She reaches further down than my hands, giving my already stiff excitement a gentle squeeze of her own.
“What do you think?” she purrs, and we both laugh as I let her pretend to flip me onto my back so she can straddle me.
Her heat narrowly brushing my cock and making us both get more serious in a single moment.
“I want this,” is the only real answer I have for her, gripping her childbearing hips with both hands, pressing myself up against her.
“I want us, just like this. Every day, all day,” I hear myself tell her.
Affirming it more than suggesting it.
Feeling her tremble in my hands for a different reason, I ask her what’s wrong.
“I thought this is what we both wanted?” I ask, feeling confused.
“I do want this, Nathan,” she says quickly. “I just wish my life was as clear-cut as yours,” she adds, slumping a little before I pull her close.
Hugging her to me instead of trying for round two of what we’ve just shared.
There’s no one else, I know that. But there is, isn’t there?
Just not in that way.
Like she just said, her life’s not that clear cut.
And neither is mine. But for different reasons.
“My dad,” she whispers to me, sniffing as she buries herself in my chest.
I can feel her nakedness against mine, trembling as she recounts her responsibilities.
The fact she needed a chaperone just to come away for the weekend.
“What will he say about any of this?” she asks me, and I know she’s not expecting me to really answer.
My hands move over her back, rubbing her gently as I hush her concerns.
“What about your career? Your book sales? You can’t just walk out of this hotel with a girl like me on your arm, the new Nathan Cartwright,” she protests, making me frown again.
Still not liking it much when she tries to tear everything down before it’s even been built yet.
“I’m my own person, Lucy. My own man,” I have to remind her. “I don’t live or do anything just to please other people. Except you now.” I explain.
“Why don’t you tell me more about your own writing, your ideas?” I ask her.
“I’d like to add something of yours and with both of our skills, come up with something together,” I decide, musing again out loud.
“What, like write a book together?” she almost scoffs.
“Why not?” I ask in reply, moving my thumb and finger to my chin.
Why the hell not?
“I might leave the writing up to you,” she smiles, grinding herself against me as she shivers.
“I can focus on… Other things,” she adds, her eyes half-closed with fresh arousal.
The phone by the bed rings, not unexpectedly but making me wish I’d taken it off the hook.
Lucy makes to move off of me, but I hold her in place and stretch across to reach it, feeling more in control of my life now.
“Yes?” I ask, surprised a little at just how formidable I actually sound.
I’m expecting the promoter and maybe a dozen other people to call up, pissed off that I’ve done my own thing instead of whatever it is I originally signed up for.
But the voice on the end of the line surprises me.
It’s my former agent. Acting, he informs me, for my best interests.
They’re a little worried about me.
How’d you get this number? I think to myself, fighting the urge to simply hang up.
Feeling Lucy tense above me, I keep a firm grip on her as
I prop myself up onto an elbow.
She’s not going anywhere. Like I already said.
“I’ll give you thirty seconds, Shaun,” I sigh, disinterested and glancing at my watch. “Make it a good thirty.” I caution him with finality.
“Well, I won’t beat around the bush then. Looking at today’s gossip column I see you’ve managed to be seen in public with a girl more than half your age, apparently sharing a room with her and the cherry on top? We just learned you’ve walked out of your own book signing,” he groans. Sounding more like a reproving parent than my former agent.
With a keen eye on the second’s hand, I feel my shoulders shrug.
“Sounds about right,” I frown, winking at Lucy who’s having trouble focusing now that my own arousal has joined hers.
“Nathan. I know you want to do things your own way, and I’m not gonna even try and ask for my old job back. But we’re worried for you. We can’t just sit by and watch decades of all our hard work go-”
“That’s thirty,” I lie, and I stab the end call button and I hang up the phone. Letting it fall to the floor.
“Now. Where were we?” I ask Lucy, cocking my brow in time with the pulsing heat from between my legs.
She groans, but it’s in sheer frustration now, not feeling turned on.
“Nathan?” she asks, looking worried now. “What have we done?”