Page 79 of Wreck Me

‘Because you’re not ready.’ He lowers his face between my legs again. ‘And neither am I,’ he admits breathily.

I’m about to ask him what he means, but then he fucks me with his fingers again and I can’t remember my own name, let alone anything else.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

JAMES

I’ve been in New York for two long days and I’m counting every damn second until I can return home. If it wasn't for this afternoon’s meeting, I could have been persuaded to cut my trip short. Especially when I opened the text Scarlett sent me this morning; a picture of her cleavage in a white blouse way too low-cut for college. She’s killing me.

But sadly, here I am. Lucien Moreau is in town. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I make a point of showing my face here every quarter, but when Killian heard Lucien’s son was opening a boutique hotel in Times Square, I donated enough of Beckett’s whiskey to ensure the entire city could get shit-faced on me, to capture Lucien’s attention.

Naturally, he reached out and I suggested a face-to-face meeting.

The O’Connors have made an offer on the Imperial Winery Group. A generous offer. But when I’ve finished with Lucien, he’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand. I have a reservation at the Sapphire Rooms, the most exclusive restaurant in the city. To secure a table you need to reserve sixmonths in advance, which is why I always reserve one for each quarterly visit.

I’m going to wine and dine him. Feed him whatever horseshit he needs to hear about running the winery the way it’s been run by his family for the previous four generations. Blah blah blah blah.

By the time I leave, I’ll have a verbal deal agreed. By the time I get home on Friday, the paperwork should be well and truly in motion.

The Board will be content.

My father will be happy.

And I will be fucking ecstatic to get home to my not-so-fake girlfriend.

It took every modicum of willpower not to sink my cock into her pretty pink pussy in the sun room the other night. The more time I spend with her, the more I want her.

Now there’s an ocean between us, I’m kicking myself so fucking hard for being so controlled. Morally, it was the right thing to do. But tell that to my weeping cock.

All my father’s lectures about mastering our mouths and emotions stuck with me. He would be proud.

But that’s not why I’m holding off.

I can lie to myself and pretend it’s because I need to be certain Scarlett is ready. It’s a big step. One I’d hate her to regret.

I canpretend,but the truth is, it’s me that hasn’t been ready.

Because after spending the last few weeks with Scarlett, I’m pretty sure when I finally sink myself into her, I’ll be giving her so much more than just my cock. I’ll be giving her my heart, my soul, and every damn inch of everything I am.

If it’s as good as I think it will be, I might never be able to give her up. Might never be able to let her go at the end of this arrangement.

And then what?

She’s only pretending to be wife material.

She doesn’t want to settle down.

She wants to travel the world, not tie herself to the first guy she sleeps with. Though, what a thought…

I pluck my phone from my pocket, pacing the Upper East side office overlooking the city below. It’s true what they say about New York. It’s the city that never sleeps. And unfortunately, neither have I since I got here.

I type out a text to Scarlett.

Hope you’re doing your homework in my absence. And I’m not referring to your private equity essay.

Before I left, I made her promise that she’d touch herself every night while I’m away. I had an Inez twenty-four carat gold-plated vibrator delivered to the house yesterday. You can’t put a price on pleasure and I’d far rather my horny little girlfriend got off in our house than go to college with soaking panties.

I swear if those college boys got even a sniff of her sexual awakening, they’d be battering each other just to sit next to her. Something sharp stabs my chest at the thought.

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