Page 10 of Broken Saint

4

Nova

After that mind-blowing orgasm, I should have passed out for the rest of the night, rather than the hour I actually got. Instead, I was laying here locked inside my restless mind.

My body was beyond spent, despite his cock never breaching my body. A fact I couldn't quite comprehend. How had he taken me to the heights of pleasure he did without getting himself there? If it had been the other way around, I would have been insane for more.

Other than the times he came to my bed, the night had become my enemy. Sleep had become more and more elusive, and it had nothing to do with the beautiful, hard man still lying next to me. The slow rise and fall of his chest and quiet, deep breathing indicated that he had slipped into a hard sleep. I envied that.

Lately, sleep had become almost impossible. In the dead of night, when much of the world rested from their insanely busy days, my mind wanted to stay locked in a battle with an impossible outcome.

As my expiration date loomed closer and closer, I had a lot of trouble with my normal routine. All of the hard-won good habits I'd developed since that last demented night in my father's house didn't seem to work the magic they once did.

And without sleep, my productivity, not to mention my creativity, had taken a hard right turn into no man's land. It was time to put my latest plan into action. Getting those diamonds before my father procured them felt like the only viable escape to this mess. And the clock was definitely ticking.

But first, I needed to tell him—I glanced at the other side of the bed—that I could no longer see him. An explosive confrontation would come soon, and I still had a lot to do before I was ready. My plan was far from perfect, and there were a lot of things that could still go wrong. I couldn't afford to split my focus any further.

Maybe when this was all over, and if I was still alive, we could...what? Resume our secret affair?

Gah.

The frustration over this entire situation was killing me. I threw back the covers, knowing full well I couldn't lie there and do nothing a second longer.

I silently slipped from the bed and padded quickly to the small in-suite kitchen. The temporary exile forced upon me by my father had not been the punishment he'd imagined. It had given me the freedom to pursue my passions. The shame he had tried to heap on me had become a security blanket of denial, despite my exile being nothing more than a stop gap of limited time before I had to fulfill my familial duty.

Reaching for my favorite teacup and a canister of simple, loose-leaf black tea, I began the comforting process of preparing my personal life blood that would carry me through another long day.

If nothing else, these simple routines had become my friends that kept me company at night, and if I failed to escape my father's grasp, my friends beyond this current life.

As I stood there, waiting for the tea to steep, I realized this would be a good time to check my emails. With the upcoming fashion show, I'd let many of my routines fall to the wayside or be delegated to an assistant. However, there was hope that going through one now might give my mind the comfort and calm it desperately needed. Until I realized my phone was still in the other room. Somewhere...

With him in my bed I'd forgotten all about it. That temporary reprieve from the electronic world was yet another benefit of this arrangement.

I scoffed at that thought. An arrangement? Really? There was nothing about this situation that fit neatly into any simple box like the word arrangement implied. The man was a force of nature who came and took what he wanted, gave what he wanted, and nothing more than that.

Granted, I wanted what he gave, so there were no complaints there, but still, my curiosity burned for more information.

Stepping into the living room, I spied my phone at the table where I vaguely remembered leaving it before I'd gone outside to wait for him. As I reached for my device, I spied a black suit jacket tossed across the back of one of the chairs. I reached for it, letting my fingers trail across the fabric.

Clothes could tell a lot about a person if you let them. A story per se about the man who wore them. His certainly did. Although the smooth and marginally soft fabric under my fingers reminded me of what little I knew about him. He had standards, rigid ones that gave him the control that he craved, but his clothing was not cut from expensive fabrics. Instead, he seemed to favor sturdy material that was more practical than luxurious.

He also favored an all-black suit with minimal extra details. No stripes or fabric embellishments to make him stand out. Every white shirt he wore with it looked the same as the one before and his ties were always black with no color variation whatsoever.

The man had black and white down to a T.

I'd never seen him in anything other than one of these, and he wore them more like a uniform than anything else. The only luxury he seemed to indulge in was the custom fit. He might have bought his suits off the rack, but he'd had each one custom tailored to fit his big body to perfection.

It wasn't a stretch to conclude he was not a wealthy man. If not the clothes, then the man himself made that a likely scenario. There was a presence about him that differed from most. I'd rarely met a wealthy man who didn't have a tell-tale sign or two that hinted at the money behind the man. Not every one had to flaunt it, but there were always subtle signs. To say I'd wondered about every detail about this man was a massive understatement.

It had been his words that had made this arrangement between us. I'd just gone along with them on a whim. I'd been alone and at my wit's end when it came to my latest design. I was desperate to shake things up. Initially his terms had sounded perfect. No commitment was an easy thing to agree to. My life was far too complicated for anything more than what this was—temporary.

The no names, however, had been as odd as it was exciting at first, but now— it threatened to drive me over the edge.

I smiled at that thought. Tonight, I might be the queen of understatement. As my fingers continued to roam across his jacket and my mind fantasized different scenarios that I should have shut down, but didn't, my hand hit a lump that blocked my path.

Oh God.

His wallet. I took a sudden step back despite the urge to do anything but. The compulsion to investigate slammed into me. One look. It was all I wanted. Just a name to put to the face and the body and the magic cock...

---