Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
mia
Someone is ringing the bell. Paying closer attention, there’s knocking too.
“That’ll be lunch. Time to feed you,” he says, then wraps a towel around his waist. It’s too much to ask of the poor thing to hide his erection.
“You’re not answering the door lik—”
He turns to me, full teeth on display. Abs too. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”
“Absolutely nothing.” I splash some water around and avoid his eyes. I will not give him the satisfaction. Even though it looks like he already took it.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?” I answer, but face Central Park.
The smile in his voice is giving me serial killer instincts, since I don’t think killing him once would be enough to soothe my annoyance.
“I’m really enjoying getting to know you.”
I turn around, mad and confused, and find him halfway to the door, with the added layer of a soggy robe.
He’s not playing fair at all.
I take the opportunity to climb out of the pool and wrap myself too. I should prance right next to him and see how he feels about that, but I’m far more concerned with how I’ll look for him when he comes back.
Preston lays out the spread of food on one of the loungers, the little side table not standing a chance.
There’s, of course, my burger, plus fries, a T-bone from some pre-historic creature, since no cow is that big, sea food that smells good enough to teleport me to an island, a gorgeous salad I probably won’t touch, a rainbow of roasted veggies, and dips galore.
There’s also a tray with six silver iced lids that I don’t dare peek under yet.
“Oh my God, this is too…” I glance up, eyes softening. “You are too much, Pres.”
“Not even close to what you deserve. I told you one of today’s lessons was to spoil yourself. Now sit.” He points to the other lounge chair.
“What? You’re really going to feed me?” I joke. He misses it.
He feeds me a fry, and I moan. His fingers brush my lips, and I swoon.
“You keep being this good to me, and I might get used to it,” I murmur, mid-bite.
He lifts a brow. “You think I’m doing this just for you?”
“I think you need to stop altogether. The attitude, the words, or we won’t finish this meal.”
He goes for my heart with his next sentence. “I don’t think I can. But more importantly, I don’t want to.”
I don’t think he’s talking about the feeding. So I open up for more, because neither do I.
We eat in silence, except for the unavoidable moans when I try the buttered lobster and all six desserts.
We change into fresh robes and share a lounger; I rest my head on his shoulder while he traces every contour of my face with his fingertips.
Even with my eyes closed, I feel his prying stare, and it’s overwhelming.
As if my eyelids are not protection enough.
So I break the spell the best way I know how.
“I still can’t believe I’m here. Being pampered”—I scrunch my nose up to his chin—“and thoroughly fucked by the silver fox.”
He backs up laughing. “The what now?”
“Silver fox. Oh, man. I’ll have to educate you, if you’re really willing to read some of my books.”
“And re-enact them. Don’t forget.”
“Come here.” I stand and lead the way to the full-length mirror in the bedroom. “Look at you.”
“Why would I?”
“Because you said you don’t deny me things.”
“Touché, Miss Thorne.”
It takes him long, apparent torturous seconds, but he manages to face the mirror, and I step behind him. I thread my fingers through that sexy as fuck gray-streaked hair of his.
“You, Dr. Preston Jett, are what us book girlies call a Silver Fox.”
His head turns sideways to face me. “Silver as in gray? You put me in front of a mirror to call me old?”
“Oh, shut up, silly.” I poke at his side, and he goes taut. “A Silver Fox is not simply a man with gray hair. It’s so much more than that.”
My arms go around his chest, and I open the lapels of his robe, unhurriedly.
“You’re ripped.” One hand slips inside and runs over his skin, down to his abs, my nails trailing back up his pecs.
His stomach tightens under my touch. “You’re also smart, successful, emotionally literate.
You carried me to bed, fed me, moaned around my stretch marks.
You know what you’re doing. Enough to give me lessons.
” I give him a cheeky wink. “You’re the Silver Fox dream, Preston.
The literal fantasy. The poster boy for hot girl delusion. ”
His chest rises and falls while my hand goes rogue.
“You think this is a delusion?” he asks.
“A hundred percent. The only reasonable explanation for this day is that I’m dreaming. Or high on espresso shots and orgasms.”
He smiles, but it’s laced with something deeper. Hunger. “Do you want me to prove this is real? A bite in that perfect ass? A pinch on the clit?”
“Rude,” I joke. “Don’t wake me up. Dream along with me.”
“Well, I have a better idea. You showed me what you see. Now it’s my turn.” He changes places with me, and now I’m the one facing the mirror.
I panic. “Hey, no. What do you think you’re doing?”
“You wanted me to see myself through your eyes, right?”
Words flee me. “I… I…”
“Face the mirror, Mia. You only get to come when you see what I see.”
Preston’s lips fall to my neck, his hand sliding the robe off my shoulders, and my eyes roll back by default.
“I see you. The way you take care of everyone, but freeze when it’s your turn to be cared for.” His hands undo the knot keeping the robe closed at my waist. “Maybe you’re not used to it. Maybe you’ve never been spoiled. But baby, get ready to get sick of it.”
One of my legs quits on me. It literally buckles and I hang tight to his robe sleeves, currently around my waist, to keep standing.
“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Oh Mia, I’m going to indulge your every whim. Put you up on the pedestal you belong on. And I’ll start by worshiping this body every chance you give me.” With the knot gone, his hands glide up my toweled arms before he slips the whole thing off.
I’m so sensitive and hyper alert; even the thud of it falling to the floor arouses me.
“You’re stunning, Mia. Open your eyes, baby.”
Reluctantly, I do. And he’s there, anchoring me.
“Fucking devastating.” He kisses my neck slowly. “And you’re mine,” he growls, like it’s nothing. Am I supposed to hear that and remain vertical? My knees did not consent to that. Oh God. Breathing suddenly feels ambitious.
I’m still dealing with the aftershocks of his words when the hard press of his cock on my back keeps me from overthinking or giving it real meaning. It’s just something he said in the heat of the moment, I tell myself. More of his dirty talk.
“Look at the mirror.” He softens the order by peppering my shoulder with kisses. They start tender, but soon they linger and become wetter. His hands find mine, and he threads our fingers together.
“I don’t blink while I fuck you, have you noticed?”
I shake my head in a silent no. His hand covers mine, guiding it as we hold my breast high together, his thumb stroking the soft underside.
My head falls back against his shoulder, helpless against the dizzying pull of his voice, our touch, and the mirror making me watch every second of it.
My eyelids drift low but never shut. I’m too enraptured by the filthy tenderness of it.
“It’s because I don’t want to miss a thing, Mia. I love seeing how your body moves for me. With mine. The way you melt, then coil. The way your thighs part for me and then clamp back around me when it feels too good. The way your breasts look in my hands. How fucking good they feel.”
My chin drops when he squeezes them a tad tighter, and I catch him in the mirror, licking his bottom lip.
I moan his name.
“Wait, baby. I'm not done. If I blink, I might miss the way your stomach tightens when I touch you… just right.” His hand guides mine all the way down to my clit, his finger drawing a lazy circle around it, making my lower belly go taut.
Our hands move around behind me, and he parts my cheeks, positioning his hard length between them.
“Fuck, I love the way your ass turns my favorite shade of scarlet if I spank it enough. And when I finally get to thrust hard in that pussy?” He drags his mouth over my shoulder and up to my ear.
“I want to watch every beautiful inch of you ripple for me. I want to see the way all this softness responds to me.”
His words are altering my brain chemistry in real time. The combination of the hypnotizing mirror and the reckless trust I put in him is changing something in me.
“Preston…” I barely get his name out. “You can’t say things like that and expect me to survive.”
He turns me around and pulls me closer. “I have higher expectations than that. I need you to believe it and stop hiding.”