Why the hell didn’t I feel possessive with my actual fiancé? I’m paying Amelia for sex; it should be easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. That’s the fucking point!
But the idea of Ambrose touching her fills me with a kind of rage I’ve never experienced.
The bathroom door opens, and Amelia emerges, looking utterly perfect, adjusting the tie on her dress. I feel a shiver run over me at how the soft lighting plays over her exquisite skin.
Ambrose gives us some space, and I pull her toward me, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
Damn it, Lucas, get it together.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes. Was that okay?”
I lean back, surprised by the question. “Of course. It was amazing. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Her eyes move to Ambrose. He’s looking at my record collection, pretending not to listen to us.
“Does he need … I mean, does he want me to…” She leaves the question hanging.
“He doesn’t get to touch you,” I say. The relief in her eyes makes my heart thump. Ambrose is a good-looking guy, and I try to ignore the vicious sense of satisfaction I feel that she’s not interested in touching him.
“Would you like another glass of wine?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, thank you. But I’d love some water.”
We head into the kitchen, where I add some ice to a glass. Ambrose joins us, keeping his distance from Amelia.
“These ice cubes are amazing,” she says, picking one up and examining it. They’re completely clear and spherical.
“That’s because he is very pretentious, Bella,” Ambrose says with a chuckle, and she smiles at him. It’s a broad grin I haven’t seen before, and it sets my teeth on edge.
I pour her some water from the filter in my refrigerator and hand it to her.
We all head to the couch, and Ambrose does what he does best, and begins to pepper Amelia with questions. It’s a pleasantmoment, listening to them talk about anything and everything, but I notice she says very little about her home life.
A strange look passes over her face whenever she mentions her sister, but she never elaborates.
After Ambrose and I have another glass of wine, and we’ve been talking for a little longer, I can tell he’s keen to go another round. I am too, but I don’t know whether Amelia will be up for it.
I shouldn’t have underestimated Ambrose's shameless gall.
“I have a desire to see you in a bed, Bella,” he says, when the conversation comes to a natural pause. “It seems unfair to ask you all the way out here and only to have you entertain us once.”
I stare at him, appalled by the blatant request, but when Amelia looks at me, I can tell she likes the idea.
She rises, and I quickly put my drink down, eager to have her under me again. I can't wait to taste her mouth for a second time.
When we get to the bedroom, I’m already as hard as stone before I’ve even crossed the threshold.
Ambrose takes a seat in the corner and pulls out his cock. Amelia looks at him, her eyes lowering to it as he begins to stroke it languidly, and I grab her chin.
“Eyes on me,” I snarl, and she shudders as I push her down on the bed and begin to undress. I don’t know whether she’s conscious of the change in her breathing as I drop my clothes to the floor, but she seems more turned on the more naked I get, and that makes me so horny I can barely wait.
I know Ambrose is watching me, and I can picture how I must look, my erection jutting out of my body, eager and desperate to fuck this beautiful woman in front of me.
“Take off your clothes,” I say. “Slowly.”
She does, pulling off the dress and peeling herself out of her underwear one item at a time. When she’s naked, I spend a fullminute looking at her before I order her to lie down. I can see she enjoys the commanding edge to my voice, and that suits me fine.
