6. Ronan
Chapter 6
Ronan
The lowering sun bleeds red across the Hunter Valley skyline as I watch from my office window. It contrasts with the thunder that rumbles in the distance; the sound matching my restless mood.
The door clicks open behind me.
My breath catches when I turn.
Lucia stands there in an off-the-shoulder pale green dress that hugs every curve and matches her eyes. It’s paired with the silver Jimmy Choo’s I sent her.
Her dark hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders. Exactly as I asked her.
“These shoes are too expensive.” She shifts her weight. “I could’ve worn the Louboutin’s you sent me.”
“You told me they pinched your toes, and the deal is to do as I ask.” My voice comes out rougher than intended.
“But Amelia noticed all my new clothes.” Her teeth dig into her lip. “She was asking questions.”
Fuck!
My stomach drops. Amelia can’t find out about this. About us. “What did you tell her?”
“Violet suggested I must have a sugar daddy. I didn’t correct her.”
“Why not?”
“Because Violet is on a sugar daddy website and I thought Amelia could think that I was, too.”
I can handle that.
It’s better than the thought of my daughter knowing I’m sleeping with her best friend... “I’ll send everything to your office from now on.”
“Excellent idea.” She runs her hand along the back of a chair. “Why did it take you so long to contact me again?”
I don’t answer her, instead; I ask a question of my own. “Who were you talking to at the bar last night?”
Her head snaps up. “Nobody.”
“Try again.” I step closer.
“Just some guy.” She meets my gaze. “Don’t worry. I told him I was busy for the next few weeks. I know I can’t date during our arrangement.”
A few weeks.
The thought of another man touching her makes my blood boil. I grab her hand, perhaps harder than necessary, and lead her toward the elevator.
“Where are we going?”
“To eat.”
“We’re going out?” Lucia narrows her eyes. “It’s not Friday.”
“I haven’t eaten today.”
“Isn’t that risky if you’re scared of us being caught?”
“We’re going to Boston.” When the elevator doors open, I place an umbrella over her head as I guide her through the rain to where James waits with the town car door open.
She slides across the leather seat. I follow, pressing the button for the privacy glass. The car moves away from the club. The place I never normally leave during the week. I planned to take Lucia on Friday evening, but I needed to see her earlier.
“Boston?” she repeats.
“I know of an amazing restaurant. I've taken Olivia there a few times when I’ve been in town.” Rain pelts against the windows, creating a cozy bubble inside the warm interior.
“She might be there.”
I laugh as the street lights blur past as we merge into traffic. “She’s a medical student. I pay her course fees and give her an allowance, but my daughter is not stupid to waste her money on expensive restaurants.”
“She might have found a rich doctor,” I joke.
I laugh. “Amelia, yes, but not Olivia.”
Amelia and Olivia are twins, yet they are so different.
I trace my fingers along her bare leg, feeling her shiver as I move higher. “Your skin is like silk.”
“Don’t.” But she doesn’t move away.
The city lights paint shadows across her face. My hand continues its slow path up her thigh, watching her breath catch.
“Open your legs.”
She glares at me. “Mr. Bridge—”
“Ronan.”
“Your driver might see.”
“The glass is one way, Lucia.” I lean closer, my lips near her ear. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me please you?”
“Please me, Mr. Bridge?” Her voice comes out breathy.
“Yes.” My fingers draw circles on her inner thigh. “I’ve regretted every minute of letting you walk away from me and not giving you what you deserved. I’m not that kind of man. I like to please.”
Her eyes lock on mine, pupils dilated in the dim light as thunder crashes outside, and her legs part slowly.
“That’s my good girl,” I whisper in her ear. My lips touch her lobe.
That’s not kissing.
I haven’t gone against the sodden agreement.
The agreement I made .
I lean back against the leather seat, my fingers tracing the hem of the pale green panties I specially picked out for her. Lucia’s breath hitches as I slide my finger along the delicate fabric, teasing her without actually touching her most sensitive areas.
“Please,” she whimpers, hips shifting, wanting more.
“Are you asking for more?” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
She nods, eyes half-lidded. “Just touch me.”
Slowly, I press my knuckles along her slit, applying firm pressure against the thin material of her panties.
She lets out a shuddering gasp, her thighs trembling.
“I want you needy and desperate,” I murmur, my free hand gripping her hip to hold her in place.
“I am,” she breathes. “I wanted to touch myself at home, but I couldn’t. I want you to do it.”
Arousal spikes through me at her words.
Her hips tilt upward, silently begging for more friction.
I oblige, slipping my fingers beneath the lace to stroke her slick folds. Lucia whimpers, her whole body quivering.
I press my fingertips against her clit, rubbing in slow, teasing circles. Lucia’s head falls back, a moan slipping from her parted lips.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I murmur, nuzzling the side of her neck. “Let me take care of you. Ask me to please you.”
She squirms, chasing my touch. “Please me, Mr. Bridge. I need more.”
“Good girl,” I praise, my voice rough with desire. “So wet and needy for me.”
She moans and I silence her when I plunge two fingers deep inside her aching heat. Lucia cries out, her inner muscles fluttering around me.
“That’s it, baby,” I growl against her cheek. “Come for me.”
And with a shuddering cry, her hand grips onto mine, and she comes for me like the good girl she is.
Ten minutes later, I settle my hand on the small of Lucia’s back as I guide her through the dimly lit restaurant to the rear table I booked.
We slide into a secluded booth, our thighs brushing together as I shift closer. The privacy of our tucked-away corner feels intimate, and I don’t worry about being caught.
A waiter approaches, and I order a sharing platter of specialty dishes, along with a bottle of champagne. I want to indulge her, to make this an experience she’ll remember.
As the waiter departs, I turn to Lucia. The soft glow of candlelight casts a warm hue over her face. “So, tell me, what do you want out of life?”
She pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “I’ve always wished I was an artist, you know. I loved art at college.” Her eyes light up as she speaks. “But my father pushed me into law. He said it was the practical choice. And I appreciate that now, but there’s still a part of me that dreams of traveling, especially Europe, visiting galleries and museums, immersing myself in the art world and the history of it.”
I can’t help but feel surprised by her admission. In all the conversations I’ve had with her father, he’s never mentioned her artistic aspirations.
The waiter returns, setting down the platter of delicacies and pouring two glasses of champagne. I handpick a few items from the sharing platter, placing them on Lucia’s plate, before I take a spicy prawn and lift my fork to her mouth. “Try this,” I say, my gaze fixed on her.
She takes a bite, her eyes widening in delight. “Mmm, this is amazing.”
My eyes dart from her eyes to her mouth as she savors the flavors, a small smile playing on my lips. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
Lucia turns to me, her green eyes shining. “What about you, Ronan? What do you want?”
I pause, considering my answer. “I have everything I want,” I say, but the words feel hollow, even to my own ears.
There’s so much more I want, but I’m not sure I’m willing to risk it all. Or start again.
“I see that.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if she sees through my facade.
I’m too afraid to do what I really want. Afraid to admit I want to do something so unlike me. And afraid of losing everything I built.
“We’re really different, aren’t we?” she says.
The air in my lung disappears like a slow released balloon. “Are we?”
“Absolutely. I can’t see you trudging around Paris with a map and a backpack.”
I help Lucia out of the car, guiding her into the private elevator that leads to my apartment. As the doors slide shut, I slowly unzip her dress, watching as the delicate fabric pools at her feet.
“Don’t worry. This is my private elevator to my apartment.”
“Your apartment? Not your office.”
“That’s right.” I place my hands on her hips, pulling her closer. “I wanted to have you all to myself for a little while longer.”
Her eyes search mine, uncertainty flickering across her features. “Ronan, why did you take me for dinner? It’s not Friday. What are we doing?”
I silence her with a finger pressed against her lips. “Shh, just let me take care of you, Lucia.” My thumb caresses her cheek, and she leans into my touch.
The elevator dings, and the doors open to my private sanctuary. I step back, allowing Lucia to precede me into the dimly lit space. She takes a few tentative steps forward as I reach down for her dress, watching her walk into my apartment semi naked with no shame at all.Her gaze sweeps across the modern, minimalist decor before she turns to me. “This is...unexpected,” she murmurs, running her fingers along the smooth surface of the granite countertop.
I move up behind her, my hands sliding around her waist. “I took you for dinner because I wanted to show you a side of me you haven’t seen.” My breath grazes her neck, loving how she shivers in response. “And because I wanted more than sex with you tonight.”
Lucia turns in my embrace, her green eyes searching my face. “I thought once I told you about Amelia, you’d have stopped this?”
I cup her chin, tilting her head up towards mine. “Lucia. I’ve wanted you for much longer than I can have you.” My thumb brushes across her lower lip. Our eyes meet and I want to slam my mouth on hers.
But I don’t.
“I shouldn’t want this, either,” she whispers, her breath fanning across my face.
“But you do,” I murmur, my fingers trailing down the side of her neck. “And I want it too.”
She smiles and a second later; I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her to my chest. Her feet dangle off the floor as I stride to my bedroom, kicking on the unlatched door.
“Tell me to stop, Lucia.”
“I can’t. I want this.”
My heart is racing as I walk to my bed, which is quite unlike me. Not the racing heart, but a woman in my bed and not on the floor or the couch.
But if we’re going to do this, we’ll do it right.
She lands on the mattress. My fingers are already hooked on her panties, dragging them lower, not giving her time to think.
And then I just look at her. Unable to take my eyes off her gorgeous tits, her soft stomach. Her bare pussy.
Her breath hitches, mirroring the erratic beat of my heart.
I lean closer, the scent of her seeping into my mind. “Tell me to stop, Lucia.”
“I can’t. I need this,” she whispers, her voice husky.
I trace the curve of her jaw. Her lips part slightly, and her eyes begging for more.
After taking her hand, I reach behind her, securing it to the soft leather restraint and then to the headboard. Her eyes open wide, but there’s not a flicker of fear in her gaze, only desire.
“Trust me, baby girl,” I murmur, my voice rough. “I will never hurt you. Just enjoy the moment.”
When she’s fully restrained, I settle between her thighs and lower my head, licking a line from her ass to her clit, tasting the sweetness of her arousal, and when I suck her clit into my mouth, she moans.
I pull back, tracing the delicate curve of her stomach with my mouth, and look up at her. “I’m going to own all your orgasms, Lucia. Every one of them.”
I slide my tongue over her hip, down her thigh, wanting to capture her taste in my brain.
Her breath hitches, another soft moan slips past her lips.
I continue, moving slowly, deliberately, as I tease and explore her. Loving the moans she makes.
She wriggles as I bring my tongue to her entrance, circling her clit, teasing with soft bites, drawing more gasps from her.
Her muscles tense, her breath is now in ragged bursts.
I pull back, leaving her aching, wanting more. “More?”
“Please,” she whimpers, her eyes pleading.
I bring my tongue back to her pussy, sliding it through her folds, teasing her clit, and driving her closer to the edge.
I stop, pulling back, watching the tears welling in her eyes.
“Please, Ronan. Let me come.”
“Relax, baby girl,” I murmur before my tongue slides between her legs.
Her breath hitches and her hands pull against the restraints when I press a finger inside her. And because she’s been so good, I suck on her clit.
I add another finger, curling them and finding the perfect spot.
She comes immediately, her pussy bucking against my hand and mouth.
I chuckle as I lap up her cum. “So responsive, so perfect.”
I can’t stop. My tongue separates her folds as I continue to lick and taste her, and finger fuck her, wanting to hear another climax from her lips.
“Oh. God!” she whimpers, the sound echoing off the walls as her pussy clenches around my fingers and she comes again. “Fuck me.”
Not tonight.
Tonight, her pleasure is my pleasure.