39. Cassidy
My bladder forces me awake, and I stumble half-asleep into Ethan’s en-suite bathroom. I sit there staring fuzzily at the walk-in shower, replaying the time me and Ethan spent in there after our crazy session at the dining room table last night.
He carried me into the shower and washed me from head to toe, supporting me like an invalid when my legs trembled. He washed my hair and combed it out in front of the dresser, applied ointment to the bruises on my hips and ass, and then dressed me in a clean t-shirt and tucked me into bed.
I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, but I woke a few times in his arms, his breathing lulling me straight back to pleasant dreams.
When I step back into the bedroom, Ethan is standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows. He’s wearing a gorgeously tailored gray silk button-down shirt that does evil things to his tanned arms where he’s rolled up the sleeves, and black, slim fitting trousers. The sight of the dark leather belt around his waist makes my tender ass cheeks throb with memories of him belting me into submission.
I ogle him for a good long minute…until I see the view out the window.
I didn’t have much time to appreciate it yesterday. I was too busy fearing for my life, and then being chased around the apartment.
“Oh. My. God.” I walk as close to the glass as I dare, wishing I had the guts to press my nose to the glass so I can look down into the street.
Tiny stars flicker in the purple twilight, skyscrapers silhouetted like heaps of black Legos against the early evening sky.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” There’s a catch in his voice, and when I turn to look at him, he’s staring at me, not the view.
Heat touches my cheeks as I tuck away a strand of hair to hide my face.
Then I frown. “What time is it?”
“You mean, what day is it?”
I throw him a startled look. “What?”
“You almost missed Saturday,” he says with a smile.
“It’s Saturday?” I must have slept straight through the night, and then straight through the day, too. It’s his mattress. God, it’s so soft and yet just firm enough. I got up once or twice to pee, but I must have gone straight back to sleep.
My stomach grumbles, and Ethan laughs when I press the back of my hands against my cheeks to douse my blush. “What? The last thing I ate was a mini burger. Emphasis on mini. This place have room service?”
“Unfortunately not. You’ll just have to make do with my private concierge.” Ethan smiles as he cocks his head for me to follow him out of the bedroom.
The living area is enormous, almost completely walled in glass, and furnished with sleek, expensive looking furniture that makes the few pieces of art on the wall look almost old-fashioned in contrast.
I thought Ethan was ‘owns a mansion in the country’ rich, but now he’s ‘owns a penthouse in the city’ rich too? And he seriously made all this money from what…looking at pretty stones?
Totally sus, but I’m just going to roll with it.
I slide onto a kitchen stool as Ethan heads for an intercom by a door leading off the kitchen. “What would you like?” he asks, hand on the receiver.
“What can I have?”
“Anything you want.”
I swing my feet. “Even pizza?”
“Even pizza.”
“What about nachos?”
“You’d like nachos?” he asks pointedly.
I’m testing his patience. I roll my lips together, looking out at the view for a moment as if considering. “What about sushi…?”
“Cassidy…” His voice comes out as a low growl—a warning. But I’m feeling loopy right now. Maybe from the deep nap I’d had, or the exhilarating rush of waking up in such a beautiful place.
“What if I wanted nachos on a pizza?” I venture.
I squeal when he rushes me, trying to slip off the barstool before he can reach me, but not moving fast enough. He catches me around the waist and turns, folding me over the edge of the kitchen island where I’d been sitting. I’m too short, but he doesn’t hesitate to hoist me up. Flipping up the edge of my t-shirt, he bares my naked ass to the room. His gray silk shirt brushes against my skin, and I break out in goosebumps.
“God, Cassidy,” he rumbles as he slides his hands down my cheeks. “You bruise so beautifully.”
“Not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“This is for being a smart mouth,” he says, a second before laying a ringing slap on my ass.
I gasp, pushing up onto my elbows in shock. That hurt.
I thought my ass would be at least a little used to it by now. “Ow!”
“And this is for making me want to fuck you again.” He stings my ass with a second slap, and damn it, right on the same spot as before.
I howl out in pain and try to kick him.
“Now behave yourself,” he growls, grabbing my hips and setting me down on the floor again.
I almost pout, but I realize I’ll look like an idiot. So I rub my stinging ass through the t-shirt and make a point of not looking at him. “Can I have a burger?”
“Whatever you want, my little fuck toy.”
“That’s no way to speak to a lady,” I tell him in my most officious sounding voice.
“Would a lady leave a puddle on my carpet and beg me not to take my cock out of her?” he asks bluntly.
I scowl at his back as he saunters over to the phone and orders us each a burger.
I mean…he’s not wrong.