Prologue

PROLOGUE

JACOB

I stand at the edge of the function room, my hands in my pockets, watching the dancers, the chattering partygoers, and the merriment. People tend to avoid me. They do, in general, because I want it that way. I just put a scowl on my face and fold my arms. I guess being six-three helps. I've had a bad week, a real sour job: two lowlifes got away with something they shouldn't have, and some kids experienced things they shouldn't even have known existed. I only agreed to attend this party because it's my last chance to see Mike before heading out again. I sound like an ungrateful ass, but he is my friend.

"You're paranoid," Mike says, leaning against the wall beside me, one hand in his pocket. He's a small man, but only in physical size. He's got the spirit of a honey badger, always ready to fight. He adjusts his hipster-style glasses, bringing attention to his sleeve of tattoos, making him look like a nerdy, badass Mr. Clean. He shaved his hair last year after his hairline receded a bit too much. "Rather be gray like you than bald, but life's life," he'd joked.

"Somebody threatened you," I grunt. "I'm not going to let them get away with that."

Mike was the primary accountancy manager for a multinational nonprofit dealing with trafficking victims. Recently, everyone in his office received emails saying their lives were at risk. When Mike told me over the phone, he had an almost joking tone in his voice. I could hear him rolling his eyes. "It was a mass email. Everybody got one. It's just a stunt. They didn't message me specifically."

"I don't give a damn about that," I say. "I'm keeping you and Emma safe. How is she, anyway?"

Emma has been with her mother the last few times I've visited Mike. Jesus Christ, if I'd known then… If I'd ever dreamed I would feel this way someday, I couldn't have imagined it. I was bringing up Emma just to make some small talk. The last time I saw her, she was seventeen, I think, seeming more like an overgrown toddler to me. I knew her as a baby. If you'd told me then that I'd ever feel a thing for her, the idea would've been laughable. I never would have believed it. I've had women over the years—never anything passionate, more like an exchange of biological needs.

In recent years, there's not even been that—just the work, just the sickness of what I saw. I let out the darkness in me whenever I felt it closing in by funneling it into my profession.

"Yeah, all good," Mike replies absently. I think he can tell I'm not actually interested in Emma. That doesn't seem kind, but to me, she's always been Mike's little girl.

I close my eyes, breathe, and stare into the darkness behind my eyelids. I almost want something to appear. I almost want an excuse to unload my gun and release some of the tension I feel building inside. Opening my eyes, I scan the room, looking for trouble.

"I don't know where the lady of the hour is." Mike scans the party, as I've been doing. Then he says, "Oh."

Emma stands at the entrance with a couple of her friends. She isn't a kid anymore, that's for sure, wearing a dress that has me wondering if I've lost my goddamn mind. Her thick legs, naked, with no tights, just creaminess, have me questioning my sanity. Her ample tits strangled in that dress have got me salivating. As she approaches us, I watch her cheeks redden, and her eyelids flutter. She looks beautiful. She looks like mine .

Emma

It was a silly stunt. I'll admit that, but I couldn't help myself. I've wanted Jacob to notice forever. I've prayed for him to look down at me with those pale green eyes and for the corner of his mouth to twitch, just a little, a near-smile, all for me. I've dreamed of him leaning down, smoothing his strong hands down to my hips and squeezing, his breath warm on my face.

He stands beside Dad, upright like usual, his hands behind his back. Jacob always looks ready for a fight. My body sizzles, my soul aching as fiercely as everything else. Everybody has had crushes, but Jacob is different. Nothing makes me sparkle like Jacob. Nobody makes me feel more alive.

Dad's eyes widened a little when he sees my outfit. I only dressed like this for Jacob. When I heard he was going to be here, I put my anxiety and self-consciousness in a locked box and put on my sexiest outfit. Dad forces a smile a moment later. He probably doesn't want to ruin my big night.

"She finally graces us with her presence," he jokes.

I smile shakily, waiting for Jacob to notice me or care. He looks down with those intense eyes, his lips flat. If anything, he looks pissed, his muscles straining through his blue shirt, but not douchebag-tight like he's trying to show off. He doesn't need to show off; the man is massive.

"Thanks for this, Dad. It's great."

"I know high school hasn't been easy for you sometimes," Dad says warmly. "You deserve to celebrate it. You're all grown up now."

That's the sort of thing I want Jacob to think. It feels like so much more than a silly, girlish crush. It feels like the right choice and the best thing we can do, like all my life has been leading up to us being together. Maybe I'm just nuts, but if so, it feels so good.

Jacob looks at me with no expression. "Happy graduation, Emma."

"Uh, thanks."

He just keeps looking. Lots of people are scared of him, I know. It's his size, his aura, and his job. Or the fact nobody really knows what his job is. The few times I've asked Dad, he's pretended not to know, but he does. He just doesn't want to tell me.

"Is there food here?" Jacob asks in his usual blunt way.

Dad chuckles and says, "Yeah, there's a buffet."

"Great."

That's it, my big moment, the one I've been thinking about all night. All that dreaming, wondering, and wishing has led to Jacob walking away from us, skirting the room, and then wandering over to the buffet table. Even his posture is angry and tight, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Did I interrupt something important?" I ask.

"No… why?" Dad replies.

"It's just…" I shake my head. "Nothing."

Dad reads me. "Don't take it personally. He's had a rough week."

"Has he? How?"

"Work," Dad says, then scoops a champagne glass from a passing waiter and takes a large gulp.

"Maybe I should have one of those," I snap, very petty, just because I was disappointed with Jacob's reaction or lack of one.

"Yeah, right," Dad says, rolling his eyes. "You're only eighteen."

"All grown up, and I can't drink," I tease.

Dad grins, probably glad I've dropped the topic of his best friend. There was always an air of mystery around Jacob. Maybe that was part of his broody appeal. Honestly, just thinking about him makes my body shiver deep inside, this warm feeling that spreads like perfection and makes me want to be with him, just him, forever.

Jacob

I should leave. If I had any sense, that's what I would do. Mike was right about the threats. He's in no real danger. Not before, anyway, but there is a new danger. It was born inside me and impossible to ignore the second I acknowledged it.

At the buffet table, I can't stop thinking about Emma. Her tits were pushed together in her cleavage, the round, creamy globes making me think about slipping my rod between them. Getting them slick with precome and then sliding into her sweet slit and taking her hard, pounding her so those big breasts bounce for me.

"Excuse me, handsome," a very drunk woman says, almost bumping into me.

I move out of her way and turn without looking at her. I feel sick at the word handsome . Suddenly—like a bullet to the gut—the idea of being with anybody except my best friend's daughter seems ridiculous.

Leaving the main function room, I slip into the hallway and walk through the hotel. I end up in a storage room. The air is cooler in here. I put my hands on my hips and take long, slow breaths—the type I used to calm my nervous system down after an unusually eventful day at the office.

I can't understand how I'm so sure. Yet, at the same time, I knew. I know she is mine. It's something I don't even have to think about. She's my best friend's kid. Mike is more important than your fucked-up desire , I tell myself, verbalizing it in my mind to hammer the point home. Get yourself under control.

"Are you okay?"

Oh, fuck . It's Emma's voice. Now, somehow, just the sound of her voice is enough to get my base firming up, my seed swimming up my dick. My tip is burning with precome. I want to fuck her right now, throw her down like a goddamn animal, bend her over, and slam into her so that her ass bounces for me.

Turning, I say, "Why aren't you at the party?"

She stands in the doorway, looking nervous, cute, and sexy all at the same time. She has her hands clasped across her middle, almost like she's trying to push those big tits together for me.

"I saw you leave," she mutters, looking at the floor. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," I snap.

She steps back, clearly stung, making me feel like more of a prick than I usually do anyway.

"Wait," I say, my voice just as stern. "Come here."

"Why don't you ask nicely? " She spins, a shiver moving through her body, making her breasts jiggle captivatingly for me. She looks so shy and nervous about sending those sassy words my way.

"Please," I say, and she flinches like she wasn't expecting me to say that.

Please don't do this , I roar at myself. Think about Mike. Think about all those years together, all the shit you saw, playing cards in the easy silence, knowing you didn't need to speak about it .

However, I don't listen to that voice as she walks over to me, seeming to find it difficult to balance in her high heels.

"Do you usually wear heels?" I ask.

She stops right in front of me, looking up. My whole body hurts, trying to hold back everything I want to do to her. She shakes her head and says, "Not often, no, but it makes me taller." She laughs nervously, somehow making her even more attractive. A flush spreads down her neck, almost touching the round globes of her breasts. "I'm almost as tall as you now."

"Not quite," I smirk, and her whole face lights up like it means the world to her. "Give me a spin."

Stop, stop . I cringe internally, thinking, but truthfully, I can't stop. I was addicted to her the moment she walked into the function room wearing that dress.

Her eyes snap open wide. "A spin?"

"You heard me," I grunt.

She steps back, then does as I ask, giving me a look at her plump ass and her thick legs.

"Fuck." When she's done, I snap. I step forward and sweep her into my arms, sliding my hands down her body. I grab her thick ass and push her up against the wall. "Fuck, Emma. When did you get so goddamn sexy?"

"Oh my God," she whispers. "Jacob…"

I lean down and do something I never imagined myself doing before she walked in with her curvy body and that shy, excited look in her eyes.

"You're perfect," I murmur.

I kiss her hard. I kiss her like my best friend isn't just twenty feet away. I kiss her, and, worse, I go further. I slide my hand up her bare leg, squeezing onto her thickness, savoring it. My dick is already solid. I'm ready to slip inside her.

"Fuck." I break off the kiss, staring into her eyes, almost wanting her to tell me to stop. "You're wet."

I rub against her underwear, feeling her lips swollen with desire, her pussy letting me know how badly she wants it. "Is that bad?" she asks.

"Baby." I push my fingers against her pussy, massaging her clit. When she shifts against me, I rub her even faster, with more pressure. "Does it feel bad?"

"Nuh-no," she stutters, glancing at the open door.

I should close it. I should stop what I'm doing. I should do a lot of things, but her pussy is too warm and creamy for me. It's even making hot-as-hell, wet noises when I push her underwear aside and rub her naked lips.

"Can you kiss me again?" she whispers nervously.

I smirk, then lean down and claim her lips again. She moans through the kiss, then opens her mouth wide, unable to kiss me anymore from the pleasure, her teeth clicking against mine.

"I thought you wanted to kiss," I say huskily.

She stares into my eyes, unable to speak, but she doesn't need to say anything anyway. She creams for me right there, in a dingy storage room, the music from her party audible through the walls. I rub her faster, feeling her juices slide down her thighs and over my hand.

"Your pussy's ready for my cock," I growl. "Ready for every damn inch."

"Yes," she moans.

I must be a bad man. I can hear the nerves in her voice, but I'm too hungry for her to let it bother me. Somehow, my best friend has been wiped from my mind. Mike isn't even a thought. I'm on autopilot, determined to claim her, as I walk across the room and close the door. I grab a broomstick and shock it through the handle, jamming it. When I turn, she is looking at me, biting her lip. The flush has spread down over her tits now.

"Bend over," I tell her. "Show me that perfect ass."

She turns slowly, braces her hands against a shelving unit, and sticks her ass out. I practically run across the room, hiking her dress up, staring in awe down at the thickness of her ass. It glistens in the naked bulb light, her pink hole drenched with her wetness.

I pull her underwear down to her knees, trapping her thick legs together. Her pink pussy is soaked, shiny with her lust.

"You're going to take every fucking inch," I growl, taking my cock from my pants.

It's still difficult to accept I'm doing this, losing control so blatantly, so quickly. Control has been the point all my life, but not with Emma.

"Yes," she whispers, in that same nervous tone, but her sopping hole tells me she is ready.

I step forward, massaging precome up and down my length, then bring my tip to her entrance. I grab her fine ass and push forward. Oh, hell, I love the way her hole kisses the tip of my cock, but then she makes an ouch noise, and I pull away.

"Are you okay?"

"It's… you're big."

"Too big?"

"No, no," she pants like she doesn't want to disappoint me.

I try to push into her again, but she makes the same noise again. I pull away. "I'm not going to hurt you," I growl.

"What do you want?" She spins on me quickly. "How can I help you? How?"

"Get on your fucking knees and get your tits out. Now ."

I'm unhinged, not thinking. She does as she's told. Then I grab her head and bring my cock to her mouth. "Let me feel that tongue and play with your pussy."

"Play… like this?"

She starts rubbing her wet slit as she opens her mouth wide. Stop, stop , but it's too late. I push my thick shaft into her mouth, feeling her tongue, the back of her throat. Her eyes water a little. Fuck me. I'm a horrible man. She deserves so much better, but I'm like an animal.

I slide out of her mouth and back in frantically. Soon, the fire is rushing up my shaft.

"Swallow it," I snarl.

I need my seed to be inside of her for some reason. It isn't a conscious thought. It comes from a primal level, something deep inside. Her throat shifts as I come in her mouth, and then I stumble back, staring down at her. Some of my come is dripping down her chin. Her naked tits are red. Her legs are soaked.

Next, I do the worst thing possible and make the cruelest choice. Pulling up my pants and not saying a word, I rush from the storage room. I almost run from the hotel. Later, I tell Mike I had a work-related emergency. It's not as if that is some unlikely thing. I don't speak to anybody else after that.

I just left her there: my woman, my Emma. I left her with the taste of my come in her mouth and her thighs soaked with our betrayal.