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His eyelids fall.
"Your"—lick—"cum"—lick—"is"—lick—"so"—lick—"addicting"—lick...
I don't know how much time passes, and judging by the surprised look on Hayden's face when he finally does come up for air, he doesn't know either. Then I'm left throbbing and panting and sweating like a mess, as if I never came in the first place and need him all over again.
Releasing his hold, he smirks, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and hoists himself out of the water, pointing his gaze toward the terrace exit. Sensing dismissal, I make to pull up my bikini bottoms, which are completely soaked, as for everything else below my waist.
"Not yet." He stops me. "I'm going to get you a towel.
His eyes flick to mine, already on the ground.
"A better one," he clarifies. "For cleaning up."
I sit up, feeling rejected. "That's okay. If that's all I can... um... I'll just go rinse off in the shower."
He snickers.
"What's so funny?" My eyes narrow defensively.
"Oh, nothing. Just the fact that you think I'm anywhere near finished with you."
A shudder ripples through me.
"Whether this is all just lust or not..." His gaze crawls across my body, spiking my arousal. "You can scratch that little bit about sleeping separately off our contract. From this point forward, while you're still living under my roof, you're mine. My little plaything, remember? Who's expected to warm my bed, so I can keep her up all. Night. Long."
My jaw falls slack, but I have no time to process as he whips around, aiming for the door. "Stay put. I'll be right back," are his departing words.
I blink, watching him stride across the terrace, waiting for some type of post-nut clarity moment, for the inevitable regret and shame... but it never comes. Although, something else does, something wildly unexpected—and a little crazy???
A giggle.
Very, very quietly, I laugh, covering my mouth with a hand, like the birds might hear me a hundred stories high and gossip to their friends. A grin spreads along my lips, wide and proud, as a sort of euphoria overtakes me. Whether endorphins are to blame, or deep-rooted feelings wrapped in a thick encasing of denial, I don't really care.
I just know that I'm happy in this moment, and that the rest of the night will only bring me further—
Ring, ring, ring... a phone sings from the opposite side of the hot tub, lighting up in the darkness. I whip my head, catching a shirtless backside entering the penthouse. "Oh, Hayden, I think"—the door swings shut—"...someone's trying to call you..." I mutter.
Oh, well. I wait out the rings, until all is quiet. They'll just leave a voicemail and he'll call them ba—
RING, RING, RING...
I purse my lips, the sound blaring through the peaceful terrace once again, until it stops, only to start up a third time.
Adrenaline jolts me to my feet.
Maybe it's something urgent.
Pattering my damp feet across the mahogany, I creep closer... only for my heart to sink further and further... until it's oh-so obvious that I should turn back around, that I shouldn't subject myself to a closeup view of what's most certainly a pair of tits waiting on a video call.
I crouch low, tears pricking my eyes—ones that shouldn't even be there, but they are anyway. Through blurry vision, I watch those unnaturally large breasts jiggle about, their pierced nipples twisting by bright red nails, all below a name at the top of the screen. A name already in the phone's contacts, beside a message containing winky faces and other suggestive emojis.
Olivia: Let's finish what we started the other night.
TWENTY-SIX
JULIANA
Stop fucking crying!
