Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (15 page)

They
were in a bubble.

A
bubble that held just the two of them.

Twice
she’d greeted him with a meal waiting, and though the food had been…less than
appetizing…Andros had found himself eating it anyway. Wanting to please her.

Like
she pleased him.

Fuck
.

Never
had he been so confused. He had no idea what to make of the situation.

“Let
me get that for you?”

Andros
turned, pulled from his turbulent thoughts, to see a blonde next to him. She
was smiling and flicking her hair. Lyra flicked her hair. It was one of her
little gestures; she did it often.

“Excuse
me?”

“The
drink,” the blonde said. “I’d like to buy it for you.”

Andros
frowned. “And why would you wish that?”

“So
we could drink together,” she said, her smile widening.

A come on.
His frown
deepened even as a memory nudged him. He’d seen this woman before. “Have we
met?”

“At
Mark’s party,” she said, her smile widening even more if that was possible. “I
didn’t think you’d remember.”

She’d
chased him all night. Of course he remembered. “I do indeed remember,” he said
quickly. “And I prefer to buy my own drinks.”

“Why?”
she asked. “You’re here alone.”

She
moved closer, her hand settling on his arm. The nails were glinting in the
light, fake probably, like her hair and her tits. He growled. Lyra was
perfectly real in every way, so why would this woman even assume he would be
interested?

“Remove
your hand.”

“Don’t
be like that.”

Andros
had forgotten over the last several days how persistent women could be. He was
used to Lyra now. Lyra, who was open and honest about what she wanted, who took
and gave in equal measure. Lyra, who tempted him to stay indoors with her more
often than they went out. Who, when they did venture outside, took him to cafes
and bars where no one knew who he was, or how big his bank balance might be.

“We
can have fun together,” the blonde added.
 

 
“I’m taken, sweetheart.”

Those
words stayed with him as he made the drive to Lyra’s apartment. How long had it
been since he’d spent a night in his own home?

I’m taken…

He
wasn’t sure why he’d said them, what they even meant, but they echoed in his
mind and prodded him. By the time he arrived he was hard as fuck, and wanted
nothing more than to bury himself in Lyra’s waiting wetness. The website guys,
the blonde, all of it annoyed him. The whole day had annoyed him, and he needed
to forget it all inside of her.

She
was curled up on the couch, dressed in pajamas, and though Andros raised an
eyebrow at the little hearts splattered all over them, he said nothing, simply
lifted her up and pulled her into his arms.

He
kissed her furiously, part desire, part annoyance giving his movement a hard edge,
though he did not understand where that annoyance was coming from. After a
moment it didn’t even matter. Her lips were so soft, so plump. He worked them
and nipped them, found her tongue and suckled on the tip of it, desire—hard and
hot—shooting straight to his cock.

He
began to undo the buttons of her shirt, his other hand reaching around to
squeeze her ass, and so clouded was he with lust, he didn’t hear her words at
first.

“Andros…we
can’t tonight.”

Just
a few more buttons before her perfect, natural breasts, were in his palms…

“Andros!”
 
Lyra pulled her lips from his and placed a
finger on his lips. “Stop. We can’t.”

He
found her gaze and shook his head, puzzled by her words. “I want you. What do
you mean we can’t?”

“I
want you too,” she said with a smile. “Don’t I always? But this mistress is on
a hiatus.”

Hiatus?
He didn’t
understand and his cock was not listening besides. It throbbed against his
zipper, the pressure almost unbearable. “Pardon?

“Urg,
don’t make me say it,” she said, buttoning herself back up.

“I
do not understand.”

She
peeked a look at him. “Think it through.”

“I
can think of nothing but being inside you.” He held out his arms. “Come, I have
had a very trying day.”

“Me
too, lover, me too.”

“Is
something wrong?” he demanded, her words creating a panic he did not
understand, and set it to rolling in his gut. “Has something happened?”

“Kind
of.”

“Then
spit it out.”

“Jesus…a
girl can’t keep any mystery with you, can she?” She threw up her hands. “Time
of the month, Andros. Like I said, a hiatus.”

Understanding
dawned and Andros took a step back. “Ah. Of course.”

“But
that doesn’t mean I can’t satisfy you, so come back here. I’ll take you into my
mouth and pleasure you that way.”

He
stilled her hand as she reached out to him. The idea of slipping his length
into her mouth was tempting, and his dick was in strong agreement with her
proposal, but abruptly Andros found his desire moving back to a manageable
level. Yes, Lyra could satisfy him, but what of her? Was he to just take his
pleasure and leave? She was his mistress; that would be acceptable behavior…and
yet…

“Why
are you stopping me?” she asked. “You’re horny.”

“Yes,”
he agreed. “For you.”

“So
let me.”

“No.”
He pulled her to him and held her in his arms. Her bright hair tickled his chin,
the scent so unique to her surrounded him. Andros took a deep breath, the
confusion clearing slightly. He wanted all of Lyra, not just a little bit…and
so…he would have to wait until he could have it, throbbing dick or not. “You
are probably achy,” he said slowly. “Women generally are at this time, I
believe. I will massage you.”

“I’m
okay. I don’t need a massage. I’m just a bit blurgh.”

“Then
what do you wish to do?” he asked as she pulled back to look at him.

“Seriously?”
she asked, eyes wide, and it occurred to him in that moment that she looked
ridiculously cute in her heart pajamas. “Like with the fried chicken?”

“Exactly.”

“Then
can we watch a movie?”

How
long had it been since he’d done so? Andros couldn’t remember, but the idea of
sitting and holding Lyra in his arms, holding her next to him…he swallowed…it
would be torture, and yet the most exquisite kind. “What would you like to
watch?”

“I
noticed
Les Miserables
is on Box
Office. It’s the new one. I’d really love to watch it. I’ve wanted to for
ages.”

“Then
we will do so.”

“Groceries
came today,” she added. “I could make us some snacks?”

Andros
cringed ever so slightly at the thought of Lyra’s cooking, but nodded, and was
rewarded with a dazzling smile. “If that is what you wish.”

She
sighed and shot him a look, one he couldn’t quite decipher. “You’re way too
good to me, Andros. You know that, right?”

She
danced off to the kitchen, her hair flicking to and fro. He could hear her
humming as he switched the flat screen on, and the domesticity of the situation
screamed at him. Screamed something he did not want to acknowledge. It’s just
this once, he told himself. Just a one-off. But as he palmed his aching cock
with one hand, and felt his jacket pocket with the other—a pocket where
earrings to match the necklace sat—Andros felt like something was happening
that he did not quite understand.

And
he knew—deep down he knew—that it was something he was going to have to get a
grip of, and soon.

Chapter Seventeen

The
store was a chain, a basic high street type place where the clothes were cheap
as chips, offering maximum value for very little money. It was Lyra’s third
visit in so many days and she had the layout pegged now, could be in and out
fairly quickly. Plus she had a list, a list she’d quickly come to realize was
absolutely essential in a place like this, or else she could find herself lost
in the rails for hours. It was typed out on her phone on a digital doc, and
Lyra called it up as she wandered into the store,
 
flagging an assistant down.

Her
name was Penny, how absolutely apt, and Lyra gave her a huge smile. “I wonder
if you could help?”

“Absolutely,”
the assistant said. “What do you need?”

Lyra
titled the phone so that Penny could see the list. “Everything on here,
please.”

The
assistant scanned the document, before shaking her head slightly. “These are
all times one hundred and eleven? So…one hundred and eleven of each? Is that
right?”

Lyra
grinned. “Yes, please.”

The
assistant raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else, which was a relief.
How Lyra was going to explain that amount of children’s clothes was a question
she didn’t have an answer for. Well, not one she wanted to give, at any rate.
Truth was, there were one hundred and eleven under-tens in the care of the
state in her borough, and these clothes were for them. Lyra couldn’t wait to
pick them out, and get them all delivered.

“We
might not have this many in stock,” the assistant warned as they made their way
to the baby section.

“I
wanted delivery for them all anyway,” Lyra said. She’d learned that the hard
way. Only the day before yesterday—when she’d ordered far too many paper pads
and pens from a huge stationary shop—she’d had to struggle in a taxi to drop
them off to the schools in her area. Delivery seemed the better option, plus
she wouldn’t have to personally go give the stuff. Lyra much preferred the
anonymous donor approach,
especially
considering the fact that Andros was the actual donor.
 
Yes, she was happily using the card Andros
had given her—the one which didn’t seem to have a limit—to purchase things.
Important things. Things that were making a difference.

“Pink
and yellow socks okay?” Penny the assistant asked.

“That’s
fine. We’ll need some white ones too.”

“Of
course.”

They
made their way around the store, back and forth, Penny picking up samples of
what they would order once at the till, suggesting other bits and bobs which
Lyra happily added, despite the fact they were not on the list.

Lyra
enjoyed herself hugely, and not just because she loved clothes shopping—especially
for others—but because she felt as though she was doing something useful. One
of the issues, the only issue, she’d found so far in her relationship with
Andros, was how simple it all felt. Being with him, pleasuring him and being
pleasured in return. It was all so easy, so satisfying. And last night…she
swallowed as Penny passed across a set of vests…he’d been so sweet, so
understanding. It was not at all what she’d expected.

 
“Let’s add those tee shirts on,” she said,
passing across a pile of tops that seemed to feature dinosaurs heavily. “And
the shorts too?”

They
tallied everything up at the till, which took a while. Lyra did not blink at
the total—although in truth it made her heart pound in a weak sort of fashion.
She wondered what Andros would say when he saw the statement. Likely, he
wouldn’t even give it a second look. It would equal two or three dresses in
Andros’ world, and he would expect her to buy such things, to spend high
amounts of money. Would probably call it an official mistress duty.

She
grinned as she wrote down the address for the delivery—the local social
services office—and considered her official mistress duties. There didn’t seem
to be many beyond shagging him senseless, something Lyra thought she could do
constantly without much effort.

“We’ll
get this all shipped ASAP,” the assistant said.

Lyra
grinned. “Thank you.”

A
few minutes later and she was back in the sunshine, feeling happy and pleased.
She decided to walk back to the apartment. It was only a half hour at a slow
pace and the weather was so lovely. She’d come to enjoy her walks around the
area, Lyra realized. It wasn’t something she did very often at home, mainly
because it was never too safe to go trotting about the estate on which they
lived. Certainly not just for the sake of it, and not for pleasure.

But
this? Well, this was different, and she happily stopped off at one of the small
markets to buy herself a cheese roll and a bottle of water. She ate them on a
park bench, and couldn’t help thinking as she did so, who decided what to put
in her grocery shopping list? One of Andros’ assistants, she presumed. Whoever
it was, they had good taste. She hadn’t eaten so well in years.

She
thought then, unsurprisingly perhaps, of Penny and Rachel. Lyra wished she knew
where they were now, and what they were doing with themselves. She’d checked
their mail programme—the agreed way to contact one another if anything went
wrong with their missions—but hadn’t heard from either. Lyra took that as a
good sign. If Penny had been caught stealing from Demetrious she would have
been able to arrange an email in prison—they knew plenty of people in there.
And Rachel too would easily be able to access a computer. So Lyra had to assume
all was well, that they had either completed, or were getting on with their
missions.