Chapter 130: The Old House

Cecilia

"My flight leaves in two hours, and I'll probably be gone three, maybe four days." His thumb stroked across my wrist, and I could clearly see the deep reluctance mirroring my own in his dark eyes.

"Come with me, Ceci. We could make it a trip—I'll work during the day, and at night I'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to try in San Francisco."

The offer was incredibly tempting, and the thought of waking up next to him every morning in a different city, of not having to sleep alone in this massive house, made me want to say yes immediately.

But I thought about yesterday’s investigation.

"I can't," I said, hating how my voice came out small and disappointed as I pulled him a little closer. "I’ve been exhausted these past few days, and I want to stay home."

Arthur's expression shifted, a flicker of obvious disappointment crossing his handsome face before he smoothed it away, replacing it with that familiar, possessive heat.

"Okay," he said quietly, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened with pure desire. "But I'm going to need proper compensation for being away from you for four days."

Before I could even ask what he meant, he was already moving, stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it aside as he flipped me onto my back and pinned me to the mattress.

His large hands slid effortlessly under the silk sheets, finding my bare skin and tracing the curve of my waist, his mouth coming down hot and demanding against my neck.

"Arthur—" My protest turned into a sharp gasp as his fingers expertly parted my thighs, finding exactly the right spot and stroking me with a deliberate, agonizing rhythm. "You said you have a flight—"

"It doesn’t matter. There are still private jets available," he murmured against my throat, his tongue tasting the pulse point there as he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his slacks in one fluid, urgent motion.

He settled his heavy, warm body between my legs, but instead of entering me right away, he took his time, kissing a slow path down my neck to my collarbone, his hands mapping every curve of my body like he was memorizing me all over again.

"God, I'm gonna miss you," he breathed against my skin, and the raw vulnerability in his voice made my heart clench. His fingers continued their maddening exploration, circling and teasing until I was writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

"Arthur, please," I whimpered, my hips lifting instinctively to meet his touch. "Stop teasing me."

He lifted his head to look at me, his dark eyes blazing with heat and something deeper, something that made my breath catch. "I want to remember exactly how you look right now," he said roughly, his thumb pressing down in a way that made me gasp. "I want to remember every sound you make, every way your body responds to me."

Then finally, finally, he positioned himself at my entrance, his gaze locked intensely on mine as he pushed inside me with a single, deep thrust that made my back arch off the mattress.

A breathless moan escaped my lips, the sensation of him filling me completely wiping away any coherent thought about flights or investigations.

He began to move, setting a relentless, driving pace that had me clutching at his broad shoulders, my fingernails digging into his skin as he drove me closer and closer to the edge.

The friction was incredible, every thrust accompanied by the sound of our skin slapping together and his harsh breathing in the quiet bedroom, the sheer physical intensity of it matching the desperate need of knowing we'd be apart.

"Look at me," he commanded roughly when my eyes started to flutter closed, and I forced them open to meet his gaze. "I want to see you when you come apart for me."

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, matching his rhythm as the familiar, overwhelming wave of pleasure started to build low in my stomach. He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly he was hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust, making me see stars.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. "So perfect. Mine."

"Yours," I gasped out, the word turning into a cry as he reached between us, his thumb finding my clitoris and adding a sharp, electric friction that pushed me right over the precipice. "Arthur!"

I shattered around him, crying out his name as wave after wave of intense orgasm ripped through my body, my muscles clenching tightly around him. He gave a guttural groan, his own release hitting him a second later as he buried himself as deep as he could go, his hot seed spilling inside me as he collapsed against my chest, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

By the time we finished, I was totally boneless and satisfied, already missing him even though he was still right there, holding me securely against his chest.

"I love you," he said into my hair, his arms tightening around me as his breathing finally started to slow down. "Text me when you're doing anything, because I need to know you're safe."

"I will," I promised, my voice still breathless. "I love you too."

He kissed me one more time, long and thorough, before finally pulling away to finish getting ready, and I just lay there watching him, memorizing the way he looked in the morning light streaming through the windows.

"Stay in bed," he said when he caught me trying to sit up, his gaze sweeping over my flushed, naked body with obvious satisfaction. "Rest, because you've been through a lot this week."

"Okay," I agreed, feeling way too exhausted and comfortable to argue with him. He pressed one more kiss to my forehead, grabbed his overnight bag, and left the room.

I lay there for a while longer, drifting in that pleasant post-sex haze, until my phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

Daniel's name flashed on the screen, followed by a short message telling me he found something else crucial and that I needed to come to the old house at 10 AM alone.

Telling me to come alone was weird, considering Daniel had never specified that before. But then again, if he'd found something new about Irene, maybe he didn't want to risk anyone from the Winston household knowing, so maybe he was just being cautious.

I checked the time, realizing it was 9:15 AM, and figured if I hurried, I could definitely make it.

I got dressed quickly, grabbed my keys and headed downstairs. Mrs. Chen was in the kitchen, and she looked up with a warm, maternal smile when she saw me. "Good morning, Miss Locke. Can I get you some breakfast?"

"No, thank you. I'm just heading out for a bit," I said, pausing at the door. "If Arthur calls, tell him I went to the old family home, okay?"

"Of course, Miss," she replied kindly. "Drive safe."