Page 57 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
“Me, too,” Patrick replies.
“I was wondering if you wanted to continue our evening,” Aimee suggests.
Patrick pulls her to him and kisses her, massaging his tongue against hers. When he stops, her eyes are wide, and she has a goofy smile on her face.
“Wow.”
“I’m going to take you back to my place and fuck you senseless,” Patrick says casually.
“I was thinking ice cream, but okay,” Aimee says.
“I have ice cream at home. You still like fudge ripple, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I got some this morning for you. It’s from a dairy based in Switzerland that makes its own milk and chocolate. It’s said to be some of the best ice cream in the world.”
“Patrick, how rich are you?”
“I don’t like to think of myself as rich, but I do plan to use money in order to make up for the past twenty-two years in a multitude of ways.”
“Okay!” Aimee beams.
Patrick snorts. “Glad you approve because I got a whole bunch of stuff for you at my place. You’re staying over.”
“Sounds good.” Aimee smiles.
“I do have to tell you; Courtney and her mother stay in my guest house. I’m buying Sheila a house for her and Court, but for now, they’re on the property. I swear, it’s for Courtney’s benefit, and it’s just temporary.”
“That makes sense. Better to have Courtney near you.”
“Exactly, but we’ll have everything to ourselves. Courtney is staying over at a friend’s house, and Sheila is working late.”
“Sounds good.”
Thirty minutes later, they’re pulling into Patrick’s gated estate. He gets out and opens Aimee’s door. She takes his hand, and she leads her to his beautiful garden in the backyard. His foyer has white oak floors, high ceilings and a fireplace.
Holy shit!This is just the foyer.
The garden is immaculate. Flowers in full bloom everywhere. He takes her to a bushel of purple flowers.
“Do you remember what these are called?” Patrick grins.
“Not you giving me a pop quiz on plants.” Aimee laughs.
He chuckles. “Just want to see how much you remember.”
He loved sharing his love of gardening and flowers with her when they were kids.
“That’s the princess flower, also known as tibouchina urvilleana. I mentioned it in book?—”
“Book two. The prince has a dream of the maiden, and during the dream, he puts one in her hair.” Patrick plucks a flower from the bush and places in Aimee’s curls before brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“I’m going to suck your dick now.”
“Okay.” He nods in agreement.
Patrick undoes the belt of his slacks. He came to pick her up in his Rolls Royce wearing a bad-ass blue Armani suit, the pants of which are now around his ankles while she squats, sucking his soul out of his dick.
