle. The memory of your husband’s disinterested hands last night was a cold stone in your stomach.
Across the carpet, Ryan caught your eyes. He’d been your quiet crush for months, his witty remarks in the breakroom the only sparks in your dull week.
He moved toward you, the scent of his cologne cutting through the stale air. “My new van’s parked around back,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that went straight to your core. “Wanna check it out? It’s…roomy.”
The invitation hung between you, raw and explicit. This wasn’t about a vehicle. It was an escape hatch, swinging open into the unknown. Your pulse hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat of *yes*.
“Just to look?” you asked, your own voice surprisingly steady.
His dark eyes held yours, disarming and full of promise. “Of course.”
You were young, newly married, and had not dated that much. You certainly had not had a lot of experience with guys and sex, but you knew he wanted to do more than show you his new car........and you loved that he had asked you. Picked YOU, to bring out and have a make out session, maybe more.
Chapter 2
The cold night air hit you as you followed him out the back door, sobering you for a second. Your heart was a frantic bird in your chest. The parking lot was empty, lit by a single sodium lamp buzzing with insects.
He led you to a dark, new van. The side door slid open with a quiet hiss. Inside was clean, the seats folded down into a flat space covered with a thick blanket. It smelled like him—that cologne and something new, like plastic and ambition.
“See? Roomy,” he said, his voice a low hum in the enclosed space. He climbed in and held out a hand. You took it, your skin electric where you touched. The door shut behind you, sealing you in a private, shadowy world.
He didn’t waste time. His mouth found yours again, hotter and more demanding than at the bar. One of his hands slid under your shirt, his palm rough and warm against the skin of your back. You were scared—scared of the step you were taking, scared of getting caught, scared of how much you wanted this—but you didn’t pull away.
You let his hand travel up, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra. A soft gasp escaped you as he cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. It was so different from your husband’s clumsy, uncaring groping. This was deliberate, focused on you.
Emboldened by your own racing need, you reached for him. Your hand slid down the hard plane of his stomach, over the buckle of his belt. You fumbled for a second, then felt the heavy outline of him through his jeans. You were touching him, really touching him, and the sheer, hard proof of his desire for you made your head spin.
He groaned into your mouth, a deep, gratifying sound. “Your turn,” he murmured, his words hot against your lips. His other hand moved down, over your hip, slipping past the waistband of your pants. His fingertips brushed through the neat, shaved hair there, making you jerk against him.
Only two other guys had ever touched your pussy, and one of them was at home, probably watching television. You felt desired, horny, and guilty all at once.
Chapter 3
His fingers were inside you now, two of them, sliding deep into your slick heat. Your head was screaming one thing, a frantic loop of *bad idea, you’re married, stop this*. But your body was screaming something else, louder and more primal, arching into his touch, your hips grinding against his hand.
“Fuck, Megan,” Ryan breathed against your neck, his voice rough. “You’re so wet for me.”
His words sent a new jolt of desire straight to your core. You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you finally worked his belt and jeans open, your own hand wrapping around the hard, hot length of his cock. You stroked him, the skin like velvet over steel, and he let out a sharp, gratifying hiss.
His thumb found your clit, circling it with a pressure that made you see stars. “Your head’s telling you to run, isn’t it?” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours in the van’s shadowy interior.
You could only nod, biting your lip.
“But your body…” he continued, his fingers pushing deeper, curling inside you in a way that made you gasp. “Your body is telling you to stay. To take what you need. Which one are you gonna listen to, Megan?”
His question hung in the air, thick with the scent of sex and anticipation. Your husband’s distant, disinterested face flashed in your mind, cold and gray. Then it was gone, burned away by the fire Ryan was stoking with every skilled movement of his hand.
Your answer was a low, hungry moan. You leaned forward, capturing his mouth with yours again, your tongue tangling with his in a messy, desperate kiss. Your body had won. You were going further but you still couldn't bring yourself to giving your whole body to him, so you did what you knew you liked and that you were good at. You bent down and guided the head of his cock to your mouth, the tip pressing against your lips and you licked the precum off of him, a promise of what was to come.
“You want me to suck on you?” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with need. “You want me to take it all in?”