I manage to find jean shorts and a t-shirt and throw them on.
If it weren’t July I’d probably opt for a sweater, too. Anything to put more layers between my body and the outside world where Barrett will inevitably be. Barrett and his massive cock.
Why is it that walking in on Barrett stroking himself feels more mortifying than when he walked in on me in the bathtub?
Because he saw me and he didn’t stop. He looked me straight in the eyes while his dick continued to thrust into his hands. I watched everything, too captivated by what I was witnessing to turn away. And he knows I liked it. I could tell by the way his eye narrowed and his mouth curved into a devilish grin. Gotcha.
I comb through my wild hair, then race down the stairs, nearly tripping on the landing and plummeting to my death down the wood staircase.
Lucy greets me with Baxter at her feet, who jumps up at me, so I lower down to snuggle him.
His usually fluffy hair is damp.
“How’d you get wet?” I ask him, thankful for the distraction.
“Mr. St. Clair took him out for a run this morning. They both came back soaked,” Lucy replies.
Her comment only reminds me of wet Barrett in the shower. Well, it was a good ten seconds without his naked image in my brain.
Lucy has fresh squeezed orange juice, bacon, eggs, pastries and fruit ready to serve.
“Would you like to wait for Mr. St. Clair?” she asks.
“Um,” I start, not knowing how long Barrett will be, or if I can ever face him again. I really thought sharing a bed was going to be the issue. I didn’t give myself enough credit that I would manage to find other awkward yet sexually arousing situations in which I could embarrass myself. Maybe I’ll take my breakfast to go and start the long, yet necessary trek back to the city so I don’t have to die of mortification.
“No need to wait. I’m here.”
Too late.
I turn to find Barrett standing in the doorway dressed casually in a fitted navy polo and gray slacks. My eyes automatically lower to his crotch and I swear I can see the outline of his dick. What’s left of his impressive erection. I can’t look at him so I busy myself loading up a plate of food.
“Coffee?” Lucy asks.
“Yes,” we say in unison.
“I left you a mug on the bedside table.” His deep voice reverberates in my ear.
I keep facing forward even when I feel Barrett move closer, the warmth of his chest near my shoulder and back as he leans in to dish up some eggs.
“Oh?” I say. It's an effort to keep my voice neutral. “I didn’t see it.” I was too busy staring at your giant cock in the shower.
“Cream and sugar?” Lucy offers, completely oblivious to the electricity crackling between me and Barrett.
“Cream, please,” Barrett replies.
“Yes,” is all I manage to say, but Lucy must be well versed in women who are stunned speechless because she manages to make me the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.
We sit in the breakfast nook. I shovel in my food while Lucy informs us of the day’s schedule.
“Mr. Hinkle had a boat ride planned but the weather doesn’t seem to be cooperating.”
For the first time this morning I glance out the window to find gray clouds and rain drops peppering the surface of the swimming pool.
“If there’s anything you’d like me to set up, please let me know. It’s questionable if the firework show will still happen with the rain. It will likely be a last-minute decision.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something to do,” Barrett replies. I feel his eyes on me, and I can’t not look at him. The second I do, I realize it was a horrible idea. Those intense hazel eyes are studying me. His lips turned up in a smirk. I watch those long fingers, the same ones that were wrapped around his erection in the shower, manipulate his spoon as he digs into the juicy flesh of the grapefruit. His mouth closes around the pink flesh and he groans in satisfaction. I nearly topple out of my chair.
My core clenches involuntarily.
Sweet Jesus. I’m in trouble.
Barrett must sense my stress because after breakfast he doesn’t make good on his threat of us finding something to do, but instead retreats to Fred’s home office to work. For once, I breathe a sigh of relief that all he does is work. That’s where I want his energy focused right now, instead of on me.
The rain continues to pour and I spend most of the morning reading a manuscript under a cozy blanket with Baxter curled up next to me. He seems exhausted from the activities of the morning. I can totally relate.