28. Spencer
Chapter 28
Spencer
T he guilt I expected to feel when I woke this morning was surprisingly absent. I had no intentions of running again. I wouldn’t do that to Delilah a second time. I made my choice yesterday after being backed into a corner. It was either act on my feelings or risk losing her altogether. To me, it was a no-brainer. The alternative was something I wasn’t prepared to face.
I want this woman … more than anything I’ve ever wanted before in my life.
Is it morally wrong? Possibly. But unlike my father, it’s not Delilah’s youth that I’m attracted to, it’s her. The person she is on the inside.
She is currently sleeping soundly in my arms, and I’ve never been more content. I took her twice last night. I could’ve kept going too; she felt so good I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to fuck her into next week, but given our size difference, I knew she needed her rest.
My cock is as hard as granite as it rests against her tight backside. I’d love nothing more than to take her right now, but again, I’m going to refrain. I rarely do sleepovers, but Delilah is different. She isn’t just a good time. I want to keep her and never let go.
And that thought scares the fuck out of me.
Is our age gap too large for this to even work?
Does she even want me as much as I do her?
Fuck, I hope so.
I need to stop overthinking this and let the cards fall where they may.
Leaning in, I bury my face in her hair, inhaling deeply. That damn scent of her shampoo is my weakness.
I need to get up, but I don’t want to. I have a workout to do before showering and heading into the office. I haven’t missed a Saturday since I took over. But if Delilah didn’t have that job to go to—the one that I hate her doing with a fiery passion—I’d stay home and whisk her off to my estate for the weekend.
I’d love nothing more.
That thought only grows stronger as I lie here holding her. I’m not quite ready to leave this bubble we created last night and step back into the real world. There are too many uncertainties that lay ahead. While she’s still in my arms at least, she’s mine.
I lift my head off the pillow and place my lips against her shoulder.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper, giving her a gentle shake.
“Ugh,” she groans, scrunching up her cute little nose. Adorable. Her eyes remain closed as she turns her face towards the pillow and buries in further.
She’s obviously not a morning person. I’m grinning to myself as I bury my face in the crook of her neck, peppering kisses against her silky, soft skin. “Sweetheart, wake up … I have a proposition for you.”
I can only hope she’ll agree to my offer, otherwise my weekend is going to suck.
“Holy shit,” she utters from the passenger seat of my Bugatti when I pull up outside the black, wrought-iron gates of my expansive estate. “This is your weekend house?”
After an orgasm compliments of my mouth, I convinced her to take the day off.
“Yes, what were you expecting?” I ask as I push the fob on my keys to open the gates.
“A quaint cottage, maybe … not a damn castle.”
“It’s hardly a castle,” I retort.
“Maybe not to you.”
I love the serenity of this place. I bought this eighty-hectare property, boasting eight large bedrooms and nine bathrooms, a few years ago. It’s in the Southern Highlands, about an hour’s drive from Sydney. I had some extensive renovations done to it before I moved in, and one day I hope to retire here for good.
It was the view that drew me in. Rolling green hills as far as the eye can see.
I’d spent my life in the hustle and bustle of the city, which I never had a problem with until I came to view this property.
It was quiet, possibly too quiet compared to what I was used to, but I remember standing at the rear of the property—gazing out over the countryside as I inhaled fresh, clean air into my lungs—and I knew this was where I needed to be.
“Wait until you see the view from the back of the house. There is even a freshwater stream that runs through the property.”
“Oh.” She leans forward in her seat and observes the house through large eyes as I drive around the circled garden that sits in the centre of the driveway, I adore how unspoilt she is. “Can we go for a walk once we’ve unpacked?” she asks as I put the car into park beside the front stairs.
I reach across the centre console and wrap my hand around hers. “We can do whatever you want, but I’d like to take you into town sometime today. I think you’d enjoy it. We could have lunch while we’re in there. It’s such a sweet little town … a lot like you,” I say.
My words have her pretty eyes sparkling. “Aww,” she coos. “You say the sweetest things sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” I retort, arching a brow.
“Yes, when you’re not being growly.”
I chuckle as I lean over to brush her lips with mine. Being free to touch and kiss her whenever I want is going to take some getting used to.
Once I unpacked our things from the car and gave her a tour of the interior, I caged her up against the closest wall and we made out like two teenagers.
I could tell she wanted me to take things further than our scorching kiss when she kept reaching for the button of my jeans, but I didn’t bring her here for sex, although I do plan on christening my bed with her tonight—I’d fuck her on every surface of this place if I could.
For now, I want to keep things PG. I have so much to show her, and if I give in to my carnal desires, we’ll never leave the house. She’s the first person I’ve ever brought up here, and I’m looking forward to sharing all the things I love about this place, and the area, with her.
When I could finally pull myself away from those damn lips of hers—which was no easy feat because that woman can kiss—we jumped back into the car.
I drove us into town, which is so small, if you blink, you’ll miss it. I’m quite fond of its quaintness. The main street comprises of a handful of businesses that flank both sides of the road. A pub, butchery, small greengrocer, bakery, post office, antique store, and a small gallery stocked with paintings, photography, and pottery, made by local artists.
We had a counter lunch at the pub—a first for me—and shared a selection of locally brewed beers that were served on a long wooden paddle. It was an experience, to say the least, but I didn’t hate it. I like that Delilah pushes me outside my comfort zone, and I enjoy seeing life through her inquisitive eyes.
After we ate, we walked hand in hand along the main street to browse the shops. Delilah bought some meat and vegetables—locally sourced, and farm-to-table—to cook for our dinner, as well as bacon, eggs, and freshly baked bread for breakfast. I love how self-sufficient she is. I usually hire a chef to come in and cook for me while I’m here since ordering in isn’t an option in this isolated community.
When we reached the gallery, I stood back and watched her fawn over everything she touched, but a series of landscape paintings got most of her attention. That’s when I grabbed one of the business cards off the front counter and slipped it into my pocket. I’m going to call them when we get back to Sydney and have them shipped to the apartment. A special gift for her. A memento of our weekend.
I hope I get the chance to bring her back here again, but nothing is a certainty. I know how I feel about her, but am I the rebound fling my mother talked about ?
After we arrived back at the estate, we headed out back so I could show her the view.
“I don’t want to leave this place … like ever,” she declares, spreading her arms wide and spinning in a circle. I’m smiling as I watch her … I’ve been doing that a lot today. I love how she finds pleasure in the simplest things, and how my life seems better with her in it.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I reply, dragging my eyes from her to take in the majestic scenery before us.
“So beautiful,” she says, closing the small distance between us and fisting her hands in my shirt. “Thank you for bringing me here … I’ve had the best day.”
Leaning in, I brush my lips with hers. “Why don’t we head back to the house … I can light the fire while you get a start on dinner.”
“That sounds nice. I’ve never sat in front of an open fire before … I grew up with gas heaters. Today has been full of firsts for me.”
“Me too.”
“I still can’t believe I got to see some kangaroos in the wild … I wish I had my phone on me so I could’ve snapped a picture.”
I remember being a little chuffed the first time I spent the weekend here and woke to find a mob of kangaroos grazing in my backyard.
“I’m sure you’ll get another opportunity,” I tell her, reaching for her hand. “I see them around here often.”
Delilah laces her fingers through mine as we start our journey back to the house, which lies further off in the distance. We only saw a small portion of my property today. We are supposed to be heading back in the morning because her shift at the restaurant starts at midday.
I’m going to talk her into taking tomorrow off as well. I’m not ready for our time to end. I wish she’d give that job up altogether. My weekends are going to be lonely for the foreseeable future if she doesn’t.
I got my wish, Delilah agreed to stay an extra day. She mentioned she was hesitant to return to the restaurant after not showing up to what was supposed to be her new place of residence. I’m hoping spending the day with me also factored into her decision.
We drove back bright and early this morning—as the sun was rising—to miss the congestion that comes with peak-hour traffic. She slept most of the way since I kept her up half of the night, but I got to steal glances at her all the way home.
When we arrived, she suggested we shower separately, which I wasn’t a fan of, but she was right in saying we’d probably end up running late for work if we didn’t. Since I own the company, I didn’t see a problem with this, but she didn’t want to leave a poor impression on Marcy. I may have lucked out by showering alone, but I admire her work ethic.
We made it into the office on time, travelling in together. What I didn’t appreciate about the drive in was how Delilah sat on the far side of the vehicle … furthest away from me. When I reached across the seat for her hand, she swatted it away. I cocked an eyebrow at her in a silent what the fuck , and she replied by jutting her chin towards the back of Damien’s head.
Was there a reason she didn’t want him to know we were a couple now?
Is she embarrassed by me?
Are we even a couple ?
As soon as the limousine pulled up alongside the kerb at my building, her actions were equally perplexing, as she thanked Damien for the lift, and then said, “Have a nice day, Mr Prescott.”
She was out of the vehicle before either of us could open her door, waltzing that sweet arse of hers into the building. By the time I made it into the foyer, she was already halfway towards the staff elevators.
I frowned on the entire journey to my floor, or as Delilah would call it … I was being extra growly. On the plus side, Laura at least brings me my coffee the way I like it, despite my mood. But I didn’t enjoy being brushed off by Delilah this morning … I didn’t like it one bit.
I do, however, have every intention of broaching this subject with her the moment we get home tonight. I’m not about to force her into making any kind of commitment to me. It had been two days, and even I knew I’d come across as a stage five clinger if I did. But my cock had been inside her many times over the weekend, so I don’t think a peck on the cheek, at the very least, was too much to ask.
These thoughts weighed heavily on my mind the entire morning, and by the time midday rolled around, I lost the battle. Sliding my hand into my suit jacket pocket, I retrieved my phone and shot off a text.
Me: I miss you. What are you up to?
Delilah: I’m sitting behind my desk … working.
Me: I wish you were sitting on my face, instead of behind that boring old desk.
Delilah: Hey, no hating on my desk. And I hope HR aren’t monitoring our phones. You could have a sexual harassment case on your hands if they are.
Me: Come up to my office. Laura’s just left for her lunch break, so we have the entire floor to ourselves.
Delilah: I’m sorry I can’t, I’m busy.
Me: You realise I’m your boss, right? You can’t say no to me.
Delilah: Technically, you’re my boss’s boss. If you want me to come up there, you’ll need to go through Marcy.
Challenge accepted Miss St. James.
I lean over to grab the receiver on my desk and dial the ground-level reception. “Shay-lee, it’s Spencer Prescott. Can you put me through to Marcy Green … her direct line again, please?”