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“Joke’s on you. I’ll just draw my own conclusions. When they’re so deeply engraved in my head, no amount of truth you offer will be able to replace them.”
“Didn’t think you liked to engrave details about me in that busy brain of yours.”
“Shut up,” she says, her signature “I’m embarrassed” line, her neck reddening. Then she clears her throat. “Anyway, Gwen visited me and I told her you had nothing to do with my attack.”
My jaw clenches at the reminder of my clusterfuck of a relationship with my daughter that’s been going downhill since she chose my best friend as the love of her life. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does.” She springs up, letting the coat fall to her midsection. Her tits gently bounce as she leans over. “She was so hurt at the prospect of hurting you. You’re a jerk, but you’re a good father type of jerk, so don’t let this unnecessary rift tear you apart… Kingsley!”
“What?” I don’t stop staring at the marked flesh of her breasts.
“Have you heard a word I was saying?”
“Yes and no. It’s kind of distracting, not to mention creepy, to talk about Gwen when your tits are on full display.”
She covers them with an arm, turning all red. “You damn pervert.”
I grab her arm and pull it down, exposing her pink-dusted nipples. “Do you want to see what a real pervert looks like?”
She must catch a glimpse of the lust and the million positions I have planned for her shining in my eyes, because hers widen, flicking between green and brown.
“No, Kingsley.”
“Call me King like you did earlier.”
“I…did not.”
“Yes, you did, in that throaty sexy little voice of yours.” I pull her close, throwing the coat to the side.
“Don’t you dare or I’ll bite your dick off.”
“Kinky. You know I love it.” I grab a handful of her red ass and she moans.
“Goddamn it…you asshole.”
“I know, sweetheart. You have the green light to call me as many colorful names as you can think of while I fuck you.” And then I spread her legs and proceed to eat her sweet cunt as if I’m a starving animal.
It’s my twisted form of a thank-you for saving me from my own head.
Or at least, distracting me from it.
17
ASPEN
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”
I groan around the rim of my cup of tequila—it’s useless to call it coffee anymore—and turn around to face Nate.
We’re in the conference room at Weaver & Shaw. Massive, sterile, and soulless. Its main use, aside from the partners’ meetings, is for strategizing how to extract more money from the rich and influential.
Only minutes ago, we concluded a meeting with a large corporation that’s trying to get out of the IRS’s clutches. The CEO left with a promise of a seamless process and a wide grin on his face.
The associate lawyers left with tasks to perform and I was hoping to do the same before Nate closed the door and blocked my way.
He leans against the large desk, arms crossed with apparent nonchalance, but his dark eyes pin me down with a demand of an answer to his question.
An answer I don’t have unless I blurt out that I fucked his best friend, partner, and father-in-law.
