Chapter Seventeen

"Who is this?" Lydia asked, holding the photo up for Drake to see.

As soon as his eyes locked onto the photo she held, his heart began to pound in his chest. The image captivated him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. His breath quickened and he couldn't tear his gaze away. Memories flooded back, each one more intense than the last. It was as if he was transported back in time, reliving every moment of that captured scene. He felt his pulse race and his emotions swirl as he gazed at the photograph in her hands. He had forgotten that he had that picture of Amelia in his room. He wasn't anywhere near ready to open up about Amelia yet, but he also didn't want to lie to Lydia either.

"Can we put a raincheck on that?" Drake asked, taking the picture from Lydia's hand and placing it facedown on his desk.

Lydia's heart clenched as she watched Drake's face contort with emotion. She didn't need him to tell her who the woman was - the one that had elicited such a strong reaction from him. Her name hung in the air, unspoken but heavy with meaning. It was the same name that had made his skin turn ashen and his eyes distant when he spoke of his past. Lydia could feel the tension radiating off of him, and she knew who was pictured.

"Amelia?" She whispered, hesitantly. She didn't want to push Drake to quickly, but she wanted him to open up to her more. She was desperate to know more about this woman who'd played such a strong role in his past.

Drake’s fists tightened at his sides, and the muscles in his jaw twitched. His face turned a deep shade of crimson as he glared at Lydia. "Damnit, Lydia," He snarled, "Why can't you just fucking drop it. Is it not obvious that I don't want to talk about it?"

Lydia recoiled at Drake's outburst, her heart sinking and her stomach twisting. She hadn't meant to upset him, she just wanted to understand him better. But she could see the raw pain in his eyes, the walls he had built around himself to protect his heart. She knew she shouldn't have pushed him, but she wanted to know him better. She wanted.... well never mind what she wanted. It was obvious that that wasn't going to happen. If his tone just now was anything to go by, Drake didn't even see her as a friend. She was nothing to him. Nothing but hired help.

"You know what Drake," She hissed turning away from him so he couldn't see the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, "You can be a real fucking prick. Forget I even asked."

She started to walk away, headed toward the ensuite bathroom. She needed space. Space away from Drake where she could gather her emotions and set up walls around her heart that he and his messy life wouldn't be able to penetrate. But just as she took a step away from the argument, Drake's hand clasped around her arm, stopping her.

"I'm sorry, Lydia." He whispered, his head down, staring at the floor, "I know it's not an excuse for me raising my voice at yet, but it's just being back here. It...It puts me on edge. It brings back so many memories, that I would rather forget."

Lydia hesitated. She knew she could forgive Drake and that all would well between them again, or she could pull her arm from his and storm off into the bathroom, and protect herself from taking any further damage. Luckily for Drake, Lydia always had a thing for damaged souls. She was a fixer. She wanted to heal and make everything better.

"You don't need to tell me all your deep dark secrets, Drake. But as your friend, you should know that you can lean on me. You can talk to me, and I won't judge you. And I know Amelia is a tough subject, but sometimes talking about the toughest subject can make it easier." Lydia replied, turning around, so she was facing Drake.

He'd stiffened at her use of the word friend, but what were they if they weren't friends? Their relationship had gone past that of contractor and contractee. It was more now.

"I mean if you can't confess to your Hooker, who can you make confessions to?" Lydia asked, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Drake let out a feral growl at her use of the word Hooker. He hated when Lydia talked down on herself. "New rule," He sneered, walking closer to her, invading her space, his chest touching hers, his breath intermingle with hers, "You are no longer allowed to call yourself anything else but my girlfriend. From this day forward, Lydia Greystone, you are mine."

Lydia's breath hitched. Her heart raced. "And what does being your's entail?" She asked her tongue dampening her suddenly dry lips. Her hand lifting on its own accord to wrap around his neck, drawing him in closer.

"How about I show you?" He asked suggestively, hand lowering and squeezing her thigh, "Tell me Lydia, have you ever been fucked in someone's childhood bedroom?"

"Why, I can't say that I have," Lydia smirked, her opposite hand, trailing down Drake's chest, linger on the waistband of his pants, "Why do you ask?"

"Get undressed and I'll show you." He whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her neck, sending chills down her body, making her nipples pebble.

Lydia's fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons of her skirt, her breathing ragged and her body trembling with anticipation. Drake watched her undress with a predatory intensity, his gaze sweeping over every inch of her exposed skin as she slowly peeled away each layer. She stood before him in nothing but her lacy black bra and panties, her eyes locked on his, daring him to take what he wanted. He inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of her arousal mixed with lavender soap.

Drake's stance resembled that of a predator, poised to strike at his prey. However, before he could make any moves towards her, they were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

"Sir Drake," Alfred's gravely voice called through the door, "Madame Alston has requested your presence in the dinning room. She has asked that you wear something formal."

Drake rolled his eyes in annoyance. Fuck his mother and her requests. His arm reached out, grabbing Lydia by the bare waist, pulling her into his embrace. He ignored Alfred as he leaned down and kissed Lydia's waiting lips. The kiss was anything but soft and sweet. It was hard and intense, full of anger and frustration, as Drake pushed his tongue into Lydia's mouth, quickly dominating hers. Lydia let out a small moan at Drake's intensity, but the sound was smothered by their kiss.

"Umm, Sir Drake," Alfred called out again, "Can you hear me?"

Drake pulled his mouth from Lydia's letting out a heavy sigh of frustration. "Yes, Alfred I can hear you. I'm currently busy right now. Please tell Diane to Fuck off."

"Ah...Of course, Sir. As you wish." Alfred hesitantly replied. While the poor man servant adored his young master, he hated it when he returned home. It seemed like there was nothing but chaos and fighting within the household whenever he returned. Drake refused to bend to his parents will, and his parents refused to stop their attempts at controlling him. They were a family of Alston's. They were all used to getting what they wanted.

Hearing Alfred's retreating steps, Drake lowered his lips back down to Lydia's, kissing her gently this time. "Now tell me, Darling. Where were we?" He asked huskily.

"I believe you were about to strip for me." Lydia replied breathlessly as Drake trailed kisses down her throat.

"Mmm, Nice try, Princess. But I believe I was going to show you what it meant to be called mine." Suddenly, he pushed her away and strode towards his old desk. In one swift movement, he swept everything off the surface, sending pens, photos, and other trinkets flying to the ground. "Why don't you have a seat right here?" he gestured to the edge of the now-empty desk with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Lydia playfully sighed, acting as if Drake had put her out by his request, "As you wish." She teased, as she walked seductively over to his desk, dressed only in her silk bra and panties, and a pair of stilettos. She let her body melt onto the empty desk, scooching back on her elbows as she watched Drake with a mixture of trepidation and desire.

Her eyes traced his movements as he walked toward her, his muscles rolling underneath his shirt. In one swift movement he stood between her legs, his strong hands pinning her wrists behind her back as he leaned over her. He trailed the tip of his tongue along her collarbone, tasting her in, "You're so fucking delicious," he murmured against her sensitive skin. His mouth moved lower, capturing one of her silk clad nipples between his teeth and pulling gently, eliciting a soft deep moan from within her throat. With each nip and tug, Lydia felt herself growing wetter, her body craving more of his attentions. Drake whispered dirty words against her skin as he dropped to his knees between her legs, and lowered her panties to the floor, exposing her completely to him. His eyes grew dark with lust as he admired her dripping wet cunt. He leaned in and gave it a kiss, causing Lydia's body to jolt and her breath to hitch with anticipation. "Mmm, Princess. You are so fucking wet for me." Drake groaned, leaning in and giving her pussy another kiss.

"Drake," Lydia moaned, her hips lifting on their own, driven by her need for more.

"DRAKE ANTHONY ALSTON! HOW DARE YOU REJECT MY INVITATION!"