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Charlie watched me expectantly as I rushed back to the couch and collapsed down. “Well?”
“He thanked me.” I tossed the blanket over my legs and bit back a huge grin. “He also told me not to change a thing which is high praise from Mr. Sterling Bishop. I’m thinking a spring wedding, what do you think?” I joked, trying to pretend his compliment didn’t get to me as much as it did.
“I’ll prepare the invitations,” he said lightly. “You’d better go, though. Talk to him. His guard won’t be down for long.”
“Really?” I got up without wasting more time. “Okay... um... fuck me sideways,” I whispered as I rushed back to the kitchen, and Sterling was already almost done with his meal. “Went with the beer, huh?” Great start. Not too pushy. I grabbed the other drinks and started putting them away as I waited to see if he’d respond.
“She’d never let me before. Always told me I’d ruin the taste, and she was right.” He sat back, loosening his tie and watching me. “This my father’s idea?”
“No,” I answered honestly and then sat a few chairs away to keep a distance, even if I was already feeling drawn to him in this warm state. “I asked him what your favorite meal was to surprise you and he let me know, so I’d call it a joint effort.”
He took another sip of his beer, clearly stalling. “The fuck did you bow for?”
Son of a fuck!My head dropped to the table in front of me. “I don’t know. Because I’m an idiot?” I laughed and lifted it to see his face again and the amusement there. “I was trying to be a professional waitress, but it was a fucking fail. Guess you see why I should never do that for a living.”
“You just need some practice,” he quipped. “I’ll get you a little apron and you can try again tomorrow.”
“An apron?” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes with a soft smile. “Fine, and I’ll waitress your fucking socks off, Dick-for-Brains.”
“Will you, now?” He leaned in, eyes dancing in a way that changed his face. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Gods, he really is handsome. Hold me to it, hold me down while you’re at it ... wait, what?I cleared my throat and squirmed, but tried my hardest not to break eye contact. “Good. I’ll expect a tip, Sir.”
He got to his feet and buttoned his suit, then stepped closer until he was right by my chair and leaned down. “You want a tip, Miss Bryce, you’d better earn it.”
“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” I whispered, my heart nearly stopping at how close he was to me and how good he smelled.
“Good girl. But leave the Crocs behind, yeah?” He touched my chin softly then walked past me, leaving me stunned as he called over his shoulder, “I like my eggs scrambled, by the way. With hot sauce.”
“Mmhm,” was all I managed to croak out. The ‘good girl’ had my knees pressing together and my body craving his touch, so much more of his touch. How would his fingers feel on my cheek, my neck, my breasts ... lower? I jumped up when I realized the thoughts I was having; it had been so long since I’d had any true human contact that that one intimate chin touch had my panties soaked and my mind reeling. What the fuck is happening to me? I— Jesus, I need to find my vibrator like fucking yesterday. I spun in an entire circle before rushing off toward the stairs.
Sterling would have to help Charlie tonight because I suddenly had a very important date with Geralt of Rivia in my bed, and nothing was going to stand in my way.
––––––––
Sterling
HOW A FUCKING HOBOdinner got so far out of my hands was beyond me, but fuck, she’d gotten under my skin. The gesture had caught me off guard, but it was more than that. I could see it in her eyes ... the way she responded to me. The way her beautiful, toned thighs clenched when I called her a good girl. I didn’t mean to look back — I’d tried to leave to spare myself, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know how she reacted, and now I couldn’t think of anything else.
Since Zeppelin was nowhere to be found after dinner, I helped my dad to bed and brushed off his probing questions. He was always meddling in my love life and trying to find a partner for me, and I’d known damn well when he’d passed on a fully-qualified and highly-recommended male aide for Zeppelin Bryce with her hangover eyes and rainbow Crocs that he was attempting to meddle again.
It had taken her dinner gesture to remind me that none of this was her fault and that maybe I should stop being such a dick, but as I passed her room on my way to my own and heard a moan, my dick seemed to be the only part of my body that was still functioning.
Fucking hell. Is she ...?
I froze in the hallway, glancing behind me to make sure my dad’s door was closed, then stepped closer to Zeppelin’s. I couldn’t hear much at first other than the faint sound of music, but as I tipped my forehead against the wood, I caught it.
The vibration.
The tiny little moans only audible between beats.
My fingers curled into fists pressed tight to the door frame as my cock became almost unbearably hard — she was masturbating, and to what? To porn? Her imagination? ... Me?
God, I hope it’s me.
“Good girl,” I whispered breathlessly, squeezing my eyes shut and fighting the urge to go in. “Come for me, Zeppelin. Let me hear it. What do you sound like when you lose control? When someone takes you apart? Has someone ever taken you apart?”
I stopped being able to think straight when I considered the possibility of it being me. To have that bratty, confusing, irritating caretaker on her knees for me, or spread out and tied down, at the mercy of my hands, my tongue, my cock, my words.
