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As I poured myself another shot of brandy, my hand shook, and I ignored it, swallowing down the amber liquid.
None of it should have mattered.
Nothing.
Yet, as I’d given the order, my men had been arguing. Telling me that I was making a mistake.
The women didn’t see me, but I made sure they knew they had been protected by a fucking angel, and if they talked, I would hunt them down and kill them. Once I discovered that each young woman had a family. The cop on my payroll, whom I paid greatly for information, had found out there was a missing person report on all of them.
They weren’t lost.
They were fucking wanted.
I only questioned once, but I was clearly fucking lied to about how they were taken. I truly thought they were lost, not actually taken.
My grandfather had once hinted at what they did and where they found them. Now, I was sick.
The brandy didn’t help. Nor did the smell of the cinnamon rolls.
So many fucking women.
They were nothing more than a job. I shouldn’t fucking care.
Ashley was my problem. She had made me see them.
With the brandy no longer helping, I loosened my tie and threw it across the room.
I felt out of my mind. Ashley was the problem. She could fucking fix it.
After leaving the office, I found her in the kitchen.
She’d removed her oven glove. Her eyes were a little red.
Going to her, I grabbed her arm, pressed her up against the fridge, and sank my fingers into her long brown locks. After tilting her head back, I slammed my lips down on hers, silencing any protest, ravishing her mouth.
Each touch of this sweet angel soothed my soul.
No one else had cared about her, not really.
Not the Monsters. Not Emily. Just me. She’d been used and discarded. Her mother had been a piece of shit.
I’d assembled pieces of her life and knew there was a part of Ashley’s heart that was shattered.
It fed her need to help others. To make sure they didn’t ever feel like she did.
I got it, but I didn’t like it.
She was the treasure in life. No one else.
It pissed me off.
Her hands went to my waist. She wasn’t pushing me away.
Breaking from the kiss, I grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs. She didn’t tug back, nor did she fight me. There was no one to stop us. No one to hold me back.
Ashley was mine. Fucking mine.
I entered our bedroom and removed my jacket. The clothes were too restrictive. Grabbing my shirt, I pulled it apart. Buttons sprayed left and right.
Before I got to my pants, I was on Ashley, tearing her dress. The fabric gave way beneath my grip.
It was a pretty dress, but it looked even better in pieces on the floor. The moment it was off her, I felt a sense of achievement. The bra was next, followed by her panties.
I quickly took care of my pants and boxers, kicking off my shoes too. I moved Ashley to the bed, getting her to lie down.
Gripping her knees, I spread them open, not giving her a chance to argue with me as I slid my hands down toward her pussy. The lips were already slightly open.
I moved my fingers between her slit to find she was a little dry. I held her thighs open and leaned down, pressing my face against her inner thigh, laying kisses on the tender flesh. There was so much more I wanted to do, but I merely bit down. Once again, I was holding myself back.
When it came to Ashley, I had to. I didn’t want her to fear me. I wanted her to crave me as I did her. To become addicted.
Leaving her was a fucking chore and I hated it.
I hated this woman with a fiery passion for how she made me feel. I was a bastard beast. I didn’t have feelings. The women I bought were a product. They were a means to an end.
Angry at Ashley, I held the lips of her sex open and took her clit into my mouth, sucking on it hard.
Her cries filled the air, and that was exactly what I wanted, what I needed to replace whatever the fuck was going on in my head.
Ashley caused this. She could help to take it all away.
I used my teeth, scoring around her bud. She arched up, her tits shaking.
Flicking my tongue back and forth, I watched her, hypnotized as she ground herself on my face, enjoying the pleasure I could give her.
I wanted her to come hard. I didn’t stop, making her take all the pleasure I had to offer. She was mine. All mine, and I didn’t share. I wasn’t letting her go.
I brought Ashley to orgasm, but as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I drew a second orgasm out of her, and by the time she was on her third, she was screaming my name. She wanted me to stop but not stop at the same time.
