I breathe out loudly, squeezing her close.
“No, you’re right. I learned a lot today, Jules. And mostly because of you in more ways than one. I owe you everything,” I tell her, truthfully.
She looks at me sideways, creasing a smile. “I think someone might need some sleep. I know I do.”
To my complete amazement, she yawns and shifts away from me, trying to find her dress.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, confused.
“I should go. I mean...” she looks suddenly more confused than I feel. “I’m not sure how any of this works,” she admits, suddenly thinking aloud. “My clothes… my apartment… my own bed…”
I feel her awkwardness, but there’s no need for her to feel that way. Everything I have is hers now, too.
Not that I have a wardrobe full of women’s clothing or even a spare toothbrush.
But all that’s a phone call away, a single email.
“I thought I could keep you warm?” I offer, moving so there's extra space for her next to me on the couch.
She can’t go home. I’ve seen her neighborhood. She’s never going back there again unless it’s to get her clothes and toothbrush before coming here for good.
“I sleepwalk,” she says suddenly. “And I snore…”
I don’t mean to, but she’s making me laugh now. Standing butt naked in front of me, telling me about her shortcomings… about her need for her own bed.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was showing some signs of being nervous about spending the night.
Not wanting to waste any more time, like I have all day, I get up and lift her up into my arms. I moan with satisfaction as I feel the warmth of her form against my forearms, her naked chest pressing into mine.
“I tell you what,” I inform her gently, walking slowly towards my bedroom, our bedroom.
“I’ll keep the doors and windows locked, so you don’t fall off the building sleepwalking, and I’ll stuff cotton wool into my ears if your snoring gets too much. How about that?”
She looks away, embarrassed. “Like I said, all this is new to me. You probably have a different girl every night.”
That makes me stop in my tracks, almost wanting to put her down so I can tell her more firmly, to her face.
“No, Jules. I don’t. I never have. I need you to understand that, okay? I’ve spent my whole adult life working, building this up.”
I can hear myself getting just as animated as she was, talking about her boss. I just don’t want her to think, not even for one second, that I’m some kind of playboy.
“It’s just you and me, alright? That’s all you need to know. There’s no one else. Never has been and there never will be,” I growl.
I don’t mean to sound angry, but I need her to understand. I need her to know she’s the only one I’ll ever want no matter want.
“Then I guess this is new for both of us,” she observes, and I feel my whole body, my whole soul relax.
“I guess it is,” I agree. “Now, let’s find you a robe, and I must have a spare toothbrush somewhere.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jules
For all my self-conscious worries, for all my sounding like an old woman…
I’ve never seen a more beautiful living space. I’ve never known a more comfortable bed and I’ve most definitely never had such good company.
Mason is the perfect gentleman, and once I get used to seeing his manhood bobbing around, and having him tell me over and over that it’s fine if we don’t… Well. I realize I’ve actually never felt safer or more comfortable with anyone or anywhere in my whole life.
It actually feels like home.
Although I don’t tell Mason that. Not just yet.
I try to stay awake, I really do. Having a man the size and with the physique of Mason is like every girl’s fantasy come true, but I really am a lights out by ten o’clock girl.
Even on a Saturday.
And after the near complete servicing he’s already given me, I practically fall asleep in his arms as soon as my head hits the pillows.
I don’t want to open my eyes. I want to stay in the dream I’m having.
The one where Mason’s head is between my legs and he’s doing that thing with his mouth before he kisses me, making me…
I open my eyes.
Suddenly aware that Mason’s not next to me, that I’m all alone in his huge bed.
A pillow’s between my legs and I need to pee. A lot.
I wasn’t exaggerating too much, I do move around a lot in my sleep and I only hope my snoring didn’t force him to sleep on a couch or somewhere else.
I find a bathroom adjoining his bedroom which is as big as my whole apartment.
Everything is so clean, so new looking.
So expensive.
He’s a big man, so everything is probably larger and scaled up than what I’m used to, but nothing feels cold. None of his things or any part of this whole place feels sterile or empty, although there is an awful lot of space.
I slept naked, which isn’t like me at all, and before he finds me I want to cover up. The whole morning after and it being daylight now and all.
I was like an animal in heat last night, but this morning after seeing myself in the full length mirror in his bathroom and bedroom?
I’m covering up.
I find a robe, which is like twenty sizes too big, so I settle for the shirt Mason wore last night and have a little bit of a snoop (not too much though), I find a pair of boxers which I’m ashamed to say actually fit me. A little too snug, I might add, but anything of Mason’s is fine by me.
The penthouse seems to have a series of rooms that must be where Mason actually spends his spare time, with the rest I dunno. It’s like a huge glass observatory, filled with huge plants, staircases leading who knows where and a whole foyer of elevators.
A huge staircase leads up to what looks like a pool area, not somewhere I see myself right now, so I stick to the spaces that feel like home.
After a few minutes of getting lost and finding my way again, I hear his familiar, deep baritone voice.
A large pair of oak doors open out onto a familiar space, his office. And I can see him sitting on the edge of his desk in a robe, phone in his hand, with a laptop open.
I smell coffee from somewhere, but I don’t see any.
I also notice how hungry I am, but I really don’t want to interrupt.
Too late.
As soon as Mason sees me, he checks his watch and curses, he literally hangs up on whoever he was talking to, mumbling just a word or two beforehand and then he’s striding over to me in three long steps, his arms open as he gives me a full body good morning hug and then one of his amazing kisses.
“I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing my back, “Old man habits. I’m an early riser and I really have nothing else to do except this,” he says, motioning around his office.
I look up at him with a ‘what about me?’ look, but he just smiles.
“I did kiss you in your sleep this morning, but I couldn’t lay there with you moaning like that. Not without being unaccountable for my actions. Remember, you said to take it slow,” he says knowingly.
Did I?
I guess I did.
Dammit!
“C’mon, let’s grab some breakfast. I’m starving.”
I watch as he moves back into his penthouse, his suite, whatever you call it.
I watch his fine butt against the fabric of his robe, and the muscles in his thick legs flex like Atlas as he performs the simple act of walking.
I feel like I’m waddling by comparison, but can’t help noticing something on his laptop screen out of the corner of my eyes.
A map of what looks like my neighborhood. I recognize the main streets and the park. It’s highlighted in red.
I shrug, letting my eyes cast back to his perfect behind and hurry to catch up as he turns to look back, holding his hand out.
He closes the doors be
hind us. “No more work today. I promise,” he says, and kisses me on the lips, making me shiver like a leaf and forget about anything that isn’t Mason Thorne, or breakfast or coffee.
“Nice shirt,” he says, making me blush until I see the effect it’s having on him through his robe, which gets pushed open by his own thick arousal.
It’s almost level with my chest, that’s how much he towers over me and he moves to tuck himself back in.
“Sorry,” he murmurs bashfully, “but you do have a certain effect on me,” he reminds me, and I have to fight my instincts to fish it out of his robe again, to take him in my mouth, to put him everywhere else I want…
So what’s stopping you?
I wish I knew the answer.
Here’s god’s gift to women and he’s raring to go, and I’m still acting like an uptight nun for some reason.
“We can take it slow,” Mason adds, reading my thoughts and kissing the top of my head.
With my fingers curled around his, he leads me through to the kitchen, overlooking the whole city with a view that stretches out to the ocean, and beyond.
I let go of him just long enough to go all the way over to the huge windows that stretch as high as the ceiling.
“It’s just beautiful. Do you ever get tired of looking at it?” I ask, looking over to see him scanning my body from behind.
“Never,” he admits, not even taking his eyes off me and I gasp aloud, seeing just how hard he really is under that robe, and noting the effect he’s having on me.
Mason sits me down at a table by the window, asking me if it’s okay or if I’d prefer the stools by the island.
As long as I get to eat and look at this man, I don’t mind where I sit.
I do gravitate towards the island though, I don’t want him seeing me sitting in full sunlight.
I notice a spread of newspapers across the counter, today’s papers, with headlines about last night’s record breaking auction.
“Another old habit I’m afraid,” he admits, “I like the feel and the look of newspapers. I don’t like staring at screens all day.
The headlines are a mix of kind and downright cruel. I skim past them lightly, hoping not to see my name in print, which oddly enough, I feel a little disappointed when I don’t.
“I made sure you were kept out of it,” he says over his shoulder before holding up two kinds of milk, making me shrug.
“How would you…?” I start to say, but then I have to remind myself, I have to realize, this is Mason Thorne.
He’s not some random dude I just hooked up with. He’s the wealthiest, most connected man in the city, probably the state.
I feel dizzy again, the gravity of my situation about as high up as we are on the top floors right now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mason
I watch her sleep, barely getting a wink myself. She wasn’t kidding about her night moves either, she’s one active bunny in the sack and I’m keeping to my side the whole time.
I can’t wait ‘til I can utilize some of that nocturnal energy every damned night. I’ll have her sleeping like a kitten afterward.
I hope she’s dreaming of me too, because once she starts moaning and her hands travel south, between her legs with a pillow… I can’t take much more without crossing that line I promised to keep with her.
I’ve always been an early riser, so getting up at four or five is nothing new for me. And out of habit, as well as needing to distance myself from a sleeping and obviously very horny Jules, I check my office emails and decide to face up to a few other things in there.
I can deal with Jules when she wakes up… maybe.
I know I said I’d wait. But I’ll have to claim her soon or I’ll be visiting the emergency room to have this thing drained.
I hadn’t foreseen some kid hacking into the auction bids, but meh. A few extra million for charity is a lot less tax. I pay my share of both.
But it’s the downtown developments that have me rattled. The whole plan for my company to take over a whole neighborhood and put up condos only for those who have a big enough checkbook?
That’s not the company I started.
That’s not me and I’m itching to find out who’s behind it all and why I’ve been deliberately kept in the dark about it.
I field the usual and expected flood of media response to the auction straight to PR, let them handle it. I gave my instructions there.
It’s too early (or is it?) to call Nicholas. I know I sent him on vacation, but I feel like I’m gonna need him now more than ever if I’m going to get to the bottom of this development bullshit.
But before I know it, the suns up, and everything else takes a back seat once Jules finds me.
She looks cute, to say the least, wearing one of my shirts and not much else by the looks.
Her thick chest filling out my shirt, with those nipples that are just begging to be sucked peeking through, end the phone call I’m on.
It’s all about Jules today, the rest can work itself out and I’ll deal with the development conspiracies later I guess.
My house, the whole building. The papers, my life, and who I am, what I do, I can see it registering with Jules as I start to make us breakfast.
I don’t ever want her to feel overwhelmed or anything less than me.
We’re equals.
She’ll be mine and I know I’m all hers.
“Today’s just about us, okay,” I tell her, shifting the newspapers away and leaning over the counter to peck her lips.
Getting a full view down my own shirt is something new to me, something I like a lot, and breakfast is threatened by another trip to the couch or the bedroom, but I can see Jules needs to eat as much as I do.
I’m starved.
“You feeling better though?” I ask, noting her symptoms of fever seem to have gone.
She nods eagerly. “I think so. Must’ve been one of those twenty-four hour things.”
I’m relieved. I need her well, and full of energy.
I opt for steaks for breakfast. Nothing new for me, but Jules’ eyes widen for a moment once I ask her which one she wants.
“I’ll have a piece of yours. They’re huge, Mason,” she exclaims, but I warn her I need all of mine for me.
“I like to eat, Jules. I need too,” I tell her, feeling my hardness shifting again at the thought of what I’d rather be eating right now.
Dammit, if this girl hasn’t hijacked my mind and my body.
Her eyes run over me as I face her, and I wonder again if we can both make it through breakfast without devouring each other.
Right, when I’m about to postpone cooking in favor of eating out Jules again instead, the phone on the wall rings, making me groan.
“It’s my private line,” I explain, reluctantly moving to answer it.
“Like the bat phone?” Jules quips, and I smile.
“Kind of.”
It’s Nicholas. I’d normally be relieved, but with Jules here, right now is a bad time.
“I thought you were on vacation?” I ask him, realizing I may as well check in with him. I did email him telling him to call me ASAP. I just didn’t think it would be over my choice of breakfasts.
“I am. I was…” he says, sounding unusually hesitant. My email also alluded to the property deals I’ve just found out about. I’ve called a meeting and want every single executive in the board room tomorrow morning.
“I’m tied up today,” I continue to tell him, “but I need you to round up all those on the list. I don’t care where they are, get ‘em back here.” I growl.
Nick never talks back, but for some reason, he’s trying to brush off this whole thing. He wants to talk about the press, about the auction.
About the strange girl, I was seen leaving with.
I can see Jules is looking like she feels out of place, so sighing impatiently, I tell Nicholas as nicely as I can for him to just do as I’ve asked in the email and I’ll see everyone at the meeting tom
orrow.
He protests again, but I hang up.
How weird.
“Everything alright?” Jules asks, noticing my suddenly very sad cock under my robe.
I shrug, laughing to myself.
No wonder I haven’t had it up in years. Damned work, kills every good mood.
“Just business,” I tell her, leaning over to kiss her again and set to work on our breakfast of steaks, eggs, and bacon with onions, mushrooms, and anything else I can find to fry off.
It’s strange, but I think we both feel a little awkward about eating in front of each other. Strange because of what we’ve already done to each other but for me, I think it’s because I’m used to living alone.
Same for Jules I’m guessing.
I try not to watch her, but she does this thing with her ears when she chews. I think it’s cute and can’t help but stare.
She stops chewing.
“Everything alright?” she asks, brushing her hair back over her ears self-consciously.
I think again about the real estate deal, about her neighborhood. Wondering how soon can I bring up the topic of her staying here with me for good.
“I just like watching you is all,” I tell her truthfully.
I can see she’s also thinking about her things.
“I can have some clothes sent up, anything you need,” I offer.
She gives me a smile.
I had planned for a day out. But seeing her in my shirt and what looks like a pair of my boxers too, I’m thinking I want to be housebound with her today, but it’s her day. It’s up to Jules.
“You feel like doing anything? Going someplace?” I ask, dabbing my mouth with a napkin.
“I thought you’d have to do something about the auction?” she asks, finding her own napkin and matching my movements with her own.
I shrug, really not wanting to think about it, or anything to do with the business until tomorrow.
Even though I know I should be scrambling to set some heads rolling. From the sounds of it though, most of the trash I want to take out isn’t even in the state. Some of them aren’t even in the country at the moment.
How convenient.
Bidding For Her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 208) Page 7