My eyes fall to the bed as memories of what happened last night flood me. He'd licked me near the window until I came. Then he'd turned me around. He'd kissed me softly before he untied my wrists, and carried me to his bed. After he brought me to another orgasm with his mouth, he'd gotten on the bed next to me, his face hovering above mine while he ran his index finger over my lips. I'd stared into his eyes until I must have drifted off to sleep.
I had begged him to fuck me in the other room. I'd wanted it so much that any sense of self composure I had disappeared in direct relation to my rising need to feel his cock inside of me.
I heard the sound of his belt loosening and his zipper being drawn down but it stopped there.
He had stalled when I whimpered about wanting his cock and as he fell to his knees to lick me again, I'd felt a rush of embarrassment wash over me.
It's happened before.
This isn't the first time I've told a man I like to be tied up only to have him give in to that before conveniently losing my number.
I should apologize for being so wanting. No, I should get my ass out of his bed so I can get to the boutique. I don't have to do anything beyond looking at the undisturbed pillow next to me to know that he didn't sleep in this bed with me.
He owns Foster Enterprises. The company revolves around his schedule. His rush to leave to get to a meeting is nothing more than a polite 'fuck you, Isla,' and no, not in a good, or satisfying, way.
"The door will lock automatically behind you." He casts his eyes down at the watch on his wrist. "I've left the number for my driver, Charles, on a card by your purse. Call him when you're ready to leave and he'll come up to escort you down to the car."
"I'll do that," I say quietly. "I'll need to leave soon. I have to be at work at nine."
He lowers himself to the edge of the bed so when he sits, he's facing me directly. "I enjoyed last night. You're a remarkable young woman."
Thanks? Is that what I'm supposed to say now?
"I'm running late." He leans forward to brush his lips across my forehead. "I apologize for leaving but it's an important matter."
I nod as he stands, pivots on his heel and walks out of the bedroom. It doesn't matter if it's important or not. The only thing that matters is that I lost all respect for myself when I walked into this apartment last night.
***
"Can I help you?" I grip the towel closer to my body.
The woman who sauntered into the washroom while I was mid shower shakes her head faintly from side-to-side before she turns back to her task at hand which apparently involves replacing Mr. Foster's toothbrush in a glass. She pulls a new, wrapped one from her pocket before she throws the used one in the trash.
"Why are you here?" I can hear the panic in my own voice even though I know she's likely here to clean his apartment. That makes sense save for the uniform and name tag she's wearing.
Her eyes lock on mine in the reflection of the large mirror above the sink. "I'm cleaning. He likes it clean when he leaves."
I knew I should have gone straight home after he left. It was my intention until I stepped into the washroom and saw the spacious marble shower. I felt an uncontrollable desire to wash last night off of my body and out of my mind. I'd tied my hair up with an elastic band I kept in my purse and then just as the hot water hit my back, I'd heard the door of the washroom open.
For a split second my heart stalled, believing it was Gabriel coming back to apologize for… for not fucking me? For rejecting me? For whatever it is that is making me feel so humiliated right now.
It didn't matter though. It was this, quiet, demure and adorable woman who didn't bat one single eyelash when I stepped out of the shower completely stark naked before she handed me a towel.
"Can you come back later?" I plead with her. "I'd like to get ready before I leave."
"He sometimes comes back at a lunch with… he has meetings here at lunch sometimes, sometimes earlier than that." She nods towards the other room. "He likes it cleaned before that. I have to do it now."
Christ, he's a hard ass. He doesn't cut this woman a break.
She won't even give me ten minutes to pull myself together for fear that he'll come back home before she's had a chance to rearrange his toiletries. Wait. Those bottles of shampoo and moisturizer she's replenishing are small. They're so small.