Chapter 17 Aurora
Aurora
I huff as I approach the staff room. With any luck he’ll be out at client meetings today and I won’t have to see him. I head to the new coffee machine that’s been installed and grab a mug.
‘Ugh, seriously?’
The empty bean container taunts me.
I knew I should have picked up a coffee on the way in.
I was too occupied thinking about Freddie’s owner, Kate, and what she must be going through since I found something I wasn’t supposed to in the coat pocket of her dry cleaning I collected yesterday.
I’ve never met her husband face-to-face, but from all of their photos around the house they look like they have the picture-perfect life.
What was it Rafael said? ‘Loaded people have loaded secrets?’ Turns out, he’s right about something.
I drum my fingers around the empty mug. Rafael usually has fresh beans in his office beside his coffee machine.
Hesitation swirls in my gut, but the need for caffeine quickly outweighs it.
He won’t know if I borrow a few beans. And even if he realises, the guy’s an arse, but he isn’t going to begrudge me for wanting to start the day with a coffee. Or maybe he will. But I’m prepared to take that risk.
I head to his office, relieved to find it empty with the door open.
The coffee machine is on a fancy sideboard on the far side of the room by the dressing-room door, so I cross the newly laid carpet quickly and glance around to check I’m still alone before I flick the machine on and place my mug underneath it.
‘Jesus Christ.’
The muffled words come from inside the dressing area. A crack of light spills out from beneath the wood.
‘Fuucckk.’ Another drawn-out groan rumbles from behind the door.
Oh my God. There’s no mistaking it’s Rafael. He sounds like he’s in pain. What if he’s slipped in the bathroom and hit his head? It’s earlier than he usually arrives. What if he’s been in there all night, waiting for someone to find him?
I can’t stand the man, but I don’t wish him to meet a grisly end on his bathroom floor alone, either.
My heart flies to my throat as I rush to the partially closed door and ease it open carefully in case he’s lying behind it. I get it far enough to poke my head through before I look inside.
He’s not on the floor. Or inside the walk-in wardrobe area.
But the inner door to the bathroom is wide open.
I freeze.
Rafael’s standing stark-bollock naked in front of the marble basin, one hand gripping the edge of the counter like he’s about to rip it off the wall. And the other . . .
. . . the other is furiously working his dick.
‘Bloody hell,’ he hisses like he’s angry.
I suck in a gasp. The solid, carved muscles that are usually concealed beneath his suit fill my eyes.
I can’t look away.
He’s huge, and solid, and . . . so obnoxiously handsome.
He’s an arsehole.
A hot, sexy arsehole who’s masturbating with such vigour that it’s as if his life depends upon it.
His bicep bulges as he tightens his grip on his dick, adding his hips into the fray, and thrusting into his palm with determined jerks. His ass cheeks clench, two solid globes of marble as he fists his dick so fast and hard that it looks painful.
‘Just once,’ he groans. ‘I need to be inside you. Just. Once.’
I can’t breathe, let alone move. He’s no more than a few metres away. Close enough that the wet sounds coming from his dick as he attacks it curl through the air like they’re coaxing me closer. Inviting me to watch.
He curses and swipes his phone, turning the volume up on what he’s watching, then props it against the mirror over the basin.
My mouth goes dry, and I squeeze my thighs together, hating that my panties are damp.
I don’t even like him. I certainly don’t want to watch him get himself off to porn.
But I can’t deny he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. My head might hate him, but my body’s not immune to the sight.
Everything about Rafael Fairfax is so . .
. virile. From his thick, rich brown hair, to the sharp jaw he’s currently clenching as he breathes out in a jagged hiss.
To his giant shoulders, and the smattering of dark, silky hair decorating his pecs.
Even his torso is thick. He’s pure muscle.
I’d ache if I had to wrap my legs around his waist.
Not that I’d ever want to. Not in a million years.
He grunts, his biteable arse tensing as a female voice flits out from his phone.
‘The sweetheart neckline on this is so pretty. And if you look closely, it’s got this beautiful, embroidered detailing.’
That sounds like . . .
Bile rushes up my windpipe and blood rushes in my ears. I stare at his phone, trying to focus on the screen. It’s too far to see properly, but the moment she speaks again, I suck back a gasp.
That’s my voice.
It’s the video I uploaded last night.
How would that even come up on Rafael’s phone? I’m so specific about how I advertise my vlog. There’s no way one of my videos would have made its way on to the ads banner on a porn site.
Oh my God, this is mortifying. Maybe he’ll think I’m affiliated to the site or—
‘Fuck, yes,’ he rasps, eyes glued to his phone.
The urgency with which he’s stroking his dick doesn’t cease. He doesn’t break pace. He doesn’t even seem surprised, or bothered, that my video has appeared. He just keeps touching that giant, angry-looking dick of his with quickening strokes.
I need to back out slowly and pretend I was never here. I will my feet to move, but they’re glued in place like I’m standing in cement.
‘Aurora,’ he hisses.
Oh, shit.
My heart stalls, steeling itself for the wrath he’s about to deliver for me being in his personal space and spying on him, and—
‘That’s it,’ he groans, working his dick so fast there should be smoke coming off it.
His eyes are still pinned to his phone. His entire torso expands as every muscle in it swells and goes rigid.
My pulse thunders. In my chest. In my ears. My fingertips. My clit.
He wasn’t talking to me.
He hasn’t noticed me.
His teeth clench and he slams a flattened palm down on the counter like he’s livid.
‘Aurora,’ he growls like I’m right in front of him and he’s chastising me for something I’ve done.
His lower abs flex, and his jaw goes slack.
Then cum fires from the end of his cock with force.
‘Jesus Christ.’
He grunts as it lands heavily, splattering all over my image on his phone.
‘Uh, yeah,’ he groans, fisting harder and aiming the head of his cock at his phone as though he wants to cover it in cum.
My voice chirps out happily as I say something about hemlines, and he shudders as a new wave seems to overtake him.
More glistening liquid fires over the counter and shoots across the mirror before his shoulders soften.
He keeps stroking, the desperation gone and making way for a rich groan of satisfaction as he sinks his teeth into his lower lip.
He squeezes up his shaft slowly, encouraging the last drops out from the end of his dick.
They leave a trail from the slit on his crown to the shiny marble beneath before it breaks and he drops his head back.
He closes his eyes, dragging in a deep breath. A look of bliss settles over his face as my video continues playing in the background, filling the air with my voice.
If I stay here a second longer the chance of him catching me . . . watching him increases.
And there’s no way in hell I want that to happen.
What I just saw I . . . God, I can’t even begin to make sense of it.
My heart thuds against my ribs as I back away.
Rafael’s head is still tipped back, his eyes are still closed . . . and his hand is still on his thick, semi-hard cock as I turn and flee from his office as quietly as I can.
‘Why don’t you take a break and grab a coffee?’ Gabriel suggests.
‘Oh, um, thanks. Do you want one?’ I ask.
‘I’m good.’
He bends down to scoop up a meowing Benedict, who’s rubbing himself around his legs.
I’m going to have to ask Dove what the deal with his cat is.
I’m sure Dove said he rescued him from somewhere.
The way he dotes on Benedict is sweet. He doesn’t baby him, but instead talks to him like he’s talking to a business partner, explaining all the cyber-stuff he’s doing.
I don’t understand half of what I’ve overheard him saying.
‘Okay. I’ll not be long,’ I tell them both, already used to addressing Benedict as well because he’s constantly glued to Gabriel’s side.
‘Take your time. We have some things to check on,’ Gabriel answers, spinning his chair back to face his desktop computer. His fingers are already flying over the keys at lightning speed whilst Benedict sits comfortably in his lap when I leave his office.
Heading in the direction of the staff lounge, I can’t prevent my steps from slowing as I near Rafael’s office. The door is wide open, and his rich, deep voice is floating out whilst he talks on the phone.
I never thought about the huskiness of his voice before. The way it’s rough enough to send a shiver up your spine and set your pulse racing.
The way it sounded when he growled my name.
Walking past the door, I’m unable to resist peeking inside. He’s sitting at his desk, reclined in his chair, phone glued to his ear, and one ankle resting on top of his other leg. The pose screams arrogant, big-dick energy.
I don’t turn away fast enough, and he catches me looking. His eyes heat before he drags his gaze down and back up my body with an entitled air, like I’m his.
I hate that my pulse quickens and my cheeks heat. I hate it.
But what I hate most is the way my nipples stiffen against the thin silk of my blouse at the exact moment Rafael looks at them. Like they’re doing it because of him. Like it’s all for him.
I tear my gaze away and stride down the corridor.
‘Get a grip,’ I mutter under my breath.
I need to shake off the weird feeling I’ve been having since I saw him in his office bathroom this morning.
He was watching my video. He was groaning my name. He came all over his phone. He wanted to watch it. It wasn’t a mistake. That much is clear, the more I’ve thought about it.
Rafael Fairfax has my videos in his wank bank.
And I have no idea why.
Neither of us has made a secret of the fact we’d rather stick pins in our eyes than spend unnecessary time in one another’s company.
I’ll never forget the comments he made about my father.
Maybe that’s what this is to him – a perverse power play.
Perhaps he laughs behind my back when I look at him, all innocent, with no idea about the sordid little sexual fantasies he might have had me acting out in his imagination with that stupid giant dick of his.
But I’m not oblivious any more. I’m not going to do nothing. I’m going to use Rafael Fairfax’s secret to my advantage.
I’ve been unable to concentrate on anything except how I can do it. No wonder Gabriel told me to take as long as I want on a break. I’m too preoccupied to be useful. To him, at least. But to my father . . . to him I might finally be able to get somewhere.
I’ve been approaching it wrong, waiting for an opportunity to find out something that could help me.
Hoping that Dominic Ainsworth might visit so that I can ask him about the client my father had started working on just before he was arrested.
But I need to create an opportunity. I need to distract Rafael so that he’s not paying attention to what I’m asking him.
If he and Dominic are as close as I’m led to believe, then maybe Dominic’s mentioned this client, or told Rafael something useful.
And if he has, I need to find out exactly what that something is.
I need him to be so consumed that his brain doesn’t register that he’s telling me exactly what I need to know.
I’d rather kiss roadkill than flirt with Rafael Fairfax.
But sometimes we have to do things that make our skin crawl in order to survive.
And I don’t just want my father to survive in prison.
I want him free.