Check into the hotel room and let David fulfill his promises immediately

The Sandcastle Hotel lobby gleams with polished marble and brass fixtures as you and David approach the reception desk. A slender woman with a sleek blonde bob looks up, her professional smile warming as she recognizes Clara's name in your booking.

"Ms. O'Sullivan? Your sea-view suite is ready," she says, sliding a keycard across the counter. "Sophie—Clara's sister. She texted to expect you."

David's hand rests possessively at the small of your back as you complete check-in, his fingers occasionally dipping lower, sending electric tingles across your skin. The elevator ride is excruciating—an older couple joining you forces David to maintain a respectable distance, though his eyes never leave yours, dark with promise.

The moment your suite door clicks shut behind you, David makes good on his taxi confession. His hands are in your hair, gathering the copper waves into his fist, pulling back with just enough **** to expose your throat. His lips find the sensitive spot below your ear.

"Been thinking about this all fucking day," he growls, his free hand sliding around to cup your breast through the emerald bikini top. The material is thin enough that your nipple hardens instantly against his palm.

You arch back against him, your dangerous new nails glinting in the low light as you reach behind to grip his thigh. "Show me," you challenge, voice husky with desire.

He spins you around, backing you against the wall beside the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the moonlit sea. With deft fingers, he unties your bikini top, letting it fall to the plush carpet. His eyes darken as he takes in your exposed breasts.

"Perfect," he murmurs, lowering his head to take one nipple between his lips. The sensation shoots straight to your core, making you gasp. Your emerald talons find purchase in his hair, pulling him closer.

David works his way down your body, dropping to his knees as he reaches the tie strings of your bikini bottoms. He looks up at you, a question in his eyes that you answer by running your pointed nail along his bottom lip.

"Please," is all you need to say.

The emerald fabric joins your top on the floor. David's hands grip your thighs, spreading them slightly as he leans forward to taste you. The first stroke of his tongue makes your knees buckle. You steady yourself against the wall, one hand still tangled in his hair.

"Christ, you taste amazing," he groans against you, his tongue circling your clit with increasing pressure. Your stiletto nails dig into his scalp, not quite breaking skin but leaving their mark.

He works you expertly, adding fingers to his ministrations until you're writhing against the wall, pleasure building to an inevitable crescendo. When you come, it's with a cry that echoes through the suite, your body trembling uncontrollably against his mouth.

Before you can recover, David rises and lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the king-sized bed. He strips off his clothes with urgent movements, his erection springing free, thick and ready. You position yourself on all fours, looking back over your shoulder with an invitation in your eyes.

"Like this," you purr, your new nails making indentations in the pristine white sheets.

David needs no further encouragement. He positions himself behind you, the head of his cock teasing your entrance before pushing in with one smooth thrust that makes you both groan with pleasure. His hands grip your hips with bruising intensity as he establishes a relentless rhythm.

"Touch yourself," he commands, voice strained. "Want to feel you come around me."

You balance carefully on one hand, mindful of your wicked nails as you reach beneath to circle your still-sensitive clit. The dual sensations quickly rebuild your pleasure, pushing you toward another release.

"That's it," David encourages, his pace increasing. "Let me hear you."

21:30 | Monday 4 August 2025 | The Sandcastle Hotel, Brighton

[Comfort Mode Level 3] | AUTO-RENEW ACTIVE