Lady: Impossible (68 page)

‘Then why are you laughing? Look, it’s not like we’re anti-extra-contraception. It’s just that we weren’t meant to be having sex in the first place so we were never extra prepared.’

‘Yes, I know. I was there.’

I think twice before asking my next question. I don’t want to embarrass him too badly while he’s driving, lest he feels the need to keep on driving by when he does reach the house. Then again, he’s already survived two brutally humiliating conversations, so maybe there’s no reason to worry.
 

‘Are you nervous about sex now?’ I ask lightly.

‘Should I be nervous after my boss tells me off for being irresponsible with her daughter?’ If his responses get any drier, he’ll be at risk of dehydration. ‘Yes, I believe I’m entitled to be a little nervous, as emasculating as that sounds.’

I glance at Abby’s iPad on my bedspread. ‘Lucky for you, all I’m doing is reading the careers section on Net-A-Porter. Yes, that’s right, still in my pyjamas and not waiting for you in a see-through negligee with my legs splayed open.’

‘Oh yes, that makes me feel very lucky indeed. Go on, fuck me and call me a four-leaf clover.’

‘That’s the thing, see? I’m not fucking you. I’m looking for a job, even though I’m not supposed to be looking yet.’

‘Always the rogue.’

I hope there’s some recognition of my job-seeking efforts, or at least my job-seeking intentions. It might be wise to bring it up with him again later, after other activities have helped clear his mind.

‘Anyway, back to the condoms. You have a stash, right? You’re the one who planned on sexing me between prospective matches.’

‘Between prospective matches? What an awfully crowded bed.’

‘If you don’t have any, you should go and buy them now.’

He laughs. ‘The butler buying prophylactics?’
 

‘Fine, don’t buy them. I’ll run to the nearest clinic and grab a handful from the jar they have at reception. Hopefully there are fewer germs in them than in those bowls of nuts you find in bars.’

‘Delightful.’ I get the feeling he would slow-clap sarcastically if he wasn’t driving. ‘Such a shame that I have some already.’

I try to picture where his stash might be. ‘These condoms, are they strategically placed around the house? We’re very spontaneous, you know.’

‘It’s not a bloody Easter egg hunt,’ he says, exasperation creeping into his voice again. ‘Look, I’m almost home. Don’t jump me when I walk through the door. I want to get changed and have something to eat. Forgive me, but I wasn’t hungry earlier. Lost my appetite between interrogations.’

‘Should I make you some toast?’

‘If you can manage.’

I pause deliberately. ‘Where do you find the manual for this toasting contraption?’

‘See you soon, Millie.’

‘Bye!’
 

I drop my phone and race out of the room, reaching the kitchen in what must be record time. Plates are located, bread is in the toaster and, after a panicked comparison of two jars with similar fruit labels, marmalade is chosen. The goal is to set up my version of a breakfast tray, one closely resembling my father’s from earlier this morning. Unfortunately, it soon becomes clear that both my memory and my domestic skills are a bit fuzzy. I’m thinking the toast was stacked diagonally in the other direction and that the plate wasn’t this big, not to mention the rather careless dollop of ‘marmalade’ is currently wobbling in what I now recognise as a
crème brûlée
dish. Never mind. It’ll be endearing, like when a child brings home a picture that doesn’t make sense.

After adding a small teapot, I carry the whole lot upstairs, where I face the dilemma of whether to keep this in my room or take it up to the attic. In the end, I decide to take a gamble and rush up to Blair’s room. I’m not the best at romance, but some sort of pleasant surprise is surely better than nothing. I set the tray on his nightstand and then undress, walking back out into the corridor to create a trail of clothing.
 

By the time Blair returns, I’m waiting for him naked under the covers of his bed.
 

‘Millie?’ He sounds like he’s at the top of the stairs.
 

I try not to laugh, sitting up and covering myself with the sheet. ‘In here!’

He finally appears in the doorway, a smirk on his face. ‘You are terrible at following instructions.’

‘I don’t know what you mean by that,’ I say, feigning innocence. ‘You said not to jump you when you walked through the door. No one’s jumping here.’

‘Uh huh.’ He enters the room and takes his jacket off, hanging it up on one of the coat hooks on the wall. ‘Minx.’

I nod at the nightstand. ‘A minx who made you breakfast.’

You’d think I was showing off a masterpiece, so proud am I of this tray. Now, bathed in the yellow light from the nearby lamp, it looks like it could be on display, perhaps a worthy subject for a still-life sketch.

I really should get out more.

Blair takes a step forward, craning his neck to inspect my work. ‘Aw, you didn’t burn it. Aren’t you sweet?’
 

‘That sounds very much like you are mocking me.’

He maintains his smirk, taking off his waistcoat and loosening his tie before taking another step forward. ‘Mock you? Never.’ Another two steps, and something on the tray grabs his attention. ‘Wait. Is that a
crème brûlée
dish?’

Damn his attention to detail. ‘No. You’re mistaken.’

This earns me a sidelong look. ‘Right. Of course I am.’

He’s tantalisingly just out of reach. I know this because I try to touch him, to no avail.

‘Hold on,’ he says, removing his tie.
 

‘Tease.’

He moves away from me, shedding both his shirt and belt as he meanders around the foot of the bed. ‘Well, judging by what you said this morning, you don’t need me to get you off, remember?’ he says, both horror and amusement in his voice.
 

I believe the official reaction for when Blair is shirtless is
phwoar
. He is one hot man.

Of course, the polite reaction is to reply with proper words. ‘I don’t think the damage is that bad. He still thinks I have it in for you.’

He halts on the opposite of the bed, still out of reach. ‘If he’d stayed any longer, he probably would’ve become suspicious.’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

I can tell he has his doubts. ‘Even if you’re right, being blindsided is never nice. I think we both know that.’

‘Yes, I suppose.’ Recognising the hypothetical as a mood killer, I concentrate on the good deed he did instead. ‘That was nice of you, though. Helping my father this morning.’

‘I thought I’d suck up to him a bit. Make him less likely to kill me when he finds out.’ He pauses, possibly contemplating either the past or the future. ‘I think the row was a bad one. I’ll leave it to your mother to tell you, if she wants.’

I nod, accepting this for now. All the divorce talk is hurtful anyway, and I’d rather think of something else if there’s nothing I can do to help at the moment.

Again, I attempt to lighten the mood, remembering what my father asked him. ‘So what
was
your strategy when hotel guests made a move on you? I’d have half a mind to whack those admirers with a cricket bat.’
 

Blair rolls his eyes, hands now on those sexy hips of his. ‘The best strategy is usually complete and utter indifference. Unfortunately, some women find that attractive.’ He smirks. ‘Men, too, actually.’

I laugh, holding the sheet and making sure I’m still appropriately covered. ‘Sluts. The lot of them.’

‘And what if we’d met at the hotel?’

‘That wouldn’t have changed anything. My mother would still have brought you home.’

I’m about to say more when Blair drops his trousers. Suddenly, I’m very, very glad that I didn’t decide to wait in my room.

‘Not yet,’ he says, a more serious tone to his voice. ‘Sort of need to talk first. Seriously.’

As if I could deny him anything in this moment. ‘Course.’
 

He steps free of his trousers before crouching down and retrieving something from under this side of the bed. When he walks all the way back around to the nightstand, I recognise it as a photo frame.

He hands me the frame – his Harrow class photo. ‘I’m sorry I was so harsh the other night. I was a bit of a royal prick.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ I wriggle over, offering what limited space is left on the bed. ‘I mean, I stuck my nose in your business. It wasn’t super polite.’

Blair is pensive, not replying immediately. He does, however, get into the bed, sitting up against the iron frame and not shying away when I cuddle up nice and close. I let him think while he eats the toast, knowing his past will probably always haunt him.
 

Keeping the sheet up with one hand, I hold the photo frame in the other, eventually cradling it against my chest. I’m reminded of my own school memories. It’s positively frightening to think how much time has passed since high school. I don’t even want to think about what life will be like in another ten years. Planning for the future has never been my forte, not when everything has always been secure.

I know that’s not the case now. It’s true I don’t expect to learn about hardship straight away and to a depth that rivals the stress of a lot of people, Blair’s family included. But I hope I can make some headway into not being so sheltered, both for my own personal growth and for Blair’s confidence in us. It might even help steady me – why be so irritated when others have it worse?

‘Thanks for letting me see this again,’ I say after a while, looking down at the image from his past. ‘I know you probably don’t want to go through all the details now, but when you’re ready, I’m here.’

The gratitude in Blair’s eyes makes my heart ache. He’s wavered all this time between being thankful for me and resenting my very existence. It’s amazing to witness him settling on the former.
 

‘You’re not so bad when you’re nice,’ he says, brushing my forearm gently with his fingertips.

‘It’s usually for a limited time only. I would capitalise whenever possible.’

I reach down to return the photo to its keeping place under the bed, only to have Blair tug at the sheet, exposing my chest.
 

The mischievous smirk is back. ‘You mean like this?’
 

I roll my eyes, feigning irritation. ‘Always nice to have a set of tits to look at while eating toast.’

He very deliberately takes his time spreading butter onto another slice, all while staring. ‘I think the view would be better if it was front-on.’

‘That can be arranged – if you take your pants off.’

The toast gets chucked back onto the tray and before I know it, Blair has removed his boxer shorts. Back against the frame, he then reaches for his cup of tea, without a care in the world. As if his glorious cock isn’t on display for me. Gobsmacked, it takes me several seconds to register that it’s my turn to do something.
 

I throw back the sheet to the end of the bed and sit up, kneeling at his side.
 

‘I did say front-on, Millie,’ he says, nonchalantly taking another sip of tea.
 

‘I’m not very good with instructions.’ It’s more like I can’t concentrate for thinking how intense sex is going to feel now that we’re a couple.
 

The teacup gets set aside. Blair lifts my chin with his hand, a guilty expression on his face. ‘Wait. I did want to say something before this all escalated.’

I’m suddenly grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘You love me?’

‘I do love you.’

He leans in to kiss me, the kiss as tender as ever, though perhaps a bit chaste considering we’re both naked. I like it, though. It’s more romantic. My heart warms knowing that he must trust me more than ever. He may fight me along the way, but I intend on looking after him, even if he’s looking after me at the same time.

There’s a long pause after we both pull away. Initially, I’m too dizzy with happiness to do anything but smile. Then I remember what I was going to do before our romantic exchange and, being me again, there is no hesitation between remembering and saying it aloud.

‘Would this be a bad moment to say that I really want to suck your cock?’

Blair chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I really do love you.’

‘Is that a “yes”?’

‘What are you waiting for?’

I shuffle back a fraction so I can lean down more comfortably, tucking my hair behind my ears as well. With all inhibitions gone, I gently run my fingers over Blair’s manhood, making him hiss from the contact. It’s beautiful, all pink and swollen for me. Maybe I should just straddle him and ride him now rather than bothering with foreplay.

I look up to see that Blair is now glaring at me, probably because of the unexplained delay.

‘Should I hold your head down?’ His commanding tone turns me on way more than it should.

‘Maybe.’ I tease him with a tight squeeze, rubbing him firmly until he groans with delight.

The determined look in his eyes tells me I should get going. I lunge down just as he places his hand on my neck. I take Blair’s length into my mouth hungrily, relishing the opportunity to make him feel good.
 

‘Oh, fuck.’

I moan in response, wanting to let him know I’m enjoying this too. I take him in as much as I can, massaging him with my tongue as I pull back, and it’s when I begin lightly licking the tip that Blair moves his hand to the back of my head, encouraging me to stay exactly where I am. I obey readily on this occasion, wanting whatever he wants.
 

‘Good girl. Stay down.’

It’s been too long since I’ve done this. I feel ridiculously empowered and aroused, the desire between my legs tingling as I continue to suck hard. It’s only when Blair bucks upward unexpectedly that I whimper. My vulnerability not unnoticed, Blair relaxes his hold on my head as if to apologise, and that’s when I pull back completely so I can take hold of his shaft and lick all the way up it from balls to tip.

‘Millie,’ he says, the edge to his voice a tortured warning. ‘I told you to stay down.’