“I was actually. A certain man got me all riled up with nowhere to go.”
“I’m sure you know how to handle yourself.” The minute the words leave my mouth, I know I’m in trouble.
“I do. I handle myself with expert precision. Maybe I can show you sometime.” My cock twitches at the thought of her touching herself.
“Now that’s a show I want to see.” She shies away ever so slightly, her eyes drifting to my crotch straining against my zipper.
“Tonight?” I lean in, desperate to kiss her, inhaling the soft citrus of her perfume.
“My suite. Eight o’clock.” The rest of my staff is white noise in the background, but I’m aware of Malcolm’s disapproving stare boring into me. I do my best to focus on football statistics to calm the boner I’m currently sporting. “Don’t be late. Now, go and check on the lunch reservations before I pull you into the car and rip your clothes off.” I did myself zero favors there, and it’s almost impossible to tear my eyes from the sight of her walking away. For a virgin, she has the sway in her hips of a practiced courtesan—elegant with a promise of the darkest kind of pleasure.
The dean of the university is full of pomp and praise, but he doesn’t seem upset at my lack of ass-kissing. Our lunch is a stop-start conversation peppered with students asking for my autograph, which I find surprising. You expect more respect for what’s clearly a business meeting of sorts. The dean smiles kindly, nodding to everyone who shoves a piece of paper under my nose or a camera in my face. In the end, it’s my staff that steps in to let us enjoy our dessert in peace. If this is what I have to look forward to on this tour, I’m already missing cooking up my own meals back home. At least I can eat there without interruption.
The only thing that keeps a smile on my face throughout the day is the thought of Faith in my room later tonight—her legs spread wide for wandering fingers to explore.