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I sigh, suddenly feeling like all the control I had has been snatched from me. I don’t really mind, because his fingers feel so good, and I swallow again before my jaw falls open of its own accord. I gaze up at him from beneath my lashes and he nudges forward, guiding me to meet him. His breath hisses out an appreciative groan.
“Yeah,” he grunts, his voice dropping several octaves into dark and sinful territory, something that has my fingers curling into fists on top of his thighs. His breath hisses out an appreciative groan.
The head of his cock brushes along the roof of my mouth and the weight of his entire length is perfect, hypnotic. I drop into giving up every ounce of teasing, letting him set the pace as he gently guides me with a heavy hand on the back of my head. His hips fuck shallowly until my throat opens up for him, and my tongue curls to cradle him.
I don’t know how much time passes, I’m several minutes in when he starts to talk again, his voice changes from encouraging animalistic grunts to surprised babbles.
“Oh, damn. Right—fuck—right there,” he groans low on the last word.
The sound is so guttural I feel a rush of arousal flooding my cunt, and I squeeze my thighs together in excitement. My tongue rubs along the underside of the head, and his hips spasm before he shouts. He comes quickly, unexpectedly, and I can tell it’s a surprise for him. But that doesn’t stop him from naturally cradling my skull and burying himself deep in my throat. I nearly choke by the time he pulls out, but I can’t help but want to do it again. I want him. I want this exact experience again.
Adrian stares down at me, deafening silence rippling through the tension between us. It’s enough to make my muscles twitch. I don’t stand even though he’s released me, deliberately not touching me. There’s something in his eyes that tells me he is about to run.
Without a word, he reaches down and tucks himself back in, pulling up his pants. I finally stand, rubbing the back of my hand across my lips collecting any spit left. But nothing is there. Nothing is left of him and what he’s made me feel, other than the soft phantom sensations that linger in my hair and down my throat.
He doesn’t look at me as he buttons up and pushes away from the counter. Instead, he glances down at his watch and clicks his tongue.
“Damn, I’m late,” is all he says as he collects his suit jacket and briefcase by the door, slips on his shoes, and leaves me staring after him like an idiot.
I finally find my voice after the door clicks shut behind him. “What the hell?”
It’s hoarse and my throat aches, but I want him to come back. If I can’t have more, I want to at least talk to him. I want to talk about what just happened. Why, when I’m finally ready to have a discussion about these nameless feelings growing between us, does he feel like he needs to dash? Is this how he felt last night after I ran out on him?
I fix my clothes and glance at the letter waiting ominously for me on the table. I know for sure what I’m going to do about that at least. Once the laundry is done and everything is spic and span around the penthouse, I leave for my meeting with Russell.
On the elevator ride down, I spend an insane amount of money to book an early morning flight out to France for tomorrow. Russell looks horrified when I tell him I’ll be gone for a week, but he understands completely when I explain what’s going on.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Saunders about any issues, you just focus on your family,” he assures.
“I may be bald by the end of this,” I joke.
“If they are anything like Mr. Saunders’s family, I can’t deny that is very possible,” his lips twitch with amusement.
I try to smile back, truly smile, but I can’t manage it. Instead it’s awkward and half-hearted. I feel both terrified of spending so much time with my family, and of what news awaits me. Will my father’s diagnosis be fatal? Will he welcome me home? Will I be able to support him correctly?
After a full day of work, I make it back to an empty apartment and it stays that way until I go to bed. I end up feeding the dogs and taking them both on a short walk, leaving a note for Adrian again. Due to my exhaustion from worrying about everything, I fall asleep quickly, unable to wait up to see Adrian walk through the door, or even lay in my bed and hear him close the door behind him as he comes home.
Instead, I completely miss him and my heart aches bad enough that I feel tears press at my waterline. I won’t see him tomorrow; I’m leaving at three in the morning for a five a.m. flight. We won’t resolve anything. I feel so unprepared for everything this coming week and I just want to talk to Adrian. I want to be in his presence and feel his calming confidence.
CHAPTER 17
ADRIAN
I feel like my brain is melting out of my skull by the time I get home for the day. I still can’t believe I just left Amelia standing dumbfounded after giving me possibly the best head of my life. I fucked up, I’m aware. I’m not that idiotic. Or am I? If I wasn’t that stupid, would I even have done it in the first place?
I walk in just around midnight. The girls greet me, but Amelia doesn’t wake to my presence. I move to the dog dishes to see them in the strainer and a note on the counter, telling me that Charity and Jewel have not only been fed, but walked as well. I stare down at her neat handwriting and sigh. I need to explain myself and properly apologize to her in the morning. Then we probably need to talk about whatever this is between us.
The mansion was in an uproar today and the reason I was gone for so long. My toxic stepbrother decided to literally have a temper tantrum about the fact that I’m getting married. He thinks it’s just for money, not that he’s wrong. But he also believes that he would be the better candidate for heir. Yet, unless he’s a complete turnaround on both his lifestyle and personality, he is the farthest from the correct choice.
Johnathan is a lot like a younger me, only a little more covert about it. He is wild, reckless, and likes party drugs just a bit too much. He spends money like crazy, but he’s Mother’s favorite, so Father caters to her whims. Happy wife, happy life, as the saying goes. My father absolutely hates it when my mother’s upset because she’s a complete bitch and will take it out on him. I wonder if my birth mother was ever like that. I can barely remember her though, so it’s not like it matters.
I drag my mentally exhausted body immediately toward the bedroom door. I consider just flopping onto my mattress, forgoing changing, but my eye twitches at the mere thought of sleeping in my suit, so instead I grab some sweats. The girls are following behind me but there’s an anxious look in Charity’s eyes even as we settle down for bed.
“Were you worried because I was gone so long, girl?” I ask, petting down her soft muzzle and then moving to her long, hound-like ears. “I’m sorry, it looks like Amelia took good care of you though.”
She perks up at the woman’s name and her thick tail thumps against the bed. I hum in agreement; I’ve been perking up too when Amelia is mentioned. But I’m too tired to focus on just how deep my emotions run. Instead I lean further back into my bed, relaxing into a sigh. Instead I lean further back into my bed, relaxing into a sigh. Then sleep overtakes me.
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