Mr Spencer(86)

“Oh, okay. You need a cohabitation agreement. How much are you prepared to give her when you break up?”

“We won’t break up, and it’s not for my protection. It’s for hers.”

He pauses. “I don’t understand. What do you want to give her?”

“I want a contract drawn up saying that I want none of her money if we separate.”

“I doubt she’ll have more money than you.” He scoffs.

“Trust me, she does.”

“Okay, so you want the contract stating that you both leave the relationship with no financial crossover. What you both came in with, you leave with.”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name.”

“Charlotte Prescott.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“You there?” I ask.

“Not Harold Prescott’s daughter?”

“That’s her.”

“Fuck.” I hear him typing, and I know he’s Googling her estimated wealth. “Spence, you need to cover yourself. Don’t be stupid and walk away from that fortune. If you marry her, you’re entitled to it.”

“I don’t want it.” I roll my eyes as I feel my anger begin to bubble. “Just write me up the fucking contract, okay?”

He exhales heavily. “Think this through, will you?”

“No. Can you do me the contract, or will I get someone else to do it? I don’t want a single penny of her fucking money.”

“Four billion pounds, Spencer.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Get the contract to me as soon as possible.”

“You’re an idiot if you sign this.”

“Stop pissing me off,” I snarl.

“You pay me for advice. My advice to you is to not sign a cohabitation agreement. Not if she’s not asking for one.”

“Goodbye, Alan. Email me the contract tomorrow, please.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He sighs.

I hang up and stuff my phone into my pocket angrily. For fuck’s sake, why can’t Charlotte be a broke orphan? My feelings for her would be the same and I wouldn’t have to deal with all this fucking bullshit that goes with her name. I inhale heavily to try and calm myself down, and I take the elevator up to her floor and apartment. I walk in and close the door behind me, and suddenly I feel calm.

It’s a peaceful calm that I only get from being alone with Charlotte.

It’s just me, her, and all the rest of the bullshit is on the other side of that door.

“Angel?” I call.

“Up here.” I hear her sweet voice call from the bedroom upstairs.

“I hope you’re naked.”

She laughs, and I know she is. I smile and take the stairs two at a time.

I walk into the bedroom to find her lying in bed. Steam is flowing from the bathroom, and I know she’s freshly showered.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi.” I feel the blood start to rush to my cock.

“Everything all right?”

“It is now.”

“Now?”

“Now that I’m here with you.”

She smiles softly and holds her arms up for me to go to her. She’s in her robe, lying on her back which is propped up against the pillows. The smell of her soap floats through the air.

“Are you naked and in bed for any particular reason?” I ask.

She smiles and gets up onto her knees, crawling over to the side of the bed. I bend and kiss her. Her lips are big and soft, and all coherent thought begins to leave me.

I can’t think when she’s naked near me. I lose my ability to think clearly.

“I’m naked for my man.” She pulls me to her by the suit pants. I watch on as she slowly slides down my zipper and kisses my cock through my briefs.

I run my fingers through her hair as I watch her. She’s blossoming before my eyes.

Every day, a little more of her sexuality comes out. She becomes a little more daring and I feel myself fall that little bit harder. She kisses me through my black boxers. I kick off my shoes and push my trousers down. She takes off her robe and then goes up onto her knees, unbuttoning my shirt as I smile down at her. I’m conscious that I need to let her take the lead whenever she wants to.

Slowly but surely, she’s getting there—getting to the place where soon I’ll be able to take her as I want to. It took her a week just to be comfortable being naked in front of me.

It’s been hard holding myself back, to consider her needs before mine, because I’m petrified of hurting her.

She slides my shirt over my shoulders, and then her hands drop to my boxers, and she slides them down my legs. Her hand goes around my cock, and a deep rumbling begins in my balls. I put my hand over hers to guide her, slowly stroking myself as she watches on in wonder. Pre-ejaculate beads at the head.

“Lick me, angel,” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “Taste me.”

She smiles and in slow motion bends. I watch as her tongue slides out and over my end. I clench my stomach in appreciation.

Every time, every fucking time I’m with her, I have to concentrate not to blow too soon.

She’s too perfect.

This, what’s between us, is too perfect.