Brooke’s pussy squeezes me in response. I’m already hardening again. That’s what she does to me. Every part of me wants her. All the time. And I’m not sure what that means. It’s not something I’ve ever felt before. With anyone.
But tonight I’m not going to question it.
“Do you want the tour now?”
If she does want it, I’ll give it to her, though I say it mostly as a joke.
Reaching up, Brooke pulls my mouth down to hers. “There’s time for that later, right?”
“Absolutely.”
She grins. “Then I’m not fucking moving.”
“Good.” Exactly what I want to hear. Lowering my mouth to her skin, I start what I intend to be a very, very thorough exploration. “When I’m done with you, you’ll have come so many times that you’ll be shaking. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Brooke shudders. “A good secretary never says no to an order, Sir.”
Smiling, I kiss her one more time, and then I get to work.
6
Brooke
I wake slowly, taking in the sunrise over L.A. through Malcolm’s massive windows. He’s asleep behind me, arm thrown over my hip and holding me against him. I could drown in this warmth forever.
He kept his promise last night and memorized me with his mouth and hands and cock. And by the time that he actually did get around to giving me a tour of the place, I could barely walk. And when he showed me the kitchen and realized that he has an incredible amount of bare countertops, he used those too.
I feel like I ran the world’s best marathon. Exhausted and blissed out. I’ll be sore for days and I won’t fucking care.
The soft sound of vibration comes from nearby, and I slowly move, leaning over the edge of the bed to reach my phone where it ended up last night. It means that Malcolm’s arm isn’t quite around me anymore, and I already miss it. The way he touches me…it’s unbelievable.
I used to think that people were joking when they talked about this kind of chemistry. That they were just high on life and in love and that it couldn’t possibly be that good. Holy hell was I wrong.
Now that I’m awake and he’s not, I can stare at some of the things in his room. Last night I hid the awe from him. Everything in this penthouse is sheer luxury. I don’t think I truly understood his wealth until last night. And just like the restaurant, I feel completely out of place.
The apartment I share with Amy is fine, but I wouldn’t call it nice by any means. And there are some months that I’ve scraped by to afford it. Many more days and weeks when I wondered if it was even a good idea for me to stay in L.A. because it’s so expensive. The job with Malcolm definitely helps—it’s a good salary. But how long is it going to last now that I’ve jumped into bed with him?
He leaped into action the moment I showed any discomfort. What would he do if I told him that in his home I felt like a visitor in a museum?
Chill out, Brooke.
It’s not nearly that bad. Besides, I’m an actor. I’m sure that I can get used to this, I just need to fake it until I make it. There isn’t anything else that I need to fake with Malcolm, that’s for sure.
I check my phone. It’s a text from Amy.
Hey, where are you?
Smirking at the screen, I reply.
I may have gone home with someone.
There’s an immediate response of an emoji that’s crying with laughter. Then,
Any good?
You could say that.
Another laughing face.
You’ll have to tell me about it later. But when are you going to be back? You have everything you need for the audition?
I check the time. It’s later than I thought, but I still have time. Especially if I don’t have to take the bus.
I’ll be there! Leaving soon.
She sends me a thumbs up and I drop the phone back onto my dress.
Fingers curl around my hip. “You are way too far away.”
Malcolm pulls me back against him, turning me so that we’re face to face and he can kiss me. Beneath the sheets we’re nothing but skin on skin, and after a week of barely being able to get naked, it feels like unspeakable luxury. “Just checking my phone.”
“This early?”
I laugh. “I have to go soon. My audition.”
“That’s right,” he says. “You’re going to knock them dead.”
Nerves dance in my gut. “I hope so.”
“There’s not even a question.” He runs his hand down my body. “And as much as I’d love to keep you in my bed all day and fuck you into oblivion…”
“We’ll have another day for that,” I say. “Right?”
“Damn well better be,” he mutters as he pulls away. “I’ll drive you home.”
I roll out of the bed and grab my dress. “I was hoping you’d say that. It’s going to be so much faster.”
“And like hell am I letting you take the bus at this hour in those shoes.”
I smirk at him and make sure he’s watching when I slip the dress on over my head with nothing underneath. “I guess the ‘fuck me’ shoes worked on you.”
Malcolm pins me with a stare while he pulls on a pair of pants. “If I could make a law that you only wear those shoes, I would do it.”
“God, they hurt so bad. I don’t even want to put them back on.”
He looks around. “Do you have everything?”
“Yeah.”
Malcom throws on a t-shirt—something that is an entirely different kind of mouthwatering—and slips into shoes before crossing the room and lifting me into his arms. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t want to put on the shoes, you don’t have to. I’ve got you.”
I can’t look up at him. I’m suddenly blushing. This feels more intimate than who we are. But who are we? We’re falling into each other so fast that I can’t breathe, but at the same time, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The way he’s carrying me—like it’s effortless—unlocks something in me. It’s comforting, and leaning on someone like this, even physically, isn’t something that I’ve been able to do in a long time.
He carries me all the way to his car and tucks me into the passenger seat like it’s nothing. And then he takes my hand when he starts to drive like this is something that we always do. It’s so comfortable that I can imagine that this is us after a year and not a week.
But the closer we get to my apartment, the more nervous I get. I want to be in this play. It’s gotten under my skin, and I want it so badly that I know it’s going to hurt if I don’t get it.
I start to go over the audition lines in my head, looking out the window and trying to focus on the words and my motivation.
“You all right?” Malcolm asks.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Nervous.”
It takes me a second to realize that the car is stopped and that we’re in front of my apartment. “Oh. I’m sorry.” I go for the door, and he stops me, coming around and lifting me out of the car.