CHAPTER NINETEEN

Later that week, I met up with Delaney and Emmy, this time for coffee downtown. I dodged Emmy’s questions about what was going on in my life and turned them back on her. She didn’t mind; she loved any opportunity to talk about her job. Delaney was withdrawn. She stood with one arm around herself, sipping her latte while Emmy chattered.

“Are you alright?” I ventured.

She offered a tight smile. “Fine, just tired.”

“What’s making you so tired?” Emmy teased. “You have a boyfriend?”

She frowned. “What? No.”

I nudged Emmy. There was a serious note in Delaney’s voice, like there had been at the restaurant. I gave her a pointed look, and she shook her head, clearly not willing to talk about it.

We parted ways, and I made a mental note to check back with her tomorrow. A little part of me was sad, watching them walk off. I sighed and got in my car and turned the key.

“Hey.”

I jumped out of my skin, almost hitting my head on the car roof. It took a second, but my eyes focused on the lean figure spread out in the passenger seat.

My heartbeat exploded.

“Goddamn it, Caden,” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

He looked me over, unashamed. “You left the door unlocked.”

“It auto locks after two minutes.”

“I got in one minute after you left.”

“And you’ve just been sitting here this entire time?” I stared at him, horrified by his audacity.

“I had a lot of business calls to make, and your car is comfortable,” he said.

I just stared at him, speechless. He sent me a heavy-lidded stare, one that felt more indecent than being naked in front of him, and got out. He walked around the car and opened the door. Confused, I got out, and he took me by the waist, ushering me to the passenger side of my own car.

What…the hell?

He slid into the driver’s seat and adjusted it back to make room for his long body. Then, he made the engine purr and pulled out onto the street.

“I beg your pardon,” I said, finally pulling myself together.

He rested one hand out the window, the wind whipping his dark hair. “No need, you’re fine.”

I turned in my seat. “You are not fine. Where are we going?”

He glanced over from beneath those dark lashes. Something about him was different. There was a faint aura of desperation about him that I hadn’t seen since the night…well, since he’d gone down on me at the lodge.

I swallowed past my dry throat as my hands twisted together in my lap.

The air crackled. He dragged his eyes back to the road.

“We’re fucking, aren’t we?” I whispered.

His knuckles tightened on the wheel.

“Yeah, we’re fucking,” he said.

Maybe it was his confidence, just showing up and taking the wheel out of my hands. Maybe it was him and his tattoos, all hell bent on getting me in bed. Whatever it was, my body responded like he’d lit a match and put it to gasoline.

One minute, I wasn’t remotely thinking about sex. The next, I had a rerun of everything he’d done to me in the lodge going through my head at a hundred miles an hour.

A barrage of images. His tongue, his teeth, his body, his tattoos.

His dark hair falling over his forehead as he looked up from between my thighs.

It was so easy; I was so easy. He’d just aimed, fired, and bang, he had me on my back with my legs open.

My fingers dug into the hem of my skirt. I was wearing a pale pink seersucker dress that clung to my body. My hair was done; I’d just washed it. I smelled like flowers, like the perfume I’d dabbed on my wrists. If he was going to fuck me, today was the day for it.

I glanced sideways.

He was in his fatigues and boots, all black against dark ink on his arms and the side of his neck.

Down below, my pussy pulsed. It was achingly empty for the warmth he’d filled me with at the lodge. I was wet just watching him drive, knowing what he was about to do to me.

He parked around the back of his apartment. My fingers dug even harder at my hem as he cut the engine. Silence fell as I dug at my dress, fraying the stitching. His hand flexed on his thigh, and I glanced at him from beneath my lashes as he stepped out, unfurling his body. The front of his pants had a faint ridge under his zipper.

I swallowed, almost choking.

I’d been tender after he’d fucked me, and he’d been gentle both those times.

I had a feeling he wasn’t in a gentle mood today.

He pulled open the door, and his palm filled my vision. Waiting for me to let him help me from the car. Gently, because I wasn’t sure of myself, I put my fingers in it. He lifted me from the car, and I glanced up at his face.

There was something in his eyes that startled me, buried beneath the roaring inferno of blue fire, but I had no idea what to call it.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low.

My heart thumped like we were being pursued. He slid his fingers through mine and pulled me across the street, ducking into the stairwell. I hurried after him, my heels clattering on the stairs.

His locks clattered.

He yanked me into the apartment and shut the door, whirling me and slamming me back against it. Before I could react, he dropped to his knees and ripped my dress up the front, all the way to my waist.

A gasp burst from my lips. How dare he? This was designer.

He yanked my panties off, shredding them, and buried his face between my legs. The groan that sounded in his chest was desperate, like a starving animal finally finding food. The panties were designer too, but suddenly, I didn’t care.

He was eating me like I was his last meal, like he didn’t care about anything other than getting the taste of my pussy on his tongue. My thighs clenched, and he growled, knocking them open with his head.

“Keep them open,” he snapped. “I’m fucking busy.”

“I’m falling,” I gasped, sliding down the door. “Please, take me somewhere else. Not the kitchen.”

He caught me, his hands fumbling with the straps of my heels. They fell to the ground, and he picked me up, carrying me across the room. My heart, which was already pounding, was trying to jump out of my chest.

We were going to his bedroom.

That felt serious.

He kicked open the door, and I saw a flash of the room. Plain, a big bed with pale gray sheets, a wide window that looked out over downtown Providence. He tossed me, and I let out a little shriek as I hit the bed. He fell over me, panting on his hands and knees. I saw a flash of dark, hungry eyes as he ripped the rest of my dress from my body, leaving me in just my mauve lace bra.

“My clothes,” I whimpered.

“You look better naked,” he murmured, dragging his mouth up the inside of my thigh. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His voice was thick, almost drunk. A little part of me wondered if he’d ever talked to other women like that.

Part of me hoped he hadn’t.

His mouth slid, hot and hard, up my hip and then withdrew. Quick as a flash, he flipped me onto my hands and knees before him. His hand came down on my ass, and a sharp crack split the room. I gasped, and the pain was a delicious shock down my thighs.

My pussy throbbed, instantly soaked.

My spine arced as I lifted my head and met my eyes in the mirror on the far wall. Right away, my brain started running with images of him with other women in front of the mirror, but I stopped it.

We weren’t together. He could do what he wanted.

Why was I so jealous anyway?

He lifted his head, and our gazes locked. Then, he spat on his palm and slapped my ass—a lot harder this time. My pupils blew wide as my mouth fell open. I whipped around to protest, but he dropped to his knees behind me, one hand buried in my perfect hairstyle, ruining it, the other hooking two fingers in my mouth and dragging my face back to the mirror, smearing my lipstick over my cheek.

Oh my God.

Something slipped down the inside of my thigh.

His narrowed eyes met mine. “You gonna be a good girl?” he asked.

He was using that low, husky tone he’d used at the lodge. My stomach quivered, but I couldn’t nod. He was holding my head firmly in place.

“Say yes,” he ordered.

Confused, my eyes darted from side to side.

“Go on, do your best, butterfly,” he murmured.

His palm left my hair for a second, just long enough to crack across my ass so hard, my eyes flew wide. Then, it returned, hauling my head back. God, I was going to have bruises tomorrow, and I loved it.

“If you don’t do as you’re told, I’m going to make you crawl,” he threatened.

Right now, I was absolutely positive he would make good on that threat. Feeling silly, I sniffed and gagged on his fingers, trying to answer him, but the only sound that came out was a muffled moan.

He didn’t back down, his eyes still locked on mine in the mirror.

“Five,” he said.

Wait…what?

“Four.”

A little rebellious spark ignited. What would happen if I let him finish?

“Three.” He cocked his head.

My toes curled, my heart thumped.

“Two.”

I made big eyes at him. His fingers tightened, sparking pain down my neck.

“One,” he whispered.

Panicking, I did my best to answer him. The word was muffled and gagged by his fingers, but it was enough to spark triumph in his eyes.

He released me, and I froze, watching as he hauled his shirt over his head. His gun went on the holster by the bed, his boots came off. Then, he returned in just his pants and grabbed me by the ankle, hauling me back and flipping me so hard, the air burst from my lungs.

He moved fast. One moment, he was standing, and the next, he was on his hands and knees with his face inches from mine.

“What’s your net worth, butterfly?” he breathed.

Confused, I stared up into the blue depths of his eyes.

“Um…I don’t know,” I whispered.

“Millions?”

“Something like that,” I squirmed uncomfortably, but he kept me still.

His eyes roamed over my face. “Is that why everyone treats you like you’re made of glass? Pretty, perfect, locked up in a tower. I think you want to be fucked like you aren’t breakable, like you aren’t a million dollars’ worth of pretty glass.”

My chest ached. How did he look at me and just know? Was it so obvious that I was desperate to be let out of my cage?

A whimper worked its way up my throat, and the corner of his mouth jerked up. He sank down over me, the front of his pants grazing my naked pussy. His hips worked, rubbing the hard ridge under the fabric over my clit as my eyes rolled back.

“You’re gonna have to do something for me,” he said softly.

I swallowed. “What?”

He bent, kissing my mouth, flicking his tongue so I tasted it, just for a second. My body ached as I felt that touch in every corner.

“You’re going to call me daddy,” he said. “Just this once.”

My jaw dropped. “Wh—what? No, I will not.”

My mind raced. Maybe I’d gotten in over my head. The problem was, even though I was horrified by his words, my body was having the opposite reaction. My nipples pebbled, brushing against his shirt. My pussy clenched. The sweetest shame trickled through my body.

“Open up for me,” he said, leaning in.

I hesitated. His hand clenched on my thigh, sending a little jolt of pain up through my hips. Swallowing, I hesitantly parted my lips.

“Wider,” he ordered.

I cracked my lips. His two fingers came up and corrected me, spreading them and pushing on my tongue until it was fully extended. He dipped them deeper into my mouth, and I gagged. My brain thrummed, basking in the humiliation of what he was doing to me.

He pulled them out. “You’re sensitive,” he said. “I’ll have to work on that.”

My cheeks burned. I wanted to squirm, but I kept still with my tongue out, waiting for his next instruction.

I’d always been strong willed. It was one of my best traits when it came to running the business. I was confident, I knew what I wanted, I liked winning. So why was I soaked at the idea of being obedient to him? Why did I want him to make me do the most embarrassing things he could think of?

Was there something wrong with me?

Was I losing my confidence?

I didn’t have time to think anymore, because he bent in and licked my tongue before he spat into my mouth.

My body tingled. My lips snapped shut, and I swallowed without thinking about it. The corner of his mouth curled.

“Good girl,” he praised.

Those two simple words made my eyes roll back in my head. He picked me up again and flipped me onto my hands and knees. His hand slid up my back and flicked open my bra. It slid down, baring my breasts.

He hummed in his throat. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he murmured, kissing up the back of my neck.

I whimpered, head empty.

He adjusted my hips, and I heard his zipper hiss. My eyes widened as I felt it—the hot, hard head of his cock press against my soaked opening, that metal ring against my sensitive pussy, rubbing over my entrance as he eased the head inside me.

My pussy stretched until it burned. My thighs shook.

His mouth grazed my ear as his abdominal muscles clenched against my back and his cock thrust all the way to the hilt, not giving me time to adjust.

My head spun.

My God, he was big. Too big for me.

“Who’s your daddy?” he said, voice dropping to a growl. “Who’s going to fuck your tight little cunt until you cry?”

All my resistance melted. The walls I’d put up to get me through meetings with men who scared me, the forced smiles, the barricades I’d built around my feelings so I could be tough and mean and get what I wanted—those all vanished.

Suddenly, I was naked, inside and out.

Wrapped up in his arms, his cock inside me. Urging me to let go and be safe.

I lifted my eyes, noticing how my mascara was smudged on my cheeks, how he’d smeared my lipstick when he hooked my mouth.

“You are,” I whispered.

“Call me it, just one time.”

My lips quivered. I turned my head and his lips brushed over my cheek, so close to mine. I shuddered, taking a breath, my lips grazing the corner of his mouth.

“Daddy,” I breathed.

His lashes flickered, stomach tensing. Then, he thrust hard, hitting the perfect spot, one that made my body shudder from my head to my curled toes.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That’s my good girl.”

My head spun, light as a feather. “Say that again.”

He laughed, thrusting rough and deep. He gathered me against his chest, lifting me back onto his lap as he sat on his heels. My eyes shut, trying to block out what I knew was a pornographic reflection of us in the mirror. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see where we joined together.

That felt too real.

His other hand came up, cupping my breast. His scarred, tattooed thumb circled my nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he breathed.

I peeled my eyes open and froze. He was behind me, pants pushed down below his groin. I was in his lap with his cock shoved deep inside, filling me so full, it stretched me uncomfortably and pushed up against the deepest point.

He was everything I wasn’t.

The antithesis of me.

My eyes tumbled over our bodies—hard, inked muscles against my untouched body, tattooed fingers rubbing gently over my pink flushed nipple, kneading my breast in his rough fingers.

I whimpered. He bent, kissing the nape of my neck. The hair on my neck rose. His hips sped up, taking me harder as little waves of pleasure built between my legs. My hand drifted down and found my clit, pinching it and rubbing my piercing gently as he rode me.

Oh God, that was—oh.

My stomach tightened. My lids flew open, and my body went stiff in his arms. His eyes flashed, and his hips sped up, angling. The pierced head of his cock hit my G-spot, sending delicious waves of pleasure through my body, down to the soles of my feet. My toes curled hard.

“That’s a good girl,” he panted. “Come all over this cock.”

I fell apart, spine snapping and locking, head falling back against his shoulder. He slid his forearm across my throat and pinned me against him, gripping my hip so he could fuck me hard.

He was like steel, so hard that it hurt. My eyes streamed, dragging my makeup down, incoherent whimpers tumbling from my lips.

He went faster. My orgasm throbbed, still going strong. My nails raked across his forearm, and he swore through gritted teeth. Then, we fell forward, onto our hands and knees. His hips shook as he pushed me down into the bed, plunging his fingers into my hair to pin me to the bed. My spine arced as he slammed into me, fucking me so hard, I swore I saw stars.

“Gonna fill this pussy with my cum,” he panted. “Gonna get so deep in you, it won’t matter if you’re on the fucking pill.”

My brain buzzed. I’d forgotten about the part where he liked fantasizing about getting me pregnant.

He bit me—he fucking bit me out of nowhere. I yelped, my hair rising. His teeth sank into the soft flesh where my shoulder met my neck, one hand on the bed, one still in my hair. I cried out, pain splintering through my pleasure.

His hips slammed into me. My nose was dripping, smearing on the bed. There were black mascara stains on his sheets. His teeth left my neck, the place where he’d bitten me smarting.

“Beg for it, you pretty slut,” he growled.

I hiccupped, biting back a wail. “Please, please.”

“Try harder.”

The last tiny shreds of my dignity dissolved.

“Please,” I cried, my voice muffled. “Please…come in me. I want your cum in me. Get me pregnant.”

Those were the magic words. He went so hard, I saw stars. He needed to finish or pull out and cut his losses, because he fucking hurt. I was soaked and turned on and he was still too big for me. I was a second from collapsing when a shudder moved through his body and he groaned under his breath.

Deep inside me, he twitched.

He stopped thrusting, and I froze so I could feel everything as his hips rode his pleasure out against me until they were spent.

He exhaled a heavy breath. Gently, he pulled out and fell onto his back on the bed, taking me with him so my cheek rested in the crook of his arm. Overhead, the ceiling fan whirred. Outside, cars moved by in the distance. Someone rang a doorbell on the first level.

“Fuck,” he sighed.

I nodded. My body was so weak, all I could do was lay beside him and try to catch my breath. It took a moment, but a slow, anxious feeling started creeping in.

My stomach turned.

I’d done it again. I’d slept with the enemy.

I was failing my mission. My father would be horrified if he found out.

“I should go,” I whispered, sitting up.

He stayed as he was, on his back with the front of his pants still open. His groin was soaked, and his dick was still hard. I turned away, his gaze burning into the back of my head.

“Why?” he murmured.

I ran a hand under my nose. “I have work.”

He sat up. “Fuck work for one afternoon.”

“I’ve already fucked work today,” I managed. “I spent the morning with my friends, and now I’ve spent the last hour with you. I have to work.”

To my surprise, his warm palm slid up my spine. It rested on the nape of my neck, and his fingers started kneading gently. No one ever touched me like this, not with such calm and confidence that he could take control.

My entire body ached with guilt. I wrapped my arms around my knees and dropped my forehead.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“What?” My voice was muffled.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

I shook my head.

“Lunch?”

“No.”

He sighed. “You’re staying here until you eat.”

I made to stand, but his hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist and pulling me back down. His cobalt eyes were deadly serious.

“I’m feeding you,” he said flatly. “And you’re going to sit here and eat. Understood?”

My jaw dropped. “You need to take it down a notch.”

He rose and tucked his dick in his pants. “What are you going to do? Walk out on me?”

“Maybe,” I snapped.

“In what?” he said. “Just your bra? You don’t have anything left.”

I looked around, defeated. He was right; I was naked and he had me right where he wanted me. I narrowed my eyes. He was good at strategy, and I didn’t doubt he’d had this plan going the entire time.

The question was…why did he want me to stay in his bed so badly?

Confused, I scowled at him. He bent, lifting my chin. For a second, I fell into endless deep blue, and then he kissed me slowly and thoroughly. When he pulled back, I was dizzy.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’m going to order food. If you’re good, I’ll get something for you to wear later.”