by Madison Faye
Even still—even after all of her bullshit, I’d offered to work out some partial, supervised visitation with her and Amy, even though she’d fucking abandoned her years before. But instead, Karen tried to fucking sue me. I know, big surprise. Turns out, she was after the money, not seeing her daughter again.
Needless to say, she lost, big time, and we haven’t seen or heard from her since.
I provide everything for my little girl. I’ve raised her myself, through all of it—bottles, teething, potty-training, first bikes, all of it. I did her hair, took her shopping, learned about the goddamn Disney princesses. All of it, without a single regret. Karen can go fuck herself.
But then, it’s not really Karen I’m thinking about tonight.
…It’s Kendall. Kendall girl-next-door, totally off-limits Shaw.
My jaw grinds as I whirl again, pacing back across the floor, my blood roaring in my ears. This never should have happened, but here we are. And here I am, hard as fuck. I shouldn’t be. I should be disgusted with myself, or horrified. Not turned the fuck on. Not aching for her. Not wanting her like I do.
The problem is, “Cherry Pie” might be Kendall Shaw from down the street. But before I knew that, she was everything I craved. I mean fuck, I’ve seen her strip down to her see-through bra and panties, giving me the faintest tease of those pert little nipples and that sweet little pussy. I’ve watched her touch herself. I watched her come. She’s watched me, too.
I’ve lusted after her. And now she’s right fucking here—in my house. Down the hall. For the whole fucking summer.
…This is very inconvenient.
I knock back another sip of bourbon, when suddenly, there’s a quiet knock at the bedroom door. I freeze, pulse roaring, my hand tightening on my glass as my eyes swivel towards the sound. The knock comes again, and I know damn well who it is.
I’m tempted to yell—to scare her away, even if I’ll hate myself for it. Because if scaring her keeps her away from me, so be it.
But I don’t. I can’t. And I know it’s because even if part of me wants to send her as far away from me as possible, there’s another part of me that disagrees. There’s the dark part of me—the part that wants to yank her against me, tear her fucking clothes off, and claim every damn inch of her.
The knock comes again, and with a final deep breath, I finish my drink.
“Come in,” I growl, turning towards the door. It opens, and when she steps in, my whole body tenses.
Fuck.
Part of me was hoping that knowing what I know now, I’d be able to turn off the attraction. I’d be able to shut it down, send her away, and somehow get the fuck through this summer with her under my roof. But the second she walks in?
Nope.
Kendall’s in frayed, tiny jean shorts and a tank top, her hair loose and tumbling over her bare shoulders. Her pouty pink lips glisten with some sort of gloss, and any damn thoughts I had of “sending her away” or “shutting this down” go up in fucking smoke. Because one look—one damn look at her, and instantly, I want her. And it very well might be worse now that I know. Now that I know how very inappropriate this is, and how wrong it is, and how off limits and young “Cherry Pie” really is.
It’s worse. And God help me, I want her even more.
Kendall swallows, her face glowing pink. Her eyes dart back towards the door, like she’s second guessing whatever bravado she worked up to walk in here. But slowly, those eyes swivel back to me.
“We need to talk.”
I shake my head, my jaw tight. “No, we don’t.”
She cocks her hip, her arms crossing just under her tits, which only makes them swell up so fucking perky and full in her tight tank top. And I want to scream at her that she’s dancing with fire here—that trying to be this flirty, and this tempting and teasing to a man like me, when he was supposed to be fucking her this very minute against a window looking over Central Park, is dangerous.
But I don’t. I just stare at her, drinking in every inch of her. Her bare feet with the pink toenails. The long, lithe, coltish legs. The tight little ass in those shorts. Her bare navel and temptingly smooth, flat little tummy. The curve of her hips, the swell of her tits, and that sassy, pouty mouth.
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
Because Kendall Shaw is a little minx. A tease. I never saw it before, but I damn well saw it on our video chats. I saw that somehow, the girl from down the street grew the fuck up. And fuck did she grow up. I want to say that I’ve never noticed before, but that’d be a lie. I’ve noticed, I’ve just squashed it down, and told myself it was wrong. I’ve pretended I didn’t notice how she grew curves—soft, perky little tits, a cute, round ass. Full, pouty lips that I can imagine wrapped so tight around my thick cock.
Goddamnit, I’m hard even now.
“Mr. Bane we—”
“Stop calling me that,” I growl, trying to fight this—trying to convince myself that this is horrible.
“Fine, Mr. B.”
My eyes lock with hers. “I think we’re past that, don’t you?”
Her lips curl, a feisty look crossing her face.
“Oh, so should I call you NYCDomXXX, then?” she spits.
My jaw tightens.
“Maybe you should, Cherry Pie.”
She blushes. Fuck that’s enticing.
“When the hell did you get a tattoo?” I mutter. “You just turned eighteen like four months ago.”
She purses her lips, sucking on her teeth.
“Three months and thirty days ago.”
And for a moment, there’s a flash of jealous rage. The idea of anyone putting their hands on her, that close to… I growl to myself.
…That close to her sweet little pussy.
“Why cherries?”
Kendall looks down, her face reddening as she shrugs.
“What, you just picked something off the wall?”
“Yes.”
My eyes narrow, and when she raises hers, she bites her lip.
Yeah, bullshit.
“Cherries mean innocence. Purity.”
I smirk, and she blushes as she smiles shyly.
“Look, I knew what I was going to do, and the tattoo was just… I don’t know. A way to remember my way back.”
“Back from selling your fucking virginity online, you mean?” I ask through clenched teeth.
Kendall purses her lips again.
“We need to talk about this,” she says quietly.
“No, we damn well don’t. In fact, we are never talking about this.”
Her brows knit.
“I need to tell you why I—”
“You really, really don’t.”
She glares at me.
“Mr. B—”
“Go to you damn room, Kendall.”
Her look hardens, and there’s a flash of fire in those gorgeous, wide eyes.
“No,” she snaps suddenly.
A shadow crosses my face, and before I know it, I’ve slammed my empty glass down on the wide windowsill, and I’m storming across the room towards her. She gasps, backing away from my wrath until her back is against the bedroom door. But I don’t stop, not until I’m looming right over her. My hands on either side of her pining her to the damn door. Our eyes blaze into each other, and fuck, there’s a thick heat to the air between us that almost crackles with the pent-up energy.
“Go. To. Your. Damn. Room,” I growl, my voice heavy and raw. Kendall’s panting, her eyes wide and locked on me, her lips slightly parted and still glistening with gloss.
“Why?”
“Because I said so,” I snap. She has to leave. She has to get away from me, before I grab her and make good on every fucking filthy promise I made to Cherry about what I’d be doing to her tonight.
“And?” she tosses back.
“And because if you don’t…”
I take a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut, my muscles clenching as I fight to stay in control.
“If I don’t what, Mr. B
.”
“You know what,” I growl.
Fuck, I’m close to her. Too close. So close that I can smell the… fuck, I can smell the innocence on her. I can smell the flirty, fruity perfume she’s wearing—girlish, like she’s going to meet a boy for a burger and a shake after the varsity game, not a grown ass man at his five million-dollar Manhattan condo to get fucked. Not to go get her cherry plucked by a man more than twice her age with a nine-inch cock.
“Kendall,” I growl, unable to move away. God help me, I need to, but it’s not happening, no matter what I tell my body. That scent hits me again, and I can feel my control wavering and crumbling. I imagine that scent spritzed across her bare skin. I imagine her bare little pussy smelling like it—so sweet, like fucking candy and lavender. And I’m so fucking hard, blood roaring in my ears.
“Marshall,” she tosses back, her voice breathy and trembling.
I need to move away. But I don’t. I can’t. I won’t.
And when I lose that battle, I only move closer. I breathe in her scent, I let the heat of her soft young body tease against me. I listen to the voice inside my head screaming how fucked up and wrong this is, and to walk the hell away right. Fucking. Now.
I listen to that voice, and then I turn it right off.
Kendall gasps, and when her tongue darts out to wet those glossy lips, I can feel the last of my restraint crumbling.
“You need to leave, Kendall,” I groan, my voice broken and haggard, my eyes hungry as they fucking devour her.
And slowly, she shakes her head, her eyes wide and locked on mine.
So fucking be it.
My hand slides from the door behind her to her jaw, and when I touch her soft, warm skin, she whimpers, panting as a flush creeps across her face. I move closer, our bodies pressing together. Every warning light in the world is going off. Every alarm is wailing. Every piece of me is telling me to stop and yelling in my ear about how wrong this is on every level.
…And I stop caring.
I cup her jaw possessively, I move in, and I hesitate for one final second to savor this moment. This calm before the storm. The teetering instant on the cliff’s edge before the fall. The pause before everything I know shatters.
My lips crush to hers, her moans rumble through my mouth, and I pin her to that door as I kiss her hard and deep.
Like she’s mine.
Chapter 4
Kendall
I moan as he kisses me, losing myself in it, and falling so willingly into him. And holy shit, it’s unlike any kiss I’ve ever dreamed about.
I’ve kissed boys before, but that’s it. Just kisses, and just boys. But this is no kiss, and Marshall is no boy.
…This is a man. A rough, dominate, knee-weakening, panty-melting man. A man taking what he wants, which in this case, is me.
I gasp as he slams me into the door, his body enveloping mine and his lips sear to mine. I’m panting into his mouth, our tongues sliding together, lips wet and hungry and eager. My hands grip at his shirt, holding him tight, feeling him press against me. And God, he’s hard. I can… fuck, I can feel him swelling against me. I whimper as I feel his cock press into my tummy, making my core turn to jelly as my pussy floods my panties with my arousal. He kisses me like he’s an animal, and I’m loving it.
Marshall growls, pulling away from my bruised, swollen lips and dropping his mouth to my neck. I cry out, shivering in ecstasy as his lips and tongue tease the sensitive skin there, making my whole body arch into him and ache for more. His hands slide over me, teasing over my hips, pushing my tank top up as his fingers tease across the bare skin of my midriff.
The room feels like it’s a million degrees, and I’m so hot, and breathing so fast it feels like I might explode. My hands wander over his arms, and I shiver at the feel of the coiled muscles rippling under his shirt. One hand slides to his chest, exploring how I’ve ached to explore for years, and I tremble at just how fucking hard his body is. He’s so big, and muscled, and strong, and I feel like he could pick me up with one hand and toss me around any way he chooses.
And I know all of this is so fucking wrong, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even if I did. Not when he kisses me like this. Not when he puts his hands on me, and growls into my skin, and makes me feel like he wants to devour me whole.
Marshall’s hands slide to cup my ass, both pulling me against him and pressing me against the door at the same time. His powerful fingers dig into my skin, teasing the crease just below my ass as my tiny shorts ride up high. I gasp as his teeth rake over my neck, making me shiver and tremble and ache in ways I’ve never even imagined, even when I was imagining him. One of his hands slips up my back, pushing my tank top with it, the fingers bumping over each little ridge in my spine as my breath pants harder and my heart beats faster and faster.
He breaks away, panting, his eyes wild and fierce as they blaze into mine.
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, his shoulders heaving with his breath, his hands still gripping me tight.
“Marshal—”
“No,” he growls lowly. His hands yank away from me, as if he’s been burned, and his face pales as he backs away.
“Goddamnit, Kendall…” he says quietly.
I realize I’m breathing so fast I’m about to hyperventilate, and I force myself to take a deep breath. Marshall closes his eyes, his mouth a tight line as he slowly shakes his head, his brow creasing.
“I—I should go—”
His hand shoots out just as I’m turning, gripping my wrist tight, and I shiver.
“No.”
I swallow.
“No stay or no go?”
Marshall blue eyes open, blazing fire into me as his jaw clenches.
“I don’t know,” he groans. “Both. Neither.”
He tugs on my wrist, and when he pulls me into him, I whimper as I fall against his chest. One of his big hands slides up my side, teasing over my ribs until he’s cupping my jaw with his big hand.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and suddenly, he’s kissing me all over again.
I moan into his kiss, molding my body to his and opening my mouth for his tongue. Our lips sear together, tongues dancing, and he kisses me so deeply and powerfully that my toes curl almost to the point of pain, before he slowly pulls away from me.
“The fuck were you doing on that website?”
I bite my swollen lip, swallowing.
“Kendall, your mom and stepdad are as financially able as me, why—”
“Because it’s all lies,” I blurt out. My face goes red as his brow furrows.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head.
“Tell me.”
“It’s—” I lower my eyes. “It’s all falling apart. There is no money. Tony lost it all.”
Marshall swears, his face darkening.
“So, you go online to sell your fucking virginity?”
I swallow, nodding quietly.
“It was for college. My mom can’t pay it, and I couldn’t not go, so—”
“Stop.” He shakes head.
“Christ, Kendall, you could have come to me.”
I’m quiet. I guess deep down I knew I could. I mean I’ve spent an insane amount of time at the Bane household, and I know Marshall would have cut a check faster than I could explain the story. But I guess it was pride that kept me from it.
“Does Amy know?”
I quickly shake my head. “No, God. No, she thinks I was on a dating site. That’s why I was going into the city tonight to…” My face turns red.
“To lose your virginity to some guy from online who fucking paid for it,” he hisses out.
“That ‘some guy’ is you, remember?” I spit back, glaring at him. But he glares right back, his brow furrowing.
“Are you actually a virgin?”
My mouth drops open.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I glare at
him. “What, worried you’ve been ripped off?”
His jaw clenches. “No, I’m pissed that you’d actually sell it on-fucking-line.”
“To you!” I toss back, sneering. “Do that a lot, Marshall?”
“Careful,” he growls dangerously, warning in his voice, which I ignore.
“Do you go online a lot and pay teenage girls to spread their legs and—”
“Watch it,” he growls, pushing my back against the door. I gasp, panting as he moves against me, heat blazing between us. And suddenly, without wanting to, and before I can even think it through, I kiss him, hard, recklessly, wantonly. I moan wildly, sliding my arms around his neck and whimpering into his lips as I kiss the man I’ve crushed on, and fantasized about, and wanted for years—kissing him like I never want to stop kissing him.
He growls, kissing me right back before he pulls away, panting.
“Fuck, Kendall. No, I don’t.”
My brow creases in confusion.
“Gone online and… that. I never have.”
“Why now?” I whisper.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“And I’ll tell you it was the money. You?”
He scowls. “I don’t know. But this?” he nods his chin between us. “This isn’t happening. This can’t happen.”
“So why…” I swallow, forcing myself to look up into his eyes.
“So why are your hands still touching me?”
Marshall’s mouth tightens.
…He doesn’t move his hands.
In fact, they tighten on my waist. I gasp quietly as his fingers trace the space between the top of my shorts and my tank top, making my belly cave as he teases across my bare skin. My breath catches, my heart racing as he pushes the tank top higher, baring more skin. His eyes drop, and I can feel the low growl in his throat as his fingers slide from my hips to meet in the middle, just under my belly button, resting on the snap button to my shorts.
…He pops it.
My breath comes out in a whoosh, my skin tingling as he peels apart the top of my shorts. His jaw is clenched so tight, his eyes fierce and full of fire as they stare at where his hands are working. I tremble, my hips rolling against him—wanting him, willing him to keep going. I’m fully aware of how wrong this is, on so many levels, and how fucked up it is that I want this. But I can’t stop—not when he’s making me feel like this, and not when every single part of me wants him.
