Chapter 10

10

L IZ

The morning finds me in bed, enjoying the view again, not knowing whether I'm home alone or he's in the house.

A cup of hot tea sits on a tray on the nightstand.

That's the only sign he has been here.

I fell asleep before he did last night, and I'm not sure we've actually slept in the same bed.

"Nice touch," I murmur, stretching my hand out and lifting the mug off the tray.

Tea and freshly baked blueberry scones.I'm sure he ordered them this morning.

I pick one up and take a bite before drinking tea.

Life can't get better than this. And now, I have, I think, the book boyfriend I needed for my story.

If this doesn't inspire me to write, I don't know what will.I can surely leave aside the not so palatable parts of his story.

My lead man will be a former army guy with a penchant for redheads and an oversized bank account.

I laugh, amused, while the voice inside my head watches me with an eyebrow lifted.

'What?' I toss at her. ‘You're jealous because I'm having a good time and a story for my book.'

She dismisses me with a curt gesture.

‘Oh, please… Get over yourself. Nobody cares. But don't you dare to come to me when your new man breaks your heart.'

I take another bite.

‘You don't know that.'

She waves me off.

‘You know I know that. And you know it too. Look at you. Living the life, thinking this is normal.'

Chewing on my treat, I toss words at her in my head.

‘Didn't I just say that you were envious? Yeah… I'm enjoying myself, so what? I know this is not my regular life. That doesn't mean I can't make the best out of these moments.'

She stays quiet.

‘What?' I taunt her as she seems ready to antagonize me again.

‘Have you seen how he treated you?'

‘Uh… Yeah. He treated me well. And I don't see your point.'

‘Wait a little, and you will see my point. When all of this is finished, done, you will remember my words.'

"Fuck you," I murmur quietly before sipping more tea. ‘I know all that,' I continue in my head. ‘And I won't refuse myself the pleasure of fully enjoying this moment because it's all supposed to end at some point. Honestly, that's why it's so enjoyable. Have you seen how honest he was with me?'

She says nothing, but she is right.

One day, I'll wake up in my bed at home with my old schedule in front of me. School, work, maybe gym, and not so great perspectives.

And that won't even be my biggest problem.

I will work my way through that, as my mother taught me.

But there is something else I will dearly miss.

The confident man in bed.

The way he treats me like I matter.

Yeah, yeah…

He has experience.

And he knows how to do these things.

He pays attention to me––what a novel idea––and I roll over for him.That's what I'll miss.

It's hard to follow that up with awkward sex, unreliable dudes, and lackluster personalities.

A lot of my fascination with him is fueled by the age difference and mystery surrounding him.

Add to that the fact that his life is different than mine.He has money, power, and women. And he travels a lot.

He has this house that looks like the perfect place to live, write, cook, throw a party, and have sex.

And I could get used to it in a second.

I've already gotten used to it.

I mean, look at me. I'm in his bed, caressed by 1200 thread count cotton sheets.The porcelain cup keeping my tea piping hot.

The blueberries in scones are fresh and juicy as if they've just been picked up.

The view is energizing, vibrant, and sunny, and the pool water is inviting despite the crisp air outside.

I fit right in.

I see myself bicycling my way around town. Shopping at a gourmet store. Sitting on the beach when the dusk falls over the ocean.

I see myself doing all this, and I don't care that it's the complete opposite of my current life.

The realization kills my joy. The voice inside my head is right.

And then another thought crosses my mind.

I might not be the first woman who has felt that way.And it must have taken him quite an effort to keep all those women away.

And here comes the kicker.

I feel so good about this life when all he wants is to stay away from people.

A door opens and closes in the house, jerking me out of my head before his voice rings on the first floor.

"Elizabeth?"

I can surely die of pleasure every time he says my name.

Elizabeth.

My name comes wrapped in his husky voice.

The name of a queen.

The name of a conqueror.

The name of a winner.

Elizabeth is a demure, sophisticated, irresistible woman who picks and chooses who she bestows her attention on.

The voice inside my head pouts.

So be it.

"I'm here," I say when his footsteps trail the stairs.

The door opens, and David swaggers in.

With a quick once over, he takes me in, a smile growing on his face.

"Do you want to go out?" he asks, heading to the bathroom.

"Out?" I ask, leaping off the bed and wrapping a sheet around me.

He wears sweatpants and a sweat drenched T-shirt that he peels off on his way to the shower.

His pants fall to the floor next, and then he picks up his athletic gear and tosses it in the hamper.

My eyes fall down his chiseled physique.

You wouldn't say this is the same man who rocks those high–end suits.

He lifts his arms and runs his fingers through his hair while walking into the shower booth, butt naked, and my eyes rove over his sculpted back and hard, delicious rear.

I felt some of the roughness of that body when I was in bed with him last night.

Of course we didn't stop when he blasted his load into my mouth. He untied me only to nudge me over and secure my wrists against the headboard.

I waited in bed, hostage to the shockwaves moving through my body, until he returned from the bathroom.

He smelled fresh, had a towel wrapped around his hips, and a mischievous glint in his eye.

The man likes sex. Okay? Let's start there. His sex drive is only surpassed by his imagination.

He connected my ankles to the bed and had me spread–eagled before he began a delicious torture.

He teased my clit––breathed on it, licked it, and rubbed it before stroking it with a bondage whip.

I thought I'd lose my mind as I was rocking my hips against the bed, trying not to give in to my devouring need for him.

Eventually, I gave up and started to beg again.

This time, I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to ram into me. I wanted to feel his weight on me.

And the sooner, the better.

When he came to me, hovered over me, and trailed my navel with his heavy erection, I wanted to scream my frustration out.

Too bad I was gagged at that point.

So kissing was out of the question, but grunting wasn't.

My satisfaction was immense when he showed some mercy and drove his hard length into me. I came instantaneously, which I didn't remember happening before with anyone else.

And that wasn't it.

He didn't stop.

As I was basking in the afterglow, he pounded into my body until a new tide rose and broke through me, and then he fucked me hard and fast.

So, yes.

I know a thing or two about that body.

He tosses me a side–eyed glance while I watch the soap suds traveling down his washboard abs to his semi–hard cock. He runs his fist around it and strokes it, his hand moving up and down, hardening the flesh.

"Where exactly do you want to go?" I ask, remembering our previous conversation.

"We can eat out. I know a nice seafood restaurant. And we can visit a friend's farm and do some horseback riding."

I move my eyes up.

"I don't know how to ride a horse."

"Don't worry. You'll ride with me."

I lift an eyebrow, my mouth open with a smile.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's going to be fun. It's a nice property. You'll like it."

"Okay. We can do that," I say, my eyes dipping again.

He notices the direction of my gaze.

"Come here," he says.

I step in his direction.

"Drop the sheet," he says, and I remove it and drop it outside the shower stall without disconnecting my eyes from his.

"What are we doing?" I ask when he nudges me to turn around and press my back against his chest.

"We're taking a shower," he says, a smile woven in his voice, his fingers brushing my hair over one shoulder.

He dispenses some body wash onto his hands, rubs them together for a rich lather, and starts moving them over my frame.

"Lean into me," he says quietly, with a rasp in his voice.

I do that, and his hands slide over my chest, run across my stomach, glide between my legs, and expose my clit to his warm, wet touch.

"I thought I was supposed to clean you," I say smiling, my eyes at half mast, the sensation pulling me into a trance.

"I thought that too,' he jokes, rubbing my clit with circular moves that make my core tingle and pulse.

"I love this…" I say and lean into his chest even more while he strokes my clit and alternates his rubbing with sliding a finger into me.

My hand falls back, reaching his groin.

"I think this will work for both of us," I say, cuffing his hard–on and sliding my fist up and down.

He pivots slightly to the side so that I have more room to move my hand, and just like that, I stroke his erection while he fucks me with his fingers, and time warps.

It's almost impossible to say how much time we've spent in the bathroom as the tension in my body expands into a vortex, and his flesh becomes harder than the tiles.

Teetering on the edge, I shift my mouth to him.

He locks my mouth, and my hand stops, but his doesn't.

He slides two fingers into me, and his hardness throbs in my hand while I sprint toward the point of no return.

He seems to be getting closer too as he steps in front of me, yanks me up, props me against the shower wall, and enters me in one move.

Needy moans rush to my lips, my arms looped around his neck. I'm nothing against his muscular frame.

Holding me against the wall, he enters me at a quick pace, ramming into me so hard I'm afraid we'll bust the glass.

None of that happens as he pounds into me ferociously, making me experience a strong high followed by long, sensual, captivating relief that puts me right where I didn't need to be.

Addicted to the way he makes my body sing.