July 22, 1998, 9:15 PM
The lobby of the Grand Oak Hotel was an oasis of polished marble and muffled silence, a world away from the rotting dogs and menacing shadows of the Arklay Mountains. The air smelled of floor wax and the fresh flowers arranged in a huge vase in the center of the hall. Eddie leaned against the reception desk with a casualness that was all a facade.
"A suite," he said to the receptionist, without even looking at her. "Top floor."
The young woman typed nervously on the keyboard. "Of course, sir. We have the presidential suite available."
"That will be fine." Eddie slid a black credit card across the counter to her. "Send up a bottle of whiskey. Japanese. Aged."
Beside him, Lupo was motionless, a statue of controlled tension. Her eyes never stopped moving, scanning the lobby, the exits, the security cameras. Her professionalism was an armor, but Eddie could feel the energy flowing under her skin, the adrenaline from the encounter in the woods not yet dissipated.
"Your key, sir," the receptionist said, handing him a key-card. "Room 801. Enjoy your stay."
Eddie didn't answer. He took the key and turned to Lupo. He didn't take her hand. Instead, he placed a hand on the small of her back, a possessive gesture, a firm guide that brooked no argument. He led her toward the elevators, the silence between them broken only by the sound of her heels on the polished floor.
The elevator doors closed, sealing them in a golden box. The mirror behind them reflected their figures: him, in his impeccable suit, she, in her tactical and functional attire. Their eyes met in the reflection. The challenge thrown down in the coffee shop still hung between them.
"Don't play with fire."
The ding of the elevator arriving at the top floor was a sharp, almost violent sound. The hallway was deserted, the thick carpet muffling every sound. They stopped in front of the door to suite 801. Eddie inserted the card. The green light flashed.
Click.
He opened the door and let her enter first. It was a huge suite, with a picture window overlooking the glittering city of Raccoon City. But neither of them looked at the view. As soon as she was inside, Eddie closed the door behind her, the sharp sound of the lock clicking was the only comment necessary.
Lupo turned slowly. "Well?" her voice was a hoarse whisper.
"Well," he replied, approaching. "Let's see who gets burned."
He didn't kiss her. His hands grabbed her hips, pulling her roughly against him. His already hard cock pressed against her belly. His fingers moved quickly, unbuckling her tactical belt, throwing it to the floor with a dull thud. Then he moved to her shirt, ripping the buttons with a controlled fury.
She didn't resist. On the contrary, her hands moved just as quickly, grabbing his tie and pulling him toward her, while with the other she unbuttoned his jacket, letting it slide off his shoulders. It was a struggle, a mutual undressing that was more a combat than an act of seduction.
When they were naked, they stopped for a moment, panting, scrutinizing each other in the dim light of the room. Her body was an intertwining of compact muscles and thin scars, the testimony of a life of violence. He was more slender, but defined, his smooth skin contrasting with the hardness of his gaze.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget your name," he panted in her ear.
"Try me, kid," she replied, grabbing his cock with one hand, her grip strong, almost painful.
He pushed her backward, making her fall onto the huge bed. He threw himself on top of her, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist. His mouth found hers, a brutal, famished kiss, a conflict of lips and teeth. There was no tenderness, only a brutal hunger. Eddie's tongue invaded her mouth, tasting the whiskey she had not yet drunk and the metallic taste of his own fervor. Her hands were no less active; her nails dug into Eddie's back, scratching the skin, trying to mark him, to leave a sign of her resistance.
He broke away from her lips, panting, to lower his mouth to her neck, biting the spot where the skin was softest, tearing a hoarse moan from her. His hands gripped her breasts, squeezing them with a force that bordered on pain. Her nipples were already hard as stones, traitors of her body that responded to that violence with arousal.
"You're such a fucking repressed whore," he growled against her skin, his voice guttural.
Her only response was to arch her pelvis against him, a silent challenge. An invitation.
Eddie wasted no more time. He positioned himself between her spread legs, grabbing her thighs and lifting them, opening her completely to him. His cock, pulsating and wet with desire, pressed against her already slick entrance. There was no hesitation. With a single, powerful thrust, he invaded her.
"Fuck!"
A strangled cry escaped her lips, a mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure. She felt full, stretched, possessed. He paused for a moment, allowing her to get used to his size, their eyes clashing in the darkness. Her gaze was wild, blazing.
Then he began to move.
His thrusts were savage, deep, without mercy. Each lunge was a blow, an attempt to dominate her, to break her facade of control. The bed creaked under their rhythmic assault, a sound that mingled with the wet slap of skin against skin, their breaths becoming increasingly ragged, his grunts and her hoarse moans.
"Harder…" she panted, the words almost unrecognizable.
It was an order. Eddie obeyed, increasing the pace, driving deeper, fucking her with a fury that bordered on desperation. Her cunt gripped him, hot and tight, milking him with every stroke. The sensation was overwhelming, his senses reduced to that single point of friction, to the heat, to the smell of sex and sweat that filled the air.
He felt the orgasm building inside her, a wave of heat starting from her lower abdomen. Her legs tightened even more around his waist, her body beginning to tremble uncontrollably. Her cry was sharp, primitive, as the contractions shook her.
Her loss of control was the spark that ignited him as well. With a final, animalistic snarl, he poured himself inside her, a searing release that left him empty, trembling.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight crushing, their bodies covered in sweat. For a long minute, the only sound in the room was that of their ragged breaths struggling to return to normal.
Slowly, Eddie pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed, her lips swollen. She looked undone, defeated. But then her eyes opened and stared at him. There was no submission in her gaze.
A low, hoarse laugh escaped her lips. A dark, amused sound.
"Not bad," she murmured. "For a kid."