Devoted To You by S. S. Richards

Author:S. S. Richards [Richards, S. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: S. S. Richards
Published: 2019-05-24T05:00:00+00:00

Alyssa

“How?” he asks as soon as we both get out of the shower and he hands me a towel.

“How what?” I wrap myself up while he dresses in sweatpants only.

“You’ve never had a boyfriend? A lover? You’ve just never done anything?”

“No, I wasn’t interested in anybody.” I pause. “Before.”

He grabs my head in the palm of his hands and kisses my forehead. There was a hint of sadness in his voice, like he was worried about something or carrying a burden he couldn’t share with anybody. And all of this made me believe that, in fact, he does have emotions, he just chooses not to show them like he is trying to protect himself from harm.

“Is everything okay?” I ask worriedly.

“Yes of course.” He pauses. “I am just hungry.”

We head to the kitchen where he opens his fridge.

“What do you wanna eat?” He glances at me.

“I don’t know, anything. I am not too hungry, so an apple would do the job.”

He smirks and hands me an apple. He takes one for himself too.

I take a bite. His eyes don’t leave my lips.

“So, any siblings? Any family members? You know as your assistant, I really don’t know anything about you.”

“Maybe it is better that way.” His expression is firm, he starts getting closer and stands inches away from me, my heart skitters, his gaze pinned on me. A moment of awkward silence and I ask him the questions I have been dreading ever since I got here.

“So how many women have been here before?”

“One.” He gazes at me. “The woman who raised me comes here to visit from time to time.”

I can tell this conversation is making him uncomfortable.

“So where do you have sex with women usually?”

“I have a penthouse, that’s where I have sex with women.” He gives me a penetrating stare, like he was tired of my questions or like he was wondering where the hell am I going with all of this, so I smile and I decide to head back to the living room so I can get dressed. He shows up at the entrance and leans against the wall where I notice a photo hung on his wall. I get closer to it, squinting my eyes while trying to get a better view. He was probably about four or five years old in the picture, a woman sitting next to him, looking at him, I can’t really see her face. All I am able to see is long, dark hair pulled to her side.

“This is cute.” I point out at the picture. “You were a baby.”

He turns his head to look at the picture too. “It is my favorite picture.” There is a hint of sadness in his voice.

“So that is your mom?” He nods with his eyes still pinned on the picture.

I wish he could open up to me about whatever burden he keeps buried deep inside of him.

I look down, and I grab my heels off the floor.

“Thank you for tonight, I had fun,” I say as I brush past him.

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