“He’s arriving tonight?” Blair moves away from the window and heads to the trolley. My stomach rumbles noisily and she looks at me and laughs. “Tuck in, Ben.”
“He is. Around midnight. I’ve suggested he scales the walls and taps on my window.” Ivy passes Blair a bowl of soup and takes another over to the table before she looks at Elise.
I sit back and watch.
“I’m sorry. Bad manners. I’m Ivy, Cornish hostage and pirate captive.” She flits over to Elise and offers her hand.
“Elise. Lennox Stewart’s fiancée.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine I’d be in any fit state if something happened to Nate.”
“Nate?” Elise looks confused.
“Nathan. My future husband.” Ivy manages to hide the looks she gets when she talks about Nate, the Cornish pirate.
“Oh. When are you getting married?”
“This month or next. Gretna Green for a quickie wedding and then I don’t know where we’ll head off too.”
I have a good idea. Her fiancé works for Interpol, something that’s not well known for obvious reasons.
“Sounds very romantic.”
Ivy nods. “And I’m sorry, because I know it must be hard, hearing about someone else’s plans when your own can’t happen.” She gives Elise a slight smile, the rest of the food set out on the table. “Please, join us.”
Elise heads over and sits, taking small bites of whatever is offered to her, playing her part. The conversation lingers on Lennox’s banquet, with Elise making the odd comment, Ivy dominating the conversation as Ivy does.
The feeling changes as the afternoon progresses. Elise sits further and further back and I watch as she retreats to somewhere else. Somewhere I’m not entirely sure is safe.
* * *
Blair comes out of the shower with water dripping down her neck on to the towel she’s draped round her. Her hair’s still damp and she’s still towel drying it, making a pretty picture as I lie in my bed looking at her. Imagining what we’ll be doing in a few more minutes.
“Something didn’t sit right this afternoon.” She discards the towel and I know I’ll be picking it up and hanging it on the radiator later.
“Just the one thing?”
She sits down the bed and I can’t help but groan. “Please get dry first.”
She laughs and eyes me, unwrapping the towel and exposing her body to me. Droplets of water collect between her tits, her nipples hardening with the slight coolness of the air. She’s beauty and sex and need and obsession; and every day I try not to think about what else I know. What else I am.
Her hands take a millennium to drag the towel across her skin, dry each breast and examine them.
“I can help, you know.”
“That would mean getting you wet, Benjamin.” Her voice curls around me and drags me out of bed.
I’m naked and my cock is understandably hard, the tip of it damp with pre-cum. It takes me four strides to be next to her and I take the towel from her hands and start to dry her, each arm, each finger, then her legs, her feet, toes. Everywhere but where she wants it.
“I’m not sure I’m qualified to do the rest.”
Blair turns around at my words; her tits dry from the air or her.
“Do you still like what you see?”
I don’t move my eyes from her chest, a dick thing to do.
“I think the state of my cock answers that.”
