“Ugh, okay, so he’s fucked you into submission. I get it.”
I giggle. “Ah, the sex. How have I been missing out on this for so long?”
She laughs. “I told you. And you do look stupidly happy.”
I take her hand over the table. “I am, Beth. I’m so happy.”
“Good for you, Lottie Prescott.” She glances over and makes eye contact with Anthony, slowly turning her attention back to me. “Could you give Anthony my phone number?”
I glance around, and Anthony looks away guiltily. “Has something happened?”
“He just looks at me like he wants to eat me.”
I roll my lips to hide my smile. “That could be kind of good… couldn’t it?”
“Fuck, yes. Pass him my number and just say, I’m setting you up with Beth, so here’s her number. Give her a call and she’ll fuck you real hard.”
I laugh. “I am not saying that.”
“Fine, say whatever you want. Just make sure he calls me.”
“Okay.”
“Now tell me what’s happening tonight.” She smiles.
“I’m cooking Spencer dinner at his house,” I announce proudly.
Beth smirks. “Look at you, being all domesticated.”
“Do you want to come over?” I ask.
“Hopefully I will be occupied with Anthony’s dick in my mouth. Give him my number straight away when you leave. Don’t forget, will you?”
“He might not even call you.”
“As if he won’t.”
*
Swoony Mr Spencer.
It’s funny how quickly things become a habit.
And by things, I mean Spencer Jones.
Every night, we talk and eat dinner together, and then we lounge about and laugh all night, before he takes me to bed and makes me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. Well, it’s not always sweet lovemaking. He mostly fucks me like he hates me, but man, I love it when he hates me hard.
I never dreamed that it could be this good or that I could feel this satisfied. For the first time in a long time, I’m living completely in the moment. I laugh all day at work and then my nights are full of Swoony Mr Spencer.
Things are good—really good.
I’m sprawled on the sofa, reading my book. My feet are in Spencer’s lap and he, too, is reading. He wasn’t joking in that email. He really is an avid reader.
“Can you turn the television off?” Spencer asks, never letting his eyes stray from the page.
“No, I have to have it on.”
He looks up from his book. “What do you mean you have to have it on?”
“I hate silent houses, haven’t you noticed? I have the TV on all the time.”
He frowns. “But you don’t even watch it.”
I know.” I turn the page of my book. “I need the noise.” I can feel his eyes on me, so I glance up. “What?”
“Why do you need noise in the background?”
I shrug. “It keeps me company.”
“Why would you need company from the television?”
“Well, I don’t now that I have you.”
“When did you need company from a television in the past?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, if it’s that big of a deal.” I hold up the remote and switch it off. I go back to reading.
“Charlotte.”
I glance up at the tone of his voice. One thing I’ve learned about Spencer is that he only calls me Charlotte when something is on his mind. The rest of the time I’m his angel. “What?” I ask.
“Will you answer my question, please?”
“What was the question?” I sigh.
“When did you need company from the television?”
“Ever since my mother died.” He stares at me, and I can practically hear his brain ticking over from here. I drop my attention back to reading some more.
“Have you heard from Edward this week?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
He glares down at his book.
“Why?” I ask.
He turns the page so hard he nearly rips it. “No reason.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m just wondering why your brother flew across the world to accost me about spending time with you, and yet he didn’t even fucking bother to see you for himself.”
I shrug sadly. I’ve been thinking about this all day, too. Disappointed is an understatement. “He’s very busy.” I sigh.
“So busy that he has all the time in the world to scare everyone away from you, but none to actually spend time with you himself.” He turns the page angrily again. “Makes me fucking sick,” he mutters under his breath.
“Spence.” I sigh. “Just drop it. It’s not like that with Edward and me. William is the one I’m close to. Edward loves me in his own way, he’s just misunderstood.”
“Or perhaps just a selfish prick.” His eyes hold mine for a moment and then, as if feeling guilty, he asks, “When do I get to meet this beloved William whom you talk so fondly of?”
“Soon,” I beam, and then I quickly go back to reading my book. But, once again, I can feel his eyes on me. I glance up. “What is it now?”
“When is your period due?”
I smirk. “Why?”
“Because we had unprotected sex and you don’t seem to care.”
I smile and go back to my book. “It will be here early next week.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m on the pill.”
“You’re on the pill?” he gasps.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me that? This is need to know information. Why have we been using condoms?”
“Because I don’t know where you’ve been.”
“In condoms, Charlotte,” he snaps. “In condoms.”
“You can stop stressing.”
“I wasn’t stressing.”
“You were, you’ve been stressing all week over it, I know you have.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m getting to know you, and I know when something is bothering you.”
“Why didn’t you say something to put me out of my misery?”
“Because I wanted you to ask me when my period was due and have this conversation.”
He narrows his eyes and crawls over me, holding himself up on his elbows. “I have a good mind to punish you right now for freaking me out about impending fatherhood. That was evil. I’ve been fucking frantic.”
I laugh out loud. “You idiot. Why didn’t you just ask?”
He kisses me, and that’s his only answer.
“We’re going to Greece tomorrow, remember?”
He smiles broadly. “We are.”
“What are we going to do in Greece?”
“Eat, drink, swim, and fuck.”
I laugh out loud. “You are a born romantic, Spencer Jones.”
My phone dances on the table, the name Dad lighting up the screen. “You need to be quiet.” I jump up and get it.
Spencer rolls his eyes, unimpressed.
“Hello, Dad.” I sit back down beside Spencer.
“Hello, darling.” My father’s kind voice drifts down the phone.
Spencer’s eyes light up with something, and he drops to the floor between my legs. My eyes widen and I shake my head, mouthing the word, “No.”
He smiles mischievously and begins to tug my pyjama pants down. I push his head away. “What’s been happening, Dad?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Just working, as usual. I went to a Broadway show this week. I have business dinners a few nights this week. What are you doing? What’s new with you?”
Everything.
Spencer nips my sex with his teeth, and I slap the top of his head. “Just lounging around, getting ready for bed,” I lie as I widen my eyes at Spencer. “Stop it,” I mouth.
He tears my pyjama pants down my legs and pulls me forward to the edge of the couch where he spreads my legs.
“Oh my God,” I mouth. “What’s the weather like, Dad?” If only he could see what I’m doing now.
“It’s been very hot. Vegas is muggy.”
Spencer’s thick tongue slides through my flesh, and I tremble as I try to hold it together. “I can imagine,” I breathe out.
Spencer slides two thick fingers into my sex, forcing me to close my eyes.
“How’s work going, love?” Dad asks.
Spencer pumps me hard, and I clench around him. Our eyes are locked, and I can hardly hear what my father is even saying. “So good,” I murmur.
“Great.”
My father’s voice snaps me out of my moment.
“Dad, I-I have to go to the bathroom. Can I call you back tomorrow?”
“Of course, dear, speak soon. I love you.”