Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Flora
What the fuck had I been thinking when I came down here?
Clearly, thought and common sense had no part in the situation I now found myself in.
I had come back from drinks and dinner, and had gone straight to my own rooms. After last time I was not risking another almost moment with Maurizio, especially now, knowing that hitting on his nannies was common for him.
I liked him, a lot, but if he thought my salary each month included me, all of me, the intimate parts of me, he was wrong.
I refused to be a notch on his bedpost and more than that, I would not prostitute myself into an entirely compromised position with my boss.
I’d talked it through that evening with Ash.
We’d met fairly regularly since we’d been introduced, with and without the children we cared for and although it had only been a few weeks, we’d become close and our friendship had grown.
Tonight we’d agreed that I deserved better.
Me and Maurizio, together, had mistake written all over it.
In fairness to Ash, he hadn’t done much talking but had done plenty of listening and that was perhaps what I’d needed, a sounding board to confirm all of the things I knew.
Yet, here I was, having decided that going to bed alone, touching myself whilst thinking of him was a bad idea, I was standing in front of him having choked on the hideous tasting whiskey he’d been nursing. His thumb had skimmed from my cheek to my neck and now it was pressing against my lips.
God! He was gorgeous and did things to me nobody else ever had.
My body reacted to him, to his mere presence on the most basic level.
Just being in his company saw my pulse racing, my skin flushing, my breath hitching and between my nipples pebbling and my nether regions softening and moistening, there was no doubting how desirable I found him or how turned on he made me.
He was as near to perfect as could ever exist.
Gazing up as his thumb pressed against my mouth, all thoughts of my conversation with Ash had disappeared from my mind.
I couldn’t deny how much I wanted him. How much my body needed him.
I knew I should stop this because there were only so many of these encounters we could share before I was going to find myself fucked senseless by him.
Although, I was currently unfucked senseless, so maybe the alternative was better . . .
“Maurizio.” What was the matter with me? Of all the things to say to stop this, a single utterance of his name was not conducive to that.
His eyes flickered then darkened with his name leaving my lips and then with no effort on his part, I granted him access to my mouth, my tongue eagerly greeting his thumb.
I drew him into the damp heat of my mouth and set about showing him what he was missing.
I sucked, licked, lapped, and circled his digit as if it was the hard length of his erection that was clearly visible through his trousers.
I heard a loud groan and as much as I was enjoying myself, it wasn’t mine .
. . it was his. He knew this was what I’d do to his dick given the chance and he could feel my mouth along his length already.
A hand slid into my hair and pulled my head further down onto his thumb and another low rumble of a moan escaped his lips.
“Fuck!” he hissed, and I swear had it really been his length in my mouth, I would have been sure he was about to come.
Suddenly, he pulled his hand away and stared down at me.
“You are going to need to tell me to stop in the next twenty seconds or I am going to tear your clothes off and fuck you so hard the neighbours will need a cigarette afterwards.”
I released a single laugh, but said nothing, although, in my head I was screaming the word stop.
“Flora,” he whispered as a tortured expression spread across his gorgeous face. “Tell me to stop.” He stepped closer and placed his hands on my hips, as if preparing to lift me.
“I saw you.”
He frowned.
“You watched me.”
I was being inarticulate and his confusion was growing.
“Before. In bed. My bed. You stood in the doorway and watched me.”
He looked seriously uncomfortable and I was unsure if he was regretting that night or maybe regretted not knowing I’d seen him. I wondered what would have happened had I called to him. I knew exactly what would have happened.
“I touched myself.” I offered him a tiny smile, not wanting him to retreat or regret that night.
“You did. I heard you moaning and followed the sounds. You said my name.”
I felt the heat of my flush as I nodded.
“I had no idea you were aware of my presence . . . although I could have sworn you looked my way.”
I nodded again.
“You looked phenomenal.”
I flushed further but had no idea what to say.
“When you came. I’ve never seen anyone look more beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Not my finest moment in terms of a retort, but it was all I had.
He smiled, a half, lazy little smile that made him even sexier than before. “Do you want me to tell you what I did when I left you?”
I shook my head and for a second, he looked lost and entirely perplexed.
Did he think I didn’t want to know? That I hadn’t wondered what he had done?
If he had touched himself? How had he touched himself?
Nothing could be further than the truth, I really did want to know exactly what he’d done, all of it, and as I sensed him preparing to withdraw, I spoke. “Let me see what you did.”