IT WAS an accidental slip of the tongue. Still, I’d said it. My only saving grace was it wasn’t the first time I’d called her that, so instead of correcting myself, I only smirked.
“I wouldn’t have chosen to dine here,” I told her as I sliced into my lamb loin.
“What?”
“Your father had already made this reservation. He was supposed to be here tonight. Have you heard from him today?”
“The third placement?”
As I chewed my food, I studied her face. She seemed somewhat disappointed. Had he not called her and wished her a happy birthday? I looked to where the placement was and then to the opposite side, where a fourth was supposed to be. James must have called ahead to eradicate his place before he emailed me yesterday. Why hadn’t I considered that when it came to Sophia’s? Not thinking forward only pushed me to lie. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, I didn’t particularly enjoy lying to the girl sitting in front of me. Admittedly, I was a wanker, asking for her truth when I couldn’t give her mine.
“Yes.”
She rolled her eyes, cutting into her lamb loin with force much more potent than I had. “God, I’m so stupid.”
My frown deepened. “What makes you say that?”
“I knew this was a kind gesture. But I thought it was your kind gesture. Not my father’s.”
“I never said I wouldn’t have celebrated your birthday with you. I said that I wouldn’t have chosen to dine here.” I looked over my shoulder, recognising some of the guests. “At this particular restaurant.”
The disappointment in her eyes wavered. There was a possibility it was there because her father hadn’t called her or taken a flight over for her birthday. Perhaps she’d felt neglected somehow. But then I realised it was there because of me. For some reason, like when I lied, the idea of disappointing her only made me disappointed in myself. It was a new feeling. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. And weirdly, although perhaps a little fucked up, it was something I wanted to feel more of. An ache that felt better than the usual resentment or nothing at all.
“Where would you have taken me?” she asked.
“Where would you have wanted to go?”
She looked around us, raising a neatly shaded brow. “Is this not your scene? I was under the impression you came here a lot. The maître d’ remembered your name.”
I placed down my knife and fork. Talk of being here, of the memories with Sophia, had me quickly losing my appetite. “I’ve spent a lot of money here, yeah. But my scene… nah.” I picked up my napkin and dabbed my mouth before refocusing on her. “This isn’t about me. I’m asking you, birthday girl. Where would you have wanted to go?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know London the way you do.”
“What if you weren’t in London? If you were back home, how would you be celebrating?”
“Well,” she said slowly. “Usually, my dad would take me out for a birthday dinner. A lot like this one.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just us.”
I encouraged her to go on, sitting back in my chair as she spoke.
“He’d try to make it special, but given that, he’d always try so hard to bring up my… my… mother. How proud she’d be of me. Of how alike we were in our mannerisms. How every year, and the older I got, I became more and more like her.” She frowned. “It’s not that I didn’t care. I just…”
“Didn’t–don’t–want to remember,” I finished.
She nodded, her eyes glossing over. “My last memory of her haunts me. I can’t speak to him because he makes me feel like something is wrong with me, and I don’t want to feel like something is wrong with me. I don’t want to feel the way I do. I’ve opened up in the past, and look how that played out. He gave me a curfew and attempted to control my entire life.”
Between guilt and wanting to reach out and comfort her, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. So, even while sitting, I slid them into the pockets of my slacks.
“Anyway,” she went on, a small smile framing her mouth. “I’d spend the following evening with Ebony–”
“Ebony?”
“My best friend. And we’d go to Pizzahole, where usually we’d try our hands at bribing Donny into buying us a bottle of wine from the nearest off-licence. My father assumed I was having a sleepover, or maybe he allowed me to break the rules after he experienced some guilt for making me sad on my birthday. But it was probably the only occasion he didn’t question my whereabouts. The only time he let me out past my curfew.”
I heard everything, but the only question to leave my lips was, “Who’s Donny?”
“Donny’s the guy who owns Pizzahole. It’s this tiny outdoor restaurant. He has this little brick building with a hole in the wall. I swear, he cooks the best pizzas.”
Her smile was contagious, but I didn’t like the idea of some guy called fucking Donny buying her alcohol when she was underage. I was a teenager once. I knew the excitement that came with underage drinking. The rush of the occasional pill before I was forced to grow up. But getting pissed at some lousy fucking hole in the wall in the middle of Miami? Doing fuck knows what? When she looked like that, and everything about her screamed wealth? And James, one night of the year, allowed it?
I shook my head.
“So what you’re telling me is that, even though you’re here, in one of London’s finest restaurants with me, you’re wishing for pizza from some manky hole in the wall with fucking Donny?”
The sweetest laugh escaped her for the first time since she’d been here. I wanted more of it. In fact, as quick as it came and left, I craved to rewind the moment and hear it again despite what I said being completely unfunny.
“No, not at all. That’s me telling you what I did. Given the choice, I have no idea what I’d want to do.”
“I’m giving you the choice, Blue,” I said, remaining nonchalant. I took my hands from my slacks and leant forward, placing my elbows on the table as I stared down at her full plate. “I don’t know a Donny, but if you want pizza, we can go and get pizza.”
I’m sure she presumed I was joking, as she tilted her head to the side and looked at me inquisitively.
“I don’t want pizza. I’m enjoying this.”
“You haven’t taken one bite of your food.”
She poked her fork into a cut of her lamb and brought it to her mouth. “Happy now?”
“If you are.”
With that, we continued to eat, and the two of us finished off our meal within five minutes. That was the thing about fine dining. The portion sizes were child-like. Maybe I should have pre-ordered a starter after all. But the truth was, I didn’t want to be in this restaurant longer than necessary. Not with it being a regular spot between Sophia and me. And with Blue filling her glass with her third champagne, I was beginning to grow antsy. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was dying for a drink or because I didn’t want her to get drunk. But I did want her to enjoy her birthday, which was why I didn’t stop her. Which was why I didn’t drink.
Either way, she was much safer drunk in my presence than at some outdoor pizza restaurant with fucking Donny.
“How old is this guy?” I asked after the waiter collected our empty plates. I tried not to sound jealous or angry over a guy I knew nothing of, but I’m not entirely sure I convinced her.
“Donny?” Her eyes shot up to her forehead. “He’s… He has grandchildren. Why do you keep saying his name like that?”
That should have settled me, but it didn’t.
I ignored her question. “Back home, he’s brought you alcohol when you’ve asked him?”
“God, no.” She grinned. “No matter how hard we batted our lashes or pleaded, he would always refuse. It usually resulted in Ebony doing something… stupid.” Her grin became something curious. “The thing is, me and Ebony are total opposites. She likes to break the rules, whereas I tend to follow them. Unless…” She dipped her head, hiding her growing blush.
“Unless what?”
“Unless I don’t care about the consequences.” When she lifted her chin, my eyes absorbed that cherry blossom blush that ran down her neck and into her cleavage. That’s where I had to drag my eyes away from when our waiter appeared beside her once again and set down our trio of desserts. Lucky for me, she was too intrigued by her food to notice.
“Chocolate torte, pavlova, and a lemon cheesecake,” he said before leaving us.
Blue licked her lips and picked up her spoon, diving straight for the lemon cheesecake. When she placed it in her mouth, the quietest moan spilt between her lips. I wanted to taste that lemon on her tongue, but I promised myself I’d never devour her kisses again. They were bad for me, and like hot water on an ice cube, they melted away my purpose.
“So, so good.”
I swallowed, doing the same, and then I agreed with a hum of my own. Though if she were to look at me too intently, I’d be worried that it’d be obvious that my enjoyment wasn’t for the dessert at all, but for her.
Jealousy, anger, disappointment, lust, empathy, and optimism–every emotional neuro in my brain, seemed to be fighting all for her.
I HELD my palm over Blue’s lower back as we stepped out of the restaurant, and using my free hand, stole her phone from her grip as she took a selfie for “the gram.”
“I left my phone at the office rushing to get here,” I explained. “I’m letting Finley know his services aren’t required this evening.” And then, texting one-handed, I sent Finley a message to say I’d be driving us back to the penthouse.
I had every suspicion that he’d be trailing behind my car to make sure I didn’t swerve into the wrong lane, worried for Blue’s safety. But that wasn’t going to happen, considering I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in over forty-eight hours. I fucking felt the withdrawal of it too. Irritability seemed to be infusing my body like the onset of a virus, and my body temperature only seemed to increase by the hour. If Blue noticed my distress, she didn’t mention it. My suit was making me claustrophobic, and I couldn’t wait to get the thing off. Formal wear wasn’t much my style, but as it went, it attained me a lot more respect than my sweats.
Handing back Blue her phone, we waited for all of sixty seconds before the valet drove my G-wagon out front. I gave him a tip in return for my keys, and then we were on our way.
As I drove through the streets of London, I noticed Blue seemed to lose some of the spark she had throughout dinner, and for some fucking reason, it had me scowling. She’d barely spoken, but I could feel her mind moving a mile a minute. I could hear her even when she wasn’t speaking. Because though I had no idea of her thoughts, they were making noise. And like hearing static through an old radio, it only irked me further.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing between her and the road.
Other than the lights on the dashboard, the car was dark, but that didn’t disguise how her freshly coloured hair shone like the fucking moon. Which, as it turned out, was full tonight. A clear sky–rare as fuck when you lived inside the polluted city of London.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she mused. “I was just thinking.”
“About…”
“What you said at dinner. When you asked me what I would have done for my birthday if I had the choice.”
“You said you enjoyed dinner.”
“I did,” she sassed. “Obviously.”
“But?” I encouraged, extending my question.
She tipped her head so she could face me better. As much as I wanted to give her my full attention, I knew I had to be mindful of the road, so I returned my line of sight to the windshield before she spoke, conscious of the traffic lights.
“It’s not really me, I guess. I like dressing up to go places. I like buying clothes and getting my hair done, and I like everything a girl like me should like. But dinner in a lavish restaurant, that’s not really who I am underneath all that, is it?”
I noticed her poking at her fancy white manicure in my peripheral, and upon taking a heavy breath, I asked, “Are you asking me that, or yourself?”
As I indicated towards The Lagoon, she lifted her shoulder and then dropped her chin onto it, smiling gently. “Did you mean it?” she asked. “When you said you were giving me the choice to go somewhere else. To get pizza.”
“If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it.”
She returned to face the windshield, her smile still intact, and still a little tipsy from her three glasses of champagne, I realised. The moment she discovered we weren’t heading back to the penthouse, her smile only grew.
Though as soon as I rolled up at The Lagoon, parked in the staff parking lot, and told her to wait inside the car while I grabbed my phone, her cheeks hollowed and she formed a pout.
“Can’t I come with you?”
I unfastened my seat belt and shook my head as I told her, “No.” Only as I climbed out of the car and walked ahead, so did she. Exasperated, I turned to her and said, “Get back in the car, Blue.”
She strode up beside me, but as I pushed a hand into my pocket, she went and took me completely off guard by linking her arm through mine. I looked down at our new position with confusion as she said, “No can do. I’m choosing to come with you.”
My jaw ticked, but I couldn’t argue with her when she was using my own words against me. “In and out,” I said. “Then we’re going home.” I realised it was the first time I’d called the penthouse “home,” but whether it was home or not was still to be decided.
Once I’d locked my car, I withdrew my metallic keycard from my wallet and we both waltzed inside the elevator before travelling up to the floor of my office. Unfortunately for me, Blue didn’t seem to take my “In and out” too literally, because by the time I’d grabbed my phone and we’d made our way back into the lift, she was pressing the small black button labelled ‘R’ and asking, “Where does this go?”
I rubbed my cheek on a sigh and then looked to the ceiling. “To the roof.”
The elevator carried us up, and within seconds, the doors were opening on top of the building. As well as the elevator, a metal door separated the roof from us, but it was noticeably open, which implied Noah had been up here recently and hadn’t locked it behind him.
I’d never understand it, but my little brother had a thing for heights.
Blue’s heels tapped against the metal path of the roof as she walked ahead of me. It wasn’t the full expansion of the roof, so to speak, but a pathway that wrapped around the perimeter of the building. The only barrier between the path and thin air was a one metre metal fence, but it was safe enough, providing we kept enough distance between us and the edge. Not so much if you were drunk–which was why I was mentally cursing Noah in my head. If we weren’t careful, anyone from the building could get up here and fall to their fucking death. And the last thing we needed was an inquiry.
Stuck in my head, I stood watching Blue as she swung her head around to mine with a smile, and the wind softly blew the skirt of her dress higher up her thighs. My feet only moved from their position when I noticed her moving further and further to the edge of the roof. No, she wasn’t drunk-drunk, but she had had three glasses of champagne tonight. I convinced myself everything I was about to do next was for her safety, and not because I wanted to be near her.
As she leant over the fence to get a look at the world around us, I gripped both her hips and saddled up behind her, and then, without any deliberation, wrapped my arms around her waist to hold her still. I was aware the gesture could be considered intimate, that I was giving her mixed messages, but she didn’t even attempt to withdraw.
“The view is amazing,” she said. “Better than your penthouse.”
For the first time, I took my eyes away from her and looked up. First, at the moon, and then to the city of London and the bright lights which surrounded us. It was the first time I’d really taken it in, because I hadn’t been on the roof in, well… maybe years.
“Yeah,” I said, lowering my cheek against her temple. “I guess it is.”
“The world is so busy, isn’t it?” she murmured. “But up here, it kind of feels like there’s no one else in the world but us.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Talking so openly didn’t come as naturally to me as it did her.
Her head fell against my shoulder as she breathed in a lungful of air and raised her chin to meet my stare. “You have a faraway look in that gaze of yours,” she murmured.
My lips twitched. “I do, huh?”
I dropped my eyes to her lips as the corner of her mouth rose in a smile. And suddenly, I was reminded of how just yesterday, I’d felt those luscious lips against mine. If there was no one else in the world but us, I knew without a doubt I wouldn’t be holding myself back as hard as I was.
Her lashes fluttered with some sass. “Yeah, you do.”
“And you’d know something about that? That faraway look?”
Now she was looking at my mouth, and it seemed we were moving closer and closer to a line I forbid myself to cross again. I swallowed, hard. And then, forcing clarity, I pulled back and squeezed her hip in warning.
“Blue,” I sighed softly.
“I know, I know. This isn’t right.” She repeated my words from yesterday with a roll of her eyes. And then, moving away from me, she wrapped her hands against the top of the metal fence and squeezed. “What did you do on your eighteenth birthday?”
I’d moved my line of sight to the floor, but looked up to answer her question. “Pretty sure I got so fucked up I had a three-day hangover.”
I cringed at the memory, but that three-day hangover wasn’t shit when I compared it to the way I lived nowadays.
“Do you have those now?” she asked, and I raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“Hangovers,” she clarified.
I palmed my jaw, refusing to answer the question. Every day felt like a fucking hangover, but she was too innocent for me to unleash the weight of that, so I told her, “No.”
She looked at me then, in a way like she knew more of me than I let on, but I didn’t want things to get any deeper. It was her fucking birthday–we happened to be on the roof of The Lagoon–and since dinner, she only seemed to be shrinking more and more into herself. Into her head.
Wanting to bring back the Blue I knew was in there, I took my phone from my pocket and pulled up the only playlist I had on there. It was my gym playlist, but what the fuck, who cared. I hit shuffle, and placed my phone down at our feet, letting chance lead the way. Just because I didn’t believe in fate didn’t mean I couldn’t pretend for the three minutes it would take for the song to finish. Just because I didn’t believe in happy ever afters, didn’t mean I couldn’t relish in the vision of there being nobody in the world but us.
“It’s your birthday,” I said as the opening verse of Chainsmoking by Jacob Banks began to play. “Don’t girls like you like to dance on their birthdays?”
One hand unclenched from the fence as she turned her body to mine, her blue eyes alight with something that reached into my stomach and twisted my gut. I held out my hand for her to take, and ever so gently, she linked her fingers through mine. Despite the late-night chill in the air, her skin was warm against my own. And as much as I wanted to stay in the position we were in–face to face, and almost chest to fucking chest–it felt too personal. We couldn’t risk another accidental touch of our lips. We just couldn’t.
So, with that, I spun her around and held her. With my arm around her waist, one palm flat against her stomach, and the other to her hip, I nestled behind her.
Within seconds, we were moving, our bodies in sync.
I never fucking danced, but insanely, this girl had me honing against her like it was something I’d done countless times before.
She moved her body with mine, lowering the hand I held in hers to the skin of her thigh and hiking up the material of her dress as the words of the song rose from the ground and vibrated through every part of our being.
Something about chain-smoking–something about love.
The meaning was easy to digest, but it wrestled with my core just the same.
When she pushed her ass back against my growing cock and the vocalist said something about it getting harder to breathe, I felt the sincerity of the lyrics squeeze all the air from my lungs.
She knew I was hard for her.
There was no way she couldn’t.
She continued to trail my hand up her thigh, under her dress, and to the edge of what felt like laced underwear. My palm floated across her skin like butter, which only made the battle to pull away that much harder. I was internally kicking myself when I squeezed her hip with my free hand in warning. I got the reaction I hoped for, because she did the right thing and eased off.
There was only so much restraint a man like me could hold on to, so when the song finished, I loosened my hold on her and picked up my phone, exiting the playlist before another song could start.
Focusing on my phone, I said, “What else do girls like you like to do on their birthdays?”
When she didn’t respond, I gave in to the temptation and slowly lifted my head. I don’t know what I expected, but as I met her gaze, the twinkle in her irises was most definitely not it.
“I think girls like me like watching movies,” she answered with a newfound confidence.
I took a deep breath to slow my heart rate as I straightened, reminded of the night she fell asleep against me on the sofa. But nonchalant with my words, my only response was, “I’m good with that.”
She looked at me then, like she knew what I was thinking because she was thinking it too. But she didn’t say anything, and a second later, she took off in the direction of the door, her words moving with her. “I’m choosing this time.”
I followed after her. “That right?” And I tried my absolute best, but apparently it wasn’t good enough, because I still couldn’t pull my gaze from her legs as she strutted ahead of me. Not until she looked at me over her shoulder, and that smile of hers directed my attention to her face.
“Yep,” she quipped.
That smile of hers turned knowing.
“No more ghost shit.”
WE ARRIVED AT THE PENTHOUSE, and I led Blue from the garage and into the elevator with a hand on her back. With it being her birthday, I didn’t have it in me to decline her decision to watch a film. I was beginning to think that this girl could ask me for anything, and the only way I’d feel content was if I obliged.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and change into something comfy,” I said, ecstatic to be removing my suit.
“Sure. I’ll find something for us to watch.”
And with that, I left her alone in the dimmed room, forcing myself to stay clear of the kitchen cupboard and away from my favourite bottle of booze.
It didn’t take me long to scrub myself free of my withdrawal–I’d done well forcing myself to not think about it. But by the time I’d showered, towel-dried my hair, and changed into a casual T-shirt and grey sweats, I came back into the living room to the sounds of a movie already playing.
“Didn’t want to wait for me, huh?”
The volume was so low I was taken aback when she didn’t turn around at the sound of my voice or my footsteps moving across the floor and towards her.
Observing her from the head of the sofa, I realised her eyes were closed and she was fast asleep. And as I watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, I couldn’t help but notice for the first time tonight that when putting her dress on, she’d forgone her fucking bra. I couldn’t help but notice how her perky tits were almost falling out of her birthday dress. All sinfully angelic and tempting as fuck. So fucking captivating it made it hard not to stop and stare.
I visualised the last time she’d fallen asleep on my sofa–on my chest–where she’d woken up abruptly from a bad dream. A small part of me was expecting the same thing now, especially where her head took her at the restaurant. The way she spoke on the roof about the world being busy.
But there was no thunder tonight.
Nothing here to remind her of the accident.
Not unless she suddenly remembered me.
My feet took backwards steps towards the kitchen, and while my eyes flicked between her and the kitchen cupboard, I absently felt around for my favourite bottle before pulling it towards me and uncapping its lid. A voice in my head told me I had to stop this. I had to stop reaching for the bottle any time I felt a strain. But another voice said it wasn’t hurting me. That the throbbing behind my eyes would disappear with every drop.
I knew if I drank enough of it, I’d feel the relief I craved.
And that was why the second voice always won out.
The first voice needn’t bother to convince me at all.
I took a small swig as I made my way back towards the sofa with the rim against my mouth, feeling a small amount of comfort as it sank into my stomach. And again, I helped myself to another taste of the sweet liquid before lowering the bottle to my side. My head dropped to the left as I stood at the end of the cushions, studying Blue sleep while my cock twitched beneath my sweats, begging for the attention of my hand.
She rolled onto her back, and my gaze was drawn to her lips as they parted in a dreamy sigh. A few seconds later, her arms stretched above her head. I watched, transfixed on her, as her back arched with the movement, which made the material across her chest part, giving me the near-perfect view of her tits. They were creamier than her tanned neck, her tanned legs, and I found myself wondering what other parts of her body hadn’t been touched by the sun. Shit, maybe hadn’t been touched by anyone.
I muttered a quiet “Fuck” and palmed my cock with my free hand over the material of my sweats. My feet were rooted to the spot, unable to drag myself away even though it was the most rational thing to do. And as one of her arms came down from above her head, her hand trailing the length of her dress, my whole body only grew tenser.
Her lips parted, her hips raised, and then her hand sank ever so gracefully underneath the hem of her dress and into her panties.
What I now knew to be black laced panties.
It was like she’d known I was there, battling with my feet to move and my cock to relax as I regretfully soaked in everything that was her.
My jaw ticked.
Was she aware of how badly I wanted her? Was this another attempt at threatening me? Seemed I did well to encourage her the last time. Hadn’t I played into what she wanted? Did she think because it was her birthday, I’d give in?
“Blue, if you’re fucking–” My sentence came to a pause when I noticed movement inside her underwear. I groaned. She was touching herself. Rubbing her little pink pussy in her sleep while I lurked over her.
What the fuck was I doing still standing here?
I’d told myself we couldn’t do this.
My fingers itched around the neck of my Bourbon. This time I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted another taste or because I wanted to round the sofa, push my hand into her panties and thrust my fingers into her pretty pussy. And I bet it was pretty. So fucking pretty and wet for my cock.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Equal parts guilt and pleasure travelled through my nerves and doused my skin with heat. I should’ve stepped away, forced my eyes closed and pretended this hadn’t happened–that I wasn’t a witness to this. This… torture.
But instead, I took one last hefty swig from my bottle before lowering it down onto the table, focusing my eyes on Blue’s movements and the material of her underwear being disrupted by the motion of her hand. Completely entranced by the way she was pleasuring herself. Replacing one weakness for another.
An almost silent mewl travelled up her throat and between her lips. Suddenly, I found myself gripping the thickness of my cock through my sweats as I imagined her fingers strumming against her clit, remembering her face when I brought her to orgasm not so long ago.
It was fucking painful. My dick fucking hurt. I wanted to touch her. Take my cock out, bathe in her pleasure, spill my cum all over her body and mark my fucking territory like it was my right. But I couldn’t. There was an inner turmoil I was in constant back and forth with. She was a stupid fucking teenage girl. Sort of. But still, too damn young for me, the daughter of my boss. The end to my abstract beginning. It was the same shit I was bored convincing myself of since she sat beside me on the plane.
Couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
Definitely shouldn’t.
But fuck, I’d never felt so weak.
“You’re making me lose my mind, baby. And not in the way I’m used to.”
I didn’t think I was loud with my words, but her eyes blinked open and caught my own, right as I pushed my hand into my sweats and took my cock in my fist. The scent of her arousal filled the air, and I swear if the walls could speak, they’d ask me why the fuck I hadn’t accommodated myself with her pussy yet. Why wasn’t I pleasuring her and filling her with my cum?
“Nate,” she murmured, grazing her teeth over her pink cushioned lips.
“You’re awake.” I cocked a brow, relaxing my shoulders as I held a stance that I hoped conveyed indifference, unconcerned that my cock was, in fact, in my fist.
Her hand didn’t let up. If anything, the movement of her fingers grew quicker as a blush crept over her cheeks. My eyes told her I wanted to see that blush all over her naked body. But I held my cock in a chokehold as a means to keep myself grounded. This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Yet the cracks in my armour began to form with every little thing she did. Every move she made.
“Come here,” she whispered. “I want you to touch me.”
My voice was nothing more than a pained groan. “I can’t.”
“You can. I know you want to. I feel the way you look at me.” As if to prove her point, she bucked her hips up and began riding her hand. “Right here. I feel it right here.”
I felt a bead of pre-cum tickle the end of my cock while visions of me up close and personal with her pussy penetrated my mind. Licking my lips, I couldn’t help but wonder what she tasted like. Sweet? The kind of taste a man like me couldn’t get enough of?
“Fuck,” I hissed, squeezing my cock again but refusing to give myself anything more. I couldn’t enjoy this. Not in front of her.
Her eyes fell closed, and a soft moan poured from between her lips like hot air.
“Nate,” she whimpered amongst these quiet little mewls of pleasure that I wanted against my ear. “I’m close.”
My gaze hopped from her face to where her hand continued to bounce beneath the material of her shorts. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes were still pinched closed as she indulged in her pleasure. Her legs began to shake, her cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink. That’s when I knew she was tethering on the edge, moments from slipping over.
My cock was so big and hard for her; I really believed I could come in my pants like a young boy watching the show of his teenage dreams. But then her eyes finally opened, settling on me.
“Are you hard for me, Nate? Will you show me?”
Fuck, this girl had some power over me. She was making me snap, minute by minute. It was rare anyone could tell me what to do, and she seemed to do it with ease. My cock throbbed, but her words sedated me. I was at the temple of Blue Sterling, moments from resisting the temptation and giving in to her glory.
Before I gave my guilt a chance to carry me away, I stepped towards her and took myself out of my sweats. Her thick black eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks, and then those blue-green orbs that I often found myself lost in dropped down to where my cock was wrapped in my fist as I began stroking myself with almost vicious strokes.
My blood ran hot, and I watched as a timid smile pulled on the corner of her mouth.
“Is this what you wanted?” I rasped, running my thumb over the head of my cock.
She licked her lips, and a glint shone in her eyes that told me yeah, it was exactly what she wanted. Except, as she watched me, she slowed on pleasuring herself, and the relief was bittersweet.
“Don’t fall shy on me now,” I warned her. “Put your fingers inside that pretty pussy. Imagine it’s me.”
Her lips parted on a soundless gasp, and I could hear her wetness from where I stood.
“Good girl,” I murmured. “Such a good fucking girl.”
Another moan travelled from her throat and trickled from her kissable lips at the compliment. Her hand moved again, and I imagined she was playing with her clit, unable to hold back any longer.
I smirked. “Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it baby?” As I said the words, she came, right then and there, looking like an angel but sinning like the fucking devil.
But I wasn’t finished.
Because right then and there, I decided I wanted to sin too.
As if warning me to stop, I could hear the melodic tune of my phone ringing in the distance. But I was past the point of return, and this time, no chance was a fucking phone call going to stop me.
Looking at the cleavage spilling from her dress, I said, “Part your dress. It’s my turn to see you.”
She gnawed on her bottom lip as I continued stroking my cock. Only now, I was holding myself with a softness I’d never got off on before. As I looked down at her before me, the slow removal of her hand leaving her underwear and the glistening of arousal on her delicate fingers, I wanted to remember every detail. I wanted to remember every moment so I could replay it again when the mood struck. So when she was gone, I could get myself off to the image of her, the thoughts of her, the fucking feel of her.
With unsteady fingers, she parted the material of green that barely covered her and revealed her breasts. My brows pinched, and before I knew what I was doing, I was leaning over her, holding myself up with one hand while I pumped my cock with the other.
“Your tits.” I gave her a sideways glance, groaning at the sight. Her nipples were the perfect shade of pink.
I wanted to take one in my mouth.
Shit, I wanted more of this.
More of her.
She was still gnawing on her lip so hard I expected her to split it. But her gaze… her lustful gaze, was on my cock.
What was she thinking? Did she want it in her mouth?
Fuck. I wanted it in her mouth.
“Blue.” I slapped my cock against her breast and watched as it bounced. “I’m about to come all over your tits. If you don’t want that, then tell me to stop right fucking now.”
She popped her bottom lip free, and then, like she knew exactly what would push me over the edge, brought a palm down to her chest and rolled a pert nipple between her fingers. “I want it, Nate.”
Biting back a smirk, I felt my balls draw up, and then I squeezed the end of my cock. With two more tugs, I came all over her. Strokes of my cum covered her from her breasts to her chest, surrounded by skin that looked hot to touch with the faintest shine of perspiration. I think I may have even stained her pretty dress.
Jesus, I hadn’t even fucked her, yet her body responded like I had.
She licked her lips, surprising me further by rubbing my cum into her skin. Turning my head back to hers, my semi-erect cock still held firmly in my hand, we locked eyes. I couldn’t explain it, but it was at that precise moment I realised the multitude of my actions. As if I suddenly had some colossal epiphany. However, it seemed that the epiphany was still to be deciphered.
A hard lump formed in my throat as I tried to swallow, and my skin crawled with a combination that felt a lot like guilt seeping into undeniable pleasure. If I knew anything, it was a sure fact that the two didn’t belong together. They felt immiscible, like oil and water.
“Shit,” I cursed. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
BLUE
I FROWNED, watching his face wash with regret. He straightened, refusing to look at me as he tucked himself back into his sweats.
“Nate.”
“No.”
Flinching, I smoothed my dress over my breasts and pulled the hem down to cover my damp underwear.
He tossed his head back to the ceiling, the veins in his neck bulging with the movement. I found myself hyper-focused on them, wondering why he was fighting this so hard? Why couldn’t he just accept that there was something between us?
“Nate. Please look at me.”
He swallowed. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t get to call me that,” he bit out. “Because you don’t get to come into my life and make me feel things I’ve never felt. Or care about things besides the things I already care about.”
I sat up, swinging myself around to plant my feet on the floor as I looked up at him. “I think we have something worth exploring.”
He snickered. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t belittle me.”
He closed his eyes and ran a hand back through his dishevelled hair. “We can’t happen. We’re never going to be something that grows roots and flourishes.”
I rolled my eyes. “Because you work for my father? Because of my age? Of our differences?”
“That and because I’m not who you think I am.”
“Oh, please. Cry me a fucking river.”
Tipping his chin down to maintain eye contact with me, he smirked, half-assed. “Does your daddy know his little princess has such a dirty mouth?”
“He isn’t here. You are.”
His jaw ticked, and then, with the same hand he’d brushed through his hair only moments ago, he held it out for me to take.
With my palm in his, he led me through the penthouse and then upstairs and into the large bathroom. The lights came to life as we entered, and then he let go of my hand to reach inside the shower. With a twist of the lever, water cascaded from the shower head. He turned back to me, eyes on my own. A silent question, one he needn’t ask. The only sound to be heard was our controlled breaths and water hitting the tiled floor.
I bent down, slipping off my heels, and then stepped into him. Affliction could be read from his stare, but he held my eyes as his fingers trailed my collarbone, my shoulders, until he pulled down the metallic material of my dress and removed it from my skin. His eyes didn’t waver from my face as I edged my underwear from my hips and arched to remove the flimsy lace once it dropped to my ankles. His want for me was evident as I climbed back onto the soles of my feet, his erection noticeable through the material of his sweats, ready to go again.
Unembarrassed, he held my gaze and then turned me around, encouraging me into the flow of the water.
I looked at him over my shoulder, his eyes not once falling to my body. He had more constraint than he realised.
“Are you joining me?”
He swallowed, then pulled the neck of his T-shirt over his head. I turned away, facing the shower to give him the privacy of undressing as the water cloaked me, washing away the evidence of his arousal from my breasts.
Moments later, he pressed his body against my back. His hard length nestled between us, my arousal reverberating through me once again. But as his head lowered and his lips pressed against my temple, and as his hands pulled tight around my waist, it felt like an intimate moment between lovers.
A moment, so he believed, never meant for the likes of us.
“The fuck are you doing to me, brat?”
My words were a whisper when I replied, “No more than you’re doing to me.”
