Drawn to Mr. King: A steamy age gap office romance (The Men Series – Interconnected Standalone Romances Book 3)
Drawn to Mr. King: Chapter 15

I STAND PATIENTLY WHILST Megan digs around in her bag, looking for her door keys. If she doesn’t replace them soon, I’m going to kick the door in. The urge to be alone in private with her is overwhelming—and currently pulsing in my crotch, beating out a relentless rhythm.

“May I?” I slip one hand over the top of hers into her purse and curl my fingers around the jackpot.

“How did you make that look easy?”

She smiles as I slide the key into the lock and open the door. I stand back so she can go in ahead of me.

She flicks a lamp on in the hallway and steps out of her heels, groaning as her bare feet touch the floor.

“Come in.” She grins at me over her shoulder as I step inside and close and lock the door behind me.

She watches as I place the safety chain on.

“You’re thorough.”

“You’re a beautiful woman who is alone when your housemate is away flying, Megan. Please tell me you lock all of your doors and windows when you’re home?” I fix my gaze on her.

“You don’t think I could fight off an attacker?” she asks, cocking a brow at me.

My eyes roam up and down her slender frame. She has a dancer’s body, elegant and graceful. I don’t doubt for a minute that she isn’t independent and capable of looking after herself. But when it comes to physical size and strength, she would be vulnerable.

“Just promise me, you’ll check you’ve locked it each time you come in.”

She looks at me for a long moment like she’s trying to decide what to make of my request.

“I promise,” she says finally.

Satisfied with her answer, I step out of my shoes and look around.

There’s a drawing of her and a pretty, dark-haired girl hanging on the wall. They’re both wearing red flight attendant uniforms.

“Rachel?” I ask, standing in front of the frame and admiring Megan’s work.

There’s no doubt she drew this herself. The detail is outstanding. At a quick glance, you could think it is a photograph.

“Yep, that’s her. She’s away on a work trip now. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Megan takes my hand, and I follow her through the house as she points things out and tells me the stories behind them.

It’s a cosy Victorian house with large bay windows and a log burner in the living room. Beyond that are a dining room and a small galley kitchen. There are small sculptures and carvings dotted around, which she collected on her travels with the airline.

I love the way her voice gets higher, and her face lights up as she speaks. But want I really want right now is my own private self-guided tour of her soft skin and curves.

“And this is my room,” she says, after showing me the bathroom and two other bedrooms, one of which is set up as a small art studio.

She pulls me inside and flicks on her bedside lamp.

It’s just how I pictured her room would be. There’s a large bed with green floral bedding on it and an intricately carved wood panel running the width of the bed, serving as a headboard. The walls are painted in a warm white, and there are pictures in different coloured wood frames. Some carry Megan’s unmistakable style.

Her perfume lingers in the air, making the entire room smell sweet and feminine.

She turns to face me.

“I was meant to be making us coffee.” Her voice comes out a whisper as she glances from my eyes down to my mouth and up again.

I can’t stop myself from reaching out and wrapping my fingers around her chin, dropping my lips down to hover over hers.

“Caffeine’s not such a good idea at this time of night.”

“No,” she murmurs, looking at my lips, “it might keep us up all night.”

“That would be a bad idea, seeing as we both have work in the morning,” I say against her lips, snaking my free arm around her waist and drawing her up against my chest.

“So sensible. You could just tuck me into bed before you go?”

Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth again. I lean forward and tug it between my own teeth to free it. She sucks in a small breath, and the sound speaks straight to my dick.

I tilt her head back and wrap my mouth over hers, growing harder by the second as she wraps her arms around my neck and rises to her toes to kiss me back.

She lets out a small moan and parts her lips, letting me slide my tongue into her mouth.

God, she tastes so sweet.

My heart rate increases in my chest as I bury myself in our kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that has my mind imagining all sorts of filthy ways the rest of the night could play out.

Megan’s hands move from around my neck and reach down to stroke me through my trousers, her fingers wrapping around me. I suck a breath in through my teeth, and she smiles against my lips as she undoes my belt and zipper, pushing my trousers and boxers down my thighs.

She wraps her hand back around me and pumps my shaft up and down.

My entire body tingles, and my balls tighten, “Megan,” I growl in warning.

If she keeps touching me like this, the night is going to be cut short.

“Sit.” She guides me to the edge of her bed and pushes me down onto it gently.

“What are you doing?” I ask as she kneels between my legs and pulls my clothes off from around my ankles, so I’m naked from the waist down.

Her eyes sparkle at me. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

The end of my cock leaks in its position, snugly wrapped in her hand.

I’m hard to the point of it being painful.

Her… her scent…the way she says my name… the way she looks at me…

“You don’t need to, Megan, go on your knees like that in front of—” my words freeze in my throat as she keeps her eyes on my face and wraps her lips around me, sucking the precum off the head of my cock.

Fuck!

I scrunch the bedding up in my fists as I lean back and watch her slide the whole of it down her throat.

She pulls back up, her breath warm against my throbbing skin as her mouth hovers over me.

“Don’t you like it, Jaxon?”

I groan, “I fucking love it, Megan. You look like perfection down there, Princess. But you don’t have to feel obliged to… oh fuck,” I hiss as she sinks her mouth back down over me, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks any sense of sane thought out of my head via my dick.

My heart’s pounding in my chest, my stomach taut with the intense sensation she’s creating inside my body.

“I want to,” she purrs, reaching the tip again. “You taste so good.” Her eyes are hooded as she sucks me back in.

My breath’s coming in short bursts as she picks up her pace, sucking me hard. I drop my head back. She sucked me like this that first night, and I let her then too. But I would hate Megan to feel like she must do something just to please me, despite how fucking incredible it feels.

“Relax, Jaxon,” she murmurs, sending vibrations right down to my balls, which are aching for release. “I love doing this to you. It brings me pleasure.”

I look down at her. She has one hand wrapped around the base of my cock, the other buried in her panties between her legs.

Her eyes flutter closed as she lets out a moan and sucks me in deep again.

Seeing her like this, moaning in arousal at how much it turns her on, is too much. I reach down and place my fingers under her chin, tilting it, so her gaze meets mine.

“Megan, Princess, I’m going to come. You need to stop now or—”

She pushes my hand out of the way and sucks harder, her eyes resting on my face with a determined glint as she moves up and down, over and over.

I grit my teeth as I blow out a breath.

God, this feels amazing.

She looks me in the eyes darkly, and then cups her hand around my balls and tugs… then I’m coming… loud moans through gritted teeth… sweat beading on my brow as hot spurts fire out of their own accord.

“God, Megan…. Megan.” Her name falls from my lips as I fist one hand into her copper curls and hold her head still whilst I arch up toward her mouth and empty my balls down her throat.

She moans in response and sucks harder, swallowing down the steady stream that keeps on going.

“Jesus Christ…” I drop my head back and shudder as the final pulses leave my balls. She sucks on my sensitive head one last time, and then I’m dropping back onto the bed, a contented sigh flowing out my mouth as she comes to lie next to me.

“Megan, I—” She cuts me off with a kiss before I can explain… before I can apologise for grabbing her hair and coming so hard down her throat that I thought I might pass out.

Nothing is simple with her.

It’s not muted or subtle.

It’s jaw-dropping, mind-blowing colour.

Vibrant and intoxicating.

I lose myself with her… forget who I am… get overcome by the magic of her.

Her fingers are resting against my chin as she pulls back from our kiss.

“You won’t tell me I don’t have to do it again?” she arches a brow at me, “when I clearly enjoy it so much.” She tilts her head to the side and smirks at me.

I take her wrist in my hand and hold it still so I can draw her fingers into my mouth, sucking the taste of her wetness off them with my tongue, savouring it and her scent.

Her eyes widen, and I smile as I pull them out slowly.

“Fine,” I concede. “I won’t try to tell you to stop again.” I run my other hand over my eyes as I realise my heart is still racing from coming so hard. “God, that was intense.”

“Come on, old man. I’m not letting you rest yet.” She grins, wrapping a leg over my hips, so her wet panties press against my skin.

“Less of the old, if you don’t mind,” I say, nipping at her neck as I slide my fingers down and sink them straight inside her hot, wet pussy. “God, Megan. You’re soaking.”

“I know,” she whispers into my ear, “and I need you to help me with it.”

I groan as I roll over on top of her and kiss her.

My cock’s already getting hard again.

At least one part of my body can keep up because right now, my head is spinning.

And my heart? — Megan wriggles underneath me and moans against my tongue—I don’t think it’s safe to even consider what my heart’s doing.

“Why did you decide to get into publishing?” Megan asks as she holds our entwined hands above her face, studying them with a smile as we lay under her covers.

I pull her closer and press a kiss to her head, smelling berries in her hair again.

I take a deep breath. “Losing my dad, I guess. I would read book after book, losing myself in the story. It felt safer there sometimes. Safer than in the real world, where I had to face the big void he left behind.”

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes.

I swallow the lump in my throat, unable to respond.

“Don’t you think it’s funny that I met Abigail at Barre class? It’s a small world, isn’t it?” Megan continues.

“It certainly is,” I say, grateful to her for not pressing me on my dad.

“It was Martin you told me about, the night of the hotel re-opening, wasn’t it? The boy who went to the signing and thanked the author for her recipe because baking with him made his mum smile again?”

I take a breath before I answer. I can’t believe she remembers that.

“Yes, it was. He was only sixteen at the time. I kept seeing him a lot at different signings after that. Took him for his first pint at eighteen. It should have been his dad, though.”

“What happened?” Megan asks, putting both our hands down onto my chest and stroking her thumb across my knuckles.

“Cancer, like my dad, but a different type.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaxon. For you and Martin. Do you think that’s why you’re such good friends? Because you both lost your dads at a young age?”

“Probably.” I clear my throat. “No one else really understands how you feel. Not unless they’ve been through it themselves.”

“And now Martin’s going through it himself.” Megan’s brow creases as she inches closer to me.

“Yes, he is. But he’s young and strong. His treatment has finished now. It’s just a case of waiting.”

“Living, a case of living, Jaxon. Abigail told me he’s doing a charity sky dive soon and writing his book.” Megan smiles up at me. “It doesn’t sound as though he’s moping around waiting to see if the cancer comes back.”

“He’s a reckless clown.” I chuckle. “There’ll be something else after the skydive. Probably a bungee jump or something equally dangerous.”

Megan lets out a happy-sounding sigh.

“I think it’s amazing. He’s not letting it dictate how he lives his life. He’s kicking cancer in the balls and telling it where to go.” She tilts her head up, and her bright eyes gaze into mine. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Abigail get engaged soon.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Call it women’s intuition.” Megan smiles.

I shake my head. Martin mentioned nothing to me, and I’ve known him for ten years.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” I frown.

I know they got together before the cancer, and she’s stuck by his side through his treatment. But that’s got to have been hard. And the knowledge that once you’ve had cancer, the chance of it coming back or getting a different type is higher. Well, surely that’s got to worry someone when they’re planning the rest of their lives?

“What? Of course, she will.” Megan laughs and swats at my chest as though I’ve said something ridiculous. “She loves him, Jaxon. What else would she say?”

I look into Megan’s beautiful face and trace my fingertip over her lips. “I can tell you’re thinking too much again,” she says, kissing my finger.

“Just… thinking about how much I love these lips.” I smile.

And it’s true.

I am admiring her perfect pink, kissable lips.

But they aren’t the only thing on my mind.

Her words have set cogs turning, stirring up past emotions… loss… grief… being powerless.

What else would Abigail say?

Megan seems so sure that love is all you need. But my parents had love, and it didn’t stop my mother’s heart from being broken.

I pull Megan even closer into my side, so she’s snuggled up against my chest.

I’m not ready to let her go.

“Stay?” she whispers, looking up at me.

“I’ll stay tonight. But I’ll have to leave early to go home for a change of clothes before work.”

“Okay.” She grins as she reaches up to kiss me gently on the lips. “Just as long as you stay with me.”

She switches the lamp off and curls back into my side.

It isn’t long before the sounds of her peaceful dreaming echo around the room.

But it’s a long time of staring at her ceiling and listening to my head and heart wrestle with each other until I finally fall asleep.

Megan: Do you want to meet for lunch today?

I smile at her text, then bring up her number and hit call.

“Hello?” a wary voice answers.

“Why do you sound like you don’t know who’s calling when I come up on your caller ID?” I chuckle.

“I do not!” She laughs.

I look down at the floor, a stupid smile on my face as I walk back and forth in front of my office window.

“Why are you calling, anyway? You could have just texted back.”

“I prefer to actually talk to people when I communicate.” I smirk as her giggle echoes down the line. “Besides, I enjoy hearing your voice, Princess.”

There’s a pause before she speaks.

“I enjoy hearing yours, too. Even though I only heard it, um, three hours ago.” Her voice is light and teasing as she references this morning when I kissed her goodbye. I can hear the rustling of papers in the background and picture her at her desk, pencil poked through her hair, surrounded by her sketches. “So, lunch?” she asks.

I stare out of the window at a crane in the distance as tension creeps through my body.

“I can’t today, Megan. I have a meeting over lunch. It’ll probably go into the afternoon.” I run a hand over my brow, trying to erase the throbbing that’s started up in my skull.

“Okay, another time then. I’ll speak to you later?”

“Yes, I’ll look forward to it. I’m probably going to have a late one here, but call me when you finish, and we can talk.”

“I will. I’ve got to go! Looks like Phil’s on a mission about something,” she whispers.

I really don’t know how that guy got into that position. He’s the most sexist jerk I’ve come across in a long time.

“Tell me if he gives you any trouble, Megan,” I say, my jaw clenched.

“It’s fine.” She brushes off my comment. “Speak to you later.” And with that, she’s gone.

I place my phone down on the desk and stretch my hands up behind my head. The throbbing in my skull is intensifying its efforts. I pull open my desk drawer and grab a bottle of painkillers out, throwing two back with a gulp of the water from the glass on my desk.

The sooner this day is over, the better.

I glance at my watch. One hour until I see Joanna. Two hours until I can put all this crap behind me and move on. I’ve been an idiot for keeping Megan at an arm’s distance all this time when all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and lose myself in her.

In us.

It’s been years since I’ve considered getting into a relationship with a woman again. Who am I kidding? Apart from Pen—which was totally different—I’ve never considered starting a relationship. Yet, with Megan… I run a hand across my chin as I picture her open, trusting face, her bright eyes and pink pouty lips, and her hair… God, her hair. It’s like glowing sparks of energy falling around her. She’s simply beautiful. But it’s the way she lights up when she talks about art. The way her nose wrinkles when she doesn’t like or understand something. And how she makes me feel alive, laughing on the rare occasion that I make a joke. I know I’m the serious guy, the one people go to for solid business advice. I’m not the fun guy. But with Megan, I am. The way she looks at me makes me think I can be a million things if only I have her with me.

“Fuck it,” I murmur, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair and heading out the door. “Veronica, could you divert any calls to my cell, please? I’m going to head over to Articulate. I’ll be back after my meeting this afternoon.”

“Of course, Mr King.” She smiles warmly, giving me a wave goodbye.

Thirty minutes later, I’m sneaking up behind Megan as she’s bent over her desk, her sketchbook open in front of her. She rests her cheek on one hand and hums to herself as she works.

“Hey, Princess,” I whisper in her ear.

She jumps in her seat and slams her sketchbook shut before she turns around.

“Jesus Christ, Jaxon. Don’t do that to me.” Her eyes are wide, but she giggles as she glances around the room.

No one is paying any attention, but I understand her reluctance. It’s simpler if no one knows we’ve been spending time together.

I crouch next to her desk, so I’m hidden by the partitions that run between each designer’s workspace.

“I brought you something.” I place a take-away cup of ginger tea on her desk. “Sorry, this one isn’t homemade. I wasn’t planning on coming to Articulate today. Tina’s got it all covered.”

She grins, reaching for the cup and closing her eyes as she inhales the steam.

“Thank you. This stuff has really grown on me. I wouldn’t have thought of myself as a herbal tea girl before.”

“Before?” I arch an eyebrow.

“Before Jaxon King, I guess.” She flashes me a smile, which makes my stomach flip.

I shake my head at myself. I’m turning soft.

“Are you working on the covers?” I gesture to her sketchbook.

Her cheeks flush pink, and she pushes the book away towards the other side of her desk.

“No, just, some other stuff I was experimenting with.” Her bottom lip is back between her teeth, and I lift my thumb to free it. “Why are you here? If you don’t need to see Tina?”

“I came to see you.” My eyes rest on her face as we stare at one another.

She tilts her head to one side as she smiles.

“I can’t stay long, though. I just heard there’s a road closure on the route to my meeting. In fact,” I glance at my watch, “I better leave now, so I’m not late.”

“Thank you for the tea.” She drops her voice to a whisper, “I wish I could kiss you goodbye.”

I look down at her sweet, plump lips. “So do I, Princess.”

She kisses her fingertips and presses them lightly to my lips, “That’ll have to do until later.”

I rise to my feet and say goodbye, heading off to the lift with a ridiculous schoolboy grin on my face.

“Run the bloody tests again!” I snap at Joanna.

She shakes her head. “Jaxon, I know this is a lot to take in. Please, sit down.”

She attempts to steer me over to the immaculate white couch in her office.

“I don’t want to sit down. Run the tests again,” I rage, pacing up and down the room.

“Jaxon. We did an ultrasound and a blood test, which showed up human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG. The results are very clear. It’s a non-seminoma germ cell cancer.” She holds up the folder in her hand.

A simple manilla folder with my name typed on it.

Its contents: a small nuclear missile that’s just fixed its target on me.

“Fuck the results.” I sweep past her and accidentally knock the folder out of her hands. Papers scatter across the thick carpet, and she bends to collect them. “Don’t.” I stop her, crouching down to scoop them up. “It was my fault.”

I gather up the various printouts and pieces of paper that all say the same thing—I’ve become a statistic.

Another number in the unfair human fight against cancer.

The irony isn’t lost on me. The last time I was on the floor picking up paperwork was when Megan came by my office. I told her I was no good for her then. If only I’d been strong enough to keep my word and stay away from her.

Keep her away from all this shit.

“Here.” I hand the papers to my sister-in-law.

She looks up at me. Her blond hair is tied up, but she still looks so much like Penelope in her face. She’s only two years older, nothing really. You could almost mistake them for twins. Except Joanna didn’t fall pregnant by accident at eighteen. Joanna studied medicine and graduated top of her class before deciding to specialise in oncology. Her lavish office is a testament to just how knowledgeable she is. Patients come from all over the world for a consultation with her.

I just got lucky that she fitted me in for tests a couple of months ago when I found a lump.

I drop my head and laugh a humourless laugh.

I got lucky.

“What’s the verdict then, Doctor.” I sit down on the edge of her couch and rub my fingers over my temples.

My head is killing me.

No, hang on.

My balls are killing me.

Literally.

I laugh again, and Joanna looks at me with concern. She probably thinks I need a psychologist as well.

“Jaxon. Despite the delays in you coming in,” she fixes me with a stare that makes me realise why her husband Steve is happy to go with the flow and let her choose their holiday destinations each year, “I’m confident we will have a good outcome.”

“A good outcome? What, that I’ll live until I’m fifty? Forty-five? What the fuck’s a good outcome?”

She doesn’t blink at my words, even though I know it must shock her to hear me swear so much.

“There are treatment options. The cancer is at stage one, which means it doesn’t seem to have spread. It’s isolated in one testicle.”

I can’t believe I’m sat here, talking about my balls with my sister-in-law.

“Surgery is my recommended option at this point. We could perform an orchidectomy to remove the affected side. You’ll still be able to father children.”

“I’ve got Christopher.”

“Yes. But you may wish to—”

I look at her like she’s grown two heads.

“Fine.” She sighs. “I’m just saying it’s still possible.” She opens my file to make some notes inside. “I’ll get in touch with the surgeon, and we will book you in.”

“Then what?” I twist my fingers together as I lean forward over my legs, my elbows planted on my knees.

“Then we will see.”

“Joanna,” I growl.

She huffs at me. “Then we will see, Jaxon,” she repeats. “That may be all you need. We may be able to monitor you afterwards, and that is it.”

“But?” I press, knowing she’s holding back.

She stares at me, her brows pinched.

I stare back until she caves, and I see her shoulders drop.

“But, yes… after having testicular cancer like this, you’re twelve to eighteen times more likely to develop it again.”

A funny-sounding groan escapes my chest as she presses on, fixing me with a serious look.

“It’s not a full-gone conclusion, Jaxon. We just have to take this one step at a time, okay?”

I drop my head into my hands. I’d told myself those tests I’d had two months ago were just to be safe. I found the lump the day after I spent the night in the penthouse with Megan. Probably wouldn’t have even found it if it weren’t for the fact that I was jerking off extra attentively in the shower to the memory of her.

I knew I was right not to call her. I should have kept her out of this. We’re only just getting to know each other.

I can’t throw this at her.

“When?” I mutter, rubbing at my temples again.

“Surgery? Hopefully, next week if I can make it happen,” Joanna answers.

“I’ll need to move some things around at work.”

“Yes, Jaxon. You will.” Her voice is firm, but she reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.

The minor act has me choking back a lump in my throat.

“Thank you. I’d better get back to work.” I stand up, and everything seems heavy and slow.

It’s as though someone’s put a bowling ball in my stomach.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“There’s no need,” I tell her, but she follows me anyway, claiming she wants to get some fresh air.

We step out onto the doorstep, and she pulls me into a hug.

“I know you’re not technically my brother-in-law anymore, but you’re still my family. We’ve got this, Jaxon.”

She pulls back and smiles at me before turning and heading back inside.

I stand, lost for words, wishing I could re-wind forty-five minutes to when I arrived. I could turn around instead. Turn around and just get on with my day in blissful ignorance.

But what good would it do?

I can’t outrun it.

I can’t hide.

It came for my dad, and now it’s coming for me.

I’m a ticking time bomb.

And when the time comes for me to go off… I’ll explode all over those close to me.