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After an age, she answers. “I understand things a little better now. Thank you for letting me in. But…you need to forgive and let go. The baggage only weighs you down and takes up room.”
I slide my hand down to cup her plump ass. “The only thing I want to take up room in is you. I’m fucking obsessed with you,” I finally admit. Because I can’t not. “Tell me it’s okay, princess, because I don’t think I can stop.”
Her eyes find mine in the dark and clings, her angelic face glowing. “It’s okay, Daddy. Because I’m obsessed with you too.”
Something cracks open in my chest but I ignore it. It’s been a night of far too much emotional excavation. I need mindless oblivion between her thighs.
And when she opens her arms to me, I’m…humbled.
I fuck her for hours after that.
I can’t seem to stop. Now this particular monster is out in the open, I can indulge. I don’t need to make excuses for keeping her in bed, learning and relearning every inch of her body. I don’t need to worry about eating her pussy for hours until she begs for reprieve. I don’t need to stop myself from following her from room to room just to watch her expressions as she talks about everything and nothing. As she pushes herself to the limit under Olsteen’s perfectionist eye, until I’m tempted to toss the old crone out the window.
She’s the purest, most beautiful thing in my life and I’m done denying that I need her to breathe.
That makes it easy to push the conundrum of what to do about her father to the back of my mind as I take the next week off and we just indulge in each other.
Jean-Claude cooks her favorite meals, most of which we barely get through before I’m sliding her out of her chair and onto my cock, my need to be inside her at all times a madness I don’t want to be cured of.
It’s a good thing my staff are well-trained in every eventuality because otherwise I’d have a few complaints on my hands.
Not that I give a shit.
Watching her blush and squirm on my dick when someone walks into the room only makes me harder. And gets her wetter. Enough to make those glorious squelching noises that deepen her blush while driving her out of her pretty little mind.
She’s positively feral when she hears her pussy make that sound when I’m deep inside her. I have grooves in my shoulders and back to show for them.
And I’m even more obsessed with acquiring more.
But all of that isn’t sustainable. The bubble will inevitably burst.
And yet I’m nowhere near ready when my life starts to unravel.
It starts with a call from my attorney that my father is seeking early release from prison.
I tear my attorney a new asshole for bringing me that news, but hours after I hang up, I can’t shake Skye’s voice out of me head.
Forgive and let go…the baggage only weighs you down and takes up room.
The temptation to do just that because it will make me a better man…a man she might grow to care more about, hell, even love is…appealing. Appealing enough to let my fucker of a father win, though? What about her own father?
The conundrum is enough to pry me from Skye’s side for the first time in days.
I leave her with Olsteen and I head to my personal gym on Penthouse Five and hit the treadmill, hoping to outrun the chaos of my thoughts.
I’m nowhere near achieving that when Mason appears behind the glass doors leading into the gym. I beckon him in, instinct telling me my mood is about to spiral further out of control.
“Sir, there’s a situation you need to know about.”
9
Skye
Something’s bothering Jared.
More than the daily challenges of being a grumpy, sometimes-tender billionaire.
Did I push too far the other night when I told him to let the baggage go? My belly churns at the thought that I may have overstepped.
