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Spencer
Mallorie twisted in his arms, wide-eyed with wonderment. She stared at Spencer’s face as if he were God. If only. Cassadines had pristine genes and brimful wallets, but they bled all the same. Spencer’s good fortune would place him above no man in the end. Which furthered his enjoyment of this moment. Mallorie was not the first woman to idolize him, ‘nor would she be the last. Her moans of pleasure caused his grip to tighten. Oh, yes, he was enjoying her too. The mood shifted with talk of food. He should’ve saved that tidbit of information for after exercise. But her joy was contagious, and Spencer beamed as she ran toward the snack bar. Nachos and jalapeno peppers were beckoning her.
“You’d be correct. They’ve got your name all over them. I made sure they stocked the place with your favorites.” Mallorie sifted through the loot like a starving child. It amazed him how much of a chameleon she was. She talked of literature and art one moment and stomach-rotting treats the next. A rubik’s cube, indeed. It worked in her favor. Spencer generally grew bored of his conquests after week two. Mallorie was fast approaching a month in his company. “You could eat all of that now, orrrr,” he crooned suggestively. “We could skip ahead to dessert.” Spencer lifted her onto the bar, head bent low. His lips pressed between the slit of her dress, finding familiar curves. Curves he’d traced repeatedly since their meeting at the ballet. “Drop the chip,” he half joked, half demanded. “This will be better.”
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