Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
CRESSIDA
Case Notes
Nicknames should not be allowed. They cause emotional attachment. He knows what he is doing.
As I climb into the car waiting outside, he’s right behind me.
When we’re both seated and the door is closed, his hand lands on my upper thigh.
He strokes his fingers up and down my skin the whole ride to his building, neither of us saying a word.
The car glides to a stop at the curb, and Soren gets out while I hesitate.
“Maybe I should go home,” I say.
“I think not. Get out of the car, Miss Knight.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap.
He nods and takes a deep breath. “Get out of the car, Hurricane.”
“I have an actual name, you know,” I mumble as I exit the car.
He shuts the door behind me and then clutches my hand yet again. “I know. I prefer not to use it.”
“Why?” I ask, confused.
“Because that’s what everyone else calls you, and I’m not everyone else.” He says it like the answer should be obvious. But it’s not.
We enter the building, and he takes the first elevator, pushing the button for the top floor.
Of course, he has a penthouse condo. I shouldn’t have expected any less from him.
The elevator ride is quiet, and I feel his eyes glued to me as we go up.
When I glance over my shoulder, I note he’s leaning against the back wall, grinning as he stares at my ass.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” he replies, amused, as the elevator opens. He motions for me to exit first, then he leads me to a set of double doors. He unlocks them, then pushes them open, waving me inside.
The first thing I see is the city skyline showcased against the dark sky through large floor-to-ceiling windows. He has two large cream-colored sofas with oversized throw pillows on them, and a wooden table in the middle.
He walks deeper into the condo, and I follow him to a large kitchen. The living room is large and airy, like the kitchen, and it’s all white with some light wooden tones mixed in.
He pulls open the refrigerator, and I see bottles of water, condiments, and a few takeout containers. He grabs a bottle of water, then turns and hands it to me.
“I didn’t come here for water,” I say, furrowing my brow.
“Yes, but you need to stay hydrated.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Of course, Soren would say that. I take the bottle but don’t open it, watching as he removes his jacket and tosses it over the back of a stool. He then kicks off his brown leather boots and reaches for the hem of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting undressed. What does it look like?” His tone says that should be obvious.
“I never agreed to have sex with you.” An impish grin curls my lips.
He raises an unimpressed brow and continues removing his shirt. Then he’s stalking toward me, and his hand slides around my hips to my ass, where he squeezes the plump flesh. “We don’t have to have sex, but we can do other things,” he says.
Pushing his hand away and taking a step back, I put some distance between us. “I guess you’re right. We can do other things.”
Reaching for the zipper at the back of my dress, I pull it down and let the garment fall to the floor. I am wearing nothing underneath, so I’m standing in just my heels.
Soren’s gaze drags from my eyes, tracing the line of my body with slow, deliberate heat.
His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching as though holding back something raw and dangerous.
A breath flares through his nostrils before he takes a single step toward me.
I lift my hand, stopping him. “Other things,” I tell him, emphasizing the words.
He gives me a skeptical look. “I’d like you to get on your knees and crawl to me. ”
I take the bottle of water and then sit on one of the couches, spreading my legs.
Leaning back, I ask, “Are you thirsty?” He nods his head but doesn’t move.
“If you want a taste, I suggest you get on your knees.” I wink and open the bottle of water, then spread my legs wider.
I take a small sip, then slowly pour the contents over my pussy.
The coldness on my sensitive flesh makes me gasp just a little.
The water running down my thighs and soaking into the cushion beneath me.
His eyes are trained on me, taking in my every movement.
“If you move toward me without crawling, I will get dressed and leave,” I warn him.
“That’s unfair,” he says, sounding almost sulky.
I shrug, still leaning back with my legs spread, pussy dripping water onto his expensive couch.
Not my problem.
I’m sure he has a housekeeper.
At first, I don’t think he’s going to go through with it.
I assume he’ll just walk over to me. He removes his pants, and his cock springs free.
I still can’t get over how fucking large it is.
He wears that look that tells me he’s about to fuck me over, quite literally, and to be honest, I’m a little excited for it.
He’s now completely naked, and to my surprise, he drops to his knees. I wonder if this man has ever been on his knees for anyone. But then I remember how he knelt between my legs. And a slow smirk touches my lips as I think back to that.
“Stop smiling at me like that unless you want me to take you right fucking now,” he warns as he places his hands on the floor.
Here he is, one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, on his hands and knees, for me.
His gaze is locked on me as he starts to crawl.
It’s quite comical, really, and at the same time, it makes me feel so fucking powerful to have a man like him crawling to a woman like me.
I’m not a supermodel, and I’m not filthy rich.
I’m a mother who probably shouldn’t be out playing games with a billionaire.
But no matter how many times I’ve tried telling myself to say no to his advances, I really can’t help myself.
The sensible part of me understands that this will never go anywhere—we are two completely different people who come from entirely different worlds. We will never mesh well.
But it’s good to live in your head with a little bit of fiction sometimes. And in my head, I have a man who only has eyes for me, which I currently have in real life.
I don’t know if he’s seeing anyone other than me. I haven’t bothered asking those types of questions because I’m trying not to care. We aren’t, and never will be, a thing, and I understand that, but at the same time, those thoughts flicker in my mind.
Should I ask him?
No.
Especially since I want it to stay just sex.
“I’m thirsty,” he croons as he gets closer, bringing me back to the here and now.
It doesn’t take long for him to reach me, and when he does, I spread my legs a little wider.
Then I begin to dribble the water straight down my slit.
I’m halfway through the bottle when his mouth lands exactly where the water is poured.
And I’m not sure what I expected, but as I hear him lapping it up, I’m a little shocked that he’s actually doing it.
His mouth feels warm compared to the cool water.
He grabs the bottle from my hand and sets it on the floor before pressing his hands to my knees and opening my legs farther to give himself more room to devour my pussy.
This man knows exactly what he’s doing with his mouth, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. His tongue works up a perfect rhythm before he slides a finger into me. Before I know it, I’m moaning, and my head has dropped back.
He continues his assault on my pussy, and I feel his fingers digging into my thighs. I’ll probably have bruises tomorrow, but I couldn’t care less. His mouth is a work of fucking art, the way it licks my sensitive clit, and with the way he’s finger-fucking me, it has a scream ripping from me.
He pulls away, and my elbows give out, causing me to collapse backward onto the couch. And then he’s there, hovering above me. Fuck, he looks impressive. His tanned, toned skin basically glistens, and his cock is so fucking hard and large, and it is pointing right at me.
“Soren,” a voice calls from the entryway.
I scream, searching for something to cover myself with. Soren quickly grabs one of the large pillows and throws it at me, then takes the other for himself as the woman repeats his name. He groans and turns, giving me a good view of his ass as his goddamn sister walks in.
She stops in her tracks when she spots us, and her hand goes to her hip. “You have company,” she says, as if that’s not blatantly obvious. “Oh, it’s her. Did you have your playtime and get what you wanted out of her yet?” she asks her brother, but I know it’s directed at me.
“What did you call her? Oh, that’s right. Journalist trash.” She laughs.
A flare of anger hits me at her words, followed closely by disappointment.
I stand and step past Soren to where my dress is pooled on the kitchen floor.
Dropping the pillow, not even caring about my nudity, I shimmy my dress up my body until I’m able to zip it back up.
Then I grab my phone and my purse before I slip on my heels.
When I have everything I need, I turn to look at Soren. “Lose my number,” I deadpan, then turn toward his sister and say, “You have unhealthy boundaries. Maybe you should start knocking before you walk into your brother’s home.”
She looks stunned that I would say such a thing to her.
“Are you going to let one of your whores talk to me like that?” she screams at Soren. I laugh, still fueled by the alcohol, and push past her toward the door.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Maya?” I hear Soren growl.
If I had that voice directed at me, I’d be cowering.
I know he’s mad, but I don’t care.
The elevator doors open, and I step inside and press the button for the lobby. I see him watching me, but he doesn’t do anything to stop me, so I flip him off as the doors shut.
And I swear I see a twitch of his lips when it closes.