Page 18 of The Pleasure Contract
“This seems very trophy wife to me,” Bristol told Stephanie in the car, when her maintenance options were raised yet again—this time in the guise of a “helpful” offer to make the appointments. “And I’m neither a trophy nor a wife, so...”
“I think you’ll find the contract you signed indicated that you would maintain a reasonable level of maintenance, Ms. March.”
Bristol smiled back in the exact same fake way. “That’sDr.March,” she replied. “And I think you’ll find, Tiffany—”
“Stephanie,” the woman had snapped back.
“—that I can maintain just fine without your interference.”
And in the spirit of rebellion, had taken herself off to the British Museum rather than explore the astonishing penthouse suite that Lachlan had booked, overlooking Hyde Park. It sprawled over the entire top floor of the five-star hotel and was stunning. The butler who came with the suite murmured, very Britishly, that he would be delighted to make arrangements at the hotel spa.
But Bristol needed a break. She made her way to one of her favorite museums of all time and engaged her mind—which as far as she was concerned was all the maintenance she required. She completely lost track of time in the exhibits and had therefore had to rush back to the hotel to change before meeting Lachlan at the formal drinks session that was to be her first appearance as his girlfriend at a function.
“You’re late,” Stephanie informed her sternly when she arrived at the stuffy old fortress where the drinks event was taking place.
A refrain that was repeated several more times as Bristol handed off her coat and was ushered through the crowd, including by Lachlan himself when she finally reached his side.
“Yes, yes,” she said merrily. “I’m late.” She turned to the man Lachlan was standing with, who she recognized along with the woman beside him thanks to the dossiers she pretended she hadn’t studied when Stephanie had handed them to her at the hotel when they’d checked in. Because she was petty like that. “Ambassador, Mrs. Hargrove, I hope you’ll forgive me. I lost myself in the British Museum and really, if left to my own devices, I think I could stay there forever.”
“And who could blame you?” said the ambassador.
“I go there whenever I get the chance,” said the ambassador’s wife.
Much later, after drinks had turned into dinner and a round of after-dinner drinks besides, Bristol was feeling positively inclined toward all things British—even though it was still raining. Lachlan handed her into the car waiting for him outside the fortress and then regarded her—severely, she thought—as the driver eased into the London traffic.
“You do know you’re not supposed to be late, don’t you?” Lachlan asked, his voice...a dark thread between them.
Bristol could hear the warning in it. But she could also feel that warning in her clit. And though she had always been a rule follower, always a straight-A student who asked for extra projects so she could gain greater honors and distinguish herself further, Bristol couldn’t seem to keep herself from smirking at him.
Maybe because she didn’t like being sniped at by the assistant he’d sicced on her. Maybe because she really, really didn’t like being treated like a trophy. Maybe because she still hadn’t settled into how she thought she was going todothis.
Maybe because she knew that if she poked at him, he would do something about this addiction it seemed she already had to the things he could make her body do.
Or she hoped he would.
Especially with the partition between them and the driver shut tight and opaque for privacy.
“Then by all means,” she said, “fire me for tardiness.”
His blue gaze went taut, intense. His mouth curved. She could feel both like his hard mouth on her pussy, eating her alive.
“I’m not going to fire you. Yet.”
“That’s a tremendous relief. I don’t need to set any records for longevity here, but it would be nice to last longer than a single evening.” She was still smirking at him. “I can’t help it if I’m competitive.”
“But I’m going to need you to make it up to me, Bristol.”
It was like a chain between them, this heat. She felt it snap tight, and then could think of nothing at all but that blue demand in his gaze.
She found she was holding her breath as he reached down and freed his cock from his trousers, one hand wrapping around the great, thick length of it.
“Your mouth, Bristol. It’s so clever, isn’t it?” She wisely decided that didn’t require an answer. “Use it.”
Later, she promised herself, the weather would turn and she would resume her real life. And that would be an excellent time to question why it was she found these commands so hot. So delicious it was as if they were wired straight into her clit.
Her mouth was already watering. She slid to her knees on the floor of the car and braced herself against his rock-hard thighs. She looked up at him, letting that fierce blue fill her. Set her on fire. Make her shiver.
She was already slippery with want.