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“We . . . We . . . Oh God,” I cry out when he eases two fingers deep into me. The sounds my body makes from the juices dripping down to my ass makes me blush as he takes me higher and higher with every movement.
Pleasure grips me, and I fist the blanket below me to keep from tearing his hair out to pull him closer. My toes curl when he releases my hips to taunt my pussy and my ass. One finger teases the tight hole, which makes me tense.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my flesh. “I’m not taking this hole tonight, but soon my fat cock will stretch it wide.” There’s no doubt in his tone. His ministrations turn me into a molten puddle as he works my body like a fine-tuned instrument, and I’m flying apart in seconds as I’m filled in both holes by his expert fingers.
As I come down from the high, James moves from between my legs to spoon behind me. His thick cock pressed between my thighs, his arm wrapped around me possessively, and I can’t help but melt into the heat of him.
“Sleep now, little girl. Tomorrow we’ll talk,” he whispers as my heavy eyelids fall closed.
9
James
I pace in front of the windows, confused and overwhelmed. My entire home is saturated in her scent, and she’s barely been here eight hours. While she fell right to sleep last night, I laid awake thinking about everything.
And I do mean everything.
My brain is a maddening mess of thoughts.
No stone gets unturned.
I contemplate every possible outcome of my perfect problem sleeping in my bed. She’s most definitely a problem though. Little, beautiful, no-longer-a-virgin Cerys has infected my mind. It was a weak place to begin with. Slivered and cracked from an abusive childhood. A small child can only take so many beat downs by vile adults before they start retreating into themselves. Before they start imagining new realities for themselves. Before they start planning futures that may never exist. By the time I turned eighteen and hit the ground running, my mind was already fragmented into a not-so-beautiful kaleidoscope of insanity. It’s taken everything in me to keep it all on a tight leash. And admittedly, the past year, it’s been running away from me like an abused animal who can’t stand his owner. The irony is not lost on me.
But now?
Now, the madness is off the leash and running rampant.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
I have a meeting with an Italian businessman later this morning, and I can’t find it in me to care. It’s the biggest potential deal in my entire career. If he wants to sell me a beautiful piece of property in Venice, Darden Hotels could be looking to expand there in the near future. It’s a dream come true.
And yet . . .
My dreams are fuzzy clouds of nothingness.
A fog of pretend.
Something a child dreams up.
Reality snores—yes, she snores—in the other room, and for once, I want to stay rooted in the moment. Live in the realness of life and not the possibilities. But with living in the present and not focusing solely on what’s out in front of me, who the fuck am I anymore? James Darden is a conqueror. A planner. A goal smasher. James Darden reaches for what he can’t have and he makes it his.
Always reaching and reaching and reaching.
What happens when I have it in my grasp?
I don’t know what to fucking do with it, that’s what.
The toilet flushes in the other room, and I freeze. My gaze is locked outside where I can stare straight ahead at the building across the street. Above where I’ve figured is Cerys’s apartment, the curtains are pulled open, and Olivia prances around looking blonde and tall and uninteresting. I’m baffled how in less than twenty-four hours I can go from obsessing over taking that woman out to fucking the virginity out of her future stepdaughter.
I’ll get bored of Cerys.
The thought causes an ache to form in my chest.
Right?
I get bored of everything.
It’s an inevitability. A known future. Storms of feelings that will eventually break land and obliterate us both.
I’m doing this.
Me.
Ruining it all because I can. Because I will. Because it’s the Darden way.
“You’re probably not even mine,” he sneers. “Your mother always was a whore.”
The voice, so harsh and cruel from my past, leaves me shaking and my heart racing.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
My past sometimes haunts me when I’m feeling stressed out. Right now, I’m feeling really fucking stressed out.
“Hey,” a sweet voice croaks, shoving all hateful ghosts back into their box and slamming the lid closed. “I wondered where you went.”
I turn my laser-sharp focus on her and track her with my intense stare. She’s put back on her black dress, but her messy hair is a fright. My fingers twitch to force her to kneel before me so I can run my fingers through each tangle and smooth them out for her. Instead, I fist my hands.
