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His growl was deep and guttural at my neck, a vibrating sound I felt all the way to my bones.
“Good boy,” he said, his tone triumphant as he ground his cock against my ass. His hardness was sizzling hot through the fabric and I absolutely about died thinking about how I was about to see Drew’s cock in the flesh, something I’d fantasized about for months, maybe even years. However much I wanted that, alarm bells rang in my head and I started having second thoughts. “I promise to be gentle, Ciaran. It won’t hurt too much,” he panted, “but my God how I’ve longed to be balls deep inside you.”
His hand snaked around my waist, sliding down my abdomen, under my shorts. I knew that if he touched me, skin on skin, I wouldn’t be able to stop him.
My cock was about to spring free but at the last second, I shifted away from him.
“Drew, I’m…” I stalled, turning in his lap to face him. I let out an audible sigh, unsure of how to reject a man who’d done so much for me. It felt like I owed him this. His hands stilled and his eyes searched mine for meaning. I feared his wrath, his disappointment, to the same degree I coveted his praise and compliments. “This is not how I…”
Jesus, I didn’t know what to say. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to be my first. How messed up was that?
Drew’s demeanor instantly changed. Sadness washed over his features and that killed me more than anything. I thought about taking it back, saying I was wrong, that I was confused, that I was sure now, but Drew pushed me aside, stood, and straightened his attire using the mirror as his guide. He was so fucking handsome it hurt.
It had to mean something that a twenty-eight-year-old Adonis wanted me. Was I being a complete moron for rejecting his advances when deep down I’d been dreaming about his hands on me ever since our first meeting?
Drew cleared his throat. “The Vaulteneaus are rich and powerful. You’ll never want for anything ever again, Ciaran. When do you leave next week?” he asked in the same tone he used when he spoke to me with others present—distant, professional, as if I meant absolutely nothing.
As if I meant less than nothing.
Regret flooded my veins.
I wanted to turn back time, to claw back to five minutes ago when Drew was about to yank down my shorts, when his cock would have pressed against my entrance, where I ached to be filled.
Be strong, Ciaran, I told myself even though my eyes stung with unshed tears. You made the right decision.
He moved to his desk, hands in his pockets, looking like usual, like he was in full control of his faculties. It was amazing he could switch it off that quickly.
Me, well, I struggled to stand. I fixed my shorts. I smoothed down my hair. My erection was a thing of the past. Pain and guilt were like knives in my gut. In a few days, I’d never see Drew again, and regret wafted through me again.
“Next Saturday, though I’m not sure what time,” I answered honestly. I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. I kept my eyes on the floor. “I’ve never traveled by private jet before.”
For a delirious second, I wanted to laugh. I’d never uttered the words “traveled by private jet” before. I sensed that everything in my life was about to change, and maybe not for the better.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Drew said cryptically. “Safe travels, Mr. Galbraith.”
I looked up. Mr. Galbraith? That stung.
“Drew, please,” I started, thinking fast, wondering how I could repair what I’d fucked up. “We’re still friends, right? Like, I can text you and stuff?”
I felt like a pathetic dog, begging and grasping at straws to maintain a connection with him.
“As a mentor, you must understand that my attention is reserved for my students.” His eyes were cold, calculating. “After next week, you will no longer be my student. Now,” he said as he cracked open his laptop, “if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
I guess that was it. My eyes stung and my chest hurt. He wasn’t just punishing me, he was shutting me out.
“Goodbye, Mr. Jones.” I unlocked the door, expecting him to say more, to beg me not to go, to invite me to stay in contact, but he did none of those things as I slipped out of his office.
In my mind, I knew it was the right thing to do but it was incredibly difficult.
6
MATTHIAS
I’d never seen my dad this animated. We were dining in the main house and it was just the two of us, so we were dressed informally and eating dinner in the informal dining room. That didn’t mean it was a subpar meal. The head chef, the pastry sous chef, and the Vaulteneau sommelier all stood by to ensure our meal was perfect.
Dad’s assistant had just left after writing down all his orders about a new wardrobe for Theresa. She’d deliver a few pieces to Vegas before Theresa and Ciaran flew to Malibu next week, but the rest would be waiting for her upon Theresa’s arrival.
“She’s a Vaulteneau now,” Dad explained without needing to. “Theresa will occupy the Pacific Suite next to mine. I don’t want her to feel crowded. We’ll give her time to acclimate to the Vaulteneau way of life. Plus, that suite has the best views, don’t you think, Matty?”
