Page 93 of The King Contract
“I’m serious,” he says earnestly. “You’ve got the store, and you know every coffee drinker on the Coast. You should put some of your own work on display in there. See if you get any bites. At the very least, show the world what you can do with a camera.”
I can tell by his face he’s not joking, and I swallow the lump in my throat. The thought of showing anyone my work makes me clam up, my cheeks heating with the thought of people scrutinising it. I know art is subjective, but I’ve never considered myself an artist.
“You said this is part of a deal?” I remind him.
Noah smiles, holding up his hand. “If you look into showing off some of your pieces, I promise to take steps to make my surf camp a reality.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Another pinky promise?”
Noah wiggles his finger. “Another pinky promise.”
I try to fight my smile, but it’s no use as it spreads across my face, and I lock my little finger with his. “Pinky promise.”
36
MILLIE
I’m just horny
My vagina acheslike never before, but I’m on cloud nine.
In between swims in the river, eating leftovers and playing board games with Noah’s family, Noah King spent the last three days giving me the most intense orgasms of my life.
It’s almost annoying those rumours about him are true. He’s a fucking expert in the bedroom and what’s more is he’s agiver.He went down on me for over half an hour yesterday, bringing me to the brink and pulling back to increase my pleasure. He fucked me hard and slow. He fucked me bent over the table in the pool house with his hand clamped over my mouth to stifle my screams.
My inner vixen came out too, and it was liberating. I gave Noah a blowjob while he was on the phone with a friend in the States. He nearly tore my hair out from the roots in the middle of it. It turns out Noah was right about me—I’m a big fan of encouraging dirty talk. Those words spilling from Noah’s mouth had me on my knees. Literally. Not only that, but his encouragement gave me the confidence to try new things, to say what I liked. The way he looked at me while I rode him, withpure uninhibited lust and admiration, which only spurred me on. Listening to him lose control because of what I did to him, was the confidence-booster I didn’t know I needed. If sex is like that all the time, no wonder he’s having it consistently.
The entire drive home, I replayed the entire visit. I didn’t want to leave and neither did Winston. He became Rick’s sidekick; I think Rick was sad to see him go.
“Ellis! We’re back!” I drop my bags to the floor and kick the front door shut, Winston darting past me. “Ellis?”
“In here!”
I follow Ellis’ voice to our tiny kitchen where she’s sitting on a stool, reading something. “Hey. How was Melbourne?”
“We’ll get to that.” She glances at me and holds up the stack of paper smattered with neon pink highlighter pen. “What is this?”
My heart sinks. It’s my copy of the contract I signed with Noah. I’d left it in one of the drawers of my desk, but it wasn’t hidden.
“I didn’t go snooping, FYI,” she explains, flicking through the pages. “I was searching for the latest rates notice and I saw the bright pink, and well, it didn’t take much for me to keep reading.”
I close my eyes, exhaling out a gust of embarrassment. She drops the paper and leans forward. “You signed a legal document to pretend to date Noah King? You’refake-dating? For money?”
There is no way in hell I can keep this from her now.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well . . . itwasfake,” I start, scratching my neck. “I guess it still is, but . . .” I don’t even know how to explain it to her properly, but I know I’m going to have to try, because Ellis’ eyes narrow in on me.
She pulls out the stool next to her. “Sit your ass down and tell me everything.”
I do. I disregard the non-disclosure part of the contract and tell her everything I can remember from the very beginning. From the day Noah helped me out of the water, to the cricket game, to the camping trip. It spills out of my mouth, one sentence after the next, and God, it feels so good to get it out. The more I tell Ellis, the lighter I feel, my guilt dissipating with every word. When I finish telling her how amazing the Christmas visit was, she looks at me in awe.
“It’s way more romantic than I thought,” she muses.
“Romantic?”
