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“This is pure luxury. A girl could get used to this lifestyle.” I swim up toward him.
His eyes darken, and his lips form a thin line.
“What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m going to grab a drink. Would you like something?”
“Please,” I say, watching as he walks off.
I think back over my words, wondering what I could’ve said or done to make him react that way. I’d simply complimented the place.
Then again, the lifestyle is probably the exact reason he doesn’t date. Plenty of women wouldn’t see Charles for the catch that he is, beyond the money.
He’s back quickly, handing me a drink. The hardened look is absent, and I thank God for that. The last thing I want is for this short trip to be ruined.
“A glass of champagne, mixed with pool water, for the lovely lady.”
I take a sip. “Ah, how did you know? My favorite drink of all time.”
He smirks. “It’s Prosecco, sans the water.”
“My hero.”
The rest of the day is magic. We spend it poolside, eating the most incredible food made by a private chef.
Charles had made a call to have Andre available to feed us. He stops by every now and again with platters, more champagne, and anything else our hearts’ desire. Then he made himself scarce again. It’s hard not to get swept away by the extravagance of the place.
We’re lounging by the pool, and my eyes blink open when I feel someone hovering above me.
Charles grins down at me. “You look ravishing.”
I rise up on my elbows. “That so?”
He nods. “I’m starving.”
“You just ate,” I tease, shielding my eyes from the sun.
“Yes, but I want you, Raven.”
Liquid fire heats low in my gut, and I’m suddenly hungry, too.
Hungry for him.
He lowers onto his knees, scooting my body to the end of the chair so my legs dangle over. As he pulls down my bikini bottoms, my core coils with an intense need, and I’m aching for what’s to come.
He doesn’t make me wait.
His mouth descends on my center, lapping, sucking, nipping.
My back lifts off the chair with a moan, and I fear Andre will hear. I tense, and Charles must sense it.
“Nobody’s going to hear you, love. Let go.”
He moves back to my center, adding his fingers to the mix. He inserts one, pumping in and out of me as I buck against his hand, all the while continuing his pattern.
Lap.
Suck.
