Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(50)

Bridget choked and sputtered, her eyes welling with tears, and I pulled out until just the tip remained.

“Too much?”

She shook her head, her eyes dark and eager, and I pushed myself inside her again with a groan.

We worked up to a rhythm—slowly at first, then faster as she got more comfortable. Bridget’s sputters gradually eased, replaced with moans that sent tiny vibrations shooting up my cock, and she reached down to finger herself while I pinched and played with her nipples.

“That’s it,” I growled. “Take every inch down your throat like a good girl.”

Sweat beaded on my skin as I drove in and out of her mouth until I couldn’t take it anymore. The silky warmth of her mouth, the sight of her playing with herself while her throat bulged around my cock…

My orgasm slammed into me like fireworks and exploded behind my eyes. I pulled out at the last minute and erupted, covering her chest with thick ropes of cum. I came so fucking hard I almost sank to the floor afterward, and that never happened. Ever.

By the time I was finished, Bridget had come again too, and the sounds of our ragged breaths mixed with the heavy scent of sex in the air.

“Wow.” She blinked, looking a little shellshocked.

I laughed, my head—both of them—still buzzing from the aftershocks.

“I should be the one saying that.” I gave her a quick kiss before I scooped her up from the bed and carried her into the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

After our shower, during which I couldn’t resist fingering her to another orgasm, I replaced the sheets before setting her back down on the bed. Exhaustion and satisfaction lined her face, and for once, she let me fuss over her without complaint as I tucked her beneath the covers and smoothed her hair out of her face.

“Bucket list number four. Don’t say I never gave you anything,” I teased.

Bridget managed to yawn and laugh at the same time. “Bucket list number four,” she murmured sleepily. “It was perfect.” She blinked up at me, her blue eyes a little sad. “I wish we could stay here forever.”

My chest squeezed. “Me too, princess.” I gave her another kiss, the softest of the night, and tried to etch the taste and feel of her in my memory.

After she drifted off, I sat and watched her sleep for a while, feeling like a total creep but unable to look away. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths, and she had a small smile on her face. She looked more content than she had in weeks, and I wished I had the power to make the moment last forever like she wanted.

If we do this, it stays here. This room, this night. We don’t talk about it again.

My rule. One we had to follow because Bridget wasn’t just my client. She was the future Queen of Eldorra, and with that came layers of complications and bullshit I hated but couldn’t do anything about.

I swept my gaze over her one last time, taking in every detail, before I hardened my expression and left.

Bucket list number four.

No matter what my heart said or wanted, tonight was a fulfillment of her wishes.

That was all it was.

That was all it could be.





20





Bridget





I woke up the next morning sore but smiling. I hadn’t woken up in such a good mood in ages, and it took me a minute to remember why.

Bits and pieces from last night came back to me, slowly at first, then all at once, and I blushed when I remembered the filthy things I’d said and done in this very room.

But I couldn’t stop smiling.

I need to make bucket lists more often.

I lingered in bed for a while, reluctant to break the dreamy haze enveloping me, but we were leaving today for New York and I needed to get up soon.

When I did, I found my travel clothes laid out for me on the dresser, and I realized the rest of the room was spotless. No wayward shoes littering the floor, no bikinis hanging over the chair or makeup scattered over the vanity.

Rhys must’ve finished packing for me. I’d crashed so hard I hadn’t even heard him.

My suspicions were confirmed when I went down to the living room, where I found him waiting next to our luggage. Gone were the casual T-shirts and board shorts he’d worn the past few days; in their place was his usual all-black outfit.

I felt a small pang in my chest. I missed Vacation Rhys already.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he said without looking up from his phone. “Breakfast is ready in the kitchen. Our flight is at noon, so we should leave in the next forty-five minutes.”

My smile faded. Your Highness. Not even a princess.

We’d agreed to keep what happened last night to last night, but I hadn’t expected such a one-eighty so soon. Rhys was almost colder now than when we’d first met.

“Thank you.” I was so caught off guard I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “For packing and breakfast.”

“You’re welcome.”

My good mood from earlier drained away, but I hid my disappointment as I ate breakfast alone while Rhys checked to make sure everything in the house looked okay before we left.

He saved the kitchen for last, maybe because I was in there.

“Mr. Larsen.” It didn’t seem right to call him Rhys, given the chill hanging between us.