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She’s already told me her apartment number – 4F – so we climb into the Bentley.
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nbsp; I don’t fucking let her out of my grasp the whole fucking time until we get to One57.
* * *
“You live here?” Daphne asks me. She turns around to look at me and expands her question, “By yourself?”
We’re standing in the living room of my apartment. She’s looking out the window from the 75th floor of my penthouse apartment, high above the clouds of New York City. The living room is built in such a way that it juts out and you have views from three separate sides. On one side, there are clear unobstructed views of the Park. The other side has spectacular fucking views of Midtown Manhattan. On a clear day you can see all the way down to the Freedom Tower.
“Just me, love,” I tell her and walk to the window. “Come, see this,” I say, putting my hand at the base of her back and guiding her towards the balcony.
She steps outside and a burst of cool wind whips her beautiful fucking hair around her face. She’s fucking gorgeous. Like a fucking doll.
She looks at me, “So let me get this right,” she says. “Three bedrooms, a dining room, servants quarters, massive kitchen, living room, family room, study, and three bathrooms. And all this is for one person?”
I look at her. I can tell she’s waiting for my reaction.
“You forgot the balcony, love,” I say with a grin.
At first I think she’s going to slap me. But then she just rolls her eyes. “For one person?” Daphne asks again. “Derrick, your balcony is bigger than my bedroom.”
“That’s because it’s a wraparound balcony,” I say, smirking. Another wind comes through and I shiver. I’m still wearing the fucking damp clothes.
Daphne notices. “Let’s go inside,” she says and walks inside. I follow, but I stop. I’m staring at her ass. Her luscious and firm ass. God fucking dammit.
Now you know I’ve been with a lot of women. Fuck, you’ve seen me with a stripper and a news anchor. Let me tell you they couldn’t hold a fucking candle to this woman. And it’s not just because Daphne is fucking gorgeous.
She’s so elegant, even after her apartment got broken into.
She’s got some real class.
And you’re going to fucking groan, but there are two things in this world that drive me absolutely mental about a bird.
The first is if she’s got class.
The second is her ass.
Class and fucking ass. And Daphne has both in spades.
I admire her as she walks around, cooing and making comments to herself as she studies my apartment. Like a bird, before it nests.
Her legs are fucking toned. Her tits are fucking ripe. Her face is beautiful. I want to turn her around, bend her over and fuck her till we both pass the fuck out. That’s the only thing I want in this life. That’s all I know I will ever want in my life.
I’ve been ruined for all other women. And I haven’t even kissed her yet.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” she says as she walks up to me. “You’ll catch cold.”
“Right, love,” I tell her. “You want to join me as I get out of them?”
Her eyes fucking twinkle. Four days ago, she would have rolled those eyes and maybe even slapped me. But not now. Instead she just smiles and says, “I have nothing to change into.”
“That’ll change soon enough,” I tell her. “Sam’s bringing your shit over as we speak.”
“Just because you’re so wealthy doesn’t mean you can call all my stuff shit, Derrick,” she says. I look over at her startled and see her teasing smile.
Then she nods, thoughtfully. “I wonder who would want to break into just my room. I mean, I didn’t really even have anything valuable in there.”
