Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I take her straight to my shower. I set her on the built-in bench and turn on the handheld spray. Neither of us speaks as I get to work, warming her, trailing the water up and down each limb, soaking her damp hair. I take the shampoo, wash her hair, then rinse it. Then I soap her entire body. I use a sponge and work fastidiously to clean her. She’s spent and exhausted, and I move her limbs like she’s a doll. I work down her body, over her shoulders, down her back, her breasts, stopping to drop kisses intermittently, wanting to resuscitate her, to care for her.
I help her to her feet and I work down over her hips, between her thighs, over her arse, down her legs and finally her feet. I wash myself quickly, and after wrapping a towel around my waist, I bundle her in a huge white towel and carry her to my bedroom.
I set her on the stool opposite a full-length mirror and kneel at her feet to pat her dry. She goes to help and I shake my head. “Let me,” I say.
She doesn’t put up a fight. I like the fact that she lets me care for her. Doing this unlocks something in me I didn’t know was hiding.
I comb her hair, then grab a white t-shirt of mine and help her into it. Then I find a hair dryer in the bottom of my closet and proceed to dry her hair. The long, dark, silky strands change as they dry, becoming softer. I can’t stop touching her. I’m behind her and she’s watching me in the mirror. Every now and then we lock eyes and there’s an intimacy between us I’ve never experienced before.
When her hair is finally dry, I lift her into my bed, discard my towel and climb in next to her.
My housekeeper always keeps my nightstand stocked with a water bottle, which I grab and twist open.
“Thank you,” she says as I hand it to her. “For the shower too. No one’s ever… done that.”
I don’t tell her that I’ve never done it before, never even considered it. But for her it’s different. I want her to be warm and safe and comfortable. “You were cold and wet and tired and… I wanted to.”
She nods. “I know, but… thank you.”
A smile threatens at the corners of my mouth. She slides her leg over mine, and I exhale at her touch. Like without it I’m not quite whole.
She sits up, pulls my t-shirt over her head and the sight of her hard, deep red nipples has the blood rushing to my cock.
She lies back down and we’re facing each other on our sides, our legs tangled. She presses her fingers along my jaw, down my neck and along my collarbones. The heat of her hands melts me. I need more of her, but I want to go at her pace.
Her hands slide lower, across the ridges of my chest. “I like this,” she says, and I’m not sure what she means, but I’m happy she likes anything. “The hair,” she adds, as if she knows what I’m thinking.
She dips lower and circles the base of my cock with her fingers. “And this.” She laughs. “I like this a lot.”
I growl and flip her to her back. “Oh yeah?” I ask. “You like my cock?”
Her eyes grow dark and serious and she nods. “And you,” she whispers. “I like you.”
I drop a kiss to her mouth. “I like you too.”
She spreads her legs and wraps them around my waist. She turns her head, and then reaches for a condom packet lying on the bedside table. “I also really like your cock.”
I chuckle, sit back, and roll on the condom.
EIGHTEEN
Jules
The staff is going to be pissed. Or at least some of them will be. But I can’t let the potential of The Mayfair’s rooftop go to waste.
“Does this need to go as well?” Jimmy calls from the other side of the roof terrace, pointing to a small table that up until ten minutes ago had been covered in ashtrays.
“Yes,” I reply. “Absolutely everything.”
I pull out the metal tape measure I found in Louis’ desk and wince. Just moving my arm makes my body ache. What in the hell did we do last night to make my goddamn arms hurt?
The answer is everything. Absolutely everything. I can still feel Leo all over my body.
I roll my lips back to stop myself from smiling.
I place the toe of my stiletto on the end of the tape measure and pull. I have no idea what Louis needed to measure, but he wasn’t doing anything else, so he must have been measuring something. I just hope it wasn’t his dick.
I start at the far end of the roof terrace. My guestimate is sixty by fifty yards. I keep pulling out the metal tape, which seems to go on forever.