Claimed

by Portia Moore

  “Ginger ale only.” He raises his hands. “I won’t forget.”

  I wince.

  I hadn’t thought about what it would mean for my father, so freshly out of rehab, to be at a party where the alcohol is sure to be flowing. But it’s important to me for him to meet Vincent. I want all of my family to meet him, so they can see how much he means to me. How good he is to me.

  And then he’s at my elbow. “Rain, beautiful, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  I flinch, startled to hear my real name coming off of his lips. I’ve grown used to hearing him use my nickname so much that it’s almost a shock. But I like it…and it only makes me wish he would use it more often. The nickname is sweet, but…I have a name. It’s the only thing about our relationship that has consistently irked me, but now here I am missing it.

  “This is my father, Mike Carlisle,” I say, gesturing towards my father. “And this is my mother, Jenny, and my sister, Erin. They’re all really excited to be here.”

  “How much did this all cost?” Erin burst out, her eyes wide. She wobbles a little on the spiky heels that she’s worn, and I feel my skin start to burn.

  “Erin, dear, that’s not appropriate,” my mom says quickly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jamison—”

  “Please, call me Vincent.” He flashes her the smile that has won over many a woman—including me—but I can see that it isn’t having the usual effect on my mother. “And, let’s just say that money was no object.” He winks at my sister, and I relax a fraction.

  “You know so many people,” Erin giggles.

  “I do.” Vincent waves a hand. “Anyone you see, I can introduce you to.”

  “I think she’s a little young to be introduced to anyone,” my mom says, pulling Erin a little closer. “Unless they want to meet her mother, too.”

  “Of course,” Vincent says, turning towards my father. “Mr. Carlisle?”

  “It’s quite a party,” my dad says, shaking Vincent’s hand. “I’m mighty impressed, young man. Rain is doing alright for herself.”

  “I’m happy to be able to take care of her.” Vincent smiles broadly. “Anything she wants, it’s hers.”

  “Except her independence,” my mother mutters, but it’s loud enough for all of us to hear.

  “Mom!” I exclaim. “Don’t be rude!”

  I can’t believe she just said that!

  “It’s not rude. I’m being honest,” my mom says crisply. “You can’t tell me that all of this doesn’t come with strings.”

  Vincent’s expression cools noticeably, and I feel the first flutters of anxiety in my stomach. “Mrs.

  Carlisle, I assure you—”

  “Mr. Jamison, my daughter is very young. She’s had her head turned by your wealth and good looks, but I am susceptible to neither of those. I want to know what your intentions with her are.” If it is possible to die from horror and embarrassment, I’d drop dead right here.

  Vincent keeps his expression neutral, but I see a flush beginning at his collar, and the anxiety I’m feeling is turning into a full-fledged ball of ice in the pit of my stomach. “Mom, come here,” I say urgently, grabbing her wrist. “I need to talk to you.”

  I pull her to a corner of the deck, my eyes flashing angrily as I draw myself up. “Mom, you can’t talk to Vincent like that!”

  “I want to make sure this isn’t a fantasy.” She gestures around all of us, not taken in by it how Erin and my dad are but almost disgusted. “I want him to know that you’re not a doll he can just play with and throw away, or worse, keep locked up like his favorite toy.”

  “What are you talking about!” I insist. “You’re so ungrateful! I give you money because of how generous he is. He flew you here on a private plane for God’s sake, just so he could meet you. Why are you being like this?!” I can feel the start of tears clogging up my throat, and I force them back. I can’t cry. I don’t want to ruin Vincent’s birthday, and I don’t want to ruin my makeup, either.

  “I don’t like him. There’s something wrong with all of this. I knew he had money but all of this is over the top. He shouldn’t be shacking up with my nineteen-year-old daughter. Something is very wrong with all of this!” she says, her voice shaking as if she’s terrified, and it’s making me so angry.

  “No, there’s not. You’re just not used to someone taking care of you how they should!” I fire at her, and I know it’s a hurtful dig, but I can’t help myself. All of her negativity and accusations have caught me completely off guard. My mom recovers quickly from my comment, though, and her face goes hard.

  “Tell me this, why did the amount of money that deposited into my account change? I don’t think that was your choice, was it?”

  So that’s what this is about?

  That’s what she’s pissed about?

  “Is that all you care about? The money?” Now tears are coming. I’m angry and frustrated. “I thought you cared about me.”

  “I do, Rain. That’s why I’m asking!” she says, her voice softening just a tad, but it’s too late.

  I throw up my hands in exasperation. “Vincent joined our bank accounts, and he decreased the deposit. Are you happy knowing that? I’m going to talk to him about the amount, just not right now when he’s been so stressed organizing this party. We’ll talk after his birthday is over.”

  “He joined your accounts? Rain, do you hear yourself? You’re not even married. He makes millions more than you will ever make. He’s paying for your room and board, your school, your wardrobe…Rain, if he gets tired of you, or leaves you for any reason, you’ll be in a world of trouble! You can’t even put money aside now!”

  “I don’t want to!” I shake my head. “I trust Vincent, Mom. And if you can’t be okay with that, if you can’t trust my decisions and let this be, then I’m going to have no choice but to cut ties with you. No more money, no more visits, no more phone calls. I can’t have you meddling in my life like this, insulting my boyfriend…”

  My mom’s face drains of color, her eyes widening like I’ve just punched her in the stomach.

  “Do you really mean that, Rain? Are you really going to choose him over your family?”

  A cold wash of fear passes over me at her words, but I’ve gone too far to back down now. I raise my chin, swallowing back the tears. “Yes, Mom, I mean it. You need to apologize to Vincent.”

  “No, Rain, I don’t think so.” She looks at me once, a direct, piercing look, and then turns on her heel and stalks back towards my father and Erin. “Mike, Erin, come on. We’re leaving.”

  “But Mom!” Erin looks desperately at me. “The party is just getting started, and Vincent said Bruno Mars is performing!”

  “Now.” My mom looks as if she might explode at any moment. “We’ll get a commercial flight back home. Mr. Jamison, thank you very much.” She glances at me and then back at him. “You’ve done quite enough.”

  I watch them go, Erin protesting the whole way, my father meekly following her.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry, I think desperately. I can’t ruin Vincent’s birthday.

  Dena and Mallory both rush to my side. “Rain, what’s going on?” Mallory asks, her brow creased.

  “Yeah, what’s up? Your mom looked pissed.” Dena is only half paying attention, her eyes following a handsome twenty-something man who’s sipping a martini alone next to the pool.

  “My mom started grilling Vincent,” I choke out. “About what his intentions are with me, and embarrassed both of us. So I told her if she didn’t accept that we’re together, and stop treating him like that, I’d have to cut ties with them. And then…” I feel the tears welling up again that I fought to keep down. “Then she just left.”

  “Oh, Rain, it’ll be okay,” Mallory says, pulling me into a hug. “You guys will work it out,” she says, soothingly stroking my back.

  “Rain, you have to pull it together,” Dena says firmly beside us. “Tonight is Vincent’s night, and you just need to focus on that. You can patch things up with yo
ur mom, she’s family. Family always works things out.”

  I sniff. “What if we don’t?”

  “You will,” Mallory assures me. “But Dena’s right. You can’t let what happened ruin today for you.”

  “Yeah, don’t screw tonight up,” Dena says tightly, glaring at me, and I gawk at her.

  “Is something going on that I don’t know about?” I look between my two friends.

  “No,” Mallory says quickly, while Dena shrugs.

  “Just get back to your insanely hot boyfriend,” Dena sings with a pat on my butt. “And I’m going to go find one of my own.”

  “Ignore her,” Mallory said comfortingly. She reaches up, rubbing away a little smudged eyeliner with her thumb. “Everything will work itself out, Rain, you’ll see. But for now, go celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday with him. And tomorrow, you can call your mom and smooth things over. Trust me.”

  I nod and give her a quick hug before walking back towards Vincent.

  Vincent’s lips are pressed together thinly, but he only says, “Did they leave?” coolly while looking out over the pool.

  “They did,” I say, my voice small. “Vincent, I’m so sorry—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says crisply. “There are more important things happening tonight. We’ll talk about it later, Poppy.”

  The smooth segue back into my nickname throws me for a moment. “Vincent, I—”

  He glances at me. “Later, Poppy.”

  I close my mouth, feeling a weight settle on my shoulders.

  He takes a deep breath, surveying the guests around the deck. “Did you make a decision about the accounts, yet?”

  Geez, why is he asking me about this now? Is he so angry about what my mom did that he wants to cut off the deposits tonight?

  “I mean…I was going to think about it, but with everything that just happened…” I take a deep breath.

  He turns to me, smiling. I look up at him, confused as to why he looks so happy with everything that has just happened.

  And then he gets down on one knee, reaches into his jacket pocket, and pulls out a black velvet box. “Poppy, the day that I met you was the greatest day of my life. I’ve bought beautiful houses, made love to beautiful women, and closed some beautiful business deals…”

  A ripple of laughter spreads out across the deck. I look around, wondering when everyone encircled us.

  “But nothing could ever compare to the day I met the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and my whole life changed. From that day, Poppy, I wanted nothing more than to make you the happiest woman alive. I hope I’ve managed to do that and more. Now, for my birthday, will you make me the happiest man alive…and say that you’ll be my wife?”

  My head is spinning, my skin flushing hot as I look down at the velvet box opening to reveal a stunning oval diamond that had to be at least three carats, on a gorgeous gold band studded with smaller pave diamonds. “Say yes, Poppy,” he whispers. “Say yes.”

  This is happening.

  This isn’t a dream. Everything is real now. No more wondering when I’ll wake up. This shows Vincent isn’t trying to control his little girlfriend, him asking us to join accounts was almost like a test to see if I was all in, and I almost failed. He loves me and he just wants to share everything with me.

  “Oh my god, Vincent, yes!” I cover my mouth with my right hand, eyes wide, gasping as he reaches out and slides the ring onto my left ring finger. He stands after, grabbing my waist and pulling me against him, lifting me up into the air as he kisses me passionately in front of everyone there.

  “Oh my god, we’re getting married,” I whisper as he sets me down. “Vincent, I can’t believe it…”

  “Believe it,” he says, his tone satisfied. “And maybe now your mother will believe that I’m serious about you. I wanted to do this in front of your family, but…”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper to him again. “I can’t believe she—”

  “Let’s not talk about it,” he says firmly, but with a wide smile. “Let’s just enjoy this moment. Our moment.”

  I nod. “Of course.”

  The rest of the party goes by in a blur. Before I know it, guests are beginning to filter out, and Vincent is guiding me upstairs with his hand on my back, up to the bedroom overlooking the pool deck that we are staying in for the night.

  We walk out onto the balcony, and I breathe in the fresh air. I can smell the fresh night air, the chlorine from the pool, and the spicy scent of Vincent’s cologne as he reaches out and sweeps the hair off of the nape of my neck, dropping a kiss there.

  “I’m going to be your wife,” I murmur, testing out the sound of the word on my lips. It sounds new and fragile, sweet and terrifying all at once. I have no idea what it means to be someone’s wife, what it will feel like. But Vincent’s wife—I have a feeling it will come with a new set of expectations, a new world I will have to learn how to live in.

  He reaches for my waist and spins me around so that my back is against the glass wall of the balcony. He leans forward to kiss me, his lips soft and warm, his mouth tasting of whiskey and cigars. It’s a sweet and smoky taste, not unpleasant, and I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I revel in the brush of his tongue against mine, the growing hardness against my thigh, the pressure of his lean, muscular body. I can feel the desire growing in the pit of my stomach, replacing the nervousness and anxiety and excitement I had been fighting with all night, and I give myself up to the desire, letting it wash over me and push everything else away.

  I feel Vincent’s lips trail down my throat, over my collarbone, down the strip of exposed skin between my breasts. He goes down on his knees then, looking up at me as he runs one hand up the inside of my leg. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I breathe. He inches my dress up my thigh, reaching down to grasp my calf and brace my foot on one of his shoulders. His hand trails inside of my legs, hiking the material up to expose the thin black satin thong that I have on underneath my dress.

  He pushes the scrap of fabric away as if it’s nothing, his fingers running over the flesh between my legs, and I gasp, gripping the balcony railing hard. “I love tasting you,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin as his lips hover just a fraction away from touching me. His tongue flicks out, running along the crease there, and I arch my hips towards his face, all nervousness about being so unsteady on a balcony forgotten. I know what comes next, the delicious feel of his mouth between my thighs, and I want it. I have never had any man do this the way Vincent does. Even thinking about it makes me throb.

  A quiver passes through my body as he reaches up, pushes my skirt the rest of the way up with one decisive motion, and grabs my hips, his mouth pressing against me. I feel the long, slow stroke of his tongue, feel it tease its way briefly inside of me, flicking over my clit quickly and making me moan, my knuckles turning white as I hold on to the railing for dear life.

  It won’t take me long to come, I know. The exposure and danger mixed with the sensation of his warm lips and tongue on me are enough to have me hovering on the edge in a matter of a few minutes, balancing on one five-inch heel, the leg hooked over his shoulder doing very little to keep me steady. I’m panting, gasping for breath as my hips rock against his face, and he holds onto me, his lips sucking my throbbing clit into his mouth as his tongue swirls around it again and again and again…and now my whole body is heaving as an orgasm crashes over me. I repeatedly moan his name, not caring if anyone sees me or hears me. All I care about is the pleasure coursing through my body, the way he keeps going and going until there is nothing left of me, just shuddering aftershocks.

  He stands and turns me sharply, and before I can breathe or think or say anything, he grabs my hips and plunges inside of me. I feel him pressed into me as deeply as he can go, and his release pouring inside of me. I think of what this could have been if I wasn’t on the pill, that our child could be conceived right here, and smile to
myself at the thought. Not that I want a child now. I do definitely want one somewhere in the future—after school, after my first job in my career field, my first published work. I smile at the faraway glimpse of our future.

  I straighten as he slides out of me, my dress slipping down my thighs, and he turns me towards him, kissing me passionately. “I couldn’t go another second not being inside of you.”

  Before I can speak, he sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me into the bedroom. He sets me down gently to my feet, and I feel the zipper of my dress sliding down, his hands skimming over the curves of my body as he peels it off of me. He unhooks the strapless bra, and I let out a soft sigh as it joins my dress on the floor, and then I felt him pushing the thin straps of my thong over my hips.

  This time having sex, it’s sweet and tender, as the first had been rough and urgent. Each thrust into me is slow and measured so that I can feel every inch of him as he kisses my mouth, my throat, my breasts. His hands are everywhere, caressing my nipples, my breasts against his mouth as he licks and kisses, smoothing their way down the curves of my waist as he grips me, each stroke deliberately taking me higher and higher.

  When it’s over, we lay together in bed under the covers, his body curved against mine as he slips into sleep. I can hear his soft snores almost immediately, and I smile as I snuggle into him. I see my ring glinting in the light from the deck outside. I close my eyes, falling into a relaxed sleep.

  Chapter 28

  Rain

  Three years earlier

  Our “spot” is an old abandoned house not far from the school. Surprisingly, we’ve never run into vagrants or wild animals there, but we also never go inside the house.

  He’s waiting for me when I get there. I leave my bicycle next to the steps and join him, sitting down and giving him a small, nervous smile. I have no idea why he wanted to come here tonight—we haven’t since he stood me up after the kiss in the garage.

  He doesn’t say anything when I sit down, just unzips his backpack and pulls out a can of beer for him and a can of hard cider for me.