CHAPTER TWENTY

U-Jin opened his eyes, the light of the room illuminating everything. He'd slept much later than he'd planned. Trying to lift his head from the pillow, he grimaced at the stiffness and pain, then realized that at some point during the night, he must have bled through the bandage and was now sticking to the pillowcase.

Carefully, he peeled the fabric away, the stinging and burning causing him to seethe. Slowly, he sat up, a light-headed feeling overwhelming his body. He looked down, noticing that his clothing was soaked with perspiration, the sheets wet as well.

Standing, he steadied himself against the dresser, then moved slowly toward the bathroom. A knock at the door made him freeze.

"Housekeeping," said the voice. Knowing he needed to have fresh linens, he opened the door.

"Come in." The young woman looked up and down at him and backed up a step.

"I can return later if this is a bad time, sir."

"No. I wasn't feeling well last night. I hit my head and bled on the sheets. My apologies," he said thoughtfully. "I'm going to shower. Please clean everything before I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

She propped the door open, then hurriedly removed the sheets, remaking the bed. She quickly emptied the trashcans, replaced the water bottles, and made sure everything was neat and tidy. By the time the man came out of the shower, he was wrapped in a large white towel.

"Thank you," he said, nodding to her.

"Can I get you anything else, sir? Do you need me to get medical assistance for you?" she asked.

"No. I'm fine."

"Of course, sir. Have a good day."

He nodded at the woman, watching as she left. He didn't like America and, for the most part, didn't like Americans, but he found their service people to be quite pleasant and accommodating.

Watching the young woman leave the room, he realized it had been a long time since he'd had a woman. Keoyong had been foolish in trying to take the stripper the other night. He should have seen that no one else was touching the women.

In their country, such women would be fair game. If you want to be a whore, be a whore, but that comes with certain rights for the men watching you. Despite his pounding headache, he felt his balls tingling, his cock hardening and wondered where he could find a woman. As if answered by prayer, there was another knock on the door. He quickly wrapped the towel around his waist again and opened the door.

"My apologies, sir. I forgot to leave you fresh towels." She stepped past him, smiling, and set the towels on the counter in the bathroom. As she moved back toward the door, he allowed his towel to fall. He wouldn't touch the woman unless she touched him.

"Oh!" she laughed.

"I have a need."

"I see that."

"Can you spend a few minutes with me?" he asked. "If you require payment, I can pay you."

"I'm not a whore," she frowned, shaking her head. "I work hard, and I enjoy the company of men on occasion, but I'm not a whore. I'm single, young, and enjoy a man's company now and then."

"I did not mean to offend you." She stared at him, finding him incredibly good-looking. He didn't attempt to force her, nor did he touch her.

"I can't stay long," she said. "I do think you're cute."

He actually grinned at her, nodding his head. He knew that he was lean and muscular, his face unmarked and attractive.

"I think you are cute as well," he said, shutting the door to the room. She was a small woman, somewhere between Latino and Caucasian. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, her large brown eyes beautiful against her skin.

"No names," he said.

She nodded, unzipping her uniform dress, letting it fall to the floor. Her full bosoms were pressing against the flesh-colored bra, her dark brown nipples already hard.

"With my head injury, perhaps it's best that you're on top," he said.

She smiled as he lay back, stroking his long, slender cock. He reached for a condom, rolling it onto himself as she crawled between his legs, straddling him. Easily, she slid down his length and began moving rhythmically, her breasts bouncing up and down.

He was surprised by how erotic he found her. Normally, unwilling to kiss his bed partners, he pulled her toward him, her lush lips molding against his own. Her flesh was hot to the touch, her breathing sweet and filled with desire.

Biting her lower lip, he knew that she was nearing orgasm and began pumping into her harder and harder. When she arched her back, all her long dark hair coming loose around her body as he filled the condom, watching her smile down at him.

"That was lovely," she whispered.

"Surprisingly so," he smiled back. "I don't think I'm done."

"Good. Me either."