I don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me before, but Colton has no obligation to be faithful to me. A thought that makes my stomach cramp. While I’m blowing him in private and giving him the most precious part of me, he could be off wining and dining other women. Beautiful, confident women like Marta with her easy smile and carefree attitude.
I knew this situation wasn’t going to be ideal, but I also never imagined I’d be living with such an eligible young bachelor like Colton Drake. Already he’s affecting me in ways I didn’t anticipate.
"Mm, let’s see. I’ve been his personal assistant for…" She purses her lips. "Six years now. I began at his office as a receptionist, but our personalities just clicked and I started working for him personally a short time after that. Having someone he can trust in his home and private life is important to him."
I nod in understanding, but the truth is, I don’t know him at all. It’s weird to think that I know what he looks like naked, but I don’t actually know himknow him. And I want to. Why is he so successful at such a young age and why in the world did he go to that auction in the first place? Questions burn through my mind like a raging inferno. I fear I may never get the answers I desire.
We spend the afternoon in various boutique shops, where I try on and purchase jeans, shorts, sundresses and tops, all on Colton Drake’s gold card that Marta whips out at every transaction. For once I actually have money, but after Marta reprimanded me for trying to pay and said that Colton had instructed her everything was to go on his card, I stopped fighting it.
We already have several full shopping bags of clothes and are at our last stop of the day — a lingerie boutique for some much needed bras and panties.
I’m digging through a bin of simple cotton panties, the kind that fill my drawers back home when I sense Marta’s presence beside me. She eyes the pretty pair of pale yellow boy shorts trimmed in lace and purses her lips. "Colton favors dark colors," she says.
My stomach twists again at her implied familiarity with the man I’m currently sharing a bed with. I want to argue, to tell her it’s not like that between me and him, but instead, I drop the forgotten undergarment into the bin and continue looking.
From the corner of my eye, I can see her eyeing me suspiciously. Maybe that was a test, and I’ve just answered her question about my relationship with him without saying a single word. Oh well. I do have a sexual relationship with him—or at least I am going to soon—and there’ll be no sense hiding it.
Stocking up on basic black and navy bikini panties and matching bras, I find Marta browsing in the clearance area of the store. She doesn’t seem the type to need to shop in the discount section, but I secretly like that she’s thrifty. I am too.
It’s not lost on me that she’s likely my best source of information on Colton. I mean, geez, I didn’t even know his first name before she’d told me. I wondered what else I could get her to let slip.
When she sees me approach, she smiles at me again. "Ready?"
"I think so." I hold up an armful of undergarments. "But take your time." Today’s been all about me so far, which is something I’m not used to. She can browse if she wants. "That’s cute." I nod to the red demi bra she’s holding.
"They don’t have my size." She shoves it back onto the rack and keeps looking.
I gather my courage. "Marta?"
"Hm?" she says, holding up a sequined tank top.
"Who’s Stella?"
Her eyes zip over to mine. "He told you about Stella?"
Shit. Her accusatory tone and icy stare are too much, that, or my conscious is too big. My gaze drops down to the floor. "Not exactly. His brothers stopped by this morning, and her name might have come up." And his bedroom smells like stale perfume and one half of his closet seems like it’s been hastily emptied out, I mentally add. Not to mention there’s something about him that I can’t put my finger on. Has he been hurt before? Had his heart broken?
Marta continues perusing the rack of discounted bras, her brows pinched together like she’s recalling a bad memory. "He’s not been himself since Stella. She did a fucking number on him," she mutters under her breath.
I can’t really imagine someone hurting the ever in control Colton Drake, but then again, I have no idea of his past, just like he has no idea of mine. But I intend to find out.
Several hours later, Marta drops me off at Colton’s place. We bought so much, all of my shopping bags barely fit in her tiny backseat and trunk. Marta helps me carry them inside and up the stairs. She marches with purpose toward Colton’s bedroom, like it’s a familiar route. The little sting of curiosity is back. I also note that there’s no question about where I’m staying—she didn’t even pretend to assume it was in one of the guest rooms.
She sets the bags down inside the mammoth closet and turns to face me. I offer to change out of the clothes she’s let me borrow for the day, but she waves me off.
"Thanks for everything today."
She nods. "Of course. As a friend of Colton’s, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. And seriously, I meant what I said before—if you need anything—a friend to grab coffee with, or drinks, or just a female to talk to when he drives you insane…Call me." She grins.
I accept her cell phone number, wondering what she means about him driving me insane.
Once Marta leaves me alone, I feel a little awkward placing my clothes on the empty side of the closet that was once occupied by the mysterious Stella’s stuff. But maybe that’s what Colton intends bringing me here—for me to replace whatever bad memories she left behind.
If that’s what he wants, I’ll do it. Heaven knows I’m running from my own baggage too. I’m here for the money, but as the knot that had permanently taken up residence in my stomach lessens with each passing hour, I realize that’s not the only thing this new way of life can provide me.
Being here in LA, in this mansion, brings a sense of relief from the constant worry and heartache I live with every day. I miss my family, well, mostly Becca and of course I worry about her health, but it’s not relentlessly churning in my head like before.
I should feel guilty at this realization, but honestly, it’s a relief.
* * *
Colton
Before we leave the country club, I stop in at the boutique gift shop. The frilly blue lace camisole and panty set hanging in the window catches my attention, making me recall Sophie’s pale blue panties from last night. And like a ship to a beacon of light, I find myself heading straight toward them.
"Can I help you find something?" The sales girl asks from behind the counter, letting her gaze wander down my toned chest and halt at the area directly below my belt. "Something for your girlfriend, maybe?" she asks.
Her subtlety is lacking. All she sees when she looks at me is a fat cock and a fatter wallet. If I’m at this club, it means I have money, but after the red headed monster from hell, it repulses me to think about ever being with a woman like that again. Just because she throws a pretty smile my way and would drop to her knees at my command doesn’t mean she can have my heart.
Girls like her are only interested in the lifestyle I can provide them—the wealth, the status—not the man inside. Which is why I’m not interested in anything more than what I’ve arranged with Sophie. Clean and separate from the rest of me. Sex and intimacy have no place together.
"I’m good, thank you." I know Marta will have everything covered today, but that doesn’t stop me from looking around while I wait for Pace and Collins to finish in the locker room. I’m hot and tired after playing thirty-six holes of golf, but I’d much prefer shower at home where I can put on fresh clothes after, rather than here with a bunch of men. And I wasn’t joking when I told Sophie to be ready for me when I got home. Last night’s prelude wasn’t enough. I haven’t stopped thinking about her luscious mouth or perky tits once. I want to watch her swallow my thick cock, push it deep inside her throat. My balls tighten and I force myself to inhale.
Moving past the rows of silk panties and lacey camisoles I stop beside a display of lotions and oils. Grabbing one of the bottles, I head to the register to pay.
"Nice choice," the cashier beams up at me.
Ignoring her, I check my Rolex. I wonder if Sophie and Marta are back yet. The sales girl, obviously annoyed at my lack of attention, despite her skin tight top unbuttoned to show off the top of her bra, stuffs my purchase into a gift bag and shoves it at me.
I find Pace and Collins in the grand foyer of the club, rehydrating with bottles of water. "You ready, ladies?" I ask.
Collins tosses me a bottle of water. "Come on," he says to Pace, "we’ve got to get princess home in time for his blowjob."
Yes, please.
The house is silent when I return and I wander the rooms downstairs, checking the den and kitchen before heading upstairs. Disappointment courses through me at the idea that she’s not back yet. At least I can get a shower in before she returns. The least I can do is wash myself before I expect her to devour my cock.
Stripping my shirt off over my head as I head toward my bedroom, I’m surprised to find Sophie sitting in the center of my bed.