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A few more vicious thrusts sent him spiraling, he pulled his cock out of me and plastered my stomach with his cum. He looked ravenous as I slipped a finger through the mess he made on me and brought it to my lips. I sucked it into my mouth, watching his nostrils flare while I tasted his cum. My lips wrapped tighter around my finger as I sucked every bit of semen off it, swallowing down my first piece of Jasper Aroselyn.
“You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” He cocked his head at me and smirked.
“I’m whatever you want me to be.”
I grinned up at him, smiling through the post orgasm glow. He sighed, taking my hands into his. “Let’s get you cleaned up, you’re bleeding, baby.”
“I am?”
I definitely was. It wasn’t horrible, but little pink stains were running down my thighs as he started the shower for us. My legs wobbled a bit, but he steadied me and cleaned up my body. Jasper washed me like he was worshiping me, slowly and carefully.
When we finished, I was so exhausted I could barely move back to bed. I’d never come so hard, and I thought maybe not ever at all if that was what it was supposed to feel like. He tucked me in after he put me in a night dress and a pair of panties. He even put a towel under me, to save my sheets from any remaining blood, and then he left me to fall asleep.
But I didn’t wake up alone.
Turned out, Jasper didn’t cuddle after sex. With anyone other than me.
Chapter 3: My Flower Girl
"I am in awe of flowers. Not because of their colors,
but because even though they have dirt in their roots,
they still grow. They still bloom."
— D. Antoinette Foy
Jasper
3 years and 9 months ago…
A lot of things made me into the person that I was. I was cold for much of my life. Empty and content with the reality of my emptiness. There was no real motivation in my life aside from success. I liked the feeling of conquering a business deal or seeing the numbers of an investment rise overnight. I liked the feeling of getting a woman into bed more than the actual act of fucking her in it. Challenges kept my mind occupied.
When I met Gio Colombo years ago, I was already a billionaire.
He was the only person that ever made me feel as if I weregood. More than just a twenty-six-year-old shark in a boardroom. It was for a pretty simple reason too. If I was cold, he was colder. If I was dark, he was darker.
Gio was one of the few heirs to an organization of mercenaries.The Vitale Mafia. He’d killed more men than I’d graduatedHarvard Business Schoolwith. And he wanted to buy my building. I wasn’t selling it. At least, I wasn’t until we met in person. The charming Italian man convinced me to sell in a matter of 48 hours.
He was the kind of man that made other men feel insecure with a simple glance. But I didn’t feel insecure with my new friend. We hit it off and he became the reason that I could like myself. Friendship wasn’t something I had experience with, and his friends consisted of family, mercenaries and Luca and Lorenzo, whom he considered family. So, we became each other’s balance.
If he was looking for some light to his dark, he came to Belle City. If I needed an edge to my Heaven, he took me to his Hell.
He was the first person that I told about Dixie. Mostly because it freaked me the fuck out. I’d never wanted a woman for more than a night. Ever. Fuck, most of the time I didn’t even want them for the hour it took me to finish with them.
I had a traumatic past with sex, so I avoided it on and off. It’s why the arrangement with Anne, Dixie’s mom, worked so well. Publicly, we were a power couple. Successful bitch lawyer and overly successful dickhead business mogul. Thing was, the relationship was faker than her tits and as inflated as her ego. We kissed and held hands in front of onlooking eyes but once the eyes closed and the cameras cut-off, I couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
She wanted more of course. Women like Anne always did. But it was easy to appease her by throwing even younger, actually interested parties her way. We lived together to make the relationship seem more legitimately serious, but I couldn’t pout about it. Anne hardly made time to stay in Belle City, constantly traveling for work. This allowed her to fulfill her lust elsewhere.
Besides, living with Anne meant living with Dixie. And I liked that.
I wasn’t a blind man. Even when I met her at seventeen it was difficult to ignore how stunning she was. I refused to do anything about the little looks she would give me. Legally, it would have been a-okay, morally I wasn't sure. The girl was sheltered as hell. Home-schooled with private tutors, not a single girl-friend outside of her online gardening club or her elderly neighbor Pauline who she sewed with on Sundays. She had a gift for growing things and spent most of her time doing just that.
I had no idea if she had secret friends, maybe a secret boyfriend but I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. Anne kept her locked away from the world because of her condition. Endometriosis. Admittedly, I didn’t know much about it, only that it wasn’t hereditary but seemed to run in some families, meaning it carries some hereditary factors. Anne bitched about it constantly. It made it impossible to have biological children, or at least, it did in a lot of cases. Anne was one of the lucky ones, able to conceive with a semi low-risk pregnancy. Dixie wasn’t given the same gift.
From what I knew, she had a hysterectomy at fifteen to help with her symptoms. This pissed Anne off the most, because of course the absentee motherneededgrandchildren. Not because her daughter needed an extremely taxing surgery at a young age, or that she’d had her decision to get pregnant one day taken from her, but that she couldn’t be a factory for grandchildren for her.
I felt guilty for even knowing so much about it, because that was something Dixie should get to tell people, not her mother. And I liked Dixie.
