Lucy is fidgeting and can’t find out where to sit or how to be. Getting up from the sofa, avoiding the elegant wingback chair (perhaps she rightly assumes that chair is mine and it kind of touches me that she doesn’t want to sit there), and heading back to the massive bed, I watch her run her hands over the edge of the bedspread. Lucy is lost in thought. I would love to know what she’s thinking.
Though I bet I wouldn’t exactly love her thoughts.
I’m just so fucking fascinated with her.
I want to see those long legs slung over the bed and I want to be between them.
Lucy bounces up and heads toward the bathroom mirror. I watch her and she’s looking at herself in the mirror. Her jaw is going slack, her eyes are more hooded now. She’s looking at herself with scrutiny, and there’s an unmistakable fog of lust in her eyes. Her fingers tuck under her blouse and she pulls it up over her head. The cups of her silky, lacy lingerie are promising the creamy peachy flesh beneath to me.
I grip my cock over my trousers. Fuck.
She unzips the skirt and the panties she’s wearing, fuck. They have a little butterfly over her pretty pussy and the ass is sheer with a peekaboo hole peeping over the top of her ass with a ribbon. Fuck. This is not slutty lingerie. The outfit, the lingerie, she’s got a sophisticated taste for what is sexy and it’s my goddamn undoing. I could have any skank out there, and even though Lucy thinks skank is what I like, she put this on to come and offer up her virginity.
Her hands are smoothing over her body, appraising every sensual inch of her. The sight of her hands gliding over her perfect body is so fucking sexy. But she gives her body disapproving looks. Her eyes go down her long legs and she steps out of her heels. She looks away from the mirror, her sexy lips frowning with her mouth downturned in a pout. Lucy hightails away from the bathroom and rushes to the bed, crawling under the covers. She’s shivering, but I suspect that these tears have more to do with her suffering than any temperature. I can’t have this. I have to go to her now.
I flick off all the cameras and rush out from the panel, not caring if my exit is less than conspicuous. She’s not up to anything and I’ve taken care of everything. I don’t want Lucy crying. The tears streaking her cheeks, her knees pulled against her chest, her head resting there. Fuck. I can’t have that. I want to make her feel better, even though I know that I’m why she feels this way.
Fuck, that stab makes me want to go step out of the elevator and just let her be up there, all alone, all night. I could be alone around all the people in my casino. I could … but I told her I would be up there and if I don’t come up there soon, that’s just more time for her to fear my arrival. What if I try to be kind and leave her alone all night, and the anticipation just destroys her?
That’s definitely a possibility … and there’s the fact that if I don’t put my hands on her soon, I’ll lose my own goddamn mind with a very different kind of anticipation bubbling inside of me.
So I keep going, allowing the elevator ride to bring the surge to my stomach that the spiced rum I like to drink would do for me. I want to taste her, and not the burn of alcohol right now. I don’t think I want another drink ever again. I don’t want the haze that it keeps me in. I want to be clear-headed.
I’m destroying Lucy’s life, sure, but I don’t want to be some drunk asshole doing it. I can at least be a sober one.
Zander appears when the elevator opens on a floor just before my level. “Sir, there’s an issue–”
“I can handle it in the morning,” I cut him off. I want to get to Lucy now, there’s unlikely to really be something so goddamn pressing that it can’t wait.
“Well,” Zander swallows. “Your wife,” he says in a lowered voice, and pauses. “The morning, yes. I’ll take care of it from here.” There’s something that passes over his eyes. Zander is the one who’s been watching Tara’s descent. If he wants to get caught up with her, that’s a hell of a move. I don’t fuck her. Not after what she tried to do to me. I don’t care if anyone else fucks her. But I’m not sure if he knows that, and yet here he is, quite possibly taking that risk. Damn. Well, he said he was going to take care of it. That’s a problem for later.