Chapter 19
Nathan
A cold, wet nose was pressed against my neck while a soft, hairy tail was flicking against my mouth.
It wasn’t the best way to wake up, but certainly not the worst, either.
The best would have been to feel Vincent’s lips on the back of my neck and his thick cock buried deep inside of me.
Despite my sore ass, I would have welcomed him sliding into my body again.
Less than twelve hours had passed since he’d pushed his thickness inside of me, and I was feeling the loss.
I’d come more in the last few hours than I had in the last year, but it wasn’t enough.
Even if he’d just gotten me off with his hand like he had in the shower or in the early morning hours as he’d slid his dick between the crease of my ass and humped against me as he’d jerked me to completion, I would have been more than happy.
But it had been far too long since I’d felt that sense of satisfaction come over me.
I knew without looking that Vincent wasn’t in bed with me anymore.
I used my hand to push Mickey’s tail out of my face so I could check the clock on the nightstand.
It was barely after nine in the morning.
Not particularly late, but late for me. I couldn’t allow myself to get used to this – the long nights of pleasure, the sleeping in, the not needing to answer Preston’s endless calls or prepare myself for the next interview or speech.
Even though certain parts of my life could never go back to the way they’d been, I still had a life to get back to. It had just become a hell of a lot more complicated in the past twenty-four hours.
I let my fingers slide through Mickey’s fur for a moment as I thought about the young man who’d likely named the cat and his sister.
I still hadn’t seen any pictures of David, but I was more than curious now to know what kind of man had held Vincent’s heart for so long.
Of course, part of me didn’t really want to know, because I’d never be able to compete with what they’d had.
And the fact that I was even thinking about it that way – like I was competing for something that belonged to a dead man – was too fucked up to consider for too long.
I carefully sat up, forcing the cat to move away.
He gave me an irritated look and then jumped off the bed and stalked from the room, his tail high and proud.
I glanced around the bedroom, admiring it in the light of day since I’d barely noticed it the night before when I’d stormed into Vincent’s room, not caring about his privacy in the least. I still couldn’t believe the sight that had greeted me in that shower.
I could feel the color rising in my cheeks as I once again saw all the scratch marks I’d left on Vincent’s back…and farther south.
I chuckled to myself as I remembered how Virginia used to always accuse me of being cold in bed.
If she only knew…
Vincent’s room, like the rest of the house, had a certain sterility about it.
Mostly because it lacked anything personal.
It was done in mainly white and black colors, and there were no pictures on the walls or any of the furnishings.
He had a huge bookshelf along one wall that was stocked full of books to the point it almost looked messy.
I got up and went to look at some of the titles and then smiled to myself as I realized what they were.
Children’s novels…old ones. The classics.
There were endless copies of books from the Hardy Boys series, Nancy Drew, and The Black Stallion.
They were carefully organized in order and most of then looked old and worn, like they’d been read dozens and dozens of times.
There was a shelf with some more modern mystery and horror books, but most of the bookcase had the older, children’s collections.
I carefully pulled one of the Hardy Boys books out and flipped it open.
The inside cover had a short missive scrawled inside of it.
For David.
Always…Vincent.
My heart broke at the short note and when I checked a few more books, I saw the same message. Not in all of the books, but in many of them.
I quickly returned the books as they’d been.
What had started off as simple curiosity left me with mixed feelings, and I hurriedly made my way back to my room to get dressed.
I could smell the telltale signs of bacon cooking and coffee brewing, so I pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from my bag.
I’d really need to do laundry soon, because most of my clothes were either covered in grass stains or the proof of my sexual awakening.
I smiled to myself as I hurried to the bathroom to use the toilet and brush my teeth.
I still looked a mess, but in a well-used kind of way, and I had no particular desire to change anything about my mussed-up hair or flushed skin.
It wasn’t like Vincent didn’t know what he’d turned me into.
God knew he’d had me begging for release often enough in the past few hours as he’d jacked me off while spewing his cum all over my ass.
I hadn’t even been functional enough to participate in him cleaning me up with a washcloth.
But the second I stepped into the kitchen, I realized I most definitely should have taken the time to get cleaned up. Because standing at the stove was not the dark-haired, hard man who’d somehow wormed his way beneath my skin in the span of a matter of days.
Nope, I was staring at the now familiar back of my idol.
“Ah, Nathan, good morning,” Everett said when he turned around. He was wearing a simple black apron that was protecting his dress clothes from the bacon that was sputtering in a pool of grease on the stove.
“Mr. President,” I said as I quickly ran my fingers through my hair.
“What did I tell you about that Mr. President nonsense last night?” Everett chided as he began searching out a couple of plates.
Two plates.
Damn. Where was Vincent?
“Where is he?” I asked before I could think better of it.
Everett’s sharp eyes held mine for a moment.
“He had some things to do this morning and asked me to stop by and keep you company.” Everett’s eyes went past me and I turned to spy Nash standing in the hallway leading towards the garage.
The younger man’s eyes met Everett’s, but I couldn’t discern the expression in his gaze as they stared at each other.
My eyes fell to the gun sticking out from Nash’s jacket.
I swallowed hard. Vincent had let the man into his house armed.
Even after all the crap that had gone down yesterday when Nash had refused to put his weapons in the trunk.
“Where is he?” I asked again, hating the twinge of worry that seeped into my voice.
“I don’t know,” Everett said with a sigh, and then he was turning off the stove and reaching for the coffee pot.
“He just said he had some place to be and that if he wasn’t back tonight, to take you back to my house with me.
It isn’t like this place,” Everett said as he waved his hand in the air.
“But Nash can call in some more agents if needed.”
The fucking bastard had left me.
And I knew exactly why.
All that shit he’d spouted about me being an equal participant…
Anger went through me and I was half-tempted to chuck the mug Everett slid in my direction against the wall. Right after the fury came the stark fear. What if the guy who’d tried to kill me got the drop on Vincent somehow?
“Call him,” I said.
“He won’t answer,” Everett said as he filled his mug with coffee. “I already tried.”
I didn’t know what that meant, nor did I care. But I could tell Everett wasn’t exactly thrilled with the circumstances.
“Bastard,” I muttered. “Not you,” I said as I glanced up at Everett.
Everett smiled and then went to fill my mug. “That he is.”
I put my hand over the top of the mug before he could pour and Everett immediately pulled back. “You said he won’t answer, right?” I asked.
Everett shook his head. “When he’s working…”
I nodded in understanding. I glanced at the watch on my wrist and then quickly took it off. “You might want to go home, Mr. President,” I said as I put the watch on the counter and then reached for the mug.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t,” he said with a smile, and then he leaned back and put the coffee pot down.
He grabbed his own mug and took a sip as I proceeded to use my mug to pound the watch into oblivion.
Once both it and the mug were destroyed, I went around the island and got a new mug.
“Looks good,” I said as I looked at the food Everett had been cooking.
Everett chuckled and said, “I think you’ll do fine, Nathan Wilder. I think you’ll do just fine.”
“Ignore it,” Everett said for the third time to Nash as his phone began ringing.
The man had declined to join us for breakfast, though I’d been the one to extend the invitation, not Everett.
I had the clear feeling that Everett and his Secret Service agent were at odds, but for whatever reason, Everett hadn’t fired the man after yesterday’s fiasco.
Nash’s phone went silent and Everett’s began to vibrate again.
He’d turned it to silent after the first three times Vincent had called, and he’d resorted to turning it over on the table so he wouldn’t have to read the texts that kept pinging on the phone.
After smashing the watch, I’d used a chair to reach the singular security camera in the kitchen and had tossed a dishtowel over the thing.
I figured if we didn’t move around, whatever motion detectors Vincent had in the house wouldn’t alert him to our presence.
I knew I was courting trouble, but I didn’t give a shit.
Vincent might have a lot to say to me when he got back, but he was going to get an earful, too.