Page 7 of Mr. Cream
Devon
When I wake up, there’s sunlight streaming through the windows of the suite’s living room and I’m still on the couch. After I exhausted Ambrosia, I called Anders and had him bring my briefcase because I needed to find a way out of this mess that I created.
The thought of Ambrosia still asleep in the bedroom puts a smile on my face. I can’t wait to have her again. This time, I’ll go slow and savor every second of making love to her. Because that’s what I’m starting to feel for this woman, love.
I sit up and blink away the sleep. Slowly, the room comes into focus. My laptop is closed and sits on the coffee table next to a stack of files. The one with Ambrosia’s name sits on top and then I notice the scattering of papers on the floor. My heart starts beating rapidly as a million possibilities run through my mind.
Surely, I knocked the file off the table in my sleep.
I stand and walk over to pick up the papers. It’s the contract that I signed with Simply Surrogates. My hand shakes as I place it on top of the other files and my stomach churns as I turn to face the bedroom.
It’s empty. Fuck.
“Ambrosia,” I call out even though I know she’s not here. I rush into the bedroom, scanning it for any sign that she’s still here but her clothes are gone.
“Son of a bitch!” I roar.
The only explanation is that she found my files. She knows all about my agreement with her company and she knows that I’ve had her followed.
“She needs to let me explain,” I say aloud to the empty room. I’ll do anything she asks, as long as she takes me back.
I don’t even bother with a shower because I don’t want to wash Ambrosia’s scent from me. I dress in last night’s clothes and pack up my stuff. In the elevator, I call Anders and arrange to have him pick me up. My fingers brush a scrap of fabric as I shove my phone into my pocket. I pull out the pink cotton panties, bring them up to my nose and inhale the musky sweetness. My dick hardens as I replay last night’s events. For the briefest of moments, I held perfection in my hands. And then my own stupidity lost it.
The car is waiting in front of the Fairmont and the moment I get in the back, I tell Anders to take me to Ambrosia’s. There’s no time to waste if I even have the smallest of chances to get her back.
“She found out, didn’t she,” Anders ask from the front.
“Yes,” I spit angrily because I know exactly what he’s going to say next.
“I told you it was bad idea to have her followed.”
“I don’t need to hear this right now, Anders. I fucked up, I know it. But I’m going to make it right.”
“Of course,” he says.
The drive across town takes an excruciatingly long time but finally, Anders pulls up in front of her building. The car has barely stopped when I open the door and scramble out. There’s a man leaving the building, no doubt on his way to work, and I manage to catch the door to slip inside.
The moment I’m in front of her door with my fist raised, ready to bang it down, my mind goes blank. I have no idea what I’m going to say to her, but I’ll get down on my knees and beg for a second chance.
I knock three times and then wait for a moment before I knock again. My impatience grows with each minute that passes.
“Ambrosia,” I call out, hoping she can hear me through the door. “Ambrosia open the door, baby. Please.”
I knock again, louder this time.
“Ambrosia! Please open the door,” I practically yell.
I take a step back when I hear a chain sliding against the door and then it opens a crack. A sliver of Ambrosia’s face appears; her beautiful blue eyes are red rimmed, and her cheeks are tear stained. My heart aches because I know she’s hurting.
“Go away,” she says softly.
“Let me explain,” I beg as I tentatively take a step forward. “Please, baby, give me a chance.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hisses. “I’m not your baby or your anything. I was a fool to trust you Devon.”
I press my palms together. “Please, Ambrosia. I’m so sorry but give me a chance to explain.”
I risk the chance of another step and reach my hand through the small opening to brush her tears away with the pad of my thumb. “Please,” I beg. “I love you, Ambrosia.”
