by Ruby Rowe
“I’m excited and nervous, Sir.” The feather skirts down one arm … then the other. Trembling, I clench my thighs together. “I bet you’re dripping already. Touch yourself. Sink your fingers inside your pussy, and tell me how wet you are.”
My head falls back as his words wrap around my lungs and squeeze. I open my legs, and stick my fingers inside. They slide right in, and I sigh from the sensation. “Now, let me see them.”
Clearing my throat, I pull them out and hold them up. “They’re glistening wet. Since I’m only touching you with the feather, you’ll have to taste them for me.”
My breath hitches, and at once I’m relieved I’m wearing the blindfold. “Put them in your mouth, and suck your juices off. Do it now.” His commanding, dirty words are enough foreplay for me. I wish he’d fuck me already.
I slide my fingers in and taste my arousal. Wanting to please him, I gradually drag my lips from the bottom up, and the guttural sound he makes encourages me to prolong the show.
“Fuck, what you do to me can’t be explained.” I feel the feather again as it roams over my breasts. It teases my nipples, and they throb against the satin of my negligee. The agony of waiting to come is more than I can bear. God, how I need to come.
“Slide your hands over the fabric, and play with your nipples, too.” He brushes the feather along my legs as I savor the feel of the silk on my skin and the way my fingertips pinch my nipples.
As I grope my tits, I feel his gaze on me and picture his hard cock. I imagine his eyes smoldering while I flick at my stiff nipples and fist the nighty at my waist.
Parted lips.
Heaving breaths.
Toes curling against the mattress.
“Fuck, there’s nothing more beautiful than you like this.” Groaning, he taunts the inside of my lower legs, my inner thighs, and my pelvis as I choke the satin with my hand and flick my nipples.
My moans escape, but the weight of the pleasure brings them back like the tide. I exhale them again, each one longer and more audible than the last, the yearning a surge from deep within me.
“Yes … more…” I whisper. The feather tickles the bottoms of my feet and along my shins. My hands move under my nighty, caressing and squeezing my breasts as the feather skims over my upper arms and top of my chest. “I’m so wet. I’m so–so …”
“Ready to come. Wrap your fingers around your necklace, Camilla.”
Leaving one hand to play with my nipple, I grab hold of the necklace. I’m begging for a release like I’m begging for air.
“Come, my Rose. Come now.”
An orgasm ricochets through me, shattering me like bullets on glass. I’m fisting the necklace–clenching my breast and digging my heels in the bed, much like the ecstasy’s digging its claws in me, its strength unrelenting.
Ellis jerks off my blindfold, so I snap my eyelids shut. He shoves between my legs and plunges inside of me. Grabbing the headboard behind me, he lifts one of my legs, straightening it between us. It allows him more room to pound into me, to go deeper, to claim the last of my energy.
He’s merciless in his thrusts, and my head beats against the bed. He’s stretching my leg, pinning me between him and the headboard like a pretzel.
So turned on, it doesn’t take him long to erupt inside me. He sinks deeper, the pulsing powerful as his hand clamps around my ankle and his forehead presses against it.
The heat radiates off our skin, and air whips from our lungs. Every time I think our souls couldn’t be more tightly woven, I’m mistaken. Lowering my leg, he falls beside me and grips the front of his hair.
“I want to believe I’m controlling you, but it’s all a façade.” Rolling to his side, he kisses my shoulder. “There’s an invisible collar around my neck that’s tethered to you, Camilla. I’m irrevocably yours.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sasha
I’m in the family room, trying not to listen to Ellis and Camilla talk about me down the hall. Irritated that he has to attend Greyson’s engagement party alone, he’s still trying to convince her to go.
I told her I’m fine alone, but she won’t budge, which means I was likely moved off the Ellis nice list, considering how severe his social anxiety is.
My phone buzzes in my lap, startling me. Holy shit–Greyson. I flip my phone over on my thigh to hide the screen. I don’t know if I can handle a text from him. Why the hell is he texting me an hour before his party? Maybe … just maybe. I turn over my phone.
Greyson: Tell me what a mistake I’m making.
Figures. I’m not begging. He already knows it’s a mistake, but he’s a coward and doesn’t want to step outside the only world he’s known. The only relationship he’s known.
I had to live with parents who pimped me out for drugs. All he has to do is tell his parents he wants to marry someone for love. I guess things are only as bad as what you’ve known.
Me: No, and you’re an asshole for texting me tonight.
Greyson: Then please, tell this asshole something funny.
I envision my phone flying through the picture window in front of me. My anger spills over in the form of tears, but it’s anger over how I can’t be angry at him. He was my friend first, and no matter how big of a penis he’s being, I’ll always owe him my life.
Me: Considering the lavish party I imagine you’re attending, I suggest eating the fish eggs on crackers. I hear it’s a party in your mouth.
Greyson: You lie, woman. I’ve already had caviar, and it tastes like cat food and ass.
I bust out laughing but sigh once I picture his dimples that wain and leave only his sorrowful eyes.
Me: OK, then if there’s red velvet cake, have a bite for me. It’s even better than a party of fish eggs. It’s truly Christmas in your mouth.
Greyson: Sasha … I miss you.
Covering my mouth, I squeeze my eyelids shut, but my stupid eyes leak, anyway. I muffle my sob with my hand and find my strength to reply.
Me: Someone once told me to be the daring eagle who spreads his wings and soars above the clouds. Maybe you should take his advice. Be daring, Greyson. I hear there are rainbows and unicorns up there … maybe Skittles, too.
Shutting off my phone, I say a prayer that he never contacts me again.
Greyson
I pace in my old bedroom at my parents’ home. It’s like a college dorm room in here, and at this moment, I’m spiraling out of control like I was back in those days. What I wouldn’t give for a drug-induced escape.
Sasha … fuck, I miss her. While texting her, I could picture her smiling face and those golden-brown eyes. I could also imagine the pain I was causing her, and I hate myself for it, but I don’t only want her like before; now, I need her.
So, I was a selfish prick yet again and stole another perfect moment with her. I never dreamed when I met her that she’d end up teaching me how to live … or how to love.
I hear voices in the hall. I’m sure Whitney’s grating tone will be next as she hunts me down. I should’ve picked a better hiding place.
Deciding I need a longer reprieve, I sneak out and head toward my father’s study. As I start to open the door off the hallway, I hear him inside talking to Ellis.
“You tell him about the money right now, or I’m doing it.”
“Fine, but it’s not going to change a damn thing other than piss him off. He’s not gonna give up seventy-five million dollars, especially when he learns I have to do the same.”
“It’s his decision to make.”
I swing open the door. “What decision is mine to make? And what’s this about seventy-five mill.”
“Close the door,” Dad says before he tugs on his black cowboy hat.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“I came to see Uncle Rich recently to convince him that you shouldn’t be expected to marry Whitney, and he told me something he’s been hiding.”
“Now, son, I had good reason.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. What is it?”
> “Your grandfather Orson left a trust for you that wasn’t connected to the will. You’ll receive seventy-five million dollars when you’re thirty-five, but only if you’re married to Whitney.”
“Damn, that’s a lot of money. A ton of money.” I narrow my eyes on him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your mother thought it’d be too upsetting for you to know Orson pulled a stunt like this, especially once you found out Lawrence got his inheritance when your grandfather died.”
I begin to pace the floor. “Let me guess. He put conditions on mine because I didn’t join Gant-Peterson, and you’ve been pressuring me to marry Whitney so I’ll inherit the money.”
“Yes, but also so I’ll inherit money. As added insurance that you’d go through with the wedding, he set up a trust for me in the same amount, but I don’t get my share, either, unless you marry Whitney.”
“Seventy-five million dollars. Fuck, that’s so much money.”
“But you have millions of dollars, and you can make more. You’re great at what you do,” Ellis says.
I look at my father with disgust. “If this decision wasn’t fucking hard enough, you just made it seventy-five million times harder.”
Unable to breathe, I rip off my tie.
“Son, I’ll make a deal with you. Marry the Peterson girl. If after you get the money, you’re still not in love with her, then I’ll accept you getting a divorce. Just don’t tell the Petersons I said that because I’ll deny every word.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I ask. “Do you even care if I’m happy like you and Mom?”
“You can divorce her in about five years. I don’t think that’s too long of a marriage for this kind of payout. Find some pussy on the side until then. After the divorce, you can marry for love.”
Ellis rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe the respect I’ve held for you all these years.”
“Oh, don’t give me that horseshit. If you hadn’t fallen in love with Camilla, you’d be telling him to take the money, too.”
“You’re probably right. I can admit that, but now I see what’s important, and that’s partly because I have a son. I’d never expect him to make this choice, and you shouldn’t expect it from Greyson, either. You’re a billionaire, for christ’s sake. How greedy is this family?”
Ellis clutches his hips. “I can’t stay here and pretend this engagement’s OK when I have Camilla at home holding Sasha together. You love her, so do the right thing here.
“If you don’t, next you’ll be working at Gant-Peterson and having kids with a woman you don’t love while you’re both whoring your way through Denver. I’ll be at home, and so will Sasha.”
Ellis marches past me, and I look to the ceiling.
“He’s not saying you love that junkie you had living with you, is he? Whitney told me all about her.” I charge across the room, forcing my father to step back until he’s against his desk.
I point in his face. “She’s not a junkie. You don’t know shit about her.”
“Exactly. I don’t know anything about her or her family. She’s nobody, son. Whitney’s gorgeous, educated and a Peterson. Don’t you want to be a part of the Gant-Peterson empire?”
I shake my head. “No, Dad, I don’t. I love the business I’ve built, and if Orson were here, I’d tell him to shove his money up his ass.
“If you’re going to stay angry with me for not adding millions to your existing billions, then tell me now so I know to never walk through that door again, but right now, I’m going to get my girl.”
I leave my father alone, and as I reach the end of the hallway, Whitney rounds the corner.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. The wedding planner wants to announce us and welcome everyone.”
“We need to talk.” Grabbing her arm, I drag her into my mother’s sewing room. “I can’t marry—”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Her arms come up. “You don’t get to do this now.”
“Listen to me.” I take her hands in mine, but she yanks them away. Her eyes are round, her mouth agape.
“Greyson, please don’t.”
“Did you know about the trust Orson left me?”
“You know?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Our parents made me promise not to, but I swear I don’t only want the money.”
“It doesn’t matter. All I care about right now is calling off this phony engagement.” Grabbing her hands again, I hold them tight as tears pool in her eyes.
“I know it’s going to be humiliating, but screw all those people out there. Don’t worry about what they think. Only focus on what you want, and I know I’m not it.”
“But Daddy will think I failed him.”
“He won’t. He loves you more than anything. I’ll take the blame and tell the wedding planner I called it off. Go be with Sebastian. I know he’s who you want.”
Before she can object again, I kiss her forehead and leave her alone, for good this time.
Camilla
“I want to put the sprinkles on the cookies,” Liam announces as he reaches up for a jar of them on the island. Handing them to him, I snicker over how cute he is in his little brown glasses.
He hated them and kept removing them on the way home, but once Ellis told him they were his super powers and would make him see better than anyone else on the planet, he was sold.
That earned Ellis not only brownie points but the real brownies I’m making for him right now. I’m sure he’ll be a bear when he gets home from the engagement party this evening, so I’m hoping sweets will help turn his mood around.
Liam jogs over to the dinette set we’ve covered in a few different kinds of cookies. If my kid gets his way, there’ll be bright sprinkles on each one of them.
In her tiny denim shorts, Sasha’s sitting in a chair with her foot propped up on the seat. I can hear her music from her earbuds as she stares out the kitchen window. She’s twirling a piece of her hair that’s fallen from her messy bun.
I tap her shoulder. “Sis, are you OK?”
She turns to face me. “Like the last ten times you asked, I’m good. I need to stay busy, is all.” Removing one earbud, she finds a smile for Liam. “Do you want help putting on the sprinkles?”
The doorbell rings.
“I wanna answer it,” he yells before he hands her the jar. “Here, you do it, but don’t put them on the chocolate chip ones. Those are Boss-Daddy’s, and he told me no sprinkles.” He gives her a look of warning I’ve seen too often from his father.
“Liam, wait for me,” I call out as he runs from the kitchen. Maybe it’s one of the security men needing something. With both hands on the knob, Liam pulls the door back, and Emma steps right in.
There’s a look of horror on her face, and then I see them–the gun and Christopher. He shoves her forward and snatches Liam right up in his arms.
“Liam!” Emma screams as I charge toward them. Chris jerks the gun up to Liam’s temple, so I freeze.
“Don’t even think about it. Both of you, get back now.” Emma cries, and I fight not to do the same.
“Chris, what are you doing? I know you don’t want to harm him.”
“Momma.” Whimpering, Liam strains his head back to look at Christopher.
“You’re right. I don’t want to hurt him, but I will if I have to, so you’re going to do exactly as I say if you want him back.”
“Camilla, I’m so sorry,” Emma says through her tears. “He came to my apartment and forced me to drive here so he could get through the gate.”
“Why don’t you let Emma take Liam upstairs, and you and I can talk this out.”
He sneers, “Do you think I’m that stupid?”
“I only want to help. Something’s wrong with you, Chris, and we’ll get you the mental help that you need.”
“There’s not a damn thing wrong with me. I’m here to get what’s rightfully mine.”
“What’s that? Is it money? I’ll call
Ellis—”
“Don’t reach for your phone!” he yells, pointing the gun in my direction.
I hold my hands up. “OK, what if I go to the bank with you? I have a lot of money in my account.”
He laughs. “You don’t have the kind of money I’m looking for. Now, listen to me. I’m taking Liam, and then I’m going to call Ellis with instructions on how to get me the money. If he does what I say, I’ll leave Liam somewhere safe and sound.”
Covering my mouth, I envision the worst.
“No, Christopher. Please, I’ll do anything you ask. Ellis will pay a ransom for me, too. I know it, so take me instead.”
“Mommy!” Liam stretches his arms out for me, but Chris only brings him in closer as he takes steps backward.
“No, Ellis deserves to feel the pain of missing his child, wondering if he’ll get him back. You screwed up everything by going to that funeral home.
“If you’d listened to me, we’d be on a fucking island right now with a mountain of cash. Oh, wait, no, you screwed up that plan long before when you got pregnant by Ellis instead of Tony.”
As if he’s calming the fury within him, he closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head. The pistol is bouncing by Liam’s head again, and I’m dying inside.
“You know, I killed Tony so you’d collect the inheritance for Liam, but you fucked up everything by being a slut. You didn’t want me. No, you had your eyes set on the money, too.
“I wasted years orchestrating that plan. My brother had it so fucking good compared to me, and I deserved my share.”
“I can get you your share.”
“Shut up! He was supposed to leave it all to Liam, and he even lied to me about that, giving Ellis everything instead. He never accepted me as a brother.”
My son cries from Chris’s thundering voice. Emma’s sobbing next to me, and I’m trying to stay upright to process Christopher’s confession and a way out of this nightmare.
Sasha.
Maybe she called the police. Liam begins kicking his legs, trying to free himself, so Chris backs up even closer to the door.
“You’re not leaving with him!” I shout.
