Image after image of Ruby poured through my mind and I closed my eyes, letting each fantasy become more vivid as I moved against my hand, shifting my hips restlessly.
The memory of her in that red bustier at the auction with her plump breasts almost spilling out of the top had my heart pumping and my hand stroking faster, harder at my straining flesh.
I groaned and pressed my forehead to the cold tile, enjoying the pleasure of my hand around my length while remembering the exact moment Ruby turned around on that stage and showed her heart-shaped, mostly bare arse.
In my mind, the moment shifted to a fantasy of me holding her still, on my knees behind her, while I bit down on one scrumptious cheek leaving my mark. She cried out in bliss as I continued to torture her bum with nips and kisses until I ran my tongue along the edge where her thigh met her arse. Dream Ruby yelped when I sunk my teeth into her sensitive flesh, her body swaying closer, wanting my touch. Then I notched the head of my cock to her plush folds and slid deep.
That last fantasy image was all I needed to tip me over the edge.
An orgasm rippled up my cock, tensing and tingling against the base of my spine as my entire body went tight. I let go, releasing everything on a long, tired moan until I was spent, my breaths rocking in and out of my body while the rest of me came down from the high. I rested my head against my forearm and let the water slowly bring me back to life.
“Bloody hell,” I gasped and shook off the short, yet blissful, experience. I finished washing and toweled off mechanically, my skin feeling energized and sensitive to the touch.
The release was good, though it wasn’t enough, I thought as I combed through my wet hair .
It would never be enough. There was no substitute for Ruby Dawson in the flesh. Just thinking about her last night in that dress had my cock throbbing once more, despite the fact that I’d just taken care of the problem.
I sighed, slipped a hotel robe over my naked form, and exited the room, desperate for a cup of tea.
Nile was sitting at the dining table, the remains of a traditional English breakfast pushed aside. There was yet another place setting covered by a domed metal lid which I assumed was for me. The thoughtful wanker.
“Good morning,” I called out, heading straight to the hot carafe and the goal of caffeine.
Nile glanced at his watch and then back at his tablet. “Nice of you to join me.”
I pulled out the chair and sat, then filled my cup with hot water and tossed a teabag in it. “It’s barely past seven.”
Nile looked at me over the rim of his glasses. “Exactly. You’re late. We have our last meeting with Madam Alana and Ms. Dawson at eight.”
I sipped my tea, removed the dome, and dug right into my breakfast before glancing up at my brother.
“It’s quarter past the hour. Relax, Nile. I’m not going to make us tardy. I know how that irks you,” I teased.
Nile’s lips quirked, hinting at a smile, which I knew was the best I was going to get from my stodgy twin.
“You know seven in the morning is incredibly early for me. It’s often not long after I’ve made it to bed.”
“Like I’ve told you before, you should focus your time and money on the wineries, not the nightclubs,” he stated for the millionth time. If I had a pound for every time he’d brought this up I’d be doubly rich.
“I own ten percent of the entertainment establishments in the world. All of which are padding my holdings considerably. You just don’t appreciate the value of a nightclub or a pub the way I do. Never could. ”
“Nightclubs and pubs.” He scrunched his nose as though he’d just smelled something putrid. “Perhaps if you reviewed the most recent profit and loss statements, the wineries we share might merit a bit more of your…managerial expertise. The analytics are encouraging.”
I lifted my tea as if in cheers. “Brilliant. Then maybe you should be giving them more of your attention. You’re the one who loves the art of wine and winemaking.”
Nile flattened his lips and focused on his tablet. “Perhaps, I will.”
After a few silent minutes of me eating and Nile working, I leaned back and sighed. “I think what we should be talking about is Ruby.”
“What of Ms. Dawson?”
I groaned and stretched my arms over my head. “How are we going to win her heart? Ultimately, there must be some ground rules between us, or we’ll be headed down a very jagged and rocky path.”
“Win her heart?” He scoffed. “I have no intention of wining anyone’s heart. I want to wed her, bed her, and transform her into the perfect Pennington wife. I do not have time for anything more.”