A few days had gone by and Carson couldn’t get Mr. Armisen off his mind. It was becoming a sick little game of his as he went about his day, imagining the various places he and Armisen could fuck. Maybe after hours in the jacuzzi. Maybe go to town in the elevator. Or maybe right here, in front of everybody, out in the hotel lobby--
“Carson,” Clarissa snapped. “You’re doing it again.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I can tell you’re fantasizing about Mr. Armisen,” she said smugly.
“Who wouldn’t?” Caron said dreamily. “He’s a certified stud.”
“He’s also certified straight,” she said.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
She leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Because he has visitors. I see him bring back a different chick to the hotel every night. Just an hour ago, I saw him walk through here with a blonde with huge tits.”
She gestured for effect. Huge.
Carson felt his throat run dry. God, what I would give to be that bitch, he thought.
“So get it out of your head,” she laughed. “And go to the kitchen, they got a room service order for you.”
Carson huffed and slid off the counter, stomping down to the kitchen. There, the cook handed him a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries and a bottle of rosé.
“Take this up to the suite on fourteen,” the cook said.
Carson froze. “Fourteen?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
Carson’s legs turned to jelly as he carried the silver platter. He heard it rattling as he trembled in the elevator, shaking with anticipation.
Maybe it’s just a business partner, he thought to himself. He’s here for a business trip--maybe they’re having a meeting.
Ding. The elevator stopped at the fourteenth floor. Almost immediately, Carson could tell something was off. He looked up. The chandelier above was tinkling, shivering. And in the distance, a steady hammering sound, boom boom boom, rippling through the ground.
It was coming from the suite.
Working at a hotel, Carson overheard people fucking all the time. But this was different. This was fucking like he’d never imagined, and whatever Mr. Armisen was working with was being thrust hard enough to reverberate down the hall. He followed the sound toward the suite, where it only grew louder. And louder.
He heard the bed first--the squeak of the springs creaking over and over, the bang of the headboard thundering like a heartbeat. And then he heard her--crying out like he’d only heard people cry out in pain.
“Ungh! Ungh! Give it to me! Daddy!”
She was wailing, hysterical. Carson’s palms were slick with sweat. He adjusted his grip on the tray in his hands. And then he heard Armisen, his calm sexy voice as he had never imagined it, twisted into a growl, a snarl. He was no longer a man--he was a beast. An animal.