But this was for me too, as everything he did was for me. And any last worry I had about Sun Le Chen was fucked into a bad memory. There was no way that he could need me this much, be this hurt by my relationship with Weston, and be carrying a torch for someone else. It just wasn't possible. He’d said to me once that if I could see inside him that I would know that there was no one else.
Well, I couldn't see inside him, but I could feel. He was making me feel everything he felt, and it was raw and jagged and dirty and hard.
But it was love, and it was rich, and he lavished me with it.
His speed and tempo were erratic. His balls slapped against my clit. That, plus the erotic scenario sent me toward climax, despite the lack of manual stimulation. Donovan still came before I did, rutting into me as he released, even after he was completely empty, as if he needed to be sure that every drop had been spilled inside me. And when it was, he lifted me so that my back was against his chest, then reached around and massaged my clit. Just a little nudge was all it took before I was spiraling into a sea of bright lights and warmth and pleasure.
I was still spinning when Donovan turned me around to face him and kissed me sweetly, luxuriously, for much longer than I would have expected considering that we weren't in our own space. It were as though I were his oxygen, and he'd been flying a bit too high, or diving much too deep, and he needed me to catch his breath, to fill his lungs, to make him right again.
Finally he broke away. "I don't want to stop touching you,” he said, straightening my clothing.
I kissed him again. And again, because I didn't want to stop touching him either. But I hadn't brought any clothes with me to stay the night at his house, and I had to be to work too early in the morning with too much to do the next day to risk not getting a good night’s sleep.
But it didn't mean he couldn't come to my place.
"You could—" I started to say.
"I'm coming to your place," he said at the same time.
“Good.” I had a feeling it was the only way we were getting out of here tonight. I pulled myself away and went to the closet to get my coat and purse while he straightened out his sleeves and put on his jacket.
"Ready?" I asked, standing at the doorway.
"Just one thing first." He went to one of the shelves where Weston kept his comic books displayed, and picked one up. "I wanted to borrow his first edition of The Walking Dead,” he explained on the way out.
I was too tired to make anything of it at the time, even though it was immediately strange—Donovan reading comic books? But it wasn't until I was drifting off to sleep in his arms much later that night that I realized:
When Weston found his possession missing, he was going to watch the security tapes.
Chapter 16
Washington, Connecticut was two hours outside the city. We left on Friday afternoon shortly before four o'clock so that I could stop by my house and pick up my weekend bag before hitting the road. I hadn't wanted to take it to the office with me. Even if most of the staff knew that I was dating Donovan, they didn't need to know what we were doing with our free time. I certainly didn't want to feed their imagination.
We took the Tesla, which was equipped with an all-wheel drive system that made the car exceptional in all weather, according to Donovan. Apparently he was quite proud of his cars and extremely willing to boast about them when prodded, a rather fascinating fact to learn about him. Since he'd brought his driver along, we were both passengers, and the two of us knocked out a bunch of the work that had lingered from the week on the ride up, so by the time we turned down the tree-lined lane, white from snow, I felt relaxed and ready for some social engagement.
The car came to a stop at the end of the long driveway in front of a sprawling two-level mansion. It was gorgeous from the outside, a well-kept home with sweeping vistas over hundreds of acres of preserved land. It was private and hard to get to, a real getaway location, and much too big for a family of three–two, now that Donovan was grown.
"Only your parents live here?" I asked, stepping out of the car.
He nodded with an embarrassed sigh. "And only part-time, at that."
"Wow. There's certainly a lot of room." We hadn’t made it inside yet, but I was guessing it was probably ten thousand square feet. I'd grown up in a house that was barely twelve hundred square feet.
“My parents like to have the option to keep as much distance between themselves as possible. You'll see. Let's get out of the cold."
He led me to the door, which opened before we had the chance to knock, and there stood a tall, middle-aged gentleman dressed in slacks and a sweater, too young to be Donovan's father.
"Mr. Kincaid," he said in greeting, eyes cast down. "Welcome back to the Pinnacle House. And welcome to your guest."
"This is Sabrina Lind," Donovan said in introduction as he helped me remove my coat. "I apologize; I don't remember your name."
"No apologies, sir. It's Edward. I can take that for you.” He took my coat and hung it in a nearby closet, then returned to take Donovan's.
The driver entered behind us to drop off our luggage. "Where shall I park the car?"
"The third garage is empty," Edward said. "I'll meet you there in a moment to open it for you. Your mother suggested I put you in the upstairs master, Mr. Kincaid, is that still fine with you?"
"That will be perfect.”
"I’ll bring your things directly if you'd like to go up and wash for dinner. Your mother wishes I remind you it will be served at six thirty precisely."
I watched the exchange between the two men. Donovan was always guarded and stoic, but I found it interesting how reserved the butler—or whatever his title might be—was. He was the person designated to greet us. He'd been hospitable, technically, but nothing about his words or actions had felt warm or welcoming.
Maybe that's how servants were supposed to act; what did I know? I'd never been around any before.
"Yes, dinner at six thirty precisely," Donovan said with a bit of annoyance. "Heaven forbid my mother’s schedule vary even a minute from her routine."
"Is that a message you'd like me to give her, sir?" There was a bit of a challenge in those words from Edward, despite his formality, as though he were loyal to his employer, which I suppose he should be.
"No," Donovan laughed gruffly. "No message. We'll be there." He shifted his attention to me. "Sabrina, I'd love to give you a tour but we can’t right now. We have just enough time to change if you'd like. Shall we?"
He offered his hand, and I took it. The entryway opened into a large free space with plush rugs covering the wooden floor and fancy brocade couches in front of the fireplace. The far wall showcased a giant window that overlooked the land below. It was too dark outside and there were too many lights inside to fully capture the view, but I had a feeling it was going to be breathtaking.
To our left, a grand staircase wound upward. Donovan led me to this, and once we'd reached the top, he steered me down the hallway to a room at the end of the house with double doors. These opened into a grand master suite with a large four- poster bed, a fireplace with a fire already burning in it, a sitting area with a desk, and an en suite. A set of glass doors opened up to a private balcony. I peeked outside. The snow had started falling softly though, and I couldn't see very far in the dark.