The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress

‘A man could lose himself in the thought of that,’ he said roughly, and all thoughts of talk vanished as he pulled down the straps and gazed at her breasts, large in comparison to her small frame, and perfectly formed. Milky-white and succulently heavy, with rose-pink nipples like discs, pouting provocatively at him.

He pulled her shakily towards the sofa and then, kicking off his shoes, lay down. He figured he had damn near found heaven as she moved on top of him, sitting just in the right spot, so that he could feel the friction of his hardness against her through his trousers. She leant forwards, letting her breasts dangle temptingly above his mouth, and with a groan of utter abandonment Alessandro took one of the proffered nipples into his mouth, losing himself in the sensation of tasting her. He suckled on it, then when he was finished lavished the same attention on the other.

He wanted her completely naked. With fierce, driven movements he rid her of the swimsuit, stopping her when she tried to pull the tee shirt over his head.

‘But I want to see you…’ Megan whimpered.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed her back, spreading her legs in one deft motion, and her protest died on her lips as she felt his tongue invade her, sliding and exploring her depths until she was squirming, turned on to the point where thinking became an impossibility.

‘Alessandro!’ She curled her fingers into his dark hair and tugged him up. She was breathing heavily, her eyes closed, and she felt him undo the zipper of his trousers so that he could free himself.

She wasn’t even entirely sure that he had removed his trousers before driving deep into her, his thrusting urgent, taking her by surprise.

It was quick, fierce lovemaking, and afterwards they were both breathless and spent. Alessandro was unusually quiet as he pushed himself away from her, so that he could get back into his jeans and then fetch a bottle of water from the fridge, which he proceeded to drink in one long swallow.

‘You need to get dressed, Megan, and then we’ll talk.’

Megan felt a chill of fear race up and down her spine, obliterating everything in its path.

Talk about what? she was desperate to ask, but his shuttered expression kept that question reined in, and she silently went to the bedroom and rescued the only items of clothing she kept at his place: a pair of jeans and a sweater.

When she returned, it was to find that he had taken up position by the table, so that when she sat down, facing him, it felt like an awkward interview.

‘If it’s about my cake surprise, you have my word I won’t do anything like that again. It’ll take more than one shampoo before my hair recovers from the masking tape. In fact, I’m going to have to sack my production manager.’

Alessandro didn’t return her grin. This was going to be a difficult conversation, made all the worse by the fact that they should never have made love. He had allowed himself a selfish luxury, one which he deeply regretted.

‘This isn’t about your cake surprise, Megan. This is about those three men who were here. I’ve been head-hunted.’ It had come as no great surprise to Alessandro. He was good. He had been head-hunted before, and had turned down all offers. With or without intervention, he was going to go places—although this particular intervention would be helpful in the near future.

‘Wow, Alessandro! That’s fantastic! We should celebrate…’ But it wasn’t a celebrating atmosphere. ‘You don’t look overjoyed.’

Alessandro shrugged. ‘Little do they realise it, but they will discover that they need me more than I need them.’

Megan laughed. ‘Well, no one could ever accuse you of not having a healthy ego, Alessandro.’

That wonderful laugh stirred something inside him which he chose to ignore.

‘I’ve been offered a job.’ He stood up, distancing himself from her. ‘In London.’

Those two words stilled the easy smile on her lips, replacing it with the cold hand of dread. ‘London? But you can’t go to London.’ What about us? ‘What about your Masters?’

‘It will have to take a back seat. I can finish it in my own time, but for the moment my future calls.’

She was trembling. She had banked on having him around for a few more months, at which point she would be able to cross the inevitable bridge. That bridge was now staring her in the face. Maybe, she thought, desperately salvaging the best possible take on the situation, they could carry on a long-distance relationship? It wouldn’t be ideal, but it could work. A few hours on the train every other weekend, and then there were the holidays…

‘When?’

‘Immediately.’ Alessandro allowed the finality of that word to settle between them like a rock sinking into deep, uncharted waters. It hurt to look at her distraught expression.

‘Immediately…as in immediately…?’

‘Just time to pack up my belongings—what little I have—and put my past behind me for good.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ she whispered. Thoughts and fears were whizzing around in her head and she was beginning to feel sick. ‘What…what about us…?’

Alessandro didn’t answer, and the silence stretched between them until she could almost hear it vibrating in the air.

‘We…we can still carry on seeing each other, can’t we? I mean, I know London’s a long way away, but loads of people have long-distance relationships. It might be romantic! Who knows? We could…um…meet up every so often…’ Her babbling trailed off into silence. More silence.

‘It wouldn’t work,’ Alessandro said flatly.

‘Why not? Wouldn’t you even be willing to give it a try?’ Desperation had crept into her voice, and she searched his face for the smallest sign of comfort. But she was looking at a stranger. His expression was closed and hard.

‘There’s no point, Megan.’

‘No point? No point? How can you say that, Alessandro? We’ve practically lived together for the better part of a year! How can you say that there’s no point in trying to stay together? I…we…Alessandro, I love you. I really do. You’re the guy I gave myself to…you know how much that meant to me…’

Alessandro flushed darkly. ‘And I cherish that gift.’

He said it as though their relationship had already been consigned to the memory box.

‘Then tell me that you won’t walk away.’

‘I…I can’t say that, Megan.’ He embraced the room in one sweeping gesture with a look of distaste. ‘This…this was a chapter in my life, Megan, and it’s time for me to move on with the book.’

‘What you’re saying is that I’m a chapter in your life. You had your fun but all good things come to an end.’

‘All things do come to an end. And your life is here, Megan. Here with your family, with your teaching job out in the country. You know you hate the city. You’ve always said that. You told me that the only reason you ever ventured into Edinburgh in the first place was because your cousin had dragged you there, and that the only reason you kept coming back was to see me… If you think Edinburgh’s city living, then London is in a league of its own.’

‘You’re twisting everything I said to you! My life could be anywhere with you!’

‘No.’

He almost wished that she would cry. A crying female he could deal with, because crying females had always irritated the hell out of him. But she wasn’t a crier.

‘You’re a country girl at heart, Megan, and you would be miserable if I—or anyone else, for that matter—removed you from the open fields you enjoy. That aside…’ He paused, because he wanted to be completely honest with her. That much she deserved. ‘This step of my journey I must take alone. I’m about to devote myself to my career. I literally wouldn’t have time to spend…’

‘…taking care of a hopeless country bumpkin like me?’ Megan finished for him.

She stared down at her bare feet. The bright red nail polish she had applied to her toes earlier in the day was already beginning to flake. She would have to get rid of it. She actually hated bright red nail polish anyway. She had only put it on because it matched the Marilyn image she had wanted for her stupid, childish surprise cake gimmick.

‘Taking care ofany woman.’ But maybe, he thought, there was some truth in her statement. Falling out of a box in front of three of the country’s top finance gurus might seem a bit of a joke to her, but this was going to be his life, and falling out of boxes just wasn’t going to cut it.

‘I don’t believe you.’ Megan held her ground stubbornly, determined to wade through every inch of pain until the picture was totally clear in her head. ‘You just don’t think that I’m good enough for you now you’re about to embark on this wonderful jet-setting career of yours. If I had been an…accountant, or…an economist, or someone more serious, then you wouldn’t be standing there, airbrushing me out of your life as though I’d never existed!’

‘What do you want me to say, Megan?’ He finally snapped, furious that she was making this already difficult situation even more difficult by demanding answers to hypothetical speculations. ‘That I can’t see myself in a permanent situation with someone who will probably still be fooling around and singing karaoke when she’s thirty-five?’

If he had extracted a whip from his back pocket and slashed it across her face it couldn’t have hurt more, and she stared at him mutely.