Chapter 32
S eeing the posters of Crue’s bed, my heart jumps into my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I fell asleep.
I never fall asleep.
Shit. He’s gonna find me here and know how creepy I really am.
How did I let myself fall asleep? I was tired after everything last night—
Last night…
I didn’t sneak in here last night. Crue invited me into his room. He wanted me to stay the night. Begged me to.
I force my heart back down. I’m okay. He knows I’m here…this time.
Except now, he’s the one at my back, his arm along my stomach, keeping me to him as he spoons me from behind.
“How long are you gonna make me wait?” I hear him ask in a thick voice.
Wait for what?
Pretending I’m still asleep, I stay silent.
Because I must’ve fallen asleep working on his butterfly, our bodies aren’t perfectly lined up, so his growing erection presses into my back instead of my ass.
“I know you’re awake. Your heart just started racing.”
Damn heart.
I scrunch one eye. “What are you waiting for exactly?”
“Your pussy on my tongue.”
“Oh, right.”
“What do you mean ‘oh, right’? Get your ass up here and sit on my face.”
His hand grips the fabric at my stomach, awakening my own desire. I wasn’t sure I’d feel that again so soon after Mallory’s attempted assault.
I should’ve known better. I’ll always want Crue.
“I just woke up.”
“So?”
“So I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Fine. Go.”
“Mm, thanks,” I mock before sitting up.
I make the mistake of looking at Crue over my shoulder. Hunger is bleeding out of him, threatening to consume me whole.
Goddess.
“You better hurry. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”
My pussy throbs the entire way to the bathroom, making it difficult to pee once I’m inside. I want him. I want him bad .
I take extra time at the sink, running my hand under cold water and wiping myself up.
When I come back out, Crue’s sitting at the foot of the bed, arms behind him holding him up. Everything about him appears relaxed…except that massive tent in his sweatpants.
“Come here,” he says with a jerk of his chin.
After watching my approach, he comes off his hands, running them down my arms, past my fingers, to the bottom of my sweatshirt.
“Can I?”
He asked.
He asked .
I swallow and nod.
Carefully, Crue pulls the sweatshirt up until it’s over my head. Without a bra on, my top half is completely nude.
I don’t know why but I suddenly feel self-conscious, and with my pinky nail hooked on my bottom canine, I blurt out, “I have, like, no boobs.”
“You got enough,” he rasps as he pulls my hand away from my mouth, biting the same nail I just did before sucking the tip.
I watch him through hooded lids, wondering how a gesture so small can make me feel so much.
After kissing my palm, he places it on the back of his neck.
“I’m going to kiss you everywhere you let me.” His hands cup my jaw, and one thumb massages my lips. “Can I kiss you here?”
I give the barest headshake.
“Then I’m gonna kiss as close to this mouth as I can get.”
Slowly leaning forward, he kisses that thumb. His lips never touch mine, yet my heart races all the same.
After he pulls back, he says quietly, “One day you will beg me to kiss you there. Until then…”
Lowering, he kisses both shoulders, both collarbones, then both boobs, quickly sucking on the second’s peak.
A moan builds in my throat and I bring my other hand up to grasp his head, holding him to me.
He guides me backward by my hips enough for him to lower a knee to the floor in front of me, kissing his way down my stomach to my shorts’ waistband.
Hooking his thumbs in the top, he drags them and my underwear down, his lips never leaving my skin as he kisses down one leg, ankle, and foot, before taking the same path up the other side.
Crue leans back to see my body in its entirety. Feet, knees, thighs, pussy, stomach, chest, then finally, my face.
Through dark lashes, his eyes don’t even look human when they meet mine, the color almost glowing.
“Jesus Christ, Ever, you’re gorgeous.”
Goddess, I want him in me. Now.
“You should see what you look like.” Because I’ve never seen anything hotter than Crue Brantley kneeling before me.
I let my knees go soft and start to lower myself, but Crue catches me.
“Hold on. Not yet.”
Rearranging his legs so he’s sitting, he brings me forward again until I’m in a standing straddle over his chest. He reclines a bit, then helps me step around each of his shoulders so I’m standing directly over his face.
Only a matter of inches between his nose and my pussy, he says, “Now you can do your thing.”
“My thing ?”
“Rub your clit on my tongue long enough for you to come all over it.”
He asked, repeatedly. And now he’s giving me all the control.
I’m in control.
He won’t do anything I don’t agree to.
He’s not Mallory.
Biting my bottom lip, I prop my hands on the mattress, arch my back, then close those inches until my pussy meets Crue’s parted mouth.
Automatically, he seizes my ass cheeks, hard enough for me to deepen my arch, my clit in perfect position for Crue to flatten his tongue against. Instead of rolling my hips, I choose to stay where I am, keeping the pressure as I grind up and down on Crue’s tongue.
He’s not Mallory. This is different. I want this. I want Crue.
Tension builds between my legs, mounting to impossible heights.
Yes. I want him. I want to do this with him. This is how it should always be. My choice. My say. I decide what happens to my body.
My breath grows heavier and heavier, as do my nearly non-existent boobs. It’s right there. I’m just about to come. I can feel it… And then…
I don’t?
But I want this. I’m turned on. I like Crue. A lot. And I want to come. Now.
Why won’t it…
I twist my hips slightly left, rubbing my clit but I can’t find that firework feeling again.
I try right. Come on, come on. Where is it?
No?
No. It recedes completely.
I slow my movements. It still feels good. Really good. But it doesn’t grow bigger than a low sizzle, like a sparkler.
Maybe I did come but was too distracted thinking about coming to notice? Or did my overthinking stop the orgasm altogether?
Ugh.
I shudder and moan a convincing little, “Ah,” before immediately hopping off.
“What was that?” Crue is quick to ask.
“That was great. Thanks,” I say, realizing my mistake a moment too late. We don’t say thanks to each other.
“Thanks?” he repeats, his eyebrows drawing closer together. He brings his knees up, resting his elbows on them as he watches me gather my clothes.
That shyness creeping back up from before, I make sure I’m bent with my ass away from Crue’s face.
“Did you come?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t it seem like it? And why are you being so fucking weird?”
“It’s not weird to get dressed. I do it every day. Anyway, I should probably get back to my room before anyone sees me coming out of yours.” I freeze with my shorts halfway up my legs. “Unless you want me walking around naked for anyone to see…”
“I want you to be straight with me. Did you come?”
Eye level with each other, his light eyes probe mine.
“I don’t know,” I admit, then continue putting my clothes on.
“How do you not know?”
“I was about to, and then just…didn’t?”
“So you didn’t come? You just said you didn’t know. After you said you did.”
“It’s a confusing time for all of us.”
The confusion on Crue’s face seems to double, confirming my statement. It is.
“Why did you fake it?”
“Hello?” I shake my head and spread my hands out, but Crue just looks at me expectantly. Has he never considered the possibility that a woman faked an orgasm with him? “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
He scoffs. “Since when do you care about those?”
“Since you just sat there and made me do all the work,” I snap because bickering is our main form of communication. I’d rather argue with Crue than admit to everything going on inside me right now.
“I was doing what I thought you like.”
I did like it. I really did. It’s just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I lost it. And who knows if I’ll be able to find it again. Maybe last night did more damage than I thought. I don’t know .
I mumble, “Whatever,” to myself, to Crue, to this whole situation, but Crue only takes it as a challenge.
“Let me try again.”
When he grabs for me, I twist out of his reach.
“I have to get ready for school.”
“I thought you said your professor doesn’t mind you being late.”
That was before I subtly threatened to end her life.
“My father does.”
That gets him to stop. Because it is a job. I am his job. Regardless of what he said last night, I am.
Crue hops up. “You’re right. Can’t rush perfection.”
My bodyguard’s words don’t sound sarcastic in any way, yet there’s a blankness in his expression that keep them from feeling genuine.
“Aesthetic first, pleasure last.” If at all.
“Right,” he agrees with a nod I don’t believe for a second.
“Right,” I echo, eyes narrowed on him. Why is he being so compliant all of a sudden?
“I said that.”
Without another word, I stomp past, knocking my arm into his. Why did I agree to stay the night with him? Technically I didn’t agree, my body did. Annoying. My body is so annoying. First, passing out next to Crue, then, this…malfunction. An actual malfunction, too. The sensor on my door hasn’t malfunctioned once and neither did the lights. I turned them off last night in case Crue did something ridiculous like wait up for me, which he did because he’s an overbearing asshole.
He’s not an overbearing asshole at all. He’s caring, and if I could’ve collapsed in his arms and told him everything, I would’ve.
At his door, I hesitate before turning back around. His hands are on his head again.
“Crue?”
“What?” he barks.
That’s not very caring.
Returning his energy, I sass, “Are you going to walk me to my door or not?”
When he drops his hands, I see the butterfly I drew on his forearm, and a warmth spreads through my chest.
But then he says, “Sure. Just let me grab your collar and leash first,” freezing it all to a solid.
I slam his door in my wake. With a sharp tongue like that, it’s no wonder I didn’t come on it.
The only thing Crue says to me between my bedroom door and the kitchen is a murmured, “Take your breakfast to go,” which I was already planning to do for my own reasons but am now curious about his.
Before I can ask him, we’re already entering the kitchen, my father seated in his usual spot. The sight of him has my feet growing ten times heavier. By now, he’ll know last night didn’t end well and he’ll inevitably blame me.
Wordlessly, Crue maneuvers me to his left side, but again, I was already planning on going this way. Well, not on this side of the island—the chef’s side. I only wanted to stick as close to the outside of it as possible. So as confidently as I can, I stroll between the island and the custom Diva de Provence range, surprising the chef as he minces chives. I’ve never ventured into his work area, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I’d rather face Ryan right now than my father.
“Good morning, Miss Munreaux. How can I serve you this morning?”
Sickening. He’s beyond sickening.
“Miss,” Crue tries to call me back.
What’d he expect? He’s the one who put me on this path.
My father’s voice makes everyone else’s sound like children’s. “Ah, Never, I’ve been waiting for you.”
My eyes flit between Ryan’s, Crue’s, and the back of my father’s head, all three men expecting…something out of me.
I look at Crue again, his nostrils flared as his jaw flexes. What is he so mad about? He’s the one that basically called me a dog.
Is it because I’m standing next to Ryan? If I wasn’t repulsed by the mere thought, I’d get even closer to the chef just to spite him.
“Apologies, Father, I’m on my way out to make up a test.”
Crue frowns.
Keeping his gaze straight ahead, my father lifts his head. “Why do you need to make it up? Did you miss class?”
The same time Crue says, “No, she didn’t,” I start to explain.
“During the test, I was starting a different project for my professor, Mrs. Flemming.” She still goes by Mrs. I’m not sure she was being honest when she told Crue she was getting divorced. “I’ll be working on the project the rest of the term, so I’ll be busy…a lot more.”
Crue’s frown deepens but he doesn’t question me.
“Would you like me to make you something to take with?” Ryan asks, leaning toward me enough that I have to lean, too—away from him.
“I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.” Especially not now.
The chef returns to his regular posture before twisting to address Crue.
“What about you, Mr.—”
I rush to add, “Mr. Brantley was just telling me he doesn’t either.”
One hand on the counter, I turn a nice big smile on my bodyguard. Contradict me publicly, I dare you.
“Are you sure? I can pack you both something for later,” Ryan offers.
Crue’s eyes drill into mine.
“That’s not necessary. We don’t want Miss Munreaux to be late.”
“No, we certainly don’t.”
I peer over at Ryan, finding him watching me while he sprinkles the chives on my father’s omelet, probably trying to figure out why I’m over here but not wanting to outright ask and draw attention to himself. He’s smart like that.
I need to be, too. Why would I approach him? Nothing other than food, that’s for damn sure.
“For tonight’s dinner, I’d like a steak salad,” I tell him.
Instead of saying, “It’d be my pleasure,” he just says, “Pleasure,” making me want to scream at the top of my lungs. I hate this manor and everyone in it.
I consider doing it.
“Ready, miss,” Crue says more than asks.
My lower jaw shifts on its hinges. He knows I despise when he calls me that.
Forgoing any niceties, I skirt around Ryan. Both Crue and I ignore my father’s call for my return to speak with him. I’ll stab pencils in my eardrums before admitting to hearing that. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he can get up off his ass and come get me. I’m done making anything easy for him.
Inside my Sapphire, Crue breaks the silence. “If you’re not gonna let me fill up on your cunt, you could at least let me eat real food.”
Should’ve thought of that before he insinuated I was a dog that needs walked. I was trying to be considerate, letting him walk me to my door.
I was also, if I’m being completely honest, scared.
No one should be scared inside their own home, but that’s just a fact of life for me, now, forever.
“You should’ve just grabbed something off the counter.”
Also, my cunt is no longer on your menu, I almost add but don’t because that’s not what I want at all. I just need to figure out what’s going on with me first. I’ve never not come when I could’ve. I’ve had bad sex where, of course, I didn’t come, but the reason was obvious. This time it wasn’t and that freaks me out.
“I was trying to get you out of there as quickly as possible.”
“Why?”
He’s quiet as he puts on his seat belt, but then mutters, “For your test.”
I have a sneaking suspicion Crue knows there is no test. But if that’s true, why else would he want me out of that kitchen?