Chapter 254: Little Bird's Morning

The middle of the night had turned into a quiet morning, and Marita’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the soft golden light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.

She was alone in the massive bed.

No sign of Lucius.

She sat up, stretching lazily, realizing she was wearing nothing but his white dress shirt from yesterday. The sleeves were way too long, hanging past her hands, and the hem reached mid-thigh on her. The fabric still carried his scent, spicy, masculine, and slightly smoky making her cheeks warm instantly.

It had been two nights since he brought her here.

Two nights of staying in this luxurious penthouse instead of the Ashbourne villa.

And not once had he taken her virginity.

He had touched her, kissed her, licked her until she was sobbing with pleasure… but he always stopped before going further. Always held back and left her aching and wanting more.

Marita’s face flushed deeper at the memories. She pressed her thighs together, still feeling the ghost of his tongue and fingers from last night.

She stood up, the shirt slipping off one shoulder, and padded barefoot around the large penthouse, looking for him.

The living room was empty. The kitchen was spotless. The balcony overlooking the city was quiet.

No Lucius.

It was Sunday. They had no work at the office, so there was no reason for him to leave early.

A small flicker of worry mixed with curiosity bloomed in her chest. She walked back into the bedroom and noticed a note on the nightstand, written in his elegant handwriting.

“Little bird,

I had to handle something urgent. Stay here and rest. I’ll be back soon.

— Lucius”

Marita smiled softly, clutching the note to her chest. She walked over to the window, looking out at the glittering morning city below, and the sunlight streaming in warmed her skin.

She still felt the ache between her legs from last night, the way he had spent hours between her thighs, making her come over and over until she was begging.

She bit her lip, cheeks burning again.

Why won’t he take me fully? she wondered. Is mi not ready? Or is he waiting for something?

She hugged herself, the oversized shirt enveloping her like his embrace.

Whatever the reason, she trusted him.

She would wait.

But the ache… the ache was getting harder to ignore.

A few minutes later,

Marita brushed her teeth in the luxurious bathroom, humming a soft tune under her breath. After rinsing, she stepped into the large walk-in shower, letting the hot water cascade over her body. She washed slowly, enjoying the fancy soaps and the way the steam filled the room.

When she was done, she realized she had no clean clothes except the sundress from yesterday, which was now dirty. She rummaged through Lucius’s closet and found a pair of his black boxer shorts. They were big on her, looking more like loose shorts that reached mid-thigh. She paired it with one of his white button-up shirts, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows. The shirt was huge on her small frame, falling almost to mid thigh.

She stood in front of the mirror, tying her long wild curls into a loose ponytail so they cascaded down her back over her brown skin. She smiled at her reflection.

“Mi look like mi wearing a tent,” she giggled to herself.

Her stomach growled. She walked to the massive fridge in the kitchen and opened it, hoping for something nice.

Inside were fancy things, smoked salmon, caviar, expensive cheeses, kale smoothies, and bottles of sparkling water. She crunched her nose in disgust.

“Mi no eat dis kind food,” she muttered.

She closed the fridge, deciding she was not hungry for that. She wanted real food, something warm, spicy, and comforting. Maybe some fresh bread or island-style breakfast.

She looked around and spotted a small stack of crisp dollar bills on the kitchen counter, neatly placed under a glass paperweight. Lucius must have left it for her.

“Mi will just go get something small,” she said to herself, grabbing a few bills and stuffing them into the pocket of the oversized shirt.

She stepped into the private elevator, still singing that soft tune under her breath as the doors closed.

The elevator opened to the grand ground floor lobby of the apartment building. Marita skipped along happily, her bare feet padding on the cool marble. People in the lobby turned to stare, a beautiful girl in an oversized shirt and boxer shorts, curls bouncing, humming cheerfully.

She greeted the security guard at the door with a bright smile.

“Bonjour, Étienne!” she said in French, remembering he had told her yesterday that he spoke it too.

The older guard smiled warmly. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Marita. Where are you going this morning?”

“To get something to eat,” she replied cheerfully. “Mi stomach is singing!”

Étienne chuckled and opened the revolving glass doors for her.

“Be safe out there.”

The doors spun, and Marita stepped out into the noisy, bustling streets of New York. The morning sun hit her face, horns blared, people rushed in every direction, and the city felt alive and overwhelming.

She looked around with wide, excited eyes and started walking down the pavement, passing strangers going different places, still humming her little song under her breath.