by Jacob Chance
“When we were younger, I was always looking up to Jam and being envious of all the hot girlfriends he had. Even Owen has never had to work to get a girl. But now, I’m the one with the sexy as fuck girlfriend and they noticed.”
“So, I’m only a trophy to you? Just someone to use for bragging rights?” she jokes, rolling over, resting her crossed arms on my lower stomach. When she places her chin on top of them, it doesn’t escape my notice that her pussy is pressed against my now hard cock. She smiles mischievously and rolls her hips into me.
“You can be anything you want.”
“What do you want me to be?”
“I want you to be the dick sucking champion of the world,” I joke.
“I don’t know about the world, but I’m feeling pretty inspired.” Rising to her knees she backs up until she’s kneeling between my legs. Her fingers move down to undo the button and zipper on my pants.
“I like where your inspiration is taking you.” I grin down at her.
“I bet you do,” she says, pushing my pants open. “Commando? I like it.”
“I haven’t had time to do laundry. But I like free-balling occasionally.”
She licks the length of my cock from the base to the tip and I lose my train of thought. When she repeats the motion my breath stutters. She smirks knowingly. Staring up at me, she wraps her plump lips around the head and begins to suck.
Oh fuck. My fingers burrow into her long tresses as she slowly slides up and down my cock.
“Hmm,” she hums, like my dick is the best thing that’s ever been in her mouth. It’s such a turn on.
“Do you like sucking my cock?”
She pulls her mouth off with a pop. “I love it.”
“Fuck, Elle. You’re incredible.” I gasp as she swallows me down once more, this time stroking me with her hand as well. Between the tight seal of her mouth and the firm grip of her fist, I’m barely hanging on. I don’t want to come and end this exquisite pleasure, but I want to see her swallow every drop of my orgasm.
Head bobbing faster, she slurps and sucks driving me mad. “Fuck yes, don’t stop,” I order. Raising my hips, I thrust up with every downward motion of her mouth. I want to fuck her mouth so hard, but I curb the urge, letting her have her way with me.
“I’m going to come,” I warn. She keeps sucking, never letting up until she pushes me over the edge of reason. I shudder, groaning her name, fingers clutching her head, as I release into her hot, wet mouth. My heart pounds so hard, I might be having a heart attack. I don’t think I’d complain if my last moments in this life were spent inside any part of Elle Johnson.
“What do you think?” she asks, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
“Think? About...what?” I can’t even form a complete thought right now. I’m lucky I can remember my own name.
“Am I the dick sucking champ?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elle
“Hello,” I say as I answer my phone. The number that came up on the screen is unknown.
“Elle.” The deep voice on the other end sends chills down my spine in the worst possible way. Fear washes over me. Shit. It’s been a month since I had dinner with my father and I was hoping Scott had changed his mind. However, my luck couldn’t be that good.
My mind whirls in a frenzy of thoughts. What am I going to do?
“Elle,” he barks, snapping me back to this moment.
“Scott,” I utter, hoarsely.
“Did you miss me, baby?” he asks with a chuckle.
“No, can’t say I have,” I reply, regaining some of my footing now that the initial shock of hearing his voice has worn off.
“There’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“Are you sure about that? I think you are and when I take you to dinner I’ll tell you all about it.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“If you care about tattoo boy then you’ll have dinner with me,” he says, sounding smug.
What does he know about Josh?
Crap. I can’t have Scott messing with him. He only opened Canvas two months ago and everything’s starting to come together for him. “Fine. Where and when?” I question, but my stomach is in knots with worry. I don’t want Josh negatively impacted by my father or Scott. Both of them have limitless amounts of money and are ruthless enough to get whatever they want. Ruining someone like Josh wouldn’t even be challenging for either of them.
“Tonight, Chez Regis at seven o’clock. Don’t bother driving. I’ll be taking you home after,” he informs me, confidently.
“Fine.” I have no intention of letting him drive me anywhere. Meeting him in public is bad enough, but nothing good will come from being alone with him.
“I can’t wait to see you, baby. It’s been way too long.”
When the call ends, my head falls into my hands as despair invades every cell of me. I don’t know what kind of dirt Scott has on Josh, but he has something. Most likely it’s fabricated, but it won’t matter. It will be enough to permanently damage his reputation. The situation is hopeless. All I can do is meet him tonight and see what kind of game he’s playing.
Walking into Chez Regis, my eyes peruse the bar for any sign of Scott. Stopping when they lock onto his broad-shouldered frame and dark hair, my feet slow their approach. I shiver from a combination of dread and fear of what he’s got planned. Things are never what they seem with him. I can’t let my guard down for a single second because he strikes when you least expect it.
Scott spins around on the bar stool as I come up beside him, a large smile on his handsome face.
“Hey, baby.” He rises to his feet, drawing me into his arms. My body goes stiff like a board, every part of me rebelling against this close contact between us.
“Please don’t call me that,” I say, already knowing it will only anger him, but I can’t stomach hearing an endearment fall from his lying lips. Once upon a time, I believed the lies and half-truths he spoon fed me, but no longer. Now immune to his charms, I see him for what he really is - an opportunist.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grits out between clenched teeth, grabbing my upper arm tight in his meaty fist. “I think we both know it won’t go well for you.” His eyes flash with anger or insanity. Either is a possibility with Scott and I’m sure of this better than anyone having dated him from the time I was a senior in high school until sophomore year of college.
“Let go, Scott.”
“But I can’t keep my hands off you, Elle.” His other hand moves to my other arm, pulling me closer until my breasts are pressed into his chest. “I still remember how tight your pussy was and I can’t wait to feel it again.” He flashes a devious grin and my stomach rolls with fear.
“Can we sit down and talk now? I need to get home. I have to work early in the morning.”
“My baby’s anxious to get this show on the road,” he says and I cringe with disgust. “I’m looking forward to dessert back at my place,” he adds, making matters worse.
The thought of him touching any part of my body makes me want to vomit. “Scott, I haven’t seen you in five years. What makes you think I’m going anywhere with you?”
“Oh Elle. How quickly you’ve forgotten how it used to be with us. Those were the good old days.”
“I don’t remember anything positive about them. I’m happy with the way my life is now.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but the hostess interrupts, leading us to our table. My head pounds with a migraine as I follow behind her. I don’t want to be here. Imagining Josh’s arms around me helps to calm me and by the time we’re seated at our table, I feel as though I’ve regained some footing.
Spreading my napkin in my lap, I watch as the waitress pours us each a glass of ice water.
Scott orders without asking me what I’d like which isn’t surprising. He’s a control freak about everything and since I didn’t come here with the intent to enjoy dinner w
ith him - what does it matter? It’s not like I’m going to be able to swallow a single bite, anyhow. Being in his company is hard enough to stomach.
“How long have you and tattoo boy been together?” he asks, once the waitress has gone.
“Tattoo boy?” I roll my eyes. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I’m trying to be polite and have a simple conversation. What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re right. I’m a horrible person,” I say, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Can you please tell me whatever it is you lured me here for?”
“Sure, I didn’t want to ruin your dinner, but if you insist.” His lips move into a smirk and I envision myself slapping it right off his face. How I wish I could, but he’d only make me pay for it later. The memories of his heavy hand have dulled, but they’ll never completely disappear.
“I have it on good authority that your boyfriend is laundering money for the Bastards.”
“No way.” I shake my head and snort. “No fucking way.”
“Yes, fucking way. I have someone who’s willing to go to the police and report him. I also have evidence,” he says making air quotes.
“Scott, you can’t fabricate evidence and expect it to stick.” I want to leap over the table and strangle him. Josh would never do anything illegal. I’m positive about this without a single doubt.
“It doesn’t have to stick to do irreparable damage to his reputation. I wonder what the New England Art Association would think about one of their entrants being involved in money laundering.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I am what I am.” He smiles then winks as he shifts his weight, placing his arms on the table. “When I want something, I go after it.”
“What do you want from me?” I question, leaning back in my chair. I want as much distance between the two of us a possible. Merely smelling his cologne is making me sick. It’s the same one he wore when we were together. It conjures up painful memories of a time in my life I’d prefer to forget.
“You, my dearest will be the dutiful girlfriend you never learned to be. You’re going to do as I say with a smile on your gorgeous face the whole goddamn time. Your main duty will be to please me in any way you can.”
“Why do you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”
“Oh no, you won’t be pretending. You are mine as of right now. Unless you want to go our separate ways and see how that works out for your artist.”
“Why would you even want me, Scott? We were horrible together.”
“No, you were a brat who wanted her way all the time.” His eyes flash anger and my chest tightens with anxiety. Seeing the crazed look in his gaze brings back all the fear I experienced at his hands.
“Fine, I’ll do what I have to, but you better stay away from Josh or the deal’s off.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll leave your little boy toy alone, as long as you stay away from him.”
“I have to break up with him. I’m not going to stop talking to him and ignore his calls. He deserves an explanation.”
“You better come up with a convincing reason, baby. If he finds out what we’ve discussed tonight then you can kiss his reputation goodbye.”
“You’re such a bastard.”
He shrugs, looking smug. “Elle, there’s always a winner and a loser in every situation. You should know by now which one I am.”
My stomach is so nauseous I can barely drive home. After the bombshell Scott dropped on me, all I want to do is climb in my bed and pretend this night has been a nightmare. This can’t be my life. Of course when everything's going well he had to step in and fuck it all up. I knew it was too good to be true.
Wiping the moisture from my forehead before it can drip down into my eyes, I focus on the road in front of me. Every inch of my body is trembling. Being in Scott’s company was more difficult than I let on.
When I finally escaped inside my car, I collapsed, sobbing with my head on the steering wheel. Thankfully, he didn’t put up a fight that I disobeyed and drove my car. There was no way I was letting him that close to me tonight. Or any other night if I can help it.
But how can I help it?
That’s the million-dollar question.
How do I get Josh out of the mess he’s going to be in because of me?
If I don’t do as Scott says, he’ll follow through with his threats. Maybe I can stall for a few days and give myself time to come up with a plan.
In the meantime, I need to distance myself from Josh; which will be no small feat. He’s imperative to my happiness and a single day without him will be too much, never mind an indefinite amount of time. But loving someone means putting them first, and Josh deserves no less. He would do the same for me. He may not realize why I’m stepping back from our relationship, but I will. Maybe it can be a small consolation for all that I’m sacrificing. For the first time in my life, I’m ready to put someone else’s needs above my own. It’s too bad Josh will never know.
Once I’m home, I barely make it inside my bathroom before I’m bent over heaving into the toilet. Both hands on the cool porcelain toilet bowl while I brace myself for the next wave of nausea to hit.
I never imagined I’d have to deal with Scott Granger again. He nearly ruined me the first time around and now five years later, I’m no better prepared. Is there a way to prepare to date an abusive, vengeful psychopath? If there is, I’d like to know because that’s my future and it’s looking pretty fucking dismal.
Three Years Ago
“Can’t we stay here tonight or go to your apartment? I don’t want to go to a party,” I say, with a sexy pout on my lips.
“We’re going to the party, Elle.”
“But I don’t want to go to a frat party, Scott. Why don’t you go alone and then come back here later?”
His fingers close tightly around my upper arm, digging into the flesh. “I said we’re going and we’re fucking going.” His pupils dilate with anger as he stares down at me.
“You’re hurting me, Scott,” I cry, tugging my arm to free it from his hold. It doesn’t work and only angers him more.
“Are you trying to get away from me, Elle? Is that what you want?” Gripping my other arm, he holds firmly to both. He shakes me back and forth like a rag doll, an unhinged expression on his face. “Is there someone else?”
“No,” I sob. “I love you.”
“There better not be. If I find out you’re lying to me, there will be hell to pay.”
“I’m not lying,” I shout.
His hand meets my cheek with the sharp crack of a slap. My head spins to the side from the force, my hand slipping between us to cover my stinging skin. My eyes fill with tears. I can’t believe he hit me. Instantly, I sob. I’m so hurt and confused by his actions. Why? What did I do that was so bad?
He gentles his hold and slides his hands up and down my arms. “I’m sorry, Elle. If you’d do as I said, this never would have happened. Is it too much to ask that we go to one party?”
I shake my head and avoid looking at him.
He lifts my chin with an index finger. “Look at me,” he orders and I do as he says. “Go fix your makeup and hair. You’re a fucking mess. I don’t want to be seen with you right now.” He raises his hand, gesturing at my overall appearance and I flinch in reaction. I’m afraid of this new version of my boyfriend. I’m seeing him like this more often lately and I don’t know what to do to make things the way they used to be. What am I doing wrong?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Josh
My phone buzzes with an incoming text when I’m between clients. Swiping the screen, I notice it’s Elle.
Elle: I won’t be able to make it tonight. Bad migraine. Going to bed. Talk tomorrow.
Frowning as I reread the words, I type out a reply.
Me: I’m sorry to hear this. I’ll miss you. Get some rest and know I’ll be thinking of you.
Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I rake my teeth ove
r my lip. This isn’t like Elle. Normally, she would call me - even if it was to say a quick goodnight. Texting is so impersonal; we prefer to hear each other’s voices.
I’m not sure what’s up with her, but I can give her the space she obviously needs. This will give me an opportunity to work on my paintings for the art competition. I’ve been using what little spare time I have to finish them, but there’s still quite a bit to do. Maybe if I pull an all-nighter, I can knock out most of it.
Elle has been radio silent all day. My texts and calls have gone unanswered. It’s obvious something’s wrong and it’s typical of Elle not to burden me or anyone else with her problems.
By the time the studio closes, I’m chomping at the bit to get over to her place and find out what the fuck is going on.
My fist pounds on the door. I’m frustrated she’s pulling away and worried she’s not going to let me drag her back in. Again, my knuckles knock against the steel. “Elle,” I call her name so she’ll know it’s me.
The door slowly opens and a disheveled version of Elle appears in the space. She squints and blinks indicating she’s just waking up. Her eyes are red and puffy as if she’s been crying.
“Are you okay?” She’s a mess - a hauntingly beautiful mess.
Pushing her hair back from her face, she rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Yeah, I was asleep. Do you want to come in?” She steps back, allowing me to pass, before closing the door. “Have a seat. Do you want something to drink? Water? Beer?”
“No,” I say, catching her hand in mine. Pulling her over to the couch, I tug her down beside me. “What’s going on with you?” I question, turning to face her. Trailing my fingertips down her cheek, I study her face. She’s definitely been crying. I can always tell with her. The redness along her lower lids is a dead giveaway most people might not notice. Small details can turn an average piece of art into something special. Once I learned to see things with an artistic bent, I couldn’t turn it off. I began to notice things I never had before and now I see more than I should or want to.
