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"To get you a washcloth. I think the two of us have made quite the mess."
Daphne's cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining. "I don't mind."
"Is that so, kitten?"
Her smile was quick. "That's so."
"Fuck you are so sexy," I whispered brushing a curl out of her face. "But you've forgotten the cardinal rule. You're the first to come...and the last to come."
She started to shake her head. "I don't think I can take anymore."
“Shhh, let me show you.” I started at her neck, determined to give her just one more. Slowly I kissed my way down. Pausing at her nipples for a not-so-brief detour, finally landing between her legs again.
"God, kitten, you look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you." She gave a small yelp then struggled and tried to close her legs once she realized what I intended to do, but I wasn't having that. I used my shoulders to keep her legs and pussy splayed open.
"Drake, oh my God. What are you doing?"
"I'm going to clean you up and make sure I observe the cardinal rule." Then I leaned forward and licked, certain I would never have my fill.
All I heard after that were muttered curses and my name on her lips.
34
Daphne
In the morning, Drake and I were huddled over the laptop, the smells of French toast, cinnamon, and coffee permeating the air with a strong and pleasant aroma when Reginald strolled in and turned on the kettle. "I see you two are still set on using Daphne as bait."
"I appreciate the concern, Reginald, but we need Massimo gone,” I said. “He'll keep coming if we don't do something. And he's already interrupted enough of my life. I'd like to get back to living, so the sooner we can get rid of him the better. Drake thinks it’s best not to wait until the auction. Massimo knows I won’t miss Willow’s wedding, so he’ll come for me."
Reginald pressed his full lips together, and I could tell he was not mollified in the least. "Drake?"
Drake sat back and met the older man's gaze. "Right now, it's the most direct line to keeping her safe. I need to take him off the board now that I know what he wants in Daphne’s head. I know who he’s trying to target. The auction is a bad move. It will end poorly."
Reginald narrowed his gaze. “I still don't like it."
I reached for his hand and squeezed his strong calloused fingers. "I’ll be okay. And I want to see my sister."
Outside the window, a lovely English countryside spread before Reginald’s old red barn. Inside the kitchen, multicolored stone and ceramic pots hung from above, and under the window a table was set with a cheery yellow and red tablecloth. The sight was such a contrast to what we were talking about. The colors were warm and inviting and made me happy. They made me think of a loud, boisterous family.
Instead, we were headed into the lion’s den.
Honestly, it felt like the beginning of a low-budget action flick. The only problem was that I had no clothes to wear to the wedding or the reception, thanks to my kidnapping adventure.
"Drake, I have nothing to wear for the rehearsal dinner or the wedding reception. I had a look at what was left in Jasmine’s closet, but it’s all too big," I said, rolling my eyes. Like, could this whole situation be any more absurd?
He looked me up and down, a mischievous grin on his face. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"
Drake suggested getting something from a local store, but Reginald thought that would be too risky. He offered to drive into town and find something suitable, but Drake declined and said he'd take me himself.
Before I knew it, we were zooming through the picturesque English countryside in his sleek, black sports car. Drake really had a thing for shiny toys, and I couldn't deny the thrill it gave me. Soon enough, we were somewhere near Covent Garden pulling up to a swank boutique. The kind of place with valet parking. The kind of place I'd only ever window-shopped before.
"Drake, I can't afford anything in here."
"Good thing you're not buying, then. I'm the reason you don't have clothes, and if I'm being honest, the reason you're in this situation in the first place. So I'm buying. Now come on."
I followed him nervously, glaring down at my black jumper and leggings and trainers.
I needn't have worried though. As we entered, a saleswoman greeted us with the warmth of a long-lost friend. "Welcome to La Rêverie," she said, ushering us in. "May I offer you some tea or champagne?"
