Tasting Notes (16 page)

THE HOTEL
was easy to find. Perched on a hill, overlooking the water, the mansion was more beautiful than the photos on the website were. Light blue in color with bright white trim, it looked postcard perfect.

Rush parked the car, and West helped him grab their bags from the trunk. He already felt lighter, his promise to his grandfather fulfilled. They walked up to the front entrance, a large stained glass door that opened into the ornately detailed porch that ran the length of the massive house. Rush opened the door and held it as West walked through.

The lobby of the hotel was elaborately appointed, with carved scrollwork in all the wood and gold and crystal everywhere. A woman stood behind the counter, her suit immaculately pressed and her gray hair pulled into a severe bun on the back of her head.

“How may I help you two gentlemen?” she asked.

“We’d like to book a room if you have any available for tonight,” West said, using his most businesslike voice. She seemed like the type of woman who appreciated formality.

“Of course. And will that be two rooms?”

“Just one.”

“I see,” she replied, her mouth tightening at the edges. “Let me have a look at our reservations.”

For a moment, West thought she was going to tell him they were all booked up for the night, but to his surprise, she pointed at her book and smiled. “We do have a couple of rooms available, gentlemen. You’re in luck. I’ll put you in our best one,” she said.

“We’ll take it.”

“Wonderful. I’ll need a credit card and some identification and we’ll get you registered.”

West pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and slid the cards across the counter. She recorded all his information before handing them back and turning to grab a set of keys out of the wooden cupboard behind her.

“If you’d like to follow me, I would be happy to show you to your room,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk.

Rush and West followed her through the lobby and up a set of curved stairs that led to the second floor. In front of them stretched a long hallway, clad in floral carpeting and striped wallpaper. She chattered at them about the different services available—bird-watching tours departing daily, high tea in the gardens, and evening games of canasta in the lounge. Both men nodded politely as she spoke.

She stopped in front of a room marked with the number twelve and slid the key into the lock.

“Here we are. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. If you have any questions, or if you require anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison.

She turned on her heel and walked back down the hall. Rush motioned for West to enter, and when he did, he stopped short a few inches inside the door.

“Oh wow,” Rush said from behind him. “This is….”

“Horrendous?” West finished for him.

“I was going to say ugly as fuck, but horrendous works just as well, I suppose.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“It certainly does take your breath away, doesn’t it?”

The room was large, with a bed in the very center of green and white checkerboard tiled floors. The walls were done in some sort of badly painted Italian-inspired mural, with naked statues and poorly proportioned flowers. Whoever designed the room intended for the guest to feel like they were sleeping in a garden, but it more closely resembled a bad LSD trip.

The bedspread was a minty green, with enough shine to momentarily blind you and enough polyester lace it could have been mistaken for a wedding dress from the eighties. Off to the side was a raised portion of the room, divided from the rest by a low wall of pillars. Atop it sat a large Jacuzzi.

“Oh my God,” West heard Rush say, and he followed his line of sight to the ceiling, where there was more poorly executed trompe l’oeil imagery, this time of the sky, complete with clouds and flying cherubs.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep in here,” West admitted.

“I know what you mean. I feel as though we might be murdered in our sleep by the ghosts of the old ladies whose dreams died in this room.”

West laughed. “That didn’t make any sense.”

“I know. The horrific walls are already driving me mad.” Rush pretended to be frightened, clinging to West and shaking in mock terror.

There was a loud knock at the door, startling them both.

“I’m scared,” Rush whispered.

West laughed again and went to answer the door. The woman from the front desk was back.

“I am terribly sorry, gentlemen,” she said. “There’s been a mix-up. Two of our regular customers actually reserved this room months ago, but my husband took the reservation and neglected to make note of it. I was wondering if you would mind very much switching rooms. I would be happy to discount your rate and offer a late checkout to make up for the inconvenience.”

“Not a problem,” West said quickly. “We haven’t even started unpacking.”

“Wonderful. If you’d like to grab your things, I’ll show you to the proper room.”

Rush and West did as they were asked, picking up their bags and following the woman down the hall a few doors to number sixteen.

“Here we are.” She did the same as before, unlocking the door before handing them the keys and stepping away.

The two men walked into the room, and Rush let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he said, setting his bag down on the floor. Their new room was completely different from the last. The word gaudy was still a fitting description, but it was downright subdued compared to the last one.

The color scheme was simpler: dark blue, gold, and purple. The carpets were navy, studded periodically with large gold stars. The head of the oversized bed was against one wall, with velvety purple curtains hung in swags over it. The duvet matched the carpet’s blue and gold star theme, but with the added adornments of gold roping complete with tassels. The walls were papered in an alternating dark and light purple stripe.

“It looks like a tacky magician’s sex den,” Rush said.

“At least I don’t feel like I’m being watched by demonic cherubs.”

“That’s definitely a selling feature. What’s in here?” Rush asked, stepping through the doorway into the adjoining room. “Oh my God, you have to come see this.”

West jogged in after him and stopped in his tracks. The same arrangement from the first room was presented in this one. Half the room was elevated a foot off the ground, divided by a low pillared wall. A couch was positioned on the lower section so whoever was sitting on it would have a clear view of the
two
claw-foot tubs that sat side by side on the upper level.

“This is… I don’t even know what this is,” West said. “Do people use this as a sex room? Is this for swingers? Or orgies? Or?”

“I have no idea. There are mirrors on the ceiling in here, though,” Rush said, pointing toward the two large mirrors in ornate gold frames that were adhered to the ceiling above the tubs.

West burst out laughing. “Leave it to you to lead me into a den of iniquity.”

“Hey, you chose this place. You said it looked nice on the website.”

“Well, no one on TripAdvisor mentioned it was a sex house with themed rooms.”

Rush looked at West, a slow smile spreading across his face. “When in Rome,” he said, stalking across the room and hooking his fingers into the waistband of West’s pants.

“Uh, I think that was the last room.”

“Shut up,” Rush said before he took West in a heated kiss.

RUSH’S KISS
consumed him, making his body tingle and his head swim. There was something in the way Rush moved, the way he kissed with his whole body, that made West feel like he was the center of the universe. When he pulled back, the way Rush looked at him made his heart stutter. His eyes were dark, needy, and West could barely breathe through the intensity in that look.

He slid his hand around the back of Rush’s neck, pulling him back in, kissing him again. Intensity flared in that kiss, the pace slow but every movement deliberate, measured. It had never been like this before, and West was ready to lose himself in it.

He held on, grateful Rush was there, anchoring him. West’s legs felt unsteady beneath him. Rush moved his hands, sliding them along West’s jaw as he continued to kiss him. He could feel Rush, hard and ready against his hip. They were in no hurry. They had hours between then and sunrise to take what they needed from each other.

Rush undressed him with a slow tenderness, leaning into him as he pushed West’s shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. He dropped his head forward, kissing the sensitive skin at the curve of West’s shoulder. He sighed against the warmth of Rush’s body and let his hands roam along Rush’s back, gently tugging his shirt up so he could trace his fingertips along the ridge of muscle at Rush’s spine.

“Need you,” West said, surprised by how helpless he sounded.

Rush separated from him long enough to strip his clothes off. Then he was back, surrounding West with his body heat as he crowded against him. Every touch was more intense than before. Rush’s hands wandered over West’s body, setting his skin on fire as he stroked. Rush lowered him back onto the bed, then climbed over him, finding his mouth once more and kissing him.

He tasted so good, and West wanted to stay there forever, sex den or not, if he could be like this with Rush always. The whole day faded into the background. Everything fell away. And all that was left was Rush and the way he kissed West into oblivion.

West shivered when Rush’s hands brushed against the sensitive skin behind his balls, his fingers working backward to massage the tight ring of West’s entrance. West groaned and shifted his hips, needing more than Rush was giving him. He gripped Rush’s arms, too far gone to put into words what he needed, but Rush seemed to understand.

He pushed himself up and moved quickly over to their bags. In no time he retrieved the condoms and lube, and he was back, sliding on top of West once more, the lube in his hands. Rush opened the tube and poured a little onto his fingers before reaching down and putting his hands back where they were moments before.

West nearly wept with relief as he felt one blunt fingertip breaching him. He whimpered and let his head fall back against the bed as Rush worked first one finger inside, then two. It felt so good—too good—and West was already creeping closer to the edge than he would have liked.

Taking a deep breath, he fought to rein in his body. As quickly as he regained control, Rush shattered it, leaning forward and engulfing his cock in the heat of his mouth. West’s hips flew from the bed as his body took over, thrusting down the back of Rush’s throat. Without missing a beat, Rush crooked his fingers deep inside, brushing against his prostate and sending him right over the edge into blissful release.

Rush gentled his mouth, slowly bringing West back down. He hadn’t meant to come, wanting to wait until Rush was inside him, but his orgasm did nothing to sate his desire for Rush. Sitting up, he slid his hands to Rush’s arms, pulling him back onto the bed.

“You okay?” Rush asked, his eyebrows knit together.

West beamed at him. “Yep.”

Rush kissed him again, harder this time, the passion ebbing into it. West arched against him, testing the sensitivity of his cock as it slid against Rush’s belly. West wasn’t used to sex after an orgasm, but he found he wanted it, wanted Rush. He wasn’t done, and thank God, Rush wasn’t either.

Pulling Rush toward him, he begged him with his body to fuck him, and Rush was nothing if not accommodating. He swallowed West’s cry as he entered him, pushing forward in one smooth motion until he was buried deep. He waited, letting West adjust to him. The first couple of strokes were slow, measured, but soon he picked up speed, his hands gripping tighter as he thrust, and he didn’t stop.

West could feel his orgasm, deep inside him, start to build. He didn’t think he could come again this soon, but his body was telling him a different story as his muscles tensed and his breathing quickened. Rush was close too. West could tell by the way his chest heaved and his mouth opened, the expression of pleasure passing over his face as he moved.

Rush reached between them and wrapped his fist around West’s oversensitive cock, gripping hard enough to take him to the point between pleasure and pain. With one last thrust, Rush arched, coming hard. The sights and sensations of Rush’s orgasm assaulted West, pulling his own from him. He came again, this time different from the last, longer and more intense.

“Holy fuck,” Rush grunted, carefully pulling out. West winced against the soreness in his ass, but when Rush kissed him, he forgot all about it.

They lay together in the blissed-out afterglow of three orgasms, sweat cooling on their skin and thoughts floating in their heads. Something had changed between them, something significant. West wasn’t willing to put a name to it yet, but he liked it. He liked the powerful feeling he got when Rush’s attention was focused solely on him. He liked the way he felt he could relax with him, that he wasn’t being judged or evaluated.

West thought back to the first day they formally met and the flash of deep anger in Rush’s eyes when he answered the door. He was the focus of those looks now, but rather than anger, there was something else in Rush’s gaze, something more potent, something addictive and freeing.

“THIS HAS
worked out differently than I ever thought it would,” West said quietly.

Rush pulled him closer, relishing the stillness of the middle of the night and being wrapped up in him. “Do you mean your feelings about the hotel? You want to stay here forever now?” he teased.

West laughed. “No, I mean you and me. You hated me from the moment you laid eyes on me… and now, well, I’m no mind reader, but I’m guessing you don’t hate me.” He nuzzled against Rush’s warm skin.

“I’m sorry,” Rush said sincerely. “I was an asshole when we first met.”

“You won’t get an argument out of me, but you’re forgiven.”