Chapter 5

Five

Dean

I brace my hands on the rooftop wall and fix my eyes on the building where Charlotte works at the tech company, shaking my head in dismay, as I’m wont to do these days. Water droplets from the pool where I’ve been swimming laps for the last hour roll off my back, my chin and hair. My attempts to rid myself of this restless energy have been fruitless, but at least the view is more satisfying than the one from inside the harsh white hospital walls.

Charlotte and I have officially been seeing each other for three days and each one is part struggle, part paradise. Struggle because I spend every single fucking hour resisting the urge to show up at her office, get my hands on her and alert any male co-workers that she’s off the market. And paradise because I know she’ll come to me at night.

Oh, she’ll make me suffer before letting me under that skirt.

Inevitably.

My Charlotte holds tight to her principles, insisting on “cleaning” for at least an hour before she’ll let me feed her. Before she’ll let me throw her down on whatever surface is available and orgasm her until she’s speaking in gibberish. I guess I should be relieved that her cleaning only includes perusing my old medical files. If she ever tried to scrub my shower, I think I’d finally lose my temper.

I drum my fingers on the wall another moment, squinting at Charlotte’s building, as if I’ll be able to see her through the steel and glass and concrete. Having this girl in my life is a constant exercise in self-control. I want more. I want all of her. Every second of her time, every ounce of her trust, all manner of promises. Commitments. Everything. But she keeps me at arm’s length—and hell, she has good reason, considering what happened in her past. Not to mention, my ultimate goal is to wear her down, little by little. Make her give in, realize I’m not a tyrannical asshole (most of the time) and accept the help I so desperately want to give her. That’s going to take a lot longer than three days, however, so here I am. Swimming laps at the rooftop pool, trying to hold on to my sanity that hangs by a very thin thread.

When I remember the other reason I’m here, the muscles in my shoulders bunch tight and I shove off the wall, pacing the edge of the secluded pool. I’m preparing to dive into the cool depth of water to swim more laps, but I stop short when my phone beeps.

It’s probably the hospital, though I don’t have a surgery scheduled until two o’clock and it’s only verging on lunch time. When I pick up the phone and look at the screen, I’m surprised to find it’s Charlotte texting me instead. My pulse skips and turns thick, my loins tightening. She’s never initiated a text conversation with me before and my ridiculous heart is pounding in an erratic rhythm, wanting to believe this is a sign of progress.

Charlotte: Hi there. Cut anyone open today?

Lips tugging,I respond.

Dean: Not yet. Lung transplant at two.

C: Dreamy sighing.

D: I’d like to see that dreamy sigh in person.

C: You will. Tonight. But…major confession. I miss you. A lot. It’s kind of annoying.

Jesus,my ribcage is closing in on my heart, choking it. She misses me. It’s such an unexpected gift, my arm has a hard time holding up the phone momentarily. There is no way in hell I’ll be able to wait until tonight now that I know she’s thinking of me, too. Enough to admit it, which is nothing small for Charlotte. I should probably take this blessing, this proof of progress, and be happy. But contentment with half measures is not in my DNA, so I take a picture of the secluded pool where I’m swimming and send it to her.

D: I’m here for the next hour. Come meet me. Only a few blocks from you.

C: It’s never been more obvious that I’m seeing an eccentric millionaire.

C: I can’t just ditch work to come swimming…can I?

D: Yes. Doctor’s orders. I’ll write you a note.

C: I don’t have a bathing suit.

D: Good.

I send her the address,along with the keypad code for the lobby elevator, so she’ll be able to reach the rooftop—and then I wait, my appetite for her growing more ravenous by the second. The butler emerges from the glass door at the far end of the roof to ask if I need anything and I order champagne for Charlotte, seltzer for me, since I have a surgery this afternoon. It takes her twenty minutes to arrive, but my God, she’s worth every second of the wait. Dressed in a tight, red top and jeans with high heels, it’s a wonder she made it to me without being stolen right off the street. The best part, though, is the way she smiles and flushes when she sees me.

“You didn’t warn me that you’d be in a bathing suit. European cut and everything,” Charlotte says, tucking her long hair behind one ear. “Wow. It’s just…I haven’t seen you without clothes on.”

“Yes,” I respond, approaching my girl. Cupping her jaw and tilting her face up, the simple act of authority making her eyes glaze over. “I’m too impatient to bother with them when it’s time to be inside you.”

“Well…” She wets her lips, drawing my rapt attention. “Maybe you could try bothering next time, sir? I like the w-way you look.”

Slowly, I press my thumb into her mouth and she moans, sucking on the digit, swaying slightly in her heels. The butler chooses that moment to return with our drinks and Charlotte starts, trying to pull back, but I advance on her, keeping my thumb in her mouth, pulling her close with the opposite arm around her hips. And after a few seconds of wide-eyed shock, the tension ebbs from her body and she lets me draw it in and out, in and out, her complexion growing more and more rosy, her tight body rubbing against mine.

“It’s just you and me,” I murmur, absorbed by the plumping movements of her lips. “There’s never anyone else.”

When the butler has gone, I remove my thumb and replace it with my tongue, kissing her the way I might if we were fucking on the floor of my office. Deeply. Possessively. A halting mewl comes from her throat and I’ve already learned over the last three days, that’s the sound she makes when she gets wet. My hand trails down the front of her body, over her young tits, gripping her pussy through the jeans. “This is what I’m having for lunch, Charlotte.”

Her eyelids flutter. “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied beyond words by this dynamic that has developed and flourished between us, I squeeze her perfect little cunt one more time and step back. “Undress.”

Setting down her purse, Charlotte looks around, clearly nervous. We’re on one of the highest buildings and there’s more than enough privacy to ensure she won’t be seen. Furthermore, there is no one else at the pool, apart from the occasional butler. But in broad daylight in a place unfamiliar to her, I suppose there is a slight wickedness to getting completely naked. I can’t seem to help pushing her boundaries, though. It started with her calling me sir, manhandling her in bed, referring to myself as her Daddy.

These are things I never could have expected from myself. My only explanation is the intuition that she needs to have her boundaries pushed. That it satisfies her body as well as something deep inside of her mind. Charlotte is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. If she didn’t want these things I do and say and command of her, she’d stop me. She’d leave. The fact that she keeps going means she wants to explore this power exchange as badly as I do.

“So…” she whispers, drawing the red shirt over her head, lobbing it onto the closest lounge chair. Why is the fact that she’s wearing a black and white polka dot bra making me so hot? At the same time, it floods me with affection. So much that I struggle to swallow. “Is this a club…” Reaching back to unfasten the bra, she scans the rooftop. “Or do you own an apartment here?”

“A good friend owns the penthouse. This is his pool. Exclusively. He travels a lot and rarely makes use of it.” I tilt my head. “So I do.”

Charlotte’s lips twitch, her chin lifting. “Let me guess, you saved his life and unlimited pool access is his way of repaying you.”

“It was his son’s life,” I admit, my jaw clenching when she drops the bra.

Fuck. Those bratty little tits.

They haunt my dreams with their sexy raspberry nipples.

The fact that I’m wearing a nylon swimsuit leaves little doubt how much I enjoy the sight of them. Of her. Christ, merely being around her makes me harder than sin.

Next, she steps out of her heels, toes them aside and goes to work unzipping her jeans. “And you come here just for exercise?”

There’s a dull kick inside of my throat, followed by a ripple of discomfort. I study her closely, a line forming between my brows. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugs one sun-drenched shoulder. “I don’t know…when I walked in here, before you saw me, I noticed some…tension. You seemed locked up.”

Why am I suddenly winded?

My throat is parched and there’s a slight twitch behind my right eye. Hoping to disguise the reaction to her question, I sidestep and pick up my seltzer, taking a long sip and setting it back down. “Locked up” is the perfect description for what I was experiencing before she graced the rooftop. Do I tell her why? I don’t confide in people. It’s simply not done. Especially not about a weakness of mine. This girl, I only want her to think of me as strong, invincible. But I’ve asked her to give me all of her trust—and to a degree, she has. She’s given me enough that I have command over her body. Don’t I owe her my confidence as well, after she’s been brave enough to allow me hers?

“Lung transplants,” I finally respond, clearing my throat hard. “They tend to make me second-guess myself. A little. I’ve only had one failed surgery and it was lungs.”

“Oh.” She draws back a little. “Well that seems…”

“What?”

“Totally human. And healthy.” She hesitates a moment, then pushes down her jeans, stepping out of them, leaving her in polka dot panties to match the bra. Then she closes the gap between us, settling a hand in the center of my chest. “If you were doing surgery on me—”

“Jesus, don’t say things like that,” I rasp, growing momentarily dizzy at the horrible thought of her on my operating table.

“If you were,” she persists. “I would want you to second-guess yourself.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to temper the flare of hope kindling inside of me. “You would?”

“Of course. Medicine is a constantly evolving animal. One day, the method you think you’ve perfected will change. A successful surgeon stays aware of new possibilities. Even the possibility that he’s wrong. That’s the most important one.” She goes up on her toes and plants a kiss on my chin. “I’m even more positive now that you’re brilliant.”

She tries to move away from me, but I catch her around the waist and pull her up against me. Into a hug. Out of pure necessity, because I’m being flooded with gratitude and it’s not a feeling I’m familiar with. People are usually showing me their gratitude and I never pay it much heed. I’m just doing my job. But I can see now that they’re expressing something that’s truly profound. And I’m going to pay much more attention to it now. Because of Charlotte.

“Thank you,” I say into her hair. “I needed to hear that.”

Charlotte turns her exquisite face up to mine, lips pursed. “Look at me, pep talking the Messiah of Medicine.”

My expression turns momentarily sour. “I hate that nickname.”

Her giggle warms me, right down to my feet. “If that was my nickname, I’d have it put on T-shirts. Bumper stickers, even!”

“You’ll have a better one someday.”

Fuck. My chest is twisting, the words I love you trying to leap out of my mouth.

This girl is bringing me to life and it’s almost as painful as it is beautiful.

Maybe I should just tell her. That I would walk through hell for her. That I would give up medicine and go live in a shack on the other side of the world if she just looks at me like this every single morning. But Christ, this is not the boundary I should be pushing. Today was the first time she texted me, admitted to missing me. I need to be pleased with that—for now.

“Yes,” she says, echoing me. “Someday.”

The way she emphasizes that word reminds me of the silent battle taking place between us. Once again, through what she said about medicine evolving, she’s proven how ripe she is for the medical field. And part of me wants to shake her, demand she let me facilitate her education. Her expression wards off the sentiment quite handily, though. I’ll choke down the words for now. Maybe I can’t easily change her mind…

But I can manipulate her body.

There are zero physical barriers between us and I burn to be that close to her now.

Now.

Reaching forward, I wind her hair around my fist. “Why are your panties still on?”

It’s like watching someone be submerged. She goes from playful to overwhelmed in the space of a second, her breath stuttering out. “I…I…”

“Maybe you wanted me to take them off for you.” Letting go of her hair, I bring both hands to her hips, molding them once, then roughly yanking down her underwear, exposing her bare pussy to the sun, leaving the garment around her trembling knees. Though my instinct is to surge forward, get my hands all over her and tongue fuck her mouth, I lean sideways instead and pick up her champagne, holding it to her lips. “Drink, little girl.”

She takes one sip and averts her eyes, breathing hard. Several seconds pass while she obviously toys with something in her mind. Based on her glazed expression, that something is…new. “Is this drink going to make me more…agreeable, Daddy?”

Those words are an erotic punch to the stomach.

She’s hinting that she wants to play a game. A dark one.

A twisted one.

As if I could deny her anything when she’s naked, golden and glowing in the sunlight, her eyelids heavy with arousal. As if I could put a stop to this when she’s looking up at me with earnest, green eyes, her nipples puckered. I want it, too. I want anything that turns her on.

“Why don’t you swallow every drop and let me worry about that?” I rasp, tilting the glass to her lips again, watching her throat work as she takes down the liquid. Then I set down the glass and lead her to the shallow end of the pool, guiding her down the steps.

“Oh my gosh, it’s heated,” she moans, gliding down into the glassy blue water, her thighs vanishing under the surface, followed by her delectable rear end. I follow her, memorizing her sounds of pleasure, every movement she makes. I can feel the obsession inside of me taking hold and it’s a physical struggle not to roar like a possessive beast. Doesn’t she understand my insides are being clawed to hell every second I’m with her?

Sex is what I can have right now.

This game.

And I’m damn well going to make it count.

Swimming up beside Charlotte, I guide her into the deep end, remaining along the edge of the pool. Her movements are languid, a little slow, exaggerated. The alcohol has turned her cheeks slightly rosy underneath her usual glow. The deeper we get, the more she has to kick to stay afloat, though my feet easily reach the floor, thanks to my height.

“I can’t touch the bottom here,” she gasps.

“I can,” I say, reaching for her. “Come here.”

She loops her arms around my neck and breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Put your legs around me, too,” I say, pressing my open mouth to the pulse at the base of her neck. “We have to be careful, don’t we?”

“Yes…” Hesitantly, she settles her inner thighs on my hips, her pussy brushing my erection and she sucks in a breath. “Shouldn’t we go back to the shallow end?”

“Why don’t we stay here awhile. I’ve got you.”

She nods, but she’s frowning. “I feel funny.”

“Funny how?”

“Kind of sleepy.” She giggles and lays her head on my shoulder. “You’re so warm.”

“Mmmm.” I drag my palms up the outsides of her thighs, circling around to take tight hold of her ass, urging her closer to my hard cock. “So are you. Warm and tight, I bet.”

“Daddy,” she whispers, lifting her head quickly, trying to wiggle free of my hold. “What are you doing? What is that—”

I shhh against her lips. “Anything that happens underneath the water isn’t real, little girl. It’s just pretend.”

She chews on her lip. “Like…play time?”

“Exactly.” Aroused beyond my wildest dreams, I back her slowly to the edge of the pool, pinning her between me and the concrete wall, tilting my hips crudely against her little cunt, rubbing myself shamelessly as her gaze begins to lose focus. “You just close your eyes and let me do what I have to do.”

“Have to…?”

“Oh yes. Have to.” I snare her mouth in a lewd kiss and she kisses me back, confused, whimpering every time I hump her—and I get rough about it. So rough that her neck starts to lose power, her eyelids beginning to droop. I heft her a little higher against me and her tits slap up and down on the surface of the water. “Good girl,” I grit out into her neck. “Such a good girl for Daddy. I know you’re sleepy, but keep your legs up for me.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs, head lolling. “Tired…”

This started as a game, almost a flirtation with the darker side of our lust, but there’s nothing funny about it. Not now. If I don’t get inside of her, I won’t live to see the next minute. I’m grappling with the waistband of my suit, pushing it down just enough to extricate my dick and then I’m shoving it up into her snug fuck hole, ramming it deep and banging her without mercy against the side of the pool, my grunts echoing off the surface of the water. Slowly, she kind of melts forward, resting her cheek on my shoulder, as if passed out, but I can feel her accelerated breaths against my neck and know she’s horny, loving it, lost in the terrible/wonderful act. The telltale clench of her cunt tells me exactly how much she enjoys being a little girl, wronged by the man she should trust.

And if that’s wrong, so be it. I’ll get her off however she needs me to.

“Hurts,” she whines into my neck.

“Poor baby. Just a few seconds longer,” I pant, fingering her asshole. Raking my middle finger up and down the back entrance and slipping in the tip, pressing hard. Making her jolt and moan. And then her littlest muscles seize up, catching her off guard, and she grinds on me desperately, side to side, whining, digging her claws into my shoulders. “Ahhhh fuck,” I growl. “Even tighter now. Goddamn it. Here comes Daddy,” I grunt, bucking her hard against the pool wall and gritting my teeth, releasing a muffled shout as my come begins to flow, filling up that off-limits pussy to the brim, the rest of it getting lost in the water, but still I hump and hump, my jaw unhinged, the perfection of her sex keeping me hot, teasing me into one more thrust. One more. One more. Until my balls are finally depleted and I slump against her, my body shaking against her smaller one. I’m shaken, period.

When she lifts her head and smiles at me, perfectly lucid and bright eyed with satisfaction, it’s very obvious that I’m shaken by a lot more than the monstrous need she inspires in me. It’s love. It’s obsession. It’s tangled and irresistible and forever. So help me God.

Now if Charlotte would only agree to that and make me the happiest man alive, I might be able to rest. Until then, I’m going to be a man possessed.