Page 61 of Mister Stark

TWENTY-TWO

Game Over

The next morning, Iwoke up to a bright light streaming through the curtains. I shielded it with my hands and rubbed my eyes. I slept like a baby.

I stretched out my arms and expected to feel him beside me, but he was gone. The side of the bed where he had laid before I fell asleep was cold and it reminded me of the first time we were intimate. I had sworn to myself never again, but here I was. In bed, craving his cock once again.

But this time, I was in love.

Love didn’t happen at first sight. It didn’t even come after, but the attraction ran wild. The game he played with me twisted me within it and tangled me to no point of return. Doomed to fall for him from the beginning. But my heart didn’t know it until it had already happened.

He was all I could think about. All I wanted, and all I needed. He couldn’t see it. I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to because of the rejection. Daxon was all about his business and nothing else. He loved his son, but that was it. He could never love me.

I pondered where he was as I grabbed the shirt he left out for me and put it over my naked body. Our night of passion was too much for me to take and I had fallen asleep bare beneath the bed sheets. I didn’t even know if he had stayed in bed with me, but I doubted it. Daxon didn’t do commitments, and he stayed as far away from it as possible.

His tragic past had made sure of it.

I slowly made my way out of the bedroom and ran my hands through my messy hair. I had no choice with no luggage. My legs were wobbly from last night, and my pussy was sore from his intoxicating sex. But it was the best sex of my life.

Hell, both times were.

I smiled to myself and saw movement in the kitchen. To my surprise, there was Daxon and he was cooking. The delicious smell of breakfast filled my nose, and I sniffed freshly made waffles. But with it, a hint of greasy bacon and eggs.

“What are you doing?” I smiled as I leaned against a beam in the kitchen and watched him work.

I admired the way he looked in a black apron with no shirt on. The way he swayed this way and that. His perfect ass hugged tightly underneath blue jeans and he tucked a dish towel in his back pocket. He moved around the kitchen like a chef who knew what he was doing and I never knew this side of him existed.

I had to remind myself he raised a child practically on his own. He was a hot single dad who lived his life alone, and the only thing he cared for was his son through all those years. Therefore, he’d have to take care of him, feed him, do homework with him, bathe him and tuck him into bed. He’d have to do all of it on his own.

No wonder he knew his way around the kitchen.

“What does it look like?” Daxon said as he flipped an egg with the frying pan and looked right at home. “I’m making us breakfast.”

“Yes, but why?” I asked as I went closer and leaned over the island with my hands cupping my face. “It’s not like we like each other.”

I was trying to get a reaction from him. To test him. I tried to see what his answer would be, but I feared I already knew the response. There was no us and there could never be.

He stopped and looked at me. His eyes went straight towards my cleavage and he licked his bottom lip. His top teeth grabbed it and curled it into his mouth as he watched me. He drank me in and I didn’t want him to spit me back out. I wanted to stay in him forever.

“Dylan instructed me to make us breakfast.” Daxon admitted as he took his spatula and ran it down my neck.

It teased my neckline, and I bit my lip with need. He turned me on in an instant and he didn’t even have to do anything. Just use a kitchen utensil to increase the heat that already bubbled inside me.

“Oh, yes, we don't want to disappoint him with our progress.” I whispered, and it came out like a purr.

“My shirt looks good on you, princess.” Daxon stated as his eyes teased me and he loved what he saw.

The hard metal touched my cleavage, and he pushed the opening aside to reveal one erect, rosy bud. Ready just for him, and I heard a groan come from deep inside him. It erupted to the surface and escaped his lips. His eyes told me he wanted to pounce, but for some unknown reason, he held back.

“And that apron suits you well, daddy.” I teased.

But he pulled the spatula back.

He cleared his throat. “We should get a picture for Dylan. He is expecting one.”

“Right...” I mumbled with disappointment. “Can’t forget about that.”

My shoulders slumped as I walked around the island and in front of the stove with Daxon. He held up his cell phone for a selfie and I plastered on a fake smile. The picture he snapped was cute, but a total lie. Everything about this was a complete shame. Except for my broken heart.

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