It’s been six years since I’ve had sex like this. Six years since I’ve seen a peculiar little zodiac of freckles.
But it can’t be…can it?
Chapter 25
Damien
I’m going to be late to work, and I blame Ellie.
Fuck. Annelise. I can’t call her Ellie. One, I truly do hate nicknames. They’re so sloppy and lazy. I never use them. So obviously, it pisses me the fuck off that saying…her nickname…turns me on. Saying it out loud and watching her cheeks flush because somehow it’s become off limits enough that it feels erotic is a problem. I am going to be late to work because I have spent the last fifteen minutes in the shower trying to rub one out, but can’t because my hand will never be able to compete with her pussy again, and it is a goddamn fucking problem.
Ellie…ANNELISE…left early this morning, wanting to go home and change and shower before coming back to work, and I have to admit, I’m a bit relieved. Not relieved in the orgasmic sense because I have yet to blow my load, and I’m getting angry. I am relieved that I have a little time to think before seeing her in the office today.
Last night was…not what I expected. I don’t even know if I mean that in a bad way. Our energy has been off for a few days, and I really felt like going to the Opal Room would remedy that. If she was in her head about anything, which she was, getting dolled up and ogled over should have helped. The girl is athousand times sexier than she realizes, which blows my mind. As much as I don’t love the idea of other men staring at her, I love the idea of men staring at her withme. It might be shallow, but I love shoving it in other people’s faces what they’ll never have.
I also wanted to go to the Opal Room so I could fuck her in public again. That has always been a kink of mine, hence owning an elite sex club. But between her being on edge and running into Dylan fucking Decker of all people, the mood was DOA at that point. Which is why I took her back to the suite.
Problematically, we didn’t just fuck away our feelings. We talked. She showed me what she keeps hidden behind the walls she’s built, and I embraced it. It was the caveat to some of the best, rawest sex I’ve ever had. It was also completely unforgivable. We crossed lines that we are contractually forbidden from crossing. Boundaries I have always had for myself and never once even been tempted to fuck with.
So why am I now?
Why, as I stand in the shower with a hard as granite dick that doesn’t want to get the fuck off, am I getting careless with my own rules? I feel like a blade of grass, bending in the wind every time she lights up the sky. It’s not acceptable.
I shut the shower off and surrender to the inconvenient reality that I am just going to have to tuck it in my belt and walk around the rest of the day with blue balls. When I get to work, Annelise is already in my office, as I knew she would be. She’s wearing a blue dress that hugs her curves perfectly and shows off her tiny waist as well. Despite the fact it’s one of her more modest dresses, that doesn’t seem to change the stiffness of my cock. If anything, her lack of cleavage and knowing what’s under that material is making it harder.
“Good morning, Mr. Graves,” she says, retrieving the coffee she probably set down while waiting for me to arrive and walking it over to me. “I hope it’s still warm.”
I take it from her, careful not to brush her hand with mine in the process. I am so fucking on edge this morning that the last thing I need is contact.
“It’s fine, thank you,” I manage to say. Normally, all this tension would cause me to be a dick. But I don’t want to upset her. I just need her to stand further away and be less sexy. I want the images of her crying and being real and open with me to stop living rent free in my head.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asks.
“Not right now,” I answer while looking over the schedule for the day.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” she says. It takes everything in me not to watch her ass as she sashays away from me. My stomach plummets when I see the schedule, and my hard-on finally goes flaccid.
“Fuck,” the word comes out, and Annelise turns to look back at me.
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s nothing. I just forgot about the lunch meeting today.”
“At the Luxurelle?” she asks. It’s another casino-less hotel on the strip, one known for its cascading pools, swim-up bar, and two five-star restaurants open only to its guests. Chris Conrad is the owner, and while I find the man a little boring, he is one of the better guys in the business. He also frequents the Opal Room and is one of my highest paying customers.
“Yeah,” I say with a deflating sigh.
“The Luxurelle is one of the most extravagant hotels in the area,” she says. “I’ve walked through the lobby and seen the pool area, but I’ve never stayed there. You know there’s a grotto?”
“I know there’s a grotto,” I mutter.
Annelise’s eyebrows stitch together, and she takes two steps closer to my desk. “I have to ask, why so down about having lunch with all the other CEOs, especially there? Someone you don’t want to see?”
“No,” I answer, and I mean it. Decker won’t be there, and neither will a couple of other owners who I’ve never enjoyed fraternizing with. Honestly, I’m not big into the whole fraternizing thing in general, but in my business, it’s unavoidable. Today, it’s mandatory. “It’s a big party with a bunch of other hotel owners and their top employees plus partners and business acquaintances. We do it every year. There are drinks and food. It’s a pool party today.”
“Sounds like fun,” she says, and there’s a detectable amount of sadness, maybe even longing, in her voice.
“Sounds like work,” I mutter. But then I get an idea, and say, “You should come.”
