Semua Bab Shady Blue: Bab 61 - Bab 70

“Come to bed.”Blue glanced from the mirror, her hair cupped in one hand and a brush wrapped in the other. “In a minute. Let me freshen up.” She spoke quickly. Nervously.Richard’s house had been all she would expect. Timelessly decorated with cream marble and drapes, gold accenting the lot of it. Modern square edges replaced any baroque trims. White sheepskin throws hugged the couches. The master bedroom was much the same. Bright and heavenly. A dated French Provincial wooden chest wearing a marble chapeau sported a colossal paper-thin flat screen. The golden trim of the dressing table mirror fringed by a brilliant LED. Blue took note of how pale she’d gotten. The fur rug had more color.“I think your hair is brushed well enough,” Richard paused. Meeting the woman’s gaze in her reflection. She stared back coldly. He had always assumed their first night together would be their wedding night, the fact she&rsqu

As she made her entrance, hand clasped with Richard’s to keep her on a leash far more than it was to confess any fondness, Blue averted her eyes from the black hair she hoped rather earnestly wouldn’t be Vincent. It had been trimmed, cropped at the neck, she could see the loose waves falling around his ears in a way she wanted so desperately to run her hands through and tug at encouragingly. Screamed internally as her fiancé led her around the table.Taking a seat across from the man, she looked up rather reluctantly. Met his eyes. Stared at him with the same bewilderment he had. He’d shaven. A mustache hid his upper lip. Made him look so cruel in the very way that had always made her want to tear off her underwear and open her legs. His hair fell over his forehead. Bare cheeks looking rather gaunt, lined delicately with age. She could have laughed at the fact she felt they were meeting for the first time. Two altered versions of themselves.

It had been a day since her encounter with Vincent, yet the man continued to haunt her; his touch; various lingering queries. Was he thinking of her? What was he doing? Was he sleeping with any other women yet? Whether he was dating anyone was of little concern to her. She felt his mouth clamped over her sex far more than she’d like to admit; his vein-circled cock pushing inside of her steadily those mere three or four minutes before he jerked himself into a towel. Yet she still troubled over his confessions.He’d had the chance to admit he still cared for her yet said all he wanted to do was screw her. And he had. He had feigned his affections to bed her and discarded her again. She had let him. She worried she would again. Perhaps he knew all it would take was a half-intentioned I love you or I want you for Blue to disregard the week past she was yet to come to terms with. Some part of her felt she was stuck in some strange fever dream

Richard stared after the woman as she left. The pretty young teenager with a nice enough ass to stare at — he’d thought. She couldn’t be too bright. After all, there had been dollar signs in her father’s eyes at the mere proposition of being CEO. Bradley had known all about Christopher’s scheme to boost their profits. The hasty plan to pin it all on Vincent couldn’t even shake the fool. Of course, Bradley had no idea that he was plan B. Richard couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. He’d like them both to go to prison equally, if only for his own entertainment. Was he really so awful for that? Or was he simply more in tune with his desires than the average joe? He was a bigger man for not denying himself of his own thoughts; more in control by not having to fight himself for it. Or was it the other way around? Suddenly, he was confused. His phone couldn’t have rung at a more convenient time.&

Stood up on all fours, Vincent couldn’t help but admire the woman. She complimented the suite quite nicely, brunette mane framed by the chocolate bar headboard almost as high as the ceiling, a hickory brown wood. Bare skin the same pale cream as the walls, floor, and curtains. The insides of her thighs as ivory as the bedsheets. Lashes as black as the light fixtures. Staring at her petals, core open, reddened and swollen, he knew he’d have to check out early. He’d booked the hotel because he couldn’t bear to stay in the apartment that served no purpose other than to remind him what he couldn’t have. Now, the woman had sullied the Ritz-Carlton. He’d have to rebook in the morning; move as far across town as it took to expel the image of the woman who haunted his every waking and sleeping moment. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he rubbed the tip of his desire along her as he’d imagined in detail. Shuddered at her warmth. Relished in h