Chapter 30
Dom
The phone pinged again.
I had two phones in my jacket. The left side was my personal phone that I brought for my sisters just in case they needed me, and the right one was Molly’s.
It just added to the long list of reasons I was a dick, but I'd come this far. And every minute that ticked by made me more and more eager to know if Harry had unwrapped his present.
It vibrated in my pocket as I let Bunny paw at me for her own entertainment. She found me again after Harry left, but only because she liked teasing me. She knew I wasn’t interested in her, and Damien Priestley, her current fling, most definitely was into me.
I’d muted all of Molly’s other contacts except for Harry, and I’d ignored every single other message, including the ones from random numbers asking if the phone had been found.
It was only Molly’s email about getting space that made me hope she wouldn’t try to contact Harry.
And it was just simple luck that I hadn't been discovered so far.
I could see Mallory scanning the crowd, hunting for prey. She’d have already noticed Harry was gone, but she was too focused on schmoozing to seek him out. I was ready to intercept any staff she might call on to go find him.
I was more concerned that he was going to overhear Darcy and think I was fucking around. Though I had other plans.
I had the present posted to him yesterday with a note from ‘Molly’ telling him to bring it to the yacht.
It was just one more night of sexting, to treat him for winning the vote. That’s why I was making it special. I’d stop after that, put the phone away, and never touch it again.
But that’s what all addicts said.
I looked down at my charming companion, who was currently running her pink-tipped fingers up and down my forearm.
“Bunny, darling.” Her crystal-blue eyes met mine under heavily made-up lashes. “As much as I love flirting with you, we both know that Damien is watching us from the upper deck. Why don’t you go and keep him company rather than wasting your time with someone like me?”
Her lips curved into a coy smile. “You can be so rude.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t love it.”
She bit the tip of her finger, shooting me a sultry smirk before she turned and shimmied away. I watched her leave, waiting until she was distracted before I pulled the phone from my pocket, quickly scanning Harry’s text.
Give me five minutes. I need to get ready.
I jerked, staring at my phone wide-eyed before a grin split my lips.
Harry was supposed to say no. He was supposed to tell me I’d gone too far and that he couldn’t do something like that when there were so many guests milling around.
It was a shame that I wasn’t able to prepare the room for him. I would have lit candles, put on some low music, even done something corny like get black silk bed sheets or fluffy handcuffs so I could keep him secure as I slid the vibrator into his ass.
“Jesus,” I muttered. I stopped myself, heat going straight to my cock. Everyone else seemed to be lost in conversation and didn't notice my stupid smile as my fucking crotch tented.
I needed to find somewhere private where I could devote all my attention to him.
We had three and a half weeks until Molly returned.
Instead of finding Harry and telling him how I felt, potentially ripping him apart by making him choose between me and Molly, I was simply showing him how good I could make him feel if, or when, I fucked him.
Because obviously a silver metal vibrator was the exact replica of my cock.
My twisted logic was all I had as my eyes flicked up to the bridge. Someone was meant to stay up there at all times, ‘just in case’. But last year I’d dragged two guys up there and spent the rest of the night fucking undisturbed, so I was pretty sure I’d be safe.
I was tempted to go down and kick Darcy out of the room. Even if he was already balls deep inside that poor waiter. But it was safer to go up there. I could see myself doing something stupid like knocking on Harry’s door just before he was about to come and finishing the job with my tongue.
Even if that wasn’t an option, I still wanted to comfort him.
The energy was picking up. The sounds of the parties from the banks travelled across the dark water, mixed with the chorus of the opera. Every year Mallory hired the best, and every year they outdid themselves with bigger and bolder performances.
Five minutes was more than enough time for me to dance around grabby old men and horny young socialites, pick the lock to the bridge with the pin of my corsage and get myself comfortable in the captain’s chair.