by Riley Love
“I didn’t hear you, kitten.”
“My—” His palm cracked against my bare ass, startling me, raising me up onto tiptoe. I clenched around him and cried out as heat bloomed over the curve. He smoothed over the dull burn left behind, soothing me with his touch. “My pussy is yours!”
“Bloody right it is. Like that, don’t you?”
“God yes.”
He spanked me again, laying another explosion of heat against my ass. He moaned into my ear when my slick cunt gripped him tighter. “Take off your shirt.”
I fumbled out of it and tossed the silk aside to join the bottoms I’d already kicked away.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Kelly.”
Not kitten this time. Kelly, the husky words exhaled like I had taken his breath away.
The hand he’d swatted against my ass crawled over my hip and glided between my legs. He flicked my clit and pinched it, and it was so tender, so sensitive and aroused for him, that a few touches slammed me into climax.
I cried out for him, screaming his name.
As orgasm rocked through me, Grayson bent me back over the counter and picked up speed. His balls slapped against my ass, and his grunts filled the dark room. Then he was gone, pulled from my body just as it seemed I was on the brink of another ecstatic wave, and his hot cum spilled across my ass and down the back of my thighs.
While I sagged against the kitchen counter with my cheek on the cold marble, Grayson tore a paper towel off the nearby dispenser and wiped up his own mess.
“Join me for another shower? Clothes afterward are optional.”
“Carry me? My legs won’t move.”
“With pleasure.”
When I woke around nine, Grayson was gone, but he’d left a handwritten note on his pillow. I didn’t think men did that kind of thing in real life. Just movies and romance novels about the ideal spouse.
Business to handle at the office this morning. I know it’s Sunday, but it can’t be delayed. Enjoy your day in London. Here’s Harry’s number.
I read it twice, breathed in the scent lingering on his pillow, and went to explore my temporary dwelling.
Damn him for knowing how to flatter and butter me up. Damn him for being so impeccably, wonderfully British.
Movement at the corner of my eye made me spin. I caught a brief flash of white fur before the cat vanished into another room. I tried to follow her, but Petty had disappeared into some hiding place I couldn’t find.
Then again, there was so much white in Grayson’s living room that she was probably sitting somewhere in plain sight. Who in their right mind bought a white leather sofa? Or put white carpet down on the floor? He seemed to favor the color everywhere but his bedroom.
I didn’t envy his housekeeper, having to keep all this pristine.
Part of me, the sore and deliciously sated part, wanted to stay and be lazy all day after a vigorous night. Grayson had taken advantage of the shower to have his way with me again, pulling out as he had before despite me telling him I was on the pill. That was probably for the best.
As tired as I was, I couldn’t imagine just sitting around when I’d flown to a whole new country. I wanted to see London and explore without worrying about buying a wardrobe or putting on a show for stuffy aristocrats.
So with that thought in mind, I dressed for the day and called Harry. He pulled up to the curb the same second the doorman let me out.
“Where to, Miss Sawyer?”
“I know it’s probably totally cliché, but what’s the must-see tourist spot?”
“Might I suggest the London Eye, miss?”
“That’s the huge Ferris wheel, right?”
“Yes. But if you don’t care about having a view, I would recommend the British Museum. It’s quite lovely.”
“Let’s go to the museum, then. I already have a great view of the city.”
“Very good, miss.”
Chapter Eleven
Kelly
My days in London passed in a blur, quicker than I’d ever imagined they would. Grayson and I created a routine during my weeks as a guest in his penthouse. While he did whatever disgustingly rich billionaires did during business hours, I explored everything London had to offer. More often than not, Cate joined me.
In the evenings, I found Grayson enjoyed unwinding on the sofa in front of the television or on the terrace with a book and a drink. He didn’t party or live up to my expectations of being a billionaire at all.
When Fashion Week arrived, Grayson surprised me with a flight to Italy for the extravaganza, providing another stamp for my passport and more overpriced designer clothes for my collection. If my gaze lingered on anything for more than three seconds, he didn’t take no for an answer.
And I kinda loved it. I felt like some rich man’s pampered mistress, but I think what I loved most were the quiet moments cuddling in front of the television with glasses of wine.
Sometimes I woke up in the mornings expecting to be back in my room at home because everything felt like a dream. Girls like me didn’t attend fashions shows and rub elbows with the rich and famous, yet that was exactly where I found myself.
When it was over, rather than return to London, we flew to the Caribbean instead to meet up with Francois and their other obnoxiously wealthy friends. Which was how I found myself lazing the afternoon away on the deck of a yacht, wondering how I would ever go back to life in Chicago.
How the hell could I return to our tiny little two-bedroom apartment in Chicago when I’d lived the life here?
I’d already paid up our rent for the rest of the year and logged into my parents’ utility accounts, paying off the overdue charges to their electric bill. My little brother scanned and e-mailed Dad’s student loan info to me along with all their credit card statements. I’d paid those off only three days ago, even though I didn’t know what the hell I’d tell them when they received notification of being debt free.
“Another mimosa?”
I tipped my sunglasses up on my head and smiled at Grayson. “I’ve had, like, three already.”
“And?” He lowered to the chair beside me and grinned.
Sunlight sparkled off the turquoise water around us like gold glitter. The eighty-degree weather felt positively divine but also left me feeling a little guilty for enjoying it when back home everyone was riding out a snowstorm. Normally this time of year, I’d be layered up in long pants and heavy sweaters, not sprawled out in a bikini that covered less than most lingerie.
As if reading my mind, Grayson reached out and traced his finger down the miniscule triangle covering my right breast. “You should wear bright colors more often. They suit you.”
“I feel a little ridiculous.”
His thumb brushed beneath the fabric and over my nipple. My traitorous body responded in an instant.
“Nothing about you ever looks ridiculous,” he murmured in a low, husky tone that did something to my insides, making my tummy tighten with anticipation.
I licked my lips and struggled to find my voice, keenly aware of the others nearby. I didn’t exactly want an audience when I ripped his clothes off and begged him to fuck me, so I resisted the overwhelming urge. “Thank you for buying it. You didn’t have to.”
“You looked at it with such longing, and I wanted you to have it.”
“Still, you don’t have to buy me anything.”
“Do you like it?”
“I’ve never worn anything this small before,” I admitted. “I feel just a little exposed.” But I enjoyed the way it made me feel the moment I’d stepped onto the deck and every man in attendance darted his gaze at me. Grayson’s friends had stared long enough for their respective dates to clear their throats and tug their arms.
“I will admit I almost wish I’d gotten you another to wear today because I want you all for myself when you look this tempting.” He grinned and gave another soft flick to the stiffened bud. “But I also enjoy knowing that, while every man here wants to fuck you, the
y can’t because you’re mine.”
My pussy clenched and throbbed. Grayson chuckled, leaned down, and kissed me.
“Soon, kitten, I promise,” he whispered before he pulled back.
Damn the man. He moved off to talk with Francois while I lounged there, restless and needy from his teases. My whole body buzzed with desire for him, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it that didn’t involve hauling his board shorts down to his ankles and mounting him in front of his buddies.
Disgruntled, I checked my phone. Two bars, hardly worth what I’d paid for my international plan. I logged into Facebook, checked in on my friends, sent an e-mail to my mother, and then collapsed against the reclining chair again.
Leila had texted to check in on me, and I still had no idea what to tell her. She’d been the one to get me into the escort business, but it felt weird to rub my amazing fortune in her face. All this because I’d been too busy and way too prim in school to give it up to a boy?
I eyed her most recent text.
Hey, girl. Just making sure this dude hasn’t sold you on the black market or something else nefarious. You okay?
I sighed. Leila’s morbid sense of humor never changed. I’m great. We’re on a yacht in the Caribbean actually.
A pause, just for a moment before I saw the three … appear in the window. Finally she replied. You’re shitting me. Pics or it didn’t happen.
I stood at the rail, opened the camera, and took a selfie in front of the endless blue ocean. I sent it back.
Hot damn. I’m so happy for you, Kel. Like, that’s awesome. How’s the guy? Is everything okay there?
I typed out a reply, aware of the others relocating from the nearby hot tub. He’s amazing. Sex isn’t in my contract or anything, obviously, but I really, really like being with him. I’d do this for free.
Good. Keep me updated, okay? And post some photos on Facebook. You can’t live the life like this without rubbing your haters’ faces in it. Love you.
Fine. Love you too.
I took a couple more selfies and photos of my surroundings while keeping the NDA in mind. I couldn’t reveal what I was doing, or with whom, in regards to my contract.
Grayson returned. “What’s going on over here?”
“Selfies for my Facebook.”
“Ah, sweet. Room for me?”
“The NDA, Grayson.”
“Bah. Fuck the NDA. You have my verbal consent to post a photograph of us to your social media account.”
“What if someone recognizes you?”
He slid up beside me and wrapped an arm around my waist, bringing me in against his muscular body. I stroked one pec. “Then you’re on holiday in the Caribbean, enjoying an amazing vacation courtesy of your fantastic new boss, who just so happens to be friendly enough to enjoy selfies.”
I snapped a couple photos with my phone then his, laughing when I saw his friend request a moment later. “Grayson, everyone will definitely know who I’m with if I accept this.”
“I don’t give a damn. Honestly, the paparazzi don’t hound me as much as Cate claims. Bloody exaggerating bint.” He shook his head. “They’re more concerned with the direct line of the royal family.”
“Ah.”
“When was the last time you’ve seen my photo on a magazine or even on a gossip blog?”
My lips pursed.
“Exactly. I’m a nobody.”
“A filthy rich nobody,” I countered, to which he grinned big and kissed my neck.
“Anyway, I actually came with a purpose. Francois and some of the others are taking the speedboat out onto the water again. Wanna come?”
I returned to my seat. “Francois already tried to kill me once on the inner tube. No thanks. I just want to lay here for a bit and rest.”
He settled beside me on the adjacent lounger, so damned bronzed and perfect I could have straddled him on the sun deck in front of everyone.
Francois called to us from the stairs. “Grayson, you coming or not, mate?”
“Go on without us. Kelly’s tired from your murder attempt.”
His friend laughed. “All right. At least she hasn’t sunburned like Pamela.”
I grimaced. One of their friends had brought a cute little model with porcelain skin along, like a tiny blond vampire who had never seen the sun. Even though I had helped slather her with sunblock, one hour out on the water had broiled her lobster red.
As the waterskiing party departed, the other sunbathers left to enjoy lunch while Grayson and I remained alone by the tub. The boat zipped away soon after. I leaned up on my hands and watched it fade into the distance, leaving ripples on the crystal clear water.
“You could have gone with them, Grayson.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to be with you.”
My heart lurched.
“I can leave you be, if you’d prefer that. I hadn’t meant to smoth—”
“You aren’t smothering me. God, no. You paid for my time anyway, right?”
When he didn’t answer, I studied his profile, admiring the firm lips and the green eyes I’d gazed into numerous times since traveling to London to be his live-in escort. Worry lines creased his brow.
“Grayson?” I asked. He snapped out of it and blinked at me. “You went away for a moment there. Is everything okay?”
“Huh? Oh, I’m fine. Sorry, love. My thoughts got away from me.”
Together, we watched the ocean birds flying above us for a while, until I reached over and traced one of the scars on his torso. “Where did these come from?”
“Afghanistan.” He said nothing else, so I didn’t pry, moments passing until he offered, “A mate had been downed during a firefight against the Taliban, and I knew if he took another shot, that’d be the end of him. He had a wife and a little girl to return to, and I was young and stupid. Thought I was invincible.”
“Did he survive?”
Grayson nodded. “I took three bullets. One of the other rounds nicked his spinal cord, but last I hear, he’s got some function back again. He’s even walking with assistance.”
“That’s awesome. You kept up with him?”
“Of course. It’s been a few years, but I still consider him a friend.”
I studied the handsome billionaire beside me. He didn’t look thirty-seven, his rock-hard body rivaling magazine cover models and professional athletes with physical trainers. “How long were you in the marines?”
“Only seven years. If Dad didn’t fall ill, I’d probably still be in, but he needed me to lead the family once he was gone. And, well…”
“So you left behind your military career to become a rich man.”
He nodded.
“That was selfless of you.”
“It was expected. I am a Lancaster.”
“People always take from you, don’t they?”
He shrugged. “That’s life, love. I’m used to it.”
It made me sad. Sad and angry for him. But it also inspired me.
Sliding over to join him on the lounger, I untied the front of his board shorts and tugged open the tab. Even soft, his cock lay impressive in size. I traced the length of it, stirring it awake with a few caresses.
“What are you doing, kitten?”
I bent forward. “Something for you.”
His hand fisted in my hair, and he pulled my head back. “Don’t start something you won’t finish. If someone walks up here, I’m not going to let you stop.”
If he expected me to shy away, to wuss out, I determined to prove him wrong. His cock sprang free once I tugged his shorts down and took a moment to admire it with both my eyes and my hands. Up and down, I stroked the firm pillar until Grayson growled in frustration and tightened his grip in my hair.
“If you’re only going to tease, Kelly, I’m going to flip you around and take what I want.”
“So impatient,” I chided.
I kissed the smooth tip and took delight in the sharp hissing sound he made. It emboldened me, and I lap
ped at his silken cockhead, exploring the ridged edge with my tongue.
Would I be able to take every golden inch into my mouth? I didn’t know, but I wanted to try.
I took him deeper beyond my lips and was rewarded with a groan. For a man who liked to be in control, taking it away from him gave me the ultimate rush. The impressive width of him stretched my mouth tight, and even then, I worried my teeth might scrape his sensitive flesh. He nudged his hips forward, giving me another half inch of his cock, and my worries vanished.
Each time I pulled back, I took a little more of him on my return, until every saliva-slickened glide became easier and faster. Grayson’s breathing grew heavy and harsh. His hips rocked forward.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “You’re so goddamned perfect. Don’t stop, kitten.”
As if I could.
At any moment, any of his friends could stumble upon us, but I no longer cared. All that mattered was giving Grayson as much as he’d given me. Showing him how much I cared. I hummed against him and managed to take him a little deeper, until his bulk threatened to choke me.
Grayson groaned low and deep, and then he pumped forward again and again, fucking my mouth the same way he did my pussy. It was as if something snapped and I’d finally shattered all the control he held.
He pulled free, and as I gasped for breath, he twisted me around and tugged off my bikini bottoms. A single thrust seated him right where he belonged, sheathed deep in my body’s embrace. I cried out his name and clutched the back of the wooden bench. He moved faster than he ever had before, our bodies slapping together with a lewd clap accompanied by his heavy grunts. He pulled me back against his chest, both hands shoving up beneath my top to squeeze my breasts. I raised my arms and reached back behind me to hold onto him, as lost to the moment as he was.
“Say my name,” he growled against my ear.
“Grayson,” I whispered.
“Louder.”
“Grayson,” I said again, my voice a moan. He tweaked my left nipple, and this time I yelled his name, not caring who heard.
