Chapter 8
Devon
I needed a shower. A cold, cold shower.
After Abigail closed the door in my face, I couldn’t help but chuckle. She was like a scared bunny and I was the big bad wolf. I did have to give her credit though – she stood her ground and didn’t fall for my charms, and I was willing to admit I’d been trying harder than I normally would with any other woman.
Did she find me that disgusting?
Either way, I’d been sporting a semi most of the night. Those damned balls and what they were doing to her was turning me on more than her, I suspected. It was time to fix this.
I stripped out of my tuxedo as I walked into my room, tossing the individual articles of clothing on the armchair by the door. Once naked, I entered my en suite bathroom and turned on the shower. Once it was at the desired temperature, I quickly shampooed my hair. As I began to coat myself with body wash, my hand slid down to my dick which was now fully erect.
Grasping the thick shaft, I began to stroke myself as I envisioned Abigail. Not the Abigail in the beautiful dress, but the one wearing those goddamned hot boxer shorts. I could have easily slid the material of the pantleg aside, along with her panties, to expose that beautiful pussy. I loved eating out pussy and seeing a woman scream and buck against me, begging me to stop while at the same time pleading with me keep going.
I stroked myself a little faster, tightening my grip, and my girth became even more solid and the feel of the build-up in my nuts increased.
I’d love to grab her hips and lift her up onto the kitchen counter – not sure why the kitchen counter became a focal point, but it did. I’d push her shorts and panties aside, then lower my mouth to her. She’d cry out as my tongue flicked at her clit, but her screams and begging wouldn’t really start until I included my fingers into the equation. As my lips and tongue continued to work her swollen clit, I’d used two fingers to begin stroking her inner core.
The hand working my cock increased its speed as my breathing became rapid, a soft moan echoing throughout the shower. It felt like there were vises on my balls as the buildup became almost unbearable.
I’d have her screaming my name. But I’d wait before my tongue dipped into her core. I’d wait until she was nearly to her breaking point. I’d then remove my fingers and thrust my tongue deep with her. She’d buck against my mouth. She’d try to squirm away, but I’d refuse to allow her, gripping her hips in my hands and keeping her in place.
Then it would happen. Her body would quake and she’d scream out my name as her juices coated my greedy tongue and mouth. I’d lap those juices up as though I were a thirsty man in the desert who’d finally found water.
The image of her creaming was my undoing. My dick erupted, my seed spewing out in front of me and hitting the grey shower wall. Closing my eyes, I heaved a sigh of relief. I was spent, and sated for the time being.
At that moment, it occurred to me that this whole arrangement could be more dangerous to me then it was for her.
~*~ TT ~*~
Devon
“Hi, whatcha doing?”
Huh? My brow creased as I slowly turned from the stove top where I was preparing some pancakes and looked for the source of the voice. Isabella.
I didn’t really have much experience with children. As a child, I’d been a bit of a loner. Most kids didn’t want to hang out with the poor kid. Even as I teenager, I was never that popular, though high school was marginally better. It wasn’t until I got a scholarship to an Ivy League school that people began to see me as someone worth knowing.
That’s also when I finally got to experience women. Yup, I was an eighteen-year-old virgin. Fucking pathetic, right? But I digress.
“It smells good,” she said when I didn’t immediately reply.
“Oh. Thanks.” I looked back at the two blueberry pancakes as they began to bubble. Grabbing the spatula, I flipped them both over. “You like blueberry pancakes.”
She smiled and nodded her head eagerly.
“Okay. Do you have any dietary restrictions that I should know about?”
She crinkled her nose up at me. “What’s dietary - ”
Chuckling to myself, I waved a hand at her. “Never mind. I think we’re good.”
“Yup.”
Neither one of us spoke as I took the pancakes off the pan and poured batter for a couple more. I then proceeded to make a second ham and cheese omelette, and put on some more bacon.
“Is your mother awake?”
She shrugged. “Want me to set the table?”
There was a small four-person kitchen table next to the kitchen island. Normally I used that small kitchen table unless I had company, then we’d all move to the dining room which housed a massive dozen-person mahogany dining table.
The question surprised me and kept me stumped for a moment. “Sure.” I went into the overhead cabinet and grabbed two plates and two glasses. Motioning to the utensil drawer, I stated, “The cutlery is in there.”
“Okay.” She slipped off the island stood and retrieved the dishes, going about her business and setting the table, including pulling a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. It was clear that she’d done this before.
Amused at how easily she made herself at home, I finished making breakfast and served it up. I didn’t bother to ask her if she liked bacon, as who in their right mind didn’t love bacon? Sitting down across from her, I again found myself at a loss. What did little ones talk about? Barney, maybe? Was Barney even a thing nowadays with kids?
“You’re my mom’s boss?”
“I am.”
“I heard mommy tell auntie Carrie that you’re a player. What do you play?”
I nearly chocked on the pancake I was chewing. Grabbing my glass of orange juice, I took a big gulp of it, dislodging the food in my throat. Wow, how did I respond to that, especially with a five-year-old?
When I didn’t answer right away, she continued. “I like Gymnastics. Do you like football? My mom’s last boyfriend loved football.”
Nope, I wasn’t a football fan. Liked basketball though; I had a box at Madison square Gardens. “I’m not a fan of football, no.”
“Mom’s boyfriend used to say real men watched football,” she said matter-of-factly, then shoved a fork full of omelet into her mouth.
Sitting back in my chair, I eyed the little girl across the table. Had it been an adult, I might have thought they were being intentionally confrontational, but that didn’t seem to be the case. She just seemed genuinely interested.
“How long has it been since you last saw him?”
She shrugged. “Dunno. A long time. I was little then.”
Okay. “Did you like your mom’s old boyfriend?”
I watched her mull the question around in that cute little head of hers, then she looked me dead in the eye. “I used to think he was okay. But he hurt mommy. She cried a lot. I don’t like when mommy cries, so now I don’t like him. Don’t really remember much though. Just the football.”
“I see.” Raking a hand through my hair, I wondered how little Isabella would feel about me when the month ended. I suppose it wouldn’t matter. But there was a tinge of guilt in the back of my mind. I was so caught up in the hunt and chase that I hadn’t taken into account that Abigail could get hurt by this process.
Realistically, Abigail knew the score. And she was going to be compensated well. Five hundred grand, a million if I failed in my mission, would be a pretty good pay for a little bit of pain.
~*~ TT ~*~
Abigail
I placed my hands over my head and stretched, arching my back in a cat-like motion as I slowly woke up. I didn’t think I’d slept so well in my life! The bed was insanely soft, like sleeping in a cloud. Considering how exhausting the previous night had been, both emotionally and physically, I’d needed a good sleep.
With a sigh, I turned my head and grabbed my mobile phone off the night table and brought it to my face. As soon as I saw the time, I shot upright on the bed.
“Shit!”
It was nine am. Isabella usually woke me up close to the seven mark. I’d never slept so late and in all of her five years. But with all the excitement, maybe she’d slept in.
I laughed at myself. Yeah, fat chance.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I didn’t bother changing out of my t-shirt and boxer shorts. I’d go find Isabella, and then I’d get my shower and change once I knew she was fine. She was used to sleeping in the same room as me, so no doubt a place like this would be intimidating for her.
Leaving my room, I hustled down the hallway to Isabella’s room, but found the door wide open and no Isabella inside. Her pajamas, however, were on the bed and one of the dresser drawers was open, her clothing messed up in the drawer.
Placing my hands on my hips, I gave myself a second to figure where she might be. My first guess, the kitchen. That little girl could out-eat a lumberjack. Leaving her bedroom, I hurried down the stairs, my bare feet slapping against the glass steps. Once at the bottom, I headed for the kitchen.
I could hear the murmur of voices as I approached. One of the voices was powerful and unmistakable – Devon. As I drew closer, I could tell the other voice was Isabella’s.
I paused before reaching the doorway, curious to know what the two of them would talk about. I was also interested in finding out how good Devon was with kids. He didn’t seem the family sort and there were no pictures of children in his home, so if he had any nephews or nieces or godchildren then it would be a surprise to me.
“I heard mommy tell auntie Carrie that you’re a player. What do you play?”
My mouth dropped open and I was momentarily mortified. It was one thing for me to call him out on being a player, but an entirely different matter to have my daughter question him on it.
I should have ran into the kitchen and stopped the conversation in its tracks, but I was also a little curious. Once they began discussing my ex however, I became mortified again, not even sure if I could face Devon after that.
With a sigh, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to face the music eventually. If I didn’t interrupt, God only knew what else would spew from my daughter’s lips. As with most children her age, she had yet to learn the art of filtering information.
Attempting to appear as nonchalant as possible, I walked into the kitchen, faking a yawn and giving a half-hearted wave. “Good morning, you two.” Both of them stopped talking and stared at me as I walked over to Isabella and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “Why didn’t you wake me before coming down?”
Isabella shrugged. “Dunno. I wanted to explore.” She nodded at Devon. “I found out what he likes to play, golf. But he likes basketball too. He says he’ll take me to a game.”
“That so?” I looked over at Devon who was wearing an amused grin on his lips.
“I have box seats at the Gardens. We can all make an evening of it. I think they’re playing a home game this weekend.”
“Can we go mommy? Can we? Can we?”
I wasn’t so sure how much I liked the idea of involving Isabella any more than she already was. If she got attached to Devon, it would be hard on her when we had to return to our normal life. But the way that Isabell was looking at me, with the plea in her big, beautiful eyes, how could I say no?
I forced a smile to my lips. “Of course, we can.”
“Yeah!” Since she’d gotten the answer that she was looking for, Isabella focused her attention back on the food in front of her.
“I made some breakfast, if your hungry.” Devon motioned to the kitchen counter where there were several servings of food. “We have extra.”
“Shouldn’t you be to work by now?” I asked, making my way to the kitchen and serving myself up a plate.
“Trying to get rid of me?”
I could see the teasing twinkle in his eyes as he asked the question, but I still found myself blushing. “Not at all, but normally you’re out of here by now, aren’t you?” Sitting down at the table, I began to eat as I waited for his response.
“I usually am, you’re right. But today I made an exception. It’s one of the benefits of being the boss.”
“Are you taking the day off?”
“Nope, just going in late. I have some matters to attend to.”