Chapter 8
Leah
"Leah." Allister's deep voice pulls me out of the deepest sleep I've had in years.
It takes me a moment to get my bearings. Then his scent reaches me, spicy and clean, his body warm against my back as he shifts. He's fresh. Showered already. And I never even stirred when he left the bed we shared last night.
I hum, trying to find words, but I'm not ready. My body is a little achy, a little tingly. My legs throb, but it's more than just that. That near-constant ache between my thighs wakes at the sound of his voice alone. How does he do this to me?
"Something's happened."
He drags his fingertips from my forehead down my neck, and the shiver goes all the way to my toes. His voice carries that same bass-drum rumble, but this time something else runs under it.
"What is it?" I roll over. His brown and gold eyes hold mine from behind a tense brow. We spent hours talking last night, and I love and hate how connected I already am to him. He makes me feel safe, but his voice has an edge that says something's wrong. I wouldn't have caught it a day ago.
"The club in Chicago and one in Indianapolis both burned last night. I'm sorry, I have to go."
Burned. It takes me a second to wrap my head around the word. "What? Fires at two clubs? Is everyone okay?"
"As far as I know, no one was hurt. Doesn't look like a coincidence, though.
I'm so fucking sorry, baby. With Decker and May just married and locked away…
" He shakes his head, his hand stroking my cheek.
"I don't want to leave you, but I have to go deal with this shit.
I fucking hate it, but it's my responsibility. "
"You have to go. I understand. Decker and May will be home later today.
May was never going to last long away from her own bed, and Henrietta will be here with me besides.
I'll be fine. I was uneasy about telling her I wasn't staying at the guesthouse anyway.
She has strong opinions, if you hadn't noticed, and I'm not up to explaining us to her yet. "
The words are there, but my stomach drops anyway.
I run a hand over his shoulder. His body fascinates me.
Massive and powerful, but so controlled, so deliberate.
Golden morning light comes through the window and crests across half his face.
The half I can see wears a carnal look, like he knows things about me I don't.
"I had so many plans for us today, precious." His mouth is on mine before I can answer, his tongue slicing in for a taste before he pulls back, leaving me desperate to breathe. "Tell me again how much you loved the taste of my cum."
Heat blasts my cheeks. He changes that fast. From the brooding, caring protector to the filthy-talking sex god. Now, in daylight, I remember how he spoke to me. I remember how uninhibited he was and how it drew wild parts of me. And yes, I remember telling him how good he tasted.
Shyness replaces last night's vixen. I scrunch my eyes shut and cover half my face, shaking my head at all the filthy things he said to me. All the filthy things I'd said to him…
"Say it." He pushes my hand from my face, pinching my chin and squaring his eyes with mine. "Tell me. You loved it in your mouth, didn't you? Slick and hot."
I take a deep breath and giggle as I speak. "God, yes. I did love it. I loved making you cum. I loved how you watched me. All of it, I loved all of it."
"You're the first and only woman who'll ever have my cum, Leah. Only you."
I suck in a breath. Not at the words so much as the weight behind them. It's dirty talk, sure. It's also the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.
I sigh. "I guess it'll give me a chance to write. I'm inspired." I giggle like a little girl, and I can't remember the last time I felt this light with anyone but May.
"Oh yeah? I have time for a bit more inspiration before I have to leave."
"Are you sure? You gave it all last night. Several times, in fact, even if I didn't get to enjoy all of them," I tease as his face comes to mine, his hand moving up to tangle in my hair.
A rush of warmth spreads down my belly and between my legs.
"You have no idea how much I've saved up for you, Leah. You've created a monster, and the only thing that'll put it down is you cumming for me."
He shifts up onto his knees, the hand in my hair never loosening, and strips the towel from his waist to free the massive erection behind it. My heartbeat shoots straight into the red zone.
I reach over and touch him, learning him, the flesh of the swollen head slick with clear drops. I smile at the deep rumble I drag out of him as I tighten my hand, and when I look up his eyes are desperate.
"What about you cumming for me?" I grip and twist as he taught me last night, chasing that mindless lust I watched take him over then.
"Christ, precious." It comes out pained, his head falling back as he brings one hand down between my legs. His fingers slip into the wetness already soaking me.
Our hands work each other, his fingers thick and rough where he grips me, mine twisting and tugging his length.
"Who does this belong to now? Who touches you like this?" He squeezes harder, and heat floods me head to toe.
"You do."
"Damn right. The thought of anyone else even fucking thinking about touching you…" He trails off, his fingers slipping inside me, spreading the wet around and around. He finds my clit and works it until I'm gasping, until my hand pumps him without my telling it to.
I'm sure I must be hurting him, but I can't help it.
"Oh, God."
"Spread your legs, baby. Wide. Open up for me, Leah. Give it all. Take what's yours. It's all yours."
A sharp tug on my hair reminds me who's in charge, and I press my knees wide, the stretch of it shoving me right to the edge. I don't know how he reads my body this well, but he does. He's wired into something deep in me, the part that tells him exactly what to do and when.
"Push up into me, Leah, show me who you are for me. Show me how much you want it. Let me know that you want to cum only for me."
That's it. Any thoughts about the aching in my legs are long gone. So does the shame about my scars, about legs that will never belong on a runway.
I'm his toy, the one who takes his direction, and pleasing him pleases me. I can't explain it. I only feel it. The tension low in my belly goes supernova as his fingers press and spin hard on my nub. The slick sound of it, the look in his eyes as he stares down at me, they shove me to the brink.
My hips buck, and my voice breaks into a wordless shriek.
My hand grips tight and pumps the stone shaft between his legs as my body takes over.
I barely register the hot cream of his release as it spreads across my breasts.
My nipples tighten, and my body shakes, and Allister moans and swears above me.
Henrietta glares at Allister as he disappears out the door of the guesthouse.
He drove me back from his place first thing, and we've been here about an hour now, just long enough for him to make sure we had a nice goodbye before Henrietta showed up.
I made him promise not to let on about us, not yet.
I'm just not ready for the wrath it will bring.
The household staff has hovered around me for so many years, they're like family.
And just like family, they'll all have an opinion on us.
I just want to enjoy what we have without all the editorial from everyone.
You'd think I was ten years old, the way they treat me.
"Why was he here? Again?" Henrietta snaps.
"He just came by to check on me. He knew you wouldn't be here until lunch." My heart pounds. I don't know why I'm hiding this, but I am. "You should be pleased he's looking out for me."
She narrows her eyes and sucks air through her teeth, shaking her head, then turns back to her work.
She swears in Polish under her breath, chopping vegetables and dropping them into the soup pot.
For a few long, silent minutes, I scribble ideas for a book outline on the notepad Allister bought me on the way here.
I'm jolted out of my book fantasy when Henrietta drives a knife through a head of cabbage with a sharp smack.
"You know, you have to be careful," Henrietta gripes at me as she works. "People want money. This is the way things always are."
I'm about to answer, scrambling for some way to defend Allister without giving the game away, when the door opens.
"Hello?" It's Wilson's voice. He sounds like he's in a good mood.
"How did you get in?"
"Door was open."
That's odd. I was sure Allister pulled the door shut on his way out, and it locks on its own. Maybe it didn't catch?
"Wilson, what are you doing here? I didn't send for you."
"I came by to see if you wanted to go out. I know you're here all on your own. And I brought Henrietta her newspaper." He sets it on the counter, then winks at me. "Careful about what, exactly?"
"Ojej! People. Her money," Henrietta says, swinging around to point the knife at me. "More than before, now that you are queen of the castle over there."
"And I keep telling you both, Allister has plenty of his own money. Why would he want mine?" I turn to Wilson. "And what about you? I suppose you don't want any money at all?"
I may not know exactly what everyone gets paid, but I know Wilson can't be living like LeBron James.
"No." The usual twinkle in his eyes goes dark. "I don't. Money means nothing to me." It lands harder than it needs to.
"God, you both are on a crazy roll. I'm not as na?ve as you think, you know. I have seen the worst things that people can do, remember."
"No ba. Fine, I am an old lady, I know when I should stop talking. Anyway," she glances around at Wilson, "where were you last night?"
"Last night? I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, the car was gone. All night. I came to find you, and you were not here. When I left for the market this morning, still nothing."