by Savannah May
Jeremy Bates, the English dude I scored the big deal with, gave me the solution.
“We're moving to London,” I told Dusty Rose and she did a little dance then threw herself around me.
“You aren't serious?” she squealed. “I always wanted to visit London.”
“I remember you talking about David Beckham and Sherlock and saying you wanted to go there. I always pictured us taking a trip some day. Now we're going to go and buy a house.”
“But are you going to work all day and leave me on my own?”
“Baby, I don't ever have to work another day in my life.” I can't stop grinning at the way she still pouts when she wants me to do something.
She knows it's a throwback but I find it adorable. I swiped a thumbpad along her lower lip to erase it before sucking it between my own.
“Working for Bates, I'll only have to study the Chinese markets when they open and I can do that right from our bed, while you sleep. You'll never miss me, even for one minute.”
“Then you'll be there ready to fuck me as soon as I wake up?”
She climbs onto me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her sweet thighs around my waist until I concede. It's not much of a struggle to give her what she wants. Which is me. Night and fucking day.
When I went to the rooftop gym at the apartment building we lived in for less than a week, she came to find me and climbed on my thighs, straddling me while I was seated on the adductor machine and pulling my cock out of my shorts.
“Dusty Rose, Baby, there are security cameras in here.”
“I don't care,” she whined. “What are they gonna do? Tell us to leave?”
Even my attempt at a scowl didn’t stop her.
“You're insatiable,” I said as she impaled herself on my cock and ground out circles around the root, opening her pussy to me all the way to the cervix.
“I know,” she moaned. “Do you think the longer you have to wait for something, the more intensely you need it?”
“When it comes to us I think that's probably true.”
We flew out to London and she wanted me in the first class lounge and again, somewhere over the Atlantic, in the middle of the overnight flight.
“Mile high club,” she whispered, her little hand snaking under the blanket to pull out my dick.
We looked at a ton of flats in the center of London but as soon as she set her eyes on the little house, painted pink, down a cobbled street in Notting Hill, her eyes filled with tears.
I put my arm around her and pulled her under my wing.
“What is it Baby?”
“I love it,” she whimpered.
“These are the old carriage houses for the aristocratic houses on the square,” the realtor announced, leading us through the master bedroom straight onto its own flowered deck.
“We'll take it,” I told her.
“Oh.” She was maybe not used to split decisions on five million dollar dollhouses. “Would you care to view the roof terrace? You can see Harrods in the distance.”
“Yes, I do care to.” Dusty Rose ran up the stairs to ooh and ahh at the view.
“We'll take it.” I repeated.
And what a pain in the ass buying a house in England turned out to be. But at last it was ours and Dusty Rose got to hit all the antique markets, of which there are a ton in London, dragging me out at five in the morning to search for our decorative items.
While we waited, an eternity, for the British version of escrow to close, she made me sit through the Notting Hill movie with her a thousand times. Snuggled up under a throw on the sofa in our hotel suite, pigging out on bowls of popcorn. Just like the old days. Except now she's mine. Like she was always meant to be.
“I love London. I love Europe. They're so open-minded and freethinking here,” she said, clapping her hands with delight at everything.
It was weird to think that if we'd only been living here a few years ago, we never would have suffered any of the shit we went through. The age of consent is different. The age to drink a glass of champagne with your lover is different. It always seemed weird to me that a man could fight a war or a woman give birth to a child but were forbidden to drink a beer. Rules. Arbitrarily set by those who want to control us.
Dusty Rose
I hate rules.
Why do people need to have law and dumb rules imposed on them by officials that break them all themselves?
As human beings we know what's right and wrong. Murdering, stealing, we don't need to be told that's wrong. Everything comes at us via the whim of government. A boy I knew at school, before we moved in with Killian, his father went to jail for marijuana possession.
He had terrible pain from some disease but still they threw him in jail. Since then the government decided marijuana is actually a helpful thing for pain but it's too late for that man to ever get his time with his son back.
Sometimes Killian and I talk about it a bit, but I don't like to remind him of what he went through to be with me. So I just thank him for giving me everything.
“I love London so freaking much. I love that you're finished with work by the time I wake up. And I get to have you to myself all day long.”
“You just like me bringing you breakfast in bed every day.”
“I love the breakfast the English eat, the fat sausages and baked beans.”
Killian's an amazing cook, perhaps because he does it with so much tender conviction.
I've taken to drinking tea as well. Killian takes me out to visit all the sites. The tons of museums for every theme, the scary dungeons and the Tower where women had their heads chopped off for loving the wrong man. Afterward he takes me to one of the fancy hotels, decorated like palaces and we have tea like the queen on little china plates.
“No, Baby,” he grits out when I give him a look from under my lashes across the scones.
“Please, Killian. I need you.”
He goes to the reception while I finish my tea like a lady. Then he returns to take my hand and lead me to the exquisite room filled with fine chintz upholstery. He sits in the stately armchair looking like a gorgeous prince and watches me slowly strip. Then I climb bare naked onto his lap and pull his massive cock out of his pants.
Most weekends we go somewhere out of town. To the Cotswolds or Scotland. Or to Europe, on the train under the ocean which I though was going to be terrifying but was amazing. We go to Paris and Bruges and Rome.
“Will you take me to Amsterdam?” I ask Killian.
“I want to see the Van Gogh paintings,” I say with a naughty little grin when he looks at me suspiciously. “Please, I'm learning so much from the traveling we've been doing. This is better than a college education.”
I earn myself a spanking for that. Reminding Killian that I insisted I didn’t need college and that I could learn everything useful from him. With him at my side.
But it's true. He once told me that the two halves of a couple both learn from being in the relationship. In Amsterdam, of course I make him take me to the red light district. They're so very open-minded in that city, you can smoke weed in a cafe and fuck your man in a nightclub, just like we did when we were in hiding.
Killian teaches me so much and the rest I learn from our expeditions around the world. We talk about everything when we're wrapped into each others arms, in bed or on the couch and I've never been shy of formulating my own opinion.
As I once told him, I wanted nothing more than to be with him and be the woman he wants. I've grown into that and now we're together in London, we're free to be happy at last.
“Which is your favorite of all the places I've taken you?” Killian asks, when we're considering where to go one wintery weekend.
“Paris,” I say. “No, Venice. I don't know, I love them both.”
“Not somewhere hot, the beach?”
“That too, but I can't continue my education lying by the pool wishing you'd fuck me again.”
I flash my eyes at him and get what I deserve. Ki
llian's heavy hand slapping my bare ass cheeks. His thighs are so solid, it's nothing for him to pull my panties down to my knees and bend me across his.
My clit is shoving out from my dripping lips, swollen and vibrating with lust as he spanks me. His fingers perilously close to my soaked pussy entrance make me shudder, so close to losing it.
He takes me to Paris for the weekend and then instead of flying home, we go to the Gare du Nord.
“We're taking that Chunnel train?” I ask.
“Surprise,” Killian won't say a thing.
Not until a porter pulls up in front of us, wearing a dark uniform with gold braid all over like some general. Except he take my wheelie bag and bids us follow him. We move to a platform where a brown and cream painted train is waiting and climb aboard.
“This is amazing,” I squeak and bounce up and down, pretty gobsmacked by the bedroom we're taken to, with it's own tiny bathroom. I immediately pile all the little soaps and creams wrapped in Orient Express packaging into my purse.
Killian opens the Orient Express label champagne cooling in an ice bucket in our private lounge room. The train chugs out of the station and people wave just like in the old movies, like a train is an amazing sight still.
“It's like traveling back in history,” I whisper as I snuggle up in his arms on our little sofa and watch the outskirts of Paris slip away into the forests of the Loire Valley.
“Yeah, you're gonna have a history lesson,” he says. He hands me a small package. It's wrapped in paper from the famous bookstore we visited yesterday. Where famous authors like Hemingway hung out in the old days. It's a book called Murder on the Orient Express.
“Thank you. I love mysteries” I say. “Although romance is better.”
“Cheers to that,” he says and hands me another package.
“Oh god,” I whimper.
I open the small velvet box and find a heart shaped diamond, the most stunning thing ever, glinting in the light from the table lamp.
“Will you marry me, Dusty Rose, my baby?”
I nod my head furiously, biting down on my lower lip before I completely lose it. I was beginning to think Killian would never go all the way with me. That although he loves me more than anything he's too concerned about me and my future to want to possess me.
“Baby?”
“Yes,” I gasp out then I climb onto his lap and smother his face with my lips.
“You couldn't decide between Paris or Venice so I had to give you both,” he says.
We spend the entire journey in the tiniest luxury bedroom, not leaving once. Having all the exquisite meals delivered under enormous silver covers by the lovely waiters. Maybe it's the rocking of the carriage on the rails that gives me the most peaceful night of sleep I ever had but I think mostly it's that I truly have everything I ever wanted.
*
I hope you enjoyed the second in the Experienced Men series. Stay in touch by joining my Bad Boy Update Newsletter. There are all sort of goodies, new releases, flash sales and giveaways from me and all my author pals. Here's the link to the form http://eepurl.com/bnVpXT
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Love is all around
Savannah x
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Also by Savannah May
Old Temptations
Stunt
Enforcer
Sniper
Club Illicit
Loaded
Writing as SG May
Moonshine Alpha
Bloodlust Alpha
Eternal Alpha
