𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬┊✓

f i f t y n i n e » e p h e m e r a l

not edited

— ephemeral —
(adj) lasting for a very short time
origin ; greek

"Adrianna," Phoenix chuckled lowly, nodding his head upwards. My eyes flickered in the direction of his gaze and a gasp left my lips along with a soft giggle.

Painted in bold red letters on the upper wall of the elevator was, "Let's Make History In This Elevator — Motley Crue"

My eyes cut to his and he wasted no time pinning me against the wall and attacking my neck. Instinctively, I threw my head back and I moaned as I raked my fingers through his hair continuously. I momentarily forgot where we were as my hands moved hurriedly to push his suit jacket off his right shoulder. Until the elevator dinged and halted. We pulled away in record time as the doors slid open and Phoenix grumbled under his breath.

"Here, take this," he held the handle of our duffel bag for me to take while he took the handles of his suitcase and mine, rolling them down the velvet carpeted hall as we searched for our room.

Room 210, "Here we are," I said quietly, too busy staring at the gold plated engraving on our room door.

"Phoenix," I moaned quietly, willing myself to at least make it through the wooden oak door before I let him continue his actions. But the brute was pretty damn adamant. He had me against the bloody door, pressing his hard erection against my jeans clad arse. He reached into my back pocket, pulling out the key we were given at check in and slipped it into my hand.

I was in too much of a haze to care if others were in the hall and I couldn't even focus properly to complete the simple task of opening, the, fucking, door! My insides were fucking trembling with need and I was losing my control and my grip rather quickly as seconds went by as he continued grinding against me.

"Adrianna, open the door," he smirked against my skin below my neck knowing fucking well I was practically incompetent under his influence.

It took me the bloody time of four, fucking, minutes to get the key in the slot and push down on the handle of the door, opening it.

I gasped, or shrieked, I'm not entirely sure, but some bloody inhumane sound escaped my lips as I took in the sight of the bloody presidential suite the cheeky sod standing behind me booked us.

"Jesus Christ," I hissed under my breath, stepping further in the room. I felt ice seep through my body, the heat leave with every step - Phoenix hadn't followed behind me. No doubt he was simply just watching me.

"This is another bloody 432 Park Avenue," I uttered under my breath, "This has to be a fucking dream."

"This is as real as it gets, étoile filante," he whispered behind me, but his voice sounded distant; I wasn't sure if it was because I was in a deep trance from the suite or he was genuinely distracted by something.

The duffel bag fell from my grasp as I wandered around. There was a panoramic oceanfront view all fucking around. Insane! Insane and a bloody fantasy is what this is.

A grand fucking piano was situated in the middle of one of the four unbelievably spacious terraces.

I felt as if my eyes were deceiving me and I'd wake from this dream any moment now. I found a theatre with a grand plasma screen, a dining room with hand freaking selected China.

Holy mother of-

Is that- No fucking way. My mind was racing, going a hundred miles a minutes.