Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Denying Oneself
I wake up early the next morning to find Sarah’s side of the bed empty. Yet again disappointed that I hadn’t seen anything I wasn’t supposed to, I pull out my phone and check the time. We’d both gotten up before the alarm. A wonderful side effect due to the time change.
Hearing some rustling, I turn my head just in time to see Sarah walk out of the bathroom.
Her hair is pristine as usual, and she has a very light amount of makeup on.
Though my body fills with warmth at the sight of her, I frown slightly, desiring more than anything to know what she looks like when she wakes up not perfect.
This is our second morning here, and selfishly I'd expected to not see her so put together by now.
But like with her unnecessarily restricting her diet, she's unrelenting in her search for perfection.
It burns me up, honestly. If I'd just let myself fuck her the way I wanted to the night before, then she'd be sleeping in, and I'd have had my chance.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she chimes in her soft, sing-song voice, throwing me a bright smile without quite meeting my gaze and hopping onto her side of the bed. I turn my head lazily when the action bounces us both gently.
I furrow my brows; she's in a robe and back to being shy.
I bite against the wicked grin struggling to break across my face. “Good morning," I rasp. "Sleepyhead might be correct for you. I had to endure your snoring.” I soften my words with a teasing look.
Obviously offended, she scrunches her nose. “I don’t snore!” she exclaims, her voice going an octave higher.
Sitting up on my elbows, I level her with a pointed look.
“If you want some medical advice, you might want to do a sleep study. Thank God for your fan because it helped lull me to sleep. I think I needed it more than you did!” I retort, falling back to my pillow and laughing as she throws her pillow at me.
She grumbles as I scrub a hand down my face. But I'm suddenly too distracted to appease her because my arousal comes back full force at the unmistakable scent of pussy on my skin. My brows furrow.
Before I can help myself I'm breathing deeply, letting out a rough groan right as a rush of desire so painful flashes down the length of my dick, causing it to stand erect under the covers.
I throw her a look. Sarah turns her face away before rising and hurriedly walking to the closet.
Keeping her face averted, she throws both doors open and then steps back.
Biting her lip, she studiously examines the contents, trying a little too hard to ignore me.
I bet she knows something about this and isn't letting on.
I force my hand down, keeping silent.
“What are you wearing today?” she asks. Her arms fold, and her fingers tap anxiously against her upper arms, continuing to peruse her clothes.
I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, clearing my throat. “I think I’m going with a light blue suit.”
“Well, our styles have to coordinate. Otherwise it’ll look weird if we clash as we’re walking down the hallway or seen together, you know,” she iterates. Reaching into the closet, she picks out a cream pantsuit before holding it out for me to see. “Will this match?” she brings it closer.
I nod. Her style is a spot-on compliment to mine, and it is such a turn on. “It’ll be fine,” I assure her hoarsely as I rise out of the bed. “Let’s go to breakfast. I have to be at the conference at nine, but I don’t go on stage until ten.”
Sarah tilts her head up and finally looks at me full-on.
“Good morning,” she whispers playfully. Every muscle in my body tenses when she steps into me, wrapping me up in a surprisingly tight hug.
“You got this; you’re going to rock it. You know your stuff!
” She pulls away and smiles at me brightly, making my heart skip a beat.
Goddamn, she’s beautiful. My brain momentarily glitches at the sight of her happiness. Despite my self-assured response, I have genuine fear that I might not have it as in-the-bag this year as I normally do. Her presence affects me in ways that don't make sense.
“I hope I have it; all these years I’ve been servicing our community,” I tease, wrapping my arm around her waist and squeezing briefly.
“Oh yeah, Mr. Old Psychiatrist man. Poor you. Wonder when the gray hair is going to start?” She screams softly when I pick up the same pillow that she’d thrown at me, and slap her lightly across the face.
“What gray hair?” I growl, getting up close and personal in her face.
Her hazel eyes widen, and she shakes her head, laughing. “Oh God, I’m sorrryyy. Okay, none yet!” she breathes, stepping away and flinging herself back to her side of the bed, snuggling under the covers with a self-satisfied smile.
“Don’t go back to sleep,” I admonish, my eyebrows knitting together at how comfortable she's making herself. "We're about to leave."
Sarah's eyes snap to mine wryly. “Excuse you, mister. I’m going to relax while you take your sweet time getting ready. I did the hard part already; I just need to pull my clothes on.” She stifles a yawn and pulls the covers up to her chin.
I shake my head, making my way to the bathroom with my clothes tucked under my arm. “Wear the black shoes with the thin straps; they’ll show off your toes perfectly,” I call as I walk into the bathroom and close the door.
My eyes roam. The light steam from her shower embraces me in it's lingering humidity.
I reach into the shower and turn it on hot.
Putting my hand to my nose I groan as my erection jerks painfully, and I hiss, grabbing it as I step under the spray.
I jerk off roughly in the shower, imagining her naked in here with me.
God, her body is luscious and succulent.
Worthy of being worshiped. And I'd worship her properly, sucking and nipping at every sensitive spot that makes her squirm and cry out for mercy as I make her come over and over again, until that beautiful voice is hoarse.
With that thought, I reach out of the shower to open my grooming kit where I'd stashed her garter, and finish jacking off with it held against my nose.
Pleased to find it's still a little wet from how I'd folded it.
Oh fuck, she smells amazing.
I orgasm with a pained groan, and not able to exercise an iota of self-control now that I'm by myself, I suck on the lace of the garter.
I muffle my growls of ecstasy with it. Pumping my cock hard and inhaling her scent until thick, white ropes of my ejaculate spurt from the tip of my cock to paint the shower floor.
When I walk out of the bathroom forty-minutes later, I'm freshly lined, and my hair is styled perfectly.
Sarah's leaning against the desk with her back to me dressed in her pantsuit with the blazer slung over her arm and typing out a text on her phone.
I clear my throat gently and hold my arms out, wanting to show myself off to her.
She turns and gives me a rather appreciative once over, her eyes widening slightly.
Sarah arches a brow. “My. You clean up very well don’t you, mister?” she says with a cute grin as she flicks her eyes to my hair. “Has anyone ever told you your jaw line makes you look like that one actor?" she muses gently, tapping her finger against her cheek. "Why can’t I think of his name…”
I smile, sitting down at the end of our bed and putting on my dress shoes, noticing she’d put on the black strappy heels I’d suggested. “A time or two,” I reply, finishing my job then standing up. “And you look sensational as always. Breakfast?”
I place my own suit jacket over my arm and wave a hand to escort her out of the room. She slides past me with a small smile, and I eagerly watch her hair swishing against the round globes of her ass the entire way to the buffet room.
“So, you don’t get nervous at these things?” Sarah asks around a bite of cantaloupe.
We're sitting at the same restaurant we’d gone to last night, except today it’s transformed into a lavish buffet.
I narrow my eyes at her plate in judgment seeing she’d chosen all fruits, a yogurt, and a tiny scoop of scrambled eggs. She gives a little wiggle when she pops the rest of the cantaloupe in her mouth and moans appreciatively.
You can't be too upset; all the fruit is why she smells so good, I chastise myself.
“Every now and then something will throw me off,” I admit, putting down my fork. I'd been working through a loaded omelet. But craving something more light, I reach forward to grab a piece of fruit off her plate.
She sticks her tongue out playfully. “Get your own,” she teases, her husky laugh making me smile as I pop the fruit in my mouth.
“Letting you know right now…" I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "We’re eating at this local restaurant our last night here, and I’m making you order all unhealthy food,” I warn.
She throws me an incredulous look. "Come on, Alexander!"
"No." I raise my brow, sitting back in my seat and crossing my arms. "You're not restricting yourself here the way you do at home. It's all about balance. Balance, Sarah," I stress, giving her a stern look.
“If you keep shoving food down my throat, I’m going to be in the hospital being intubated because I can't breathe,” Sarah jokes, shoving one of the three bites of eggs into her mouth and chewing slowly.
Does she realize her eyes are sparkling at me?
I don't want to just shove food down your throat, baby. There's other things that need to go down there as well. I could intubate you with my cock.
I sneak another piece of fruit off her plate, wondering how far she could take me down her throat before she gags.
I laugh when she slaps the back of my hand lightly.
“You got a long way to go before that happens,” I shoot back, winking at her and then pushing my own plate away, now full.
"Listen, I know that I can come across…intense…
but I really just want you to take care of yourself.
Find a balance that works for you and makes you happy without having to deny yourself.
" I give her a cheeky wink when she nods at me.
Because trust me, denying yourself is not fun.
Though she doesn't verbally respond, I can tell by her active listening skills that she really tries to take my words to heart when I bring up touchy subjects. My chest tightens at the thought that she feels like she needs to not eat sometimes because her ex made her feel insecure.
We finish up and then make our way to the auditorium, passing by tables laden down with mental health paraphernalia littered amidst goodies like small hand sanitizer bottles, stickers, pens, and pop sockets with company logos.
Drawing to a stop at the double-door entrance, I pull my badge out of my pocket and show the security guard, who lets us through. Walking into the space, I pull her to the side gently by her wrist, ignoring the stragglers who make their way in behind us.
“I have to go meet with the other presenters. I’m on at ten," I say hurriedly, nodding at the staff member by the side door who waves at me. "Grab a seat up front and save me a seat next to you so when I’m done, I can come and sit through the rest of the presentations with you.” I lean forward and squeeze her arm briefly.
"Okay," she says quietly. "Knock 'em dead."
I smile, sweeping my thumb down her arm when I walk past her. "That's something you'll never have to worry about."