I reach down and wrap my hand around his still erect cock. I’m seriously in for it when he catches me.
He jerks. ‘Ava. I love you so f**king much, but if you don’t undo these cuffs, I’m going to f**king strangle you!’ His voice is a mixture of pleasure and pain.
I smile around his mouth and give him a chaste kiss on the lips before leaning down and kissing my way from his chest to his solid cock, and then all the way to the tip, finishing off with a little swirl before taking him deep into my mouth.
‘Ava, please!’ he moans.
I release him and retrieve the key to the handcuffs from the chest of drawers. As I walk back over, he lets out a relieved breath. I don’t know why, I’m not freeing him completely. I undo his damaged hand and it falls limply to the bed. A pang of guilt assaults me as he gingerly flexes his fist to try and get some life back into it. I walk over to the chest and place the key back on top.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks on a frown.
‘Where is your phone?’
‘Why?’ The confusion in his face is clear.
‘You’ll need it. Where is it?’
‘It’s in my suit jacket. Ava, just give me the key.’ He’s losing his patience again.
I scan the room and spot his jacket on the floor where he obviously dumped it last night before he pounced on me in the bathroom. I find his phone in the inside pocket and place it on the bedside table, just out of reach. I don’t want him calling for assistance before I make my escape.
I fetch my bag and stride out of the bedroom, leaving him a massive mess of unexploded male. I am so going to cop it later, but at least I released one hand. It might be his damaged one, but he’ll be able to sort himself out… if he doesn’t grip too hard.
Chapter 11
‘Hello, flower.’ Patrick comes out of his office as I take my seat. ‘You’re bright and early this morning.’ He sits on the edge of my desk and performs his usual snort of disgust as the desk performs its usual creak of protest. ‘What have you got to tell me?’
‘Not much,’ I turn my computer on. ‘I have a meeting with Mr Van Der Haus at lunchtime to go over my designs.’
‘Oh, Good. What about Mr Ward?’ he asks innocently. ‘Have you heard from him yet?’
Yes, I’ve handcuffed him to his bed!
I feel my face flood with heat. ‘Urhhh, no, I’m not sure when he’s back from his business trip.’ I turn my flaming face away from Patrick and load my email up, mentally praying he leaves it right there.
‘It has been nearly two weeks, hasn’t it?’ he asks. I suspect he is frowning, but I can’t look at him to confirm that. ‘I wonder what’s keeping him.’
I cough. ‘I really don’t know.’
Patrick rises from my desk on a long creak. ‘He can’t be in that much of a rush.’ he grumbles. ‘Oh, by the way, our Sally is poorly. She won’t be in today.’ he says as he makes his way back into his office.
Sally is ill? That’s not like her. Oh! It was her second date last night. Either it went very well and she’s pulling a sicky to cavort in bed all day with Mr Mystery, or it went very badly and she’s pulled a sicky to mope in bed all day with a box of tissues. I guiltily suspect it’s the latter. Poor Sal.
I sag in my chair on a long exhale, and then jump when I hear Angel seeping from my bag. Oh dear Lord. He’s obviously freed himself. I’m not answering it. It rings off and immediately rings again, but it’s my normal ringtone this time. I scoop my phone from my bag and take Miss Quinn’s call.
‘Good morning, Miss Quinn.’ I greet cheerfully.
‘Hi, Ava. Please, it’s Ruth. I was just checking in. Have you managed to get the ball rolling yet?’
‘Yes, I’ve prepared a schedule of fees for my services, Ruth, and I’ve drafted a few ideas to send over.’
‘Brilliant.’ She is very enthusiastic. ‘I’ll look forward to receiving them. Where do we go from there?’
‘Well, if you are happy with my fee structure and draft ideas, then we can start putting together some firm designs.’
‘Great, I’m so excited!’ she exclaims.
I smile. That much is obvious. ‘Okay, I’ll get the fee structure and drafts over to you by the end of play today. Bye, Ruth.’
‘Thanks, Ava.’ She hangs up, and I immediately set about scanning the designs into my computer. I love working with people who are as passionate about their home as I am.
As ten o’clock hits, I’ve been in the office for three hours and I’ve got mountains of work done. I pick up my desk phone to chase Stella, my curtain maker, on Mrs Stiles’ new drapes. I have a nice chat with Stella. She’s a bit hippy and a naturist, judging by the dicey photographs scattered across the walls of her workshop, but she makes the most amazing soft furnishings. I’m more than pleased when she tells me that she is just packaging them up, ready for me to collect. It’s a week sooner than I quoted Mrs Stiles, so she will be delighted.
I hang up and swing back around in my chair, nearly having a seizure when I’m confronted with my arrogant God, who’s looking down at me with raised, cunning eyebrows. His handsome face spreads into his customary roguish grin. I’m instantly on high alert.
Oh no!
He looks bloody delicious as well, in his grey suit and pale blue shirt, open at the collar with no tie. He’s shaved his two days’ worth of stubble and fixed his hair. My eyes are delighted, but my mind is racing with uncertainties.