CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CECI AND CLARKE
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ceci and Clarke
Ceci
You called him what?” Pixel cried over the phone.
Ceci sat on one of the red velvet chairs in the living room of the Lord Harrowby Suite at the Biltmore Mayfair hotel in London. They’d arrived a couple of hours ago, having driven here from the Clarke estate.
“Sir Galahad,” Ceci muttered, looking out the window behind her at Grosvenor Square.
Pixel broke out in raucous laughter. “What the—Wait. Where is he now?”
“He’s passed out in the bedroom.”
“You didn’t knock him unconscious again, did you?”
“No … he’s just tired.”
“Aunt Delulu would be so proud.” Pixel paused. “You know, it actually makes sense that you would call him Sir Galahad.”
“During sex?”
“Well, no, that’s weird. But if there’s any twenty-first century male that’s channeling the Sir Galahad vibe, it’s him. But what made you say it? I mean, at such a moment. How did your brain even go there?”
“Rocco’s nieces called him Sir Galahad. And then the fencing and all the knightly talk.”
“Knightly talk?”
“Yeah, like milady. And what wager dost thou set? If I best thee, shall I claim that which mine heart and body doth most desire?”
“That’s kind of hot. So what was the wager? There was a wager, wasn’t there? Please tell me there was a wager.”
Ceci chuckled. “If I won, he was going to have to kneel at my feet.”
“And if he won?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. But I figured he wanted to come up to my room and we would have sex. I mean I could feel the vibes. And after Barcelona …”
“Yeah, that vertical sex.”
Pixel was right. Dancing the tango with Sir Leo Clarke was that good.
“So what did he want?”
“After he won, he dropped his sword, kneeled at my feet, and went down on me.”
Pixel gasped. “So he knelt at your feet anyway. Damn, that is hot.”
Ceci sighed. “Yeah, but now, I’m going to have to call him Sir Galahad every time we have sex.”
“Just because you said it once—” Pixel paused. “You just said it once, right?”
“Well …” Ceci paused. “No.”
“How many times have you said it?”
“At the Grouse Gathering or here at the hotel?”
“Start with the Grouse Gathering.”
“Thirteen.”
“What?”
“It would have been fourteen, but we got interrupted.”
“Interrupted?”
“We were in a broom closet.”
Pixel burst out laughing. “My God, the sex must be good. You were only there—how long?”
“Two days and two nights.”
“Okay well, so you’ve said it thirteen times plus however many times you’ve said it in the couple of the hours you’ve been at the hotel.”
“And on the drive here. Don’t ask.”
Pixel chuckled. “Fine. That doesn’t mean you have to say it every time. I mean it’s not as though he can make you.”
“Oh, yes, he can. I just blurted it out the first time, but he’s made me say it every time since.”
“What do you mean made you?”
“The man has God-like self-control. I mean he was inside me, had his finger on my clit, and he just kept going and going and going, and he wouldn’t let me come until I said it.”
“What do you mean wouldn’t let you come?”
“Exactly what I said—he would stop moving inside me, take his finger away. He would get me right to the brink and then just stop. I think it was the most excruciating experience I’ve ever had.”
“Then why would you want to do it again?”
“Because it was also the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
“Oh.” Pixel paused. “Why didn’t you just use your own hand?”
“Because he slapped it away, and when I tried again, he held it down. I was willing to give it a try with my left hand, but he held that one down too.”
“That’s not very Sir Galahad–like.”
“No, it’s not,” Ceci said, gritting her teeth. “They should take away his knighthood.”
“I suppose you could inform Buckingham Palace and let them take it from there.”
Ceci laughed. “Right. But you see my point. I had to say it. If I hadn’t, we might not be having this conversation. You might have found me in some rubber room in a straitjacket. And that’s if there were anything left of me they could scrape off the floor.”
Pixel laughed. “What do you think this is going to look like going forward?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll just go on as we’re doing now. Everyone at Blue Jet still thinks it’s a PR deal, and I’m not going to tell them any differently. I don’t know how Roxanne will feel about it. I’m not going to tell her, and I doubt very much Leo will.”
“So, he’s Leo now. No more Sir Stick Up His Ass.”
“No, he’s still Sir Stick Up His Ass. The man can’t change his essentials.”
Clarke
Clarke sat staring at his brothers on the big screen during their weekly group FaceTime call. Of course, they were all beaming. He’d just won another race. He’d been up on the podium for every race since Barcelona.
“So our little brother has his mojo back,” Porthos boomed.
Aramis grinned. “Both on and off the track.”
Clarke’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean off the track?”
“We have eyes,” Athos said. “I like the girl.”
“I do too,” Aramis agreed.
“Ditto,” said Porthos.
“I wanted not to like her,” Athos said. “Because … well, you know. But I couldn’t.”
“Same,” said Aramis.
“Ditto,” said Porthos.
Life is good, Clarke thought as he ended the call.
How could he have anticipated that Ceci Rivers would be the woman to make him this happy?
From the moment he’d taken his first bite of that Krispy Kreme burger, she’d begun to unleash the man he’d been before that disastrous ski down the mountain.