by Laura Carter
I subtly wipe my lips as I rise, still in my heels and dress.
“That wasn’t part of the plan,” he says with a throaty voice.
He pushes me roughly so my back is against the bathroom door, his hands running hungrily up my thighs. His tongue attacks mine as his expert fingers unbuckle the belt at my waist. He turns me in one swift move to face the door. He pins me with his still-hard cock pressing against my arse, and holds my hands to the door above my head as he nibbles and sucks my jawline, then my lobe.
He lifts my dress up and over my head, casting it to the floor. Then he turns me and presses his naked body against mine, wrapping a hand around my back to unhook and relieve me of my bra. He plays me at my own game, fixing his eyes on mine as he bends and draws my French knickers down my thighs to the tiles, kissing my flesh as he moves.
I step out of the satin and he moves my legs further apart. He sucks two fingers, then draws a line down my centre, teasing my clit as he strokes and growling when he feels just how wet I am for him. He nudges my legs further apart again, then turns his tongue around my entrance and drags a line up to my swollen bud.
“Gregory.”
My hips rise towards him, my arms reaching out from my sides, trying to grip the door, the wall, something to steady my trembling legs.
I gasp as he thrusts two fingers into me and circles my back entrance with his little finger. His tongue continues to swirl. His three-pronged attack is exactly like my perfect man, smooth, commanding and so damned sexy.
My body writhes against the door as I build to the peak of a volcano. His fingers push harder and quicker. His little finger slips just inside and he licks my clit like he’s tasting me for the first time.
“Gregory!”
“Let go, baby.”
My insides swell and greedily tighten around his fingers. He pumps faster, working my clit to the brink. My legs are weightless as the rest of my body locks. My hips buck and my back lifts from the door as my volcano erupts around him and I scream his name.
He stands quickly, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me, taking the weight from my weak legs. He carries us to the bathtub and pulls off my shoes with one hand before lifting us into the warm water. I turn in his lap so his legs slide down the sides of mine and he pulls me back to his chest.
My entire body relaxes, content and sated, as he fills and squeezes a flannel across my chest and rests his lips against my temple.
“How did we get things so wrong?” I ask.
“No more,” he says into my hair. “This is forever, baby.”
I run my hands up and down his wet thighs as he cleans my skin with warm, bubbly water.
“We need to talk about Katrina Martin.”
His chest deflates.
“She flew out to Dubai, Gregory.”
“She’s just got a bee in her hat.”
Despite my want to be serious, I giggle. “Bonnet, baby. She’s got a bee in her bonnet.” He smiles against my scalp. “I’m serious. She came here to find out what I know about the bribes. She’s not going to back off easily.”
“There’s no trail. Even if there were, she’ll be looking for a bribe around a murder charge.”
“She won’t find one.”
He continues methodically bathing my skin. “No. She won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Look at me.” I turn in the water to face him. “She won’t.”
I shouldn’t have looked into those irresistible eyes.
My body moves before my mind has time to think. My hands lock into his wet hair and I attack his mouth. He willingly accepts, his hands moving to my arse, pulling me against his pelvis. He starts to grow beneath me. Then he’s lifting us out of the bath, carrying me to his bedroom without stopping to dry.
He kicks the door shut with his heel then presses my back against the bedroom wall. Sweet Gregory is gone. His brown eyes are black. Carnal. A match for my hunger. His lips suck the flesh of my neck. He pulls my nipple through his teeth and I squirm as desire rages in my cleft. I pull his hair until his brow is pressed against mine, then I pull his lip in my teeth, biting down. Our chests meet as we pant, filling our lungs with insatiable need.
He carries me to the bed and places me down on my feet. With one hand against my stomach, pulling my back to his abs, he turns my face left and I see our reflection in a large, gold-framed mirror, naked, our bodies held together.
“Keep watching.” His words are heavy.
I watch the illicit image of his hand roaming across my stomach and down between my legs. I see what I’m feeling, his touch on my clit, moving down to my entrance. The reflection shows his other hand moving to my breast. The feel, the sight, have me squirming against him. My hands move back into his hair and I watch as his mouth meets mine, his hands working the plump flesh of my breast and dipping into my wanton sex.
“God, Gregory, take me. Please.”
“You want it hard, baby?”
“Yes.”
His hands move quickly, bending me forward so my palms are resting on the mattress. He slides my legs further apart with his feet and lifts my hips towards him.
My head falls forward. Desperate. Waiting.
“Keep watching.”
I lift my head sideways to the mirror and see his tall, strong frame standing behind me, his hands groping the cheeks of my arse. He’s looking, too.
I gasp as he raises a hand and spanks my arse on a growl. Then without warning, he yanks my hips towards him and crashes his stiff cock into me, reaching the end of me, making me cry out.
I keep my eyes on his reflection as his torso stiffens, his biceps tight as he holds my hips, impaling me over and over with his huge length. The sinews of his neck tighten. Just watching him, seeing the effect I have on him, I could shatter.
He pulls a hand roughly down my spine and speeds up his thrusts, each powerful blow making me groan louder. When I think I can’t take anymore, he lifts a foot to the frame of the bed and drives even deeper, the leverage making each pound harder.
“Fuck, Scarlett, you make me feel like an animal.”
I watch his taut muscles move as he fucks me harder than he’s ever fucked me before. One hand leaves my hips and moves around to my front. I can see what’s coming but I gasp when his fingers slide down to my wetness then move up to my clit.
“Feel us, Scarlett. Put your hand there. Feel us.”
His hand on my hip grips harder, asking me to stand. With my back pressed against his chest, I lift a leg to the bed, mirroring his position. I wrap one hand around his arse pulling him to me, and move the other between my legs. I can feel him deep inside me, I can see him move, and now, my fingers stroke his wet cock as he moves tirelessly in and out of me. The attack comes on so many levels my head is in a spin, clouded by frantic hormones. The onslaught is hard and fast. A fierce orgasm rips through my body.
I pull his arse against me, telling him to move deeper, harder, faster as my climax rages on. He pounds, barking my name.
His hands move to my chest and pin my body to him as he slows his movements, bringing us down. He turns me to face him and parts my lips with his tongue as he lifts my legs around his waist and carries me back up the bed. His damp palm wipes my wet hair from my face as he kisses me, the kind of kiss that should be boxed and cherished. Then he worms his way down my body, between my legs.
He blows gently across my hot, swollen sex, then turns his tongue around my clit.
“Gregory, no. No more.” I move my hand to his face but he pins both hands to the mattress by my sides and continues lapping.
It’s one continuous orgasm as he lifts me the tiny bit I’ve dropped in the space of minutes. He licks me until I’m ready again, desperate to come. He turns his tongue around me and dips his fingers ins
ide me, stroking my most sensitive flesh. My head shakes from side to side as round three tears up my body and I release around his fingers.
I drop back to the pillow and Gregory hovers over me. Then his shaft is nudging my drenched entrance.
“Again? Already?”
“Baby, this is five weeks’ worth of hard-on. I’m going all night.”
Chapter Eight
In some ways, three weeks flew over. Gregory nights were easy. He kept me more than a little busy. He’s been amazing. He’s spent at least two nights in Dubai each week, fudging working from the penthouse suite. Non-Gregory nights haven’t been tragic either. I’ve been crazy busy completing Mr. Ghurair’s deal, or I’ve been helping Sandy plan.
I’m told it’s coincidence that, just hours after Gregory returned to London three weeks ago, I received a call from Sandy saying she and Jackson have decided to get married. She explained away how they hadn’t previously thought about holding it abroad and how Lara has contacts in St. Lucia so they could marry soon and it wouldn’t break the bank. And by soon, she meant four weeks.
So here I am, sitting in a chair on one side of Neil Wallace’s desk, my first morning back in the London office. He’s pacing the floor on lanky legs, trying to keep his temper, switching between folding his arms across his blue shirt and huffily pushing his hands into the pockets of his black pinstripe trousers. Not only have I cut my secondment short, I’m now going on annual leave for two weeks from Thursday—seventy-two hours after returning from Dubai. I’m not sure if it’s the temperature of the room or the heat radiating from Neil that has my skin flushed and my hand wafting air against my cheeks each time he turns his back.
Neil is usually a decent man, a family man at heart, but my explanation about having to be in St. Lucia to walk my sub-mum down the aisle is falling on pissed off ears.
“Disappointed would be an understatement, Scarlett.” He shakes his head full of grey hair and halts his skinny body in front of his desk, staring down at me.
One thing’s for sure, my career ladder has snapped in two. Hours of effort, slogging my arse off for the firm, big wins, expedited promotions. They mean nothing now because I just pissed off the man at the top of the tower, two times.
“I’m sorry, Neil, honestly I am and it’s not something I’ve done before but, well, sometimes family has to come first.”
There’s something I never thought I’d say to my boss.
He sighs, almost resigned, as if there’s an outside chance my words have resonated somewhere in his brain. “I won’t lie to you, Scarlett. This hasn’t done you any favours.”
I nod. “I know.”
* * *
It’s after eleven, dark, cold and wet when I leave the office but I smile as soon as I see the Range Rover. It’s the first time Gregory has ever picked me up from work himself. Jackson is already in St. Lucia.
I wheel my large suitcase through the disabled access door and Gregory pulls up the collar of his navy trench coat as he climbs out of the driver seat.
“I had a feeling we might need boot space,” he says.
He takes the suitcase I’ve struggled to lug through my high-rise office block, and makes quick work of throwing it into the boot whilst I run with my mac over my head to the passenger side of the car.
“Hi,” I say with an enormous grin as he climbs behind the steering wheel.
“Hi you.” He cups my cheek with his warm palm and presses his lips to mine. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you from the airport.”
“That’s okay. I thought it would be best to face Neil sooner rather than later anyway.”
“How did it go?”
I let out a short laugh and flop back in my seat as Gregory fastens my belt around my tired body. “I’m pretty sure my career with Saunders, Taylor and Chamberlain has reached a dead end.”
Gregory drops a peck to my brow, then buckles himself in and pulls out to the road too quickly. I press my body into the seat as heat starts to climb through the black leather and I turn my head to look at my sexy bazillionaire CEO.
He casts me a quick glance as he takes a left turn. “If it was so bad, why are you smiling?”
“Because something occurred to me whilst I was sitting in his office having my ears chewed off. Something I’ve never thought before.”
He glances to me again. “What’s that?”
“It doesn’t matter what Neil Wallace has to say because at the end of the day, I get to come home to you.”
He focusses on criss-crossing with traffic over Black Friar’s Bridge, heading south across the River Thames, but his lips turn up in a sexy half smile and he reaches for my hand. He drives back to the Shard and carries everything for me, including my handbag, when we get out of the car.
“Are you tired?” he asks as we ride the lift to the sixty-fourth floor.
“Mmm,” I say with sleepy eyes. “It’s almost four in the morning UAE time.”
“I know,” he whispers into my temple. “I’ve been crossing that time barrier for three weeks.” He kisses my scalp. “Are you hungry? Amy made extra dinner just in case. You should try to eat something.”
“No, thank you, sleep sounds much more appealing.”
He gestures for me to step onto the rosewood floor of his apartment then follows, carrying in my suitcase.
I stand for a minute, looking around the large open plan lounge, and give myself a moment to take everything in. The heated, dark wood floor, the expanse of windows overlooking the twinkling skyline. The combination of black, white and glass furniture and the abstract art on the walls that I used to think screamed bachelor. Now, I think it all screams Gregory. Gregory’s home. Our home.
I don’t let myself look at that spot on the floor that tries to draw me in. The spot where blood once pooled in the aftermath of my fatal shot.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks from the ultra-modern, open kitchen area at one end of the lounge.
I focus on Gregory instead. “No, thank you.”
“Just bed?”
I offer him an apologetic smile. “Please.”
“Okay, baby, let’s get you upstairs.”
He lifts my suitcase upstairs and I follow, watching his back move beneath his white fitted T-shirt, his arse flexing under his indigo jeans. All mine.
As we walk the landing towards our bedroom at the far end, Gregory slips the suitcase into a spare room. “I’ll have Amy take care of that in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, dear, we aren’t getting much out of you tonight, are we?”
I shake my head. “Sleepy.”
He chuckles. “I know, baby. Before you shower, I want to show you something.” He takes my hand and stops outside a white door on the landing. “This is your welcome home gift.”
He pushes open the door and I step inside. He hits a switch and ceiling spotlights illuminate the room. Turning quickly on the spot, not knowing where to look first, my mouth falls open.
The double bed that used to stand in the middle of the large room is gone. The space has been completely transformed. The walls are lined with mahogany, open-door wardrobes. All my clothes, other than the small stash still in my suitcase, have been moved in and hang under strategically placed lights. Short dresses. Long dresses. Trousers. Jackets. Each item of clothing has its own specific spot. Around the floor a low-level shelf hosts my shoes, the pairs positioned just-so. I move to four padded stools forming a square in the middle of the room, kneeling on them to look into the glass-top chest behind.
“My jewellery.”
Drawers in one corner are the only section of the wardrobe not on display. I take it my lingerie is in there.
I head to the dressing table beneath the window and run my fingers along the wood, then across the top of the chi
c French dressing chair. I turn my head left to the floor-length mirror and watch Gregory, smiling, leaning against the doorframe.
“Do you like it?”
“Gregory, I’m speechless. It’s amazing. Thank you so much.”
“You’re more than welcome, angel. Amy’s already started to pack you some things for St. Lucia. I didn’t think you’d have much time so I had Julia and Lucas send over new holiday clothes from Harrods. But I know how stubborn you get about your clothes so let Amy know if you want to add anything else. I can arrange for different stuff from Julia and Lucas, too.”
Shaking my head, I go to him and stroke my fingertips through the side of his thick, dark hair. “How long are you going to be on your best behaviour?”
“I just want everything to be perfect for you.”
“Everything is perfect, Gregory. It’s perfect because I’m here with you.”
After showering, I slip into a plum silk nightdress. Gregory is taking a call in his office, presumably to somewhere in a different time zone, so I tuck my tired limbs under the duvet and sink into his...our mattress. Amy has changed the sheets and although I miss his smell, the fresh linen scent on the Egyptian cotton is incredibly homey. Reaching for the remote, I switch the room to darkness and smile to myself. I’m here, in our bed, in our home.
I’m semi-comatose when Gregory’s weight leans onto the bed next to me. He lifts the covers and wraps his body around mine, pulling my back into him, cupping my thighs and knees with his own. He trails a finger lightly up, down, across my arm and nuzzles into my neck.
“Welcome home, baby.” He continues to swirl his finger. “I’m going to remind you every single day how much I love you.” He inhales deeply at my neck, then kisses the skin beneath my lobe. “Always.”
* * *
“Your latte.”
Margaret hands over the blue cardboard cup then adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“Thank you.”
“And here’s your mail.” She gives me a stack of paper, already opened and sorted. “Only the top three need to be actioned. Pop the others in your filing tray when you’ve looked at them and I’ll pick them up for you. Oh, and there’s one more thing.”