B00BR2BOUU EBOK (4 page)

I didn’t know whether to stay
or run, the excitement over one simple decision was nearly overbearing. He had
to be going to his office, there was no other alternative as far as I knew, it
was either that or he planned on coming back through the door in the hope he’d
spy me leaving my hiding spot. I moved across to his office window which was
only about a metre to my left, and leaning over ever so slightly, I peered in.
I was right, he was heading very quickly through his office to the spot I was
hiding in, and he caught me peeping through the window.
Crap.
I screamed
and used my second escape route, running through the open bi-folds and into the
dining area. This gave me an advantage as my doors were open and his weren’t. I
thought back to when I got stuck in his office, trying to escape through that
same door, and it gave me a sense of satisfaction.
What goes around comes
around, Mr. Clark
.

There was a room next to the
front door I had not been in yet, and as it was my closest option, I made the
decision to go in there, hoping it would be unlocked. What also added to this
gamble, was the fact I had no idea what was in the mystery room, and if it were
a dead end or not. The handle turned, and the door unlocked.
Thank goodness.
I quickly went in and closed it ever so quietly behind me, being almost
sure I had successfully snuck in without him knowing.

I wasn’t surprised to find
the room resembled a recording studio/man cave. There were different types of
guitars, a drum kit, microphones, many speakers and some computer equipment.
There was also a pool table, bar and Nintendo Wii. The room had an absence of
windows, however, there were two skylights that went up maybe two to three
stories high. I looked at one of them.
Shit, they would be a pain in the
arse to clean, poor housekeeping.

I found the room intriguing
as I slowly walked around, assessing its contents, and being in there gave me
further insight into my Mr Adorable Clark. It was a fun room, a typical alpha
male’s room, and a room that was well used by the looks of the sofa and scuff
marks on the pool table. The various guitars leaning up against the wall were
pretty impressive. O
f course they are impressive, what do you expect?
I
had never played one myself, although I had always wanted to learn how. I loved
listening to songs with a good guitar solo, my body reacts with awe at the very
sound that resonates from these stringed wonders, I just love them. I could
identify a Gibson Acoustic, Les Paul and the Fenders, but had no idea what the
rest were.

I also spotted some sheet
music on a stand.
Hmmm, I wonder what he’s been playing?
I walked over
to it, and glimpsed at the page. There was no song title, nor was there
anything familiar, again, I had no idea how to play or read music, so the notes
floating around on the paper were as clear to me as hieroglyphics. I could,
however, clearly make out the scribbled words, there weren’t a lot of full
sentences, but some words were strung together.

‘You’re all that I want and nothing else’

‘I’ve fallen hard and will never get up’

‘I cannot let go, I won’t’

‘You’re infectious, my love’

Oh shit. My love! He’s writing a
song about me! Oh no, I shouldn’t be in here. Crap!
The only way out was
through the door I came in.
Shit, shit, shit.
I approached the door, and
that’s when I heard him call out.

“Ms Summers. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” The
voice sounded high up, and thinking he must be on the second level, I opened
the door ever so slightly and peeped out. I was horribly wrong, he was in the
middle of the lounge, and only about 20 feet away, and when he spotted my
peeking face, he lit up like a Christmas tree. I squealed again, and shut the
door.
Awesome! A lock.
I snipped it, making sure he could not get in.
Almost instantly, the handle turned, but the door did not open.
Phew, take
that sucker!
I sighed in relief.

“Alexis Hunny, you’re trapped.”
Oh shit, yeah, there is
that.
I was trapped, I couldn’t stay here all day. “Do you give up?”

Hell No! Alexis Summers never gives up.
“No, you
haven’t won yet.” Suddenly I heard the clinking of keys.
Shit, of course he
has a key.
My cockiness subsided, so I quickly ran round to the other side
of the pool table. It was my only ally, I wasn’t about to throw guitars and
instruments at him, so the pool table and I were now a pair to be reckoned
with. I braced myself on the edge of it as the door clicked. Slowly he pushed
it open, making my throat pause in mid swallow. He was standing in the doorway
with a wicked grin on his face, and a triumphant expression to match.

“Got you, my love.” He stepped into the room, making my body
tense.

“Not yet, you haven’t.”

“You’ve got nowhere to go Hunny.”
This is true Mr. Clark.
I didn’t say anything, just stood there with my eyes fixed on him. I was not
going to surrender; not this time. He slowly took steps toward me until he
reached the other end of the pool table, then—still smiling his victory grin—he
placed his hands on the edge,

“You are quite cocky, Mr. Clark.”
In more ways than one,
I might add.

“I always win, Ms. Summers.”
Arrogant much?
I had the
break of balls up my end, so I started rolling them in the hope I’d hit his fingers.
He kept his cool and triumphant grin while the balls rolled and bounced off the
cushions. So far, with four balls I had missed, but the fifth one I rolled with
force, and it was as accurate as they come, hitting him on the left hand. “Fuck.”
He quickly lifted his hand and shook it.

My face lit up. “Bullseye,” I giggled, and that began the
chase. He ran to his left, which made me do the same. He was quick, but I
managed to keep the half-table distance between us, stopping after three laps
in virtually the same spot we had started. My chest was heaving, and I was out
of breath, probably due to unfitness or overexcitement.

“Out of breath, my love?”

“Yes, you seem to have that effect on me.” I tried to slow
my breathing.

“Good.” He took off again but this time to the right. He was
much quicker, or I was slower, because I could not keep the same distance I had
before, so I had to abandon the table and head for the drums. I managed to get
in behind them, but had well and truly sealed my fate. I was in a corner now
with only the percussion set between us, and my chances of victory now looked
horribly slim. “Do you yield?” His voice was now soft.

“No, I don’t yield.” I backed up against the wall.

“That’s one of the things I love about you.”

“I don’t yield, but I will make an exception in exchange for
something.”

“Anything, Alexis. You know I would give or do anything for
you.”
Yes, Bryce, I know you would. It’s one of the things I love about you.

“Play a Fender for me.”

“What do you want me to play?” He moved around the drum kit,
stood right in front of me, and put his hands on my hips.

“Anything...Surprise me.”

“As you wish, my love.” He took hold of my hand, and led me
over to the pool table, gently replacing his hands on my hips and lifting me on
top of it. He walked over to the cream coloured Fender up against the wall,
picked it up, plugged it in, and began to play. The chords were like music to
my ears.
Stairway to Heaven, I love this song.

“Show off.” I called him this for two reasons: one, it had
to be one of the best solo guitar pieces ever written, and two, this was more
of his creepy research in action. He smirked back at me.
Yes, definitely
creepy research. How the fuck does he know this shit?
I sat there
mesmerised, watching how his left hand moved along the fingerboard with such
controlled precision. He didn’t falter and looked so incredibly natural behind
the guitar. It was a massive turn-on, not that he needed anything else to turn
me on any further. I recognised the chords in the chorus, and a smile crept
across my face. He spotted this and smirked back at me. He was good, VERY good.
I seriously loved this song, I loved how it escalated in steps; it climbed, and
you climbed with it.

I put my head back and closed my eyes singing the lyrics in
my head. There is a part in the song that mentions there are two paths you can
go by, and as I sang it in my head, I felt incredibly connected to it at that
moment in my life. I opened my eyes, and discovered him staring at me,
displaying an expression of want on his face. He began to play the chorus
again, and his hand went up and down the fingerboard in swift fast movements,
making his body jerk.
Oh fuck me, that is so sexy, and he hasn’t even begun
the solo yet.
It was coming though, and part of me was coming as well. The
slow lead up had me wanting, yearning, and as he broke into the solo, I
couldn’t help but fidget on the table. He noticed my lack of control, so I bit
down on my lip, and tried to regulate my enormous urge for him. The sheer sight
of him controlling the Fender was giving me an orgasm, and as he played the
song, and it escalated, so did I. The speed in which his fingers were moving as
he played was driving me wild. I wanted those fingers moving that quickly in a
different place entirely, therefore, my attempts at regulating my enormous need
for him were failing.

He slowly walked over to me as he performed the final notes,
and I found myself panting and positioned on the pool table, ready for him to
devour me. He knew exactly how I felt; all it took was an exchange of eye
contact between us. I adored this connection we shared—it was sexy—but also
sweet that a simple look between us could speak a thousand words. He placed the
guitar down on the table next to me and stood in front of my knees. Normally I
would react to this stance by opening them, but the revenge outfit I had chosen
was so tight, it restricted my desire to do so. He realised this and proceeded
to roll the dress up my legs.

“You picked that song on purpose, Bryce.”

“It’s what I do, Ms Summers.”

“You are incredible.”

“I told you, I make it a priority to know every single...”

“No, I mean you’re an incredible guitarist. I loved it.”

He slipped his finger underneath my lace G-string. “Yes, I
can see that.”

I had suspected I was moist, and he had just confirmed that
suspicion. I let out a small moan for him as his fingers investigated. His
digits were divine, followed closely behind by his tongue when it came to
ranking his body parts. Surrendering finally, I laid back on the pool table.

“I yield. I yield,” I confess.

“Very good, my love.” He removed his finger and tore off my
underwear.

“You can’t keep destroying my G-strings, I’ll have none
left.” He raised his eyebrow indicating he liked the idea. “You are a wicked
man, Bryce Clark.” I shook my head at him, as he rolled my dress up further,
exposing me from my navel down. He pressed his lips to my abdomen, and kissed
the scar I bore from giving birth to Charlotte. I wasn’t ashamed of my scar—it
was a part of me, and signified what I endured to give life to my precious
daughter. The fact that he kissed me there was sexy as hell, and it told me he too,
appreciated my wound. I adored his practical nature and his down to earth personality,
also finding his realism charming. I simply adored him. I brought my head up
from the table and smiled at him.

“What?” he asked, bemused by my smile.

“Nothing.”
Ah let’s see how you like the whole, ‘I’m not
going to tell you what I’m smirking at’ thing.

“Alexis, are you smirking at me?”

“What if I am? What are you going to do about it?” He
thrived on my challenges, because as soon as I had finished declaring one, his
face would respond with enthusiastic acceptance. He growled aggressively and plunged
in between my legs. At first I squealed, but then the sensation of his
movements quickly spread over me, and my squealing turned to moaning almost
instantly.
Oh fuck.
The devouring I had eagerly hoped for was well and
truly under way now. His tongue was mind blowing and lashing me ferociously. I
stretched my hands out, sending balls scattering in all directions, bouncing
from cushion to cushion then back into me again.
Bloody balls.
He
continued his luscious assault on me, twirling his tongue in every direction he
saw fit. My back arched, from the incredible climax he had compelled me to
reach, and I couldn’t help but call his name, “Bryce.” I flipped over eagerly
and positioned myself on all fours as he climbed up on the table.

“No, Hunny, I like to see you. I like to see your face, to
watch you enjoy it.”

I rolled back over. “Better?”

“Hmmm,” he groaned, then kissed me and entered my body enthusiastically.
Sex on a pool table, another first for me. I wonder if there’s a cocktail named
for that too?
I did a happy clap in my head. My happiness soon began to
fade as I felt my arse start to burn, and my moans of delight were momentarily
turning into moans of discomfort. I must’ve displayed an expression to match.

“What’s wrong?” Bryce slowed his movements to question me.

“Nothing.”
Endure it, Alexis, you little wimp.

“Alexis, tell me.” He looked slightly concerned. I started
laughing, and placed both hands across my face, then hesitantly confessed.

“I think I’m getting carpet burn on my arse.”
Oh. My. God.
How embarrassing.
He stopped and pulled out, so I rolled over to show him.

“Yes, that you are my love.” He laughed, bent down and
kissed the tender spot. I looked around the room, eyeing the fluffy rug by the
TV as a softer option.
Yes, that will do.