by Marie York
Ten minutes. That’s how long I lasted at her wake. Ten fucking minutes, and then I was in my car, on the open road, and I never looked back.
Michigan had been the first place that felt like home since Tiffany’s wake. Even at college, I always felt like I was just visiting. Never really a part of anything, and never wanting to be, until that last night with Lyla then I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It was easier that way. Not making roots made it easy to get up and go when times got rough.
I couldn’t do that now. My roots here were as thick as red oaks. I was grounded. Stuck.
Fuck me.
I took another swig from the bottle and kept walking. I didn’t know how far I had walked, or how long I was gone. When I got back, I brought the bottle to my office, and put it away in the drawer of my desk. Couldn’t go serving customers with it after I had my mouth all over the bottle.
The walk from my office to the apartment door was only feet away, but it felt like miles. As I unlocked the door and stepped inside, I prayed that Lyla was still in her room. The last thing I wanted was to have another confrontation. She didn’t understand, and there was nothing I could say or do to make her.
I was drunk and tired. The only thing I wanted was my bed. There was a muffled noise coming from the living room, and, as I moved through the apartment, I saw the faint glow of the TV. Lyla was curled up in a ball on the sofa in my t-shirt. Black shit stained her cheeks, and tears, though dry, were visible on her skin. And, fuck if she still wasn’t the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I grabbed a blanket from the chair and gently laid it on her. I had every intention of walking away then, but I couldn’t get my goddamn feet to move. My eyes lingered on her bare legs, and the way she snuggled into the blanket.
For so long, I had guarded my life and my heart, and somehow, she found a fucking way in. I was pissed at her for it, but more than anything I was pissed at myself for not being able to resist her.
I slumped into the chair across from her, and for one last time, gave into temptation, and watched her sleep.
Chapter 32
The weight in my bed shifted, and I rolled over, blinking an eye open. My vision was blurry, but I could still make out the perfection that was Lyla naked beside me.
I swallowed down the desire to yank her against me and bury my face in those gorgeous tits of hers. “What are you doing? Go back to your own bed,” I said, but she reached out, running her finger down my bare chest instead.
I was powerless against her touch, frozen in place as I absorbed the slight contact of her sliver of skin against mine.
“You shut me out,” she said. “Don’t kick me out of your bed, too.” She pushed out her already pouty bottom lip, causing my cock to go instantly hard. Tension pulled tight across my neck and shoulders as I tried to resist my desire for her. But it was as pointless as the hard, round head of my cock. Her hand went beneath the sheets, and a smile spread across her face when she felt what she was doing to me. Her fingers wrapped around my length and she stroked me from root to tip. I hardened even more beneath her hold. “See? He wants me to stay.” Her eyelashes fluttered, a sexy smirk settled on those perfect lips.
“He always wants you to stay,” I murmured, unable to deny the truth.
“Then let me.”
“Lyla.”
“Please. I need this.”
My eyes closed on their own accord when she worked her hand up and down my shaft. Her touch was the perfect combination between gentle and strong. I sucked in a ragged breath as she kissed my chest and trailed her tongue down my abs.
“You always taste so good,” she purred, and I wanted to grab her face, pull her lips to mine, but she continued moving down my body.
I knew I should’ve stopped this, just like I should have stopped it every time before, but she had me under her damn spell, and the truth was I didn’t want to stop her. I needed her, needed to feel her lips skimming across me, feel her take me deep into that tight little mouth of hers and bring me to a place only she could.
In that place, the past didn’t exist. It was only me and Lyla and the way she made me feel. It was selfish and wrong, but I’d told her I was a monster, no good for her, and she didn’t care. She still wanted my cock as much as I wanted her.
I relaxed into the mattress and enjoyed every slick feel of her tongue on my skin.
All the blood in my body rushed to my dick as she took me in both of her hands and wrapped her pretty lips around the tip. Her tongue flicked and teased before she slid her hand down and followed with her mouth.
My fingers dug into the sheets, and I was losing control. I couldn’t let that happen, not yet at least, so I moved my hand to her hair, and knotted my fingers through the soft strands, controlling her rhythm. She cupped my balls, sending chills up my spine. My grip on her hair tightened, and she let out a moan that reverberated against my shaft. I arched my back at the sensation, and she opened wide for me, taking me in completely.
I hit the back of her throat, but she didn’t stop. She sucked in as she pulled her lips up. “Mmm,” she groaned, and fuck, that almost undid me.
I grabbed her face, ignoring all the red flags in my mind, and yanked her to me, crashing my lips to hers.
A squeal slipped from her mouth as I flipped her beneath me. “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” I growled against her lips.
She smiled that gorgeous smile. “Yes, please.”
“But first, I’m going to punish you for coming in here in the first place.”
She bit her lip and flashed me those goddamn fuck me eyes. “I’m such a bad girl.”
“You’re a naughty little thing. Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”
Her eyes widened in excitement, and it took all I had not to blow my load against her stomach.
She pressed her finger to the corner of her lip and blinked her eyes up. “I don’t know. I think you’re going to have to show me.”
“Oh, I’m going to show you all right,” I grunted, as I picked her up, draping her over my lap. Her perfect round ass sat high in the air, and I took a handful in my hand, digging my fingers deep into the soft flesh.
She moaned as I continued to squeeze. I sprawled my hand out across her cheek, before pulling back, and bringing my hand down on the already sensitive skin. She yelped, and my dick turned to solid rock. I massaged and rubbed the red spot, and, when she least expected it, I gave it another good slap.
I wanted her to feel an ounce of the pain that denying her caused me, but I also needed her to know pleasure, and I wanted to be the one to give it to her.
My mind was a fucked-up place, and I had no idea why Lyla kept coming back to me. I slapped her again, harder than before, a desire to punish her for torturing me with thoughts of happily ever after.
I expected her to scurry away instead she moaned and lifted her ass in the air, asking for more.
“Oh yes! I’m such a bad girl,” she cried out, and my hand took on a mind of its own, squeezing and rubbing and slapping until she was begging for me to fuck her.
I stood up and bent her over the bed. All sense of romantic gestures out the damn window. Her ass stuck up even higher, and I buried my face in it, dragging a line from her tight little pussy to her puckered asshole. I circled my finger around her clit as I licked her ass.
“Oh Jaxon!” The way she called out my name all breathy, dripping with nothing but lust, had me spreading her cheeks wider. She cried out as I dipped my finger into her slick folds, and my tongue continued to flick against the tight skin.
I pulled back, sunk one finger into the forbidden hole, and another into her soaking wet pussy. Her hands slammed down on the bed, and she gripped the sheets in her hand, pulling and yanking at the material until they ripped free from their corners.
“I’m going to come,” she whimpered, and, just as she was about to unravel beneath me, I wrenched my fingers out of her, and shoved my cock into her wetness.
A lust filled scre
am tore from her lips. I reached up, grabbing her perfectly round tits, and pulled her into me. I loved how her tight little body fit against mine like she was the missing piece of me.
Her head fell back, and I pressed my lips to hers. I swiped my tongue against the crease, and she parted, letting me in. Our tongues slipped against each other in a hurried frenzy until pleasure consumed her, and her head fell forward. Her body followed, and she was on all fours again.
I grabbed the tiny curve of her waist, and pounded into her, giving her more than she could take. Her hands fell out from under her, and she went head first into the mattress, lifting that gorgeous ass, and giving me the perfect fucking angle.
Moans and screams mixed together as I continued my assault on her pussy. My eyes drifted to her asshole, and I dipped my finger back in.
“Oh my God!” Her muscles contracted, tightening around my cock, and milking me fucking dry.
I collapsed on the bed beside her, closing my eyes and feeling more guilt than I ever felt before.
Chapter 33
My alarm went off. It was time to get up already? Fuck. I ignored the noise for as long as I could, but it wouldn’t stop. Finally, I opened my eyes, and realized I was alone… and so fucking hard, my balls hurt.
I couldn’t even escape Lyla in my dreams. Last thing I remember was pounding into her before collapsing on the bed. You’d think that would’ve been enough to get her out of my system. If anything, it only made me want her more.
I needed to get out of the apartment before she woke up. But first I had to jerk off, or I’d be walking around bow-legged all day.
Quietly, I snuck out of my room, and checked the couch. She wasn’t there. I glanced down the hall and saw the door to her room closed. I thought about paying her a visit just as she’d done to me, but that would only make a complicated situation even more complicated.
I got in the shower and only turned on the cold. I rested my hands on the wall as the water trickled down my body.
I needed to cool the fuck down. Sex needed to be the farthest thing from my mind. The whole situation with Lyla was the least of my problems right now. Baile was losing money every week, and it only meant one thing. I had a thief on my staff.
It was something I didn’t want to fucking believe. How could I? Every one of them was family. But I’d been spending my days and nights going through the totals, the bills, and every other piece of financial paper I had, and no matter how many ways I added it up, I was always short.
But, because I refused to believe it, I got dressed, and headed back into my office to review the numbers one more time, convinced I miscalculated something.
Six hours later, I emerged from the piles of paperwork with the same knowledge as I had going in. There was no way to mistake it. One of my own was stealing from me. Right out of my own goddamn pocket. Disgust filled me, and I tried to keep it from showing. If I was going to uncover the fucking bastard, I had to go about my business as I always did, by pretending to be completely oblivious to the fact that over the past three months, I’ve had close to three grand stolen right out from under me.
I reached into my desk and pulled out the bottle of Jack. I took a swig from it and then capped it off before heading downstairs.
Gary was behind the bar, chatting it up with a cute blonde, and Lyla was taking an order from a group of guys. My eyes lingered on her legs in that short skirt, and then up to the low-cut dip of her shirt. Her tits were pushed up, and all I could think about was putting my mouth on them.
I swear to God she wore shit like that because she knew it bothered me. That first day she came in here, wearing something similar to what she was in now, I wasn’t kidding when I handed her that t-shirt. I didn’t want any guy to look at her the way I did. I knew what I was thinking, and the thought of any guy thinking the same thing made my fucking blood boil.
Not that I had any right to tell her to coverup. She wasn’t mine; I made that perfectly clear, but I didn’t want her to be anyone else’s either. I was aware of how fucked up that was, but I couldn’t control my brain or my cock when it came to her. They had their own set of rules and any control I tried to muster was lost.
Lyla bent over the table to pick up a straw wrapper, and I watched as the guy’s head turned to her tits. I pushed down the rage brewing inside of me and went behind the bar. Visions of last night popped into my head, and I shifted my dick before the whole bar knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Look who decided to join us,” Gary joked to me, as he poured a glass of wine for the blonde and her friend who just came back from the bathroom.
“Had some stuff to take care of,” I mumbled, my eyes glued on Lyla. No matter how damn hard I tried, I was unable to look away.
Lyla turned from the table, and our eyes met, there was a sadness there that I hadn’t seen before, and it took everything I had not to go to her and try to soothe it away. Doing so would be no different than the pattern I fell in with Tiffany. I might have caused the sadness, or might not have, but I couldn’t be the one always trying to take it away.
Patterns were easy to make but impossible to break, a lesson I learned the hard way, but knew better of now. Lyla knew what she was getting into when she came into my room last night. Besides, she practically begged for it. I don’t know what else she expected from me? I gave her everything that I was capable of and more.
The bell above the door rang, and I looked away and watched as Tara walked in. She was smiling which was a nice change of pace from her crying and mental breakdowns. At times she reminded me of Tiffany, fueled by her emotions, desperate to belong, and maybe that’s why I never fired her, even though she’d given me a million reasons why over the course of her employment.
She moved with a pep in her step. Her hair was all done up like she just went somewhere to have it done, and she was wearing new clothes.
“Hello, lovelies,” she said, as she passed the group of guys at Lyla’s table. “Hey bitch.” She smacked Lyla’s ass. Lyla spun around, long dark hair cascading through the air, her lips spread wide in an amused grin as a laugh fell out. Normally, I’d smile, but I couldn’t stop staring at Tara. Everything about her was fresh and new, and the only way for that to happen was to have money. Extra money. Where the fuck would she get that from? She cried poverty more than any person I’d ever met. Declan was always lending her cash, and if it hadn’t been for him, she would’ve been evicted months ago.
Was Tara the one who was stealing from me? If I had to choose between her, Declan, Gary, and Lyla, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, she’d be my first choice, and her strutting around like that wasn’t helping her case.
Still, I gave her a job when no one else would. I put up with her constant bullshit. She owed me, not the other way around. I swore to God if it was her… No. I had no physical proof, and until I did, she was innocent.
There were a few part-timers who I needed to watch before I could jump to any conclusion. I didn’t want it to be anyone, but if it had to be someone, I hoped it was someone who I didn’t consider family. I had already been disappointed enough by my own family, and because of that, I didn’t let many people in.
I only hoped I didn’t make a mistake by doing so.
Chapter 34
The kitchen was dimly lit by the open fridge. Lyla was bent inside, reaching for something. The tiny shorts she had on barely covered her perfect ass. Her long legs glowed, and I imagined bending her over the counter, and fucking the shit out of her until she screamed my name.
I should’ve turned around, and headed right back to my room, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She closed the door, placing the milk on the counter, and I smiled, remembering how she told me about the nanny that would give her milk when she couldn’t sleep. I guess I wasn’t the only one tossing and turning tonight.
She stood on her tiptoes trying to reach a glass, but she was an inch shy. I walked over to her and pressed my chest into her back. “We should get you a step stool,�
�� I said, but before I could take the glass down, she turned around, fist ready and aimed at my face. She went to throw it forward, and I grabbed it, closing my fingers over her balled hand before she could make impact.
“It’s just me,” I assured her.
I released her hand, and she slapped it against her chest, taking big over dramatic breaths. It was adorable.
“What the fuck? You don’t just sneak up on a girl like that.”
Before I could stop myself, I laughed.
She pointed a stern finger at me. “That was so not funny, you sick bastard.”
“Sick bastard? That hurts,” I joked.
Her hair was tossed up in a bun, stray pieces falling around her face. I fought the urge to push them back in place.
“Next time, turn on the light. Send up a flare. Make a noise. Something, so I know it’s you.”
“Who else would it be?” I didn’t even attempt to hide my amusement.
“I don’t know. Some psycho killer. A ghost. Chucky!” she exclaimed.
“The redheaded doll? Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. That thing is creepy.”
“Were you watching scary movies by yourself again?” I asked. I had caught her a few times with the TV on at night, curled up in a blanket, her eyes all big and scared. I’d been tempted many times to slip under the blanket with her and hold her tight, assuring her I would never let anything hurt her, but I never did. It had been before I knew she didn’t leave me at the hotel in revenge. Now I wasn’t so sure I could resist the temptation.
She stuck her tongue out at me, and damn if that didn’t turn me on. “It’s all that’s on at night.”
I tried to keep my focus on her eyes and not her tit that was practically falling out of her tank top. “You could watch infomercials.”
