Chapter 20
The crisp, evening air fills my nose and makes me realise just how fuzzy my post-wine-tasting head feels.
Four reds, three whites and five sparkling tasters will do that to you.
Gregory pulls my cream scarf higher up my chin and wraps my autumn coat tighter around me like I’m something he has to protect.
He adjusts his perfectly tailored, navy trench coat, fastening the buttons to the top of his neck.
The combination of wine and the knowledge of how his body feels entwined with mine makes my head fog even more with a need to be wrapped up in him again.
‘So, you never answered my question.’ The white air around his words is doused in the fragrance of sparkling wine.
‘What question?’
‘Would you like to stay over tonight?’
Before my impulses scream, YES!!! I remember one problem. ‘My clothes. I don’t have any.’
‘Hmm, well, I happen to think you look very good in my clothes, or better yet, no clothes.’
His boldness gives me an idea of my own. ‘If you want to take off my clothes, you’ll have to catch me first.’
I dash into the nearest row of vines. He follows, chasing me in a parallel row.
He’s faster than me but the grapeless branches between us stop him from catching me.
Cold air strikes my chest, wind lifts the tails of my coat and pulls my hair back from my face.
The chase is exhilarating. Knowing I’ll eventually be captured in his arms is even better.
He’s already at the end of my row when I try a dummy dart, first stepping towards him then quickly turning to run in the opposite direction.
He leans full stretch, his strong hand grabbing for my waist, turning me towards him.
My right foot slips in wet soil and my left leg struggles to keep me up, kicking helplessly.
I try to shuffle my right foot, my arms ride a bike in the air, a high-pitched squeal escapes my lips before I thud to the earth with Gregory falling quickly after me, squelching in the mud.
‘I definitely need a change of clothes now,’ I manage through delirious laughter.
‘That makes two of us.’
Gregory shuffles until his waist is hovering above mine, the weight of his body resting on his forearms and between my legs. He kisses me, softly at first, then tugs my lower lip between his teeth and intensifies his assault. ‘I’m going to make an executive decision, Miss Heath: we’re staying.’
‘That’s why you earn the big bucks, CEO.’
* * *
The receptionist frowns as she considers our mud-stained and sodden clothes but is quick to sign us in when she checks her computer and realises Mr Ryans has made a reservation in the Penthouse Suite.
‘Presumptuous,’ I say as the concierge leads us to our room.
‘Or informed.’
The Penthouse Suite is draped in heavy, gold-trimmed, red curtains that match almost exactly the regal carpet. An antique bar table is decorated with a crystal decanter and glasses. Through an open door, I see a four-poster bed dressed in what I can only assume is the finest of Egyptian cotton.
The concierge leaves Gregory’s leather weekend bag and a large Harrods carrier next to the dressing table. I can’t wait for him to leave. Gregory is calm and gracious as ever. He tips the concierge then closes the door behind him and turns to meet my lascivious gaze.
‘Get here.’
His demand is too hot to resist. I’m in his arms, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He kisses me furiously – my lips, my neck.
We move against one wall, the pressure on my back pushing my raging body against his.
We bang off another wall, messy, clumsy, then he lifts me onto the dressing table.
I pull off my own scarf and coat, then his.
With a change of pace, he unzips my knee-high boots, creeping the zip a centimetre at a time.
I push my fingers into the rim of his jeans and pull him towards me, grinding against him, the harsh material of my chinos pressing my silk thong against my labia.
The pressure makes my legs shift wider and he rolls himself against me, holding me to him with a hand gripping my arse.
Frantic, I undo his button and zip then force his jeans to his thighs. His cock is already so hard, it tents his tight, black boxers. I grasp it with my full palm, thriving on his responsive groan.
He pulls me forwards by my belt and briskly unfastens me. In one fast, rugged move, he pulls off my pants and bottoms. I’m exposed. My legs spread and wanting. The feel of air between my legs is enough to make me palpitate.
A low rumble leaves his chest as his palm cups my sex. ‘This is mine.’
I nod vigorously, delirious with the sight of him, rock solid and too desperate to take off his clothes completely.
He yanks my hair and his lips meet mine with force. I grab his arse, digging in my nails, then force down his boxers.
‘Say it.’
I stare at his angry erection. At this moment, I’ll say anything he wants. ‘It’s yours.’
With his right arm, he lifts me onto him, burying his cock deep inside me. We both groan and he waits, somehow restraining himself, giving me time to adjust.
‘Gregory, please!’
‘Please what?’
I lose myself. Lust and desperation take over. All modicum of strength and inhibition disappears. ‘I need you. I need you, please.’
His moan is close to a growl as he takes my lip between his teeth.
He lifts me, sliding out of my centre, then lowers me down, meeting me with a punishing drive of his cock.
We thrust, matching each other blow for blow, ravishing each other’s lips, tongues swirling, hands grabbing, squeezing.
I dig my nails into his back and thrust until I’m groaning with sheer pleasure.
He pulls harder on my hair and pushes deeper into me.
I press my breasts against his chest and bite down on his neck.
My breathing is erratic and deep, so deep, my head begins to fuzz.
I groan again louder and push faster, bouncing on him as he takes my weight.
Like a volcano, my internal muscles rumble to the brink of eruption.
‘I’m there, Gregory.’
‘Together, baby.’
He pounds into me again and bites, hard, on the plump flesh of my breast. I roll my hips against him as he drives into me, unable to get enough of him, my fingers clutching his shoulders as my body screams for release.
‘Christ, Scarlett.’
My nails pierce the skin of his arse as every muscle in my body spasms and I explode around him.
He pulls me into his chest, resting his chin on my head as we pant, our damp bodies moving against each other.
‘Let’s clean you up,’ he whispers into my neck.
‘Sleepy,’ I mutter.
‘I’ll take care of you.’
He skilfully removes the last remnants of our clothing as he carries me to the walk-in monsoon shower with my legs wrapped tightly around his waist and my arms gripping his neck. He turns on the shower with one hand, not letting me go, and holds us under the warm spray, kissing my neck.
‘Can you stand so I can wash your hair?’
I nod, already dreading the loss of contact. He places me down and turns me away from him as he massages shampoo into my scalp, placing kisses on my shoulders intermittently.
‘Rinse,’ he says, encouraging me to step under the water.
I do as I’m bid then he repeats the process with conditioner.
Next comes the shower gel, which he works into a lather over my torso, down my arms then down my legs, life finally coming back into my limbs as he moves his hands in circles around my thighs.
I turn and rub my hands over his shoulders as he bends. He trails kisses up my stomach as he rises. ‘You’re back,’ he says on a sublime half-smile.
‘As are you.’ My eyes fall to his hardening crotch.
He raises a brow, asking for permission, then moves a strong hand under my hair to my neck and pulls me into him.
I get lost in his kiss. His hand covers my still-smouldering sex and he dips two skilful fingers inside me.
I’m not fully down from my last orgasm and I build almost immediately.
I don’t need to open my eyes to know he’ll be pleased with himself.
He turns me away from him and pulls my hips toward him, guiding my arms to the wall in front of me. He strokes his fingers across my clit and back inside me.
‘Perfect,’ he hums.
Spreading my legs wider with his feet, he guides himself to my entrance then holds his position, his hips teasing me.
On one thrust, he’s deep inside me and I lose myself to pleasure I never knew existed just days ago. He pauses. ‘Are you okay?’
I nod my head, unable to speak as he drives into me, one hand pinning my hips, the other massaging my knot.
He thrusts again, this time more controlled, finding his rhythm, still reaching the same inspired angle.
‘Fuck, Scarlett, now you’ve given me this, I don’t think I can ever let it go. ’ Another gruelling blow.
I know his words are the product of lust but they lift me, together with the intensity of each attack, until I’m ready to tip.
‘Not yet, Scarlett. Together.’
‘I can’t, it’s coming.’
He powers forwards again, brutally. It’s painful but a kind of exquisite pain I’ve never felt. The kind I want to keep coming again and again. Another drive takes me to my limit and I detonate as he fills me.
* * *
I feel soft fingertips drawing circles on my clean, naked body as I rest on top of the super king bed.
‘Room service is here; wake up,’ Gregory whispers.
‘Strawberries and champagne. Is this the part where I run to the bathroom to floss and you accuse me of taking drugs?’
His brows furrow.
‘You have seen Pretty Woman ?’
‘Oh, right. Yes, I think I have.’
‘You think you’ve seen Pretty Woman ? It sounds like somebody needs educating. Do you ever have a movie night? Make your own popcorn, binge on chocolate?’
‘You might have to show me,’ he says, passing me a champagne flute and strawberry as he sits back on the bed, his toned torso displayed by his waist-high, white towel.
Picking up the telephone, he dials 0 and requests popcorn, chocolates and ice cream and asks that someone arrange for Pretty Woman in the Penthouse Suite. ‘Now seems as good a time as any,’ he says simply, as if none of life’s materialities are trouble to him.
With our picnic laid out on the bed and Pretty Woman playing on the oversized television, I nestle into his chest, turning the few fine hairs in my fingers.
The last two days have felt just like a movie to me.
An exhilarating dream of everything I never knew I was looking for in reality. My very own Richard Gere.
At some point during the night, it becomes apparent to me that I missed the end of Pretty Woman and Gregory has tucked me into the covers, still snuggled into his chest. His heavy arm weighs down on me, pulling me closer to him and his fingers gently stroke my hair.