Chapter 11: Eternal Love

Neither Raymond’s nor Raya’s computers contain any more about their love. Therefore, I, your humble keeper of the Incest Zone, must complete the story. I’m sure they’ll have other stories in the future.

The hotel was taller than anything in the city. Glass and steel stacked into a column that made you dizzy to look at, even from the street. At the front desk, the concierge gave them a key card with a knowing smile, the edges of her mouth just a hair past professional. Raymond pretended not to notice.

A wave of giddiness rushed through his gut. The same one he’d had as a boy in line for the first day of school.

Moments later, Raya squeezed his arm as the elevator doors shut behind them. Her other hand hovered by her lips, chewing at a fingernail, a nervous tic that made him want to pull her close and tell her everything would be okay.

They rode up in silence, the carpeted box filling with faint perfume and the faint pulse of piped-in jazz. The digital display counted the floors with mechanical certainty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. At twenty-four, the elevator opened onto a corridor of carpet so plush it threatened to eat their shoes. The doors thudded shut behind them. Their suite was at the end of a long hall.

Raymond let Raya lead the way. Admiring how she floated down the hallway, hair loose sand wild against the back of her neck. Shooting him a look over her shoulder, a spark of mischief, she stopped outside 2419 and waited for him to catch up.

When Raymond slid the card through the reader, a green light blinked. Taking the initiative, Raya pushed the door open.

It took his breath, if only for the first second. Painted in champagne and bone white: clean lines, leather chairs, a couch you could drown in, and a king-sized bed.

The bed was like a stage. A pillowy expanse, and crisp white sheets, the kind you wanted to ruin on purpose. Along the far wall, windows ran floor to ceiling, one pane cracked open to the spring air.

Beyond that, the city sprawled in a geometric fever dream, the horizon split by the suggestion of water somewhere distant and blue. Once inside the threshold, Raymond set their bags down. For a moment, neither of them moved.

A rush of triumph pulsed through her, and Raya let out a long, shaky breath. Eyes wide with disbelief, she wandered to the window, fingers trailed over the glass-topped tables, the high-gloss finish of the desk, and the smooth back of a leather chair. Turning in a slow circle, she drank it in.

“Jesus, it’s nicer than the pictures.”

After a long silence, Raymond grinned, surprised at how natural it felt.

“First time the internet didn’t lie.”

Giving him a smile, Raya ducked into the bathroom. Hearing the light flick on, the echo of her bare feet on tile, he couldn’t believe they were here.

“There’s a tub big enough for two people to drown in!”

With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, Raymond wandered after her. The bathroom was all marble and chrome. Standing by the sink, she admired the pile of soft white towels and the miniature bottles of shampoo lined up, soldiers in the war against dirty skin.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, their eyes met, doubled in the glass.

“Oh, my Daddy, you did well,” she said, and this time her smile didn’t seem forced.

“Figured we deserved something a little less ... gray, for once.” Shrugging, he took a step closer.

Heart pounding like a drum, she turned, and leaned against the counter. With her arms folded under her breasts, but her whole body tilted forward, she fought the urge, tooth and nail, to close the space between them. The nervous energy from the elevator hadn’t faded. If anything, it was sharper, a live wire thrummed beneath the surface.

Consumed with lust, Raymond tried to play it cool. Feigning interest in the wood’s grain, He ran his finger along the edge of the doorframe.

“I, uh ... I booked us a reservation for dinner, if you want. Or we could order room service and watch bad TV.”

Searching for something, Raya scoured his face. Without warning, she closed the gap in two steps, so sudden it made him blink. She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his.

“We don’t have to go anywhere. Not unless you want to.”

Slow and steady, Raymond exhaled.

“No, here’s good.”

Rising on tiptoes, she pressed against him and kissed him. It was soft at first, tentatively, she was still waiting for him to pull away. But he didn’t. Savoring the taste of her mouth, he let himself fall into it, the warmth of her lips, the heat building in the space between them.

At last, he broke away, enough to breathe. With her eyes hungry, Rayanna searched his.

“We should,” he said.

But she was already tugging at the collar of his shirt, knuckles touching his throat.

“Yeah, sure, Daddy, sure as fuck, we should.”

With her grip never loosening, she led him out of the bathroom, into the main room. Almost predatory, she moved with deliberate purpose. At the foot of the bed, she turned and faced him, hands still holding his.

Raymond was shaking. Not visibly, maybe, but inside every nerve surged with want and adrenaline. Letting his fingers rest on her cheek. With his other hand, he let go of her hand and brushed the hair from her face. Closing her eyes, Raya leaned into his touch. Both of them fought to be closer, and he kissed her again, harder this time.

Fumbling in haste, her hands worked at the buttons of his shirt, and he laughed. A short, unguarded bark of a chuckle. And she stuck out her tongue at him. Biting her lip in concentration.

Letting her undress him, the cool air hit his chest as each button came loose. When the shirt fell to the floor, she ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms. Mapping the scars and calluses with a curiosity that made his heart stumble.

Reaching for her, he pulled her in by the hips. And Rayanna fit perfectly into him, her softness, the sharp line of her face, the way her breath hitched when he pressed his mouth to her neck. Slipping his hands under the hem of her shirt and eased it up, exposing pale skin and the gentle curve of her waist. She shivered but didn’t stop him.

Then, he peeled the shirt off, dropping it to join his own. Thin and elegant, Raya wore a black bra, the fabric nearly translucent. And he wanted to savor it. To take in the sight of her standing there. But Raya unfastened her jeans. Pushing them down with a clumsy urgency that made him grin. Leaving her in nothing but a bra and matching underwear, she stepped out of them.