Read episode 11 here: http://bit.ly/allureserial
It was bad enough Demitra would be judged for dating a man eleven years her senior at her age . . . when I thought about the stain of my own reputation touching her, the self-loathing grew by leaps and bounds.
It was already unquantifiable. I was choking on it on a daily basis.
Let her go. Do the right thing. Set her free before this touches home. Before anyone finds out. If I wasn’t a selfish bastard.
If I wasn’t so in love with her I couldn’t see straight half the time.
If my sweet girl didn’t love me back.
“Almost there, Mr. Sorenson,” my driver Carl said as we turned on to Demitra’s block, misjudging the reason for my restlessness in the back.
“Thank you, Carl,” I replied by rote, my mind split in too many directions to give him my direct attention.
I’d text Demitra to meet me at the entrance to her building before we headed to the airport to board my private jet. It was risky, someone we knew could happen to see her getting into one of my cars with her suitcases, yet I didn’t care.
We already had so much going on. I wasn’t going to add forced distance to the list. It was torturous enough that we had to pretend not to be together at that conference, sneaking stolen moments in my hotel suite when no one was watching.
But at least she’d be with me. Her nights mine . . . her body mine . . .
I shifted in my seat, dick already half-hard for her. As I imagined her spread out on my suite’s bed, those big tits bared for my mouth, my cock, it got even harder, and I bit back a curse at this insatiable lust.
It was delicious.
It was mind-wrecking.
At times it was the most inconvenient thing of all.
We crawled through the slow traffic closer to her building—
Demitra was already there, as I had asked her to be.
But she wasn’t alone.
A young boy I recognized was standing in front of her, a little too fucking close for my liking, and my face flared hot at the sight of them.
Perhaps it was innocent.
Perhaps he was just saying hi.
But I remembered the interest he’d been watching her with that night at the gala nearly five months ago.
The first night I made her mine.
“Carl, meet us at the corner instead of in front.” I pushed open the door and took off in Demitra and Keith-fucking-Bennett’s direction.
He wanted her.
Who the fuck wouldn’t?
Was that the only reason for this urgency pushing me forward? Was I being toxic and irrational?
Sadly, gut instincts exist for a reason, as I was about to find out.