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He swallows hard. I know he wants me. I just don’t get why he’s being so bloody polite. Swing me around like a ragdoll and plough my pussy — I don’t freaking care. To have Alistair inside of me… what would that be like? I bet it’s a lot like fucking heaven if his fingers are anything to go by.
When his eyes meet mine again, they’re unreadable. This man is so difficult to read.
I’ve no idea what he’s thinking half the time.
“Sleep tight.”
“You too,” I sing-song. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
He shakes his head as I laugh, my eyes on his perfect ass the whole time he crosses the room.
Chapter Eighteen
Alistair
I wrap my fist around my cock and rock my hips. This is what I’ve resorted to; creaming into my own palm because I can’t keep my damn hands to myself.
I wasn’t planning on pulling the car over and spanking her like that, but she kept pushing me. And if I’m being honest; I knew that I wanted it as much as she did.
Remembering her moans. The way she whispered my name on a ragged breath, and how she kept begging me for more has my hand strangling my cock until I’m jerking so hard I can’t hold on anymore. I spurt cum all over my stomach as I groan, her name on my lips as her sweet, round arse comes to the forefront of my mind. How she climbed over my lap without hesitation… she let me rub cream on her cheeks for Christ’s sake.
When I’m spent, I take a few seconds to catch my breath before reaching for the tissues to clean myself up. I already had a fucking shower, and I jerked off in there, too. This woman is not just under my skin, she is embedded into my system like a virus that I can’t shake.
Now she’s under my roof —what was I thinking?
Did I really think any of this through at all? Or did I just go right ahead and let my dick do the talking? I think I know the answer to that as I roll off the bed to wash myself properly. I pad over to the ensuite and grab a towel. There’s no fucking reason that I should be acting so recklessly; aside from the fact that I don’t like her living somewhere unsafe — I meant every damn word of that and I won’t renege on any of it. Charlize Prescott should’ve been a rich woman, but all her inheritance was taken from her and spent by her selfish grandmother. It makes me wonder what else that awful woman did. Whenever we get anywhere close to talking about it, Charlize changes the subject, or says something sarcastic. If I’d have known how bad things really were, I would’ve come for her. I should have. But it wasn’t Abigail’s wishes. We barely spoke to one another the last three months before she died.
In a lot of ways the arrangement suited both of us; she got to do her thing and I got to do mine. But looking back on it, the one person we ended up hurting the most was Charlize. She didn’t ask for any of this. She’s been through enough. Not just losing her mother, but having the memory of the two of them not seeing eye to eye and then the whole Grandmother from Hell scenario.
I climb back into bed and try to sleep.
All night, all I see is Charlize’s face.
A protective surge rushes through me, just like it did in the restaurant and the car.
I won’t let anything happen to her. That’s my promise, and it’s the least I can do considering my absence all these years.
I’ll give her whatever it takes to make things right.
Whatever. It. Takes.
As I predicted; Charlize is nowhere in sight when I get up the next day and head to my gym early. The equipment is the best money can buy and it’s probably the one room I love the most. It has large, clear glass windows that are angled so it looks over South Kensington from the third story.
I’ve been thinking all morning about our conversation in the car and what to do about that whole situation. As absurd as it all sounds, I know that Charlize will run out and do what she wants to do, when she wants to do it, regardless of my concern.
And we both know she doesn’t take orders. I smirk at the idea of Charlize ever doing anything I say — aside from climbing into my lap, or massaging my dick with her foot — she seems very good at disobeying me. But punishment is my speciality. I just hope I didn’t hurt or shock her.
After my shower, I sit in my office located next to my gym and write Charlize a note. I’ll leave it by the kettle before I leave.
Charlize,
I’ve had my stylist drop some clothes over this morning. You’ll find them on a rail in the living room. Pick out what you want. Wear something smart to the office, the car will be there at 11.
AD
p.s. I hope your arse is feeling better this morning
As soon as I write the last line, I think about screwing the paper up and starting again. I glance at my watch and realise I need to get going, so I leave it as is. Walking down the stairs, I say goodbye to my Chef, Dom, and take my mug of takeaway coffee.
