Chapter Thirty-Three
Elliot
“Earth to Elliot.”
I blink, the guys in front of me coming back into focus.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter mutters suggestively, but I ignore it.
He, Jim, and I are having a quick meeting to catch up on things since I haven’t been in the office as much as usual. Seraphine is in my office preparing things for a meeting I have this afternoon.
I’ll admit, I am tired. But it isn’t the kind of tired that sleep can cure. It’s a different kind of tired, the kind that sits in your bones and your skin and your eyes. It affects every part of you and no matter what you do, nothing fixes it.
It’s been days since the conversation about Seraphine and I telling people about us and I can’t stop thinking about it. Still can’t get over the fact that what’s stopping her from wanting to be open with our relationship is my son. My son.
I’m not giving myself the what kind of father are you?
talk in my head. No, I’m giving myself the what kind of child did you raise?
talk instead. And that has nothing to do with how Harrison will take the news.
I think most people in our situation would react similarly.
It’s a normal reaction, I guess. I accept that, even if I don’t agree or understand why.
But what’s really bothering me is that I raised a son that has put fear into a woman.
Seraphine is scared of Harrison finding out about us.
Not scared of him in the sense that he’ll be aggressive, but she’s terrified he will ruin her life or at the very least, make it more difficult.
The job is just an excuse, just something to make this worse because she doesn’t want me to see how much she’s worried about Harrison.
She’s dumbing it down for me, maybe because she thinks it’ll help or maybe because she’s ashamed.
Either way, I don’t fucking like it. The only way I’m going to get her to realize that Harrison is nothing to fear is by showing her that she can rise above him.
She can overcome whatever it is he throws at her because it doesn’t matter. What matters is us—her and I.
“Let’s catch up tomorrow,” I say, getting to my feet and interrupting a conversation that Jim and Peter were having without me. They both look at me concerned.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jim asks as he stands from his chair.
“Of course.”
We move toward the door, and Peter pulls it open as I take out my phone.
“I’m going to make a phone call. Let Seraphine know I’ll be there in a moment, if she asks.
“Sure thing, boss,” Jim says, and they both leave the conference room. I shut the door, and move to the window, looking out at Seattle as I call my son.
I don’t expect him to answer, and he doesn’t need to. What I have to say will be just as good in a voice message.
I’ve never thought him spoiled before, just privileged.
He was never ungrateful for all he had, but he did grow used to it.
That is definitely my fault, and not something I ever cared about before.
So what if he grew used to a certain lifestyle?
It’s not like he was sitting on his ass, doing drugs, and getting people pregnant left and right.
He’s in school to become a lawyer. Soon enough, he’ll be making plenty of his own money and won’t need mine any longer.
But this attitude and disregard for other people’s emotions… Where did it come from?
Is Seraphine making him crazy? She’s making me crazy and not even on purpose, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it was her. Though, he only has himself to blame for that.
He fucked it up.
“Hello?”
I’m caught off guard when I hear Harrison’s voice on the line.
“I hadn’t expected you to answer.”
“Then why did you call?”
“Guess I’m hopeful,” I comment.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“Since there’s been some time for you to clear your head, I wanted to touch base on what happened at Seraphine’s apartment.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about what I said, Harrison. It wasn’t an empty threat. If you do one thing, and I mean one, even if it’s something insignificant, I will cut you off so fast your head will spin.”
He scoffs. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that before.”
“I don’t know what your plan is here, Dad. But if it’s to get into Seraphine’s pants, you’re barking up the wrong tree. She’s a bit of a prude.”
It’s a good thing we aren’t standing face to face because the way my face just screwed up would have given me away.
“Why in the world would you think that’s my goal coming out of this?”
I leave out wanting to say, “because I already have her.”
“I’ve never seen you go to bat for someone before. Not like this.”
“Seraphine isn’t like you and your sister, Harrison. She needs someone to speak for her. She needs to know someone is on her side.”
“And what makes you think it needs to be you?” he spits out.
“I’m cleaning up the mess you made. Don’t forget that.”
“How could I? You constantly throw it in my face.”
“And I will do so until I feel it is no longer necessary.”
“Yep, great chat.”
The line goes dead and for a moment, I don’t move. He still isn’t taking me seriously. The only way to make him realize how serious I am is to show him. So that’s what I’ll do.
“Faster. Please, go faster,” I plead, my hips bucking in time with her hand. I’m not even sure how we got here. One minute we were eating dinner, the next, she was sucking me off under the table. My hands remained on the arms of the chair the entire time, squeezing so hard the wood creaks.
Seraphine likes being in charge. Likes seeing me plead for her to give me pleasure. She likes the way I look at her, how I give in to her, how I’m vulnerable in front of her. So many things I do, that come naturally to me around her, is what she eats up.
“Fuck, please,” I growl.
She smiles up at me, her gaze darting to my hand holding the chair for a split second before going back to my eyes.
I could easily swipe her hand away and jerk myself off. Make myself come in seconds. But where is the fun in that? She likes seeing me push my limits and straddle the line of nearly losing it.
“You’ll make a mess all over the table.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I pant. “Please just let me come.”
She stops completely, dropping her hand from my dick and I whimper. It comes out accidentally, but the look on her face makes me want to do it again.
My cock bobs, the tip glistening with precum. I’m aching, dizzy, in desperate need to release all this built-up tension.
“Seraphine,” I whine.
“I love seeing you like this,” she whispers as she gets to her feet and steps back.
“Where are you going?”
“Just looking at you.”
“I want you to touch me, not look at me.”
“Let me watch you,” she says softly.
“No. I want you to do it.”
“I want to watch.”
“I want you to touch me,” I growl. “I need your hands on me. I need you to make me feel good.”
I’ve never been so needy in my life, and if I weren’t this horny, I’d laugh at how pathetic I sound. Because really, this is pathetic, but goddamn, this woman drives me insane.
“Please, sweetness. Please just make me come.” I don’t remember the last time I cried, but I feel this odd swirl of emotion lingering behind my eyes.
Seraphine moves toward me, and I let out a sigh of relief. I may die if she doesn’t touch me.
Leaning over me, she reaches down to grab my dick and slowly starts jerking me again. She bites my bottom lip, tugging on it before releasing it then coming back in for a kiss. It’s slow, heated, her tongue stroking mine. She moves her hand faster, my hips thrusting.
She moans into my mouth, and I’m a goner.
My stomach muscles tense, my body giving in to the pleasure.
The orgasm consumes me, my hot load spraying all over my chest and stomach.
The relief is instant, and while I catch my breath, Seraphine drags her fingers through my cum, painting it all over my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper, gasping for air. “Fuck, thank you.”
I pull her to me, turning to lay her down on the table.
I scoot the chair in and lap at her pussy like it’s a melting ice cream cone and we’re sitting under a hot tropical island sun.
I tug on her nipples, massage her breasts, and finger her until she’s squirting all over me, mixing with the cum on my chest.
We shower, go to bed, and wake up the next morning to go to work.