“I just sort of passed out. I guess I was more tired than I realized.”
She sighed heavily. “Well, please call Mr. Cavendish now. He’s more than a little upset.”
Before I could respond, a shirtless and disheveled Stephan appeared behind Blake, looking distraught.
“Are you okay, Bee? James just woke me up. He’s frantic, says you were supposed to call him hours ago and he hasn’t been able to get ahold of you. He’s got me feeling guilty for falling asleep before making you call him.” As he spoke, Stephan brushed past Blake to my bed. He climbed in with me wearing only his boxers, stroking a hand over my hair. I thought Blake’s eyes were going to bulge out of her head.
“That is highly inappropriate, Mr. Davis. I would ask that you please remove yourself from Ms.
Karlsson’s bed.”
I gave her a baffled look. Stephan’s was downright unfriendly. “Stephan is my adopted brother,” I explained to Blake, even though we didn’t owe her an explanation. Still, I didn’t see the need for her to get the wrong idea. And he really was my adopted brother, if not technically than at least emotionally.
She looked relieved. “That is a relief. Still, I will have to report this to Mr. Cavendish. Just so you know.”
I shrugged. Stephan leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m going back to bed, Buttercup.
Call James before he gets on a plane.”
Stephan left, but Blake still hovered in the doorway.
I began to get annoyed, as much with James as with my stern bodyguard. “I got it. I’ll call James as soon as you give me some privacy.” I felt rude even as the words left my mouth, but she just nodded and left.
I opened the pumpkin orange case of the chiming Ipad, sitting up as I did so. I was startled to see myself topless for an endless moment before an image of James, dressed in the suit I had said goodbye to him in that morning, and with a huge window with a killer view of New York in the background, took over most of the screen. He looked wild, his hair disheveled as though he’d run his through it impatiently. The curl of his pretty mouth gave me a good idea of his dark mood.
“Why didn’t you call me when you said you would? And why are you topless?” he asked. His tone was harsh, and I saw not an ounce of softness in his angry face.
“I fell asleep before I realized it. I didn’t mean to. I had no idea I was so tired.”
“You said you would call. Are you toying with me? Is that what this is? Do you like to drive me wild?”
I let my annoyance show clearly on my face. “That’s ridiculous. It’s exactly what I said, and you’re overreacting. Obviously I was fine. You have this whole place patrolled day and night. What did you think had happened?”
His jaw clenched hard enough that it looked like it hurt. “I don’t know. And not knowing is worse than just about anything. You might have been mad at me again, or freaked out that you’d agreed to live with me. Perhaps you were leaving me again. And in the back of my mind, I was even worried that your father had somehow gotten ahold of you again.” He didn’t bother to hide his vulnerability during his little tirade, and I felt myself involuntarily softening towards him. It was a talent of his.
I sighed. “Oh, James. I’m sorry I didn’t call when I said I would, but I wasn’t being deliberately hurtful. I was just more exhausted than I realized by the time Paterson had finished searching my house. I barely got undressed before I passed out.”
His face went a little slack and I saw his gaze shift down to my naked breasts. They’d been uncovered when I’d sat up in bed. He swallowed. I felt a surge of unadulterated lust shoot through my body. “I see that. I’m sorry I overreacted. You’re more precious than my own life to me, Bianca, and knowing that you’re safe and sound is my first priority.”
I felt my face, hell, my whole body, soften. He said the sweetest things to me, the most romantic things.
I tried to remind myself that he’d never once told me that he loved me, but still I felt that raw emotion for him like a drug to my system.
“I miss you,” I told him softly.
His lids got very heavy. “I can’t wait for Monday. Is your bottom half as naked as your top half?”
I couldn’t help it, I blushed. “Are you in your office? On a Saturday?”
His pretty mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Yes, though I’m quite alone. The hotel industry is a seven day a week business. Don’t change the subject. Shift the camera down for me. I want to see what you’re wearing.”
I blushed harder, but I did as he said. It was just more natural to obey him than to fight him when he spoke like that. I showed him my lower half, my lap covered in a thin blanket, my one stockinged leg clearly exposed. I couldn’t see his face anymore with the way the screen was angled. “Take off the cover.”
I removed it, showing him the tiny scrap of nude-colored underwear I wore. I heard his guttural moan of approval and let my legs fall open.
“Use the magnetic cover to prop the Ipad up on your bedside table. Point it at the bed.”
I did, seeing him clearly again. He had rearranged himself as well, pushing his chair far enough back from the desk so that I could see his lap.
He was still fully dressed but I could see his stark erection tenting his pale gray slacks obscenely. As I watched him he opened up his pants, using both hands to pull his naked cock free. It sprang out and up with a little bounce that made me gasp.
He shifted, pulling his slacks down far enough to give it total freedom. He unbuttoned the last three buttons on his shirt, pulling it open wide. He threw his long thin white tie over his shoulder and out of his way. I had an unobstructed view of his hands as he stroked himself. “Take off your panties and lie back on the bed.”
I obeyed, my face turning pink all the while.
“Prop yourself up on the pillows and open your legs wide. Wider. Open yourself for me. Perfect, yes, just like that. Push two fingers inside of you. Deeper. Yes. Reach a hand up to cup your breast. Knead around it, but don’t touch the nipple.” As he spoke and I acquiesced to his demands, he stroked himself with hard, almost brutal thoroughness. “You’re so beautiful, Bianca. Every inch of you is perfection. I can see the moisture between your legs. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Stroke yourself harder and faster. Imitate me fucking you.”
“It’s not the same,” I gasped, stroking myself faster and faster. It wasn’t at all the same as him touching me, a sad imitation in fact, but I was still getting close to orgasm, more from his voice and the sight of his beautiful hands on that perfect cock than from what I was clumsily doing to myself.
He gave me a pained smile. “I know it’s not. Not even close. We shouldn’t be separated like this. Not ever. But we’ll work with what we’ve been given. Now move that hand on your lovely tit down to your clit. Yes, perfect. Rub very soft, small circles on it with your finger. Tell me when you’re close, my love. I could come on a dime, and I want us to go at the same moment. Mmm, there, shove those fingers in as hard and fast as you can manage. If we get separated like this often, we’ll have to get you a vibrator for your house. Or a dildo that’s a perfect replica of my dick.”
His voice and his words brought me closer and closer to the edge as I watched him work himself so roughly with his hands. The sight of him touching himself was incredibly erotic to me. “I’m close,” I gasped to him.
He bit his lip as he wrenched at himself. His neck arched but his eyes never left me as he came into his hand with a rough little groan. The sight of him coming in spurts that hit nothing but air brought me with him, and I gave a little whimper as my orgasm took me. It felt good, but nowhere near as intense as where James usually brought me. I sat up and watched in fascination as he cleaned up the mess he had made, giving me a self-deprecating smile all the while.
“Was it good for you, Love?” he asked, his eyes tender in spite of that smile.
I wanted to cry for some strange reason. I didn’t want to analyze the urge at all, but I couldn’t help but worry about how much I was coming to depend on James. I felt an addictive need to be near him. “It was good. I loved watching you touch yourself, but it all just made me want you with me even more.”
His face changed so drastically that I blinked. There was a calculation there now, and a resolve that made me tense. “We don’t ever have to be apart. You could work from home, and have a career with your paintings. I won’t rush you, but it’s something I’d like you to start thinking about.”
I tensed up even more, and he held up a conciliatory hand. “I’ll drop it, love. Paterson tells me that you offered to let Blake sleep in your spare room. Are you really okay with that? For security purposes it would be ideal, but I want you to be comfortable in your own home.”
I shrugged, and his eyes moved down to my breasts. He began to tuck himself back into his slacks, making a visible effort to tear his eyes back up to my face. I wasn’t totally comfortable with it, but I thought that with all of the other bizarre things I would need to grow accustomed to, it was a very little thing in the scheme of it all.
He gave me an almost grateful smile. It looked a little off on his too perfect face. “Thank you. That will help me to sleep better when you have to be away from me.” I shifted as he spoke, sitting cross- legged and pulling a corner of my bedspread over my lap. His smile changed to a smirk. “Take the blanket off your lap. I love the one stocking, by the way. You really passed out, huh?”
We chatted for a long time, both of us in a lighter mood by the time he finally had to get back to work. I wondered how my heart could be both light with happiness and heavy with love at the same time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I was heading from my bedroom to the kitchen, clad only in a robe, when I heard a commotion at my front door. I moved to see what it was before I could think better of it. I blinked at the unexpected sight that greeted me.
A strange, middle-aged woman stood just in the front doorway, Paterson behind her, Blake in front. She had hair dyed a garish red, with overdone makeup that couldn’t disguise the drawn look of her too thin face. She looked how I thought a retired showgirl might look, with a thin body and too large breasts that seemed to hurt her posture.
Her spine stiffened when she caught sight of me. Her eyes were neither friendly nor hostile, but held a desperate sort of appeal that I couldn’t understand showing to a complete stranger.
She addressed me right away. “I’m not here to hurt you, as these people seem to think.” She held up a plain white envelope. “I just wanted to give you this. There are some things you need to know. I would have told you before, but your father wouldn’t let me contact you. Now that he’s disappeared, I saw no reason to delay. Please, just read this. I can see why you wouldn’t want to talk to me, but this isn’t about me.” Her speech was a little desperate, and I recognized the nervous fear that seemed to sit on her shoulders, a fear that she had to live with every second of her life, living with my father. I remembered it well.
