by K. Webster
Another finger joins the first as he stretches me open, finding places inside me that have me seeing stars. I’m vaguely aware of him stripping off the rest of his clothes while never losing his stride as he fingerfucks me. He rubs against my G-spot, finding it like he’s memorized the location and easily brings me to an earth-shattering orgasm. I chant his name like it’s the only one I know. My legs quaver as pleasure continues to ripple through me. I’ve barely come down before his fingers leave my body, smearing the arousal on my ass cheek. Once more, he pulls aside my thong, this time it’s his cock entering me.
This man is big.
So big and sure of the way he fucks.
Arrogant in the bedroom like he is in the boardroom.
And I love it.
I love him.
I’d wanted to tell him yesterday but he wouldn’t let me. Stopped me before it even left my mouth. As much as I want to blurt it out today, I bite down on the words, saving them for another day. A day when he’ll be ready to receive them.
His hand cracks against my ass, drawing me from my head to the physical act. Winston Constantine consumes me. Powerful body, alluring and masculine scent, vicious grunts of bliss. I give all of me to him, letting him fuck away this anger that’s burning inside him. He can’t be mad forever. We’re too good together to be distracted by such an unhelpful emotion. The sooner he gets back to trusting me, the better.
Fingers bite into my hips, bruising my flesh as he pounds into me hard enough the slaps of our skin are ricocheting all around us. I fist the blankets, overwhelmed by the fullness of him. His dick rubs me in a delicious way, teasing over the still swollen and sensitive G-spot he’d rubbed to ecstasy only moments ago.
I lose control, the world spinning around me as I scream out something garbled and frantic. It sets him off because a few more thrusts and he’s coming inside me, filling me up impossibly with more come. All too soon, though, he pulls out abruptly, leaving me achingly empty.
My body collapses onto the bed, my chest heaving. Tears spring in my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m overcome with emotion all of a sudden, but I have to bite on my lip hard to keep the tears from falling. I can hear him moving about the apartment which I can only assume he’s dressing to leave.
“Messy girl,” he croons, a warm cloth swiping across my thighs and then between my legs. “First you make a mess of your life and now you make a mess all over your bed.”
The tears do sneak out this time.
His words are meant to mess with me but they feel every bit as tender as his touch. We have to be okay. We have to.
Because if we don’t make it through to the other side…
I won’t survive it.
How does one have Winston Constantine and ever go back to life as it was?
The answer is you can’t.
He’s changed me and I don’t ever want to be the person who I was before I knew him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Winston
She’s crying.
Of all the shit that should have made her cry, I’m confused as to why she’s upset. She got what she wanted. She got me.
After cleaning us up, I steal her phone charger and plug in my phone. I set it on the end table before sliding into the bed. Grabbing hold of her arms, I haul her up to me. She tugs the blanket to cover us up and buries her tearstained face against my chest. Neither of us speak. I absently twirl my fingers around a strand of her hair that’s come loose of her bun.
It’s moments like these I almost forget who I am.
When it’s quiet and we’re both sated, I can turn off my mind and just…feel. I like the way her soft breaths tickle over my pectoral muscle, tightening my nipple. The scent of sex in the air lingers—sweet and sweaty. How her leg hooks over mine as if she has the strength to lock me in her hold forever.
I run my fingertips along her silky skin, letting them trail to the crack of her ass. She shivers which draws a smile across my lips.
My smile falls when I think about Ulrich’s call earlier. He had info on Manda. I’d asked him to find whatever he could on her. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. He says he’s found a picture of Manda when she was pregnant with the triplets—a picture where Meredith is in it. I’m supposed to meet up with him in the morning to see that and whatever else he’s uncovered.
Manda Mannford and her affiliation with Meredith should be the last thing on my mind. The Morellis and the motherfucking media are my biggest concerns at the moment. But there’s a nagging feeling that settles in my bones that I can’t ignore. Besides, if Manda becomes a problem, regarding her horrible fucking children, having anything I can against her will be necessary.
“Win?”
“What?”
“I saw my dad today.”
“Lovely.”
I can feel her smile against my chest at my smartass response. “He said my mom gave up her inheritance for him.”
“Don’t get any grandiose ideas, Cinderelliott. I quite like being rich. Your pussy isn’t that addictive.”
“But you do admit it’s a little addictive?”
“Always fishing.”
She laughs which I prefer over her tears. “I love my dad, but he sort of gave up on me. He chose her.”
I know exactly who her is.
Her evil stepmother.
“You gave him an ultimatum?”
“I told him everything…” She pauses. “Not what you did to the triplets, but everything else. How we met. Our relationship. Leo getting involved. Your mother and siblings. And I told him that had you not called the police that day, Scout would have raped me and his brothers would have watched.”
The crack in her voice has me grinding my teeth together. “And?”
“He said I need to just let you protect me.”
“Better yet, my money to protect you.”
“This is coming from the same man who walked away from money for the love of his life. Now, all these years later, he’s telling me to choose money. So I can protect myself.”
Irritation prickles through me like pinches on my skin. “Your father has proven himself time and time again of being a spineless bastard with his nose so far up Manda’s ass he can’t see the world around him.”
“The thing is, I don’t care about stupid money. I must be like Mom because if you were penniless, I’d still want you. We’re a match, Win. A great one. You’d protect me even if you were poor because that’s who you are. You care about me.”
I don’t ever want to imagine a scenario where money, and lots of it, isn’t at my fingertips.
“Go to sleep,” I grumble. “I’m not in the mood for heart-to-hearts.”
She obeys me and goes silent. For all of five minutes. Then, almost nervously, she runs her thumb over my nipple. It’s annoying, so I capture her hand in mine but don’t let go.
“Why is Nate so obsessed with you?”
The question comes so far out of left field, I get clobbered with it. Confusion sets in as I try to comprehend what she even means by this.
“I don’t follow.”
“Me, for instance,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “He hates me.”
“Because he thinks you’re a gold-digging whore. But can you blame him? Have you seen the news?”
She huffs out a breath of frustration. I won’t admit it to her, because I’m not sure what goes on inside her head all the time and who she shares that with, but I know something is off with Nate. His desperation to separate me from her is…concerning. Which is why I’ll deal with it. It’s none of her business and I can handle my own shit.
“I don’t like him.”
“Why don’t you add that to your diary too, little girl?”
“I’m being serious.” She sits up, her hair bedraggled and wild. So fucking pretty. “He’s shady.”
“That’s all you’ve got? Just so we’re clear, you were shady, too. You got busted slumming it with a Morelli. If we’re comparing offenses, yours is much, much worse
since you know how much I hate those fuckers.”
“I think he’s up to something,” she continues, undeterred. “Did you take your key back from him or was that a lie? What about the woman who’s his ‘baby.’ Did you even know he was dating someone?”
Interesting. But still not her problem. I’ll handle this. I always do. My way. The right way. Ash has proven her methods—as proven with the Morelli situation—are fucking terrible.
“I don’t care about Nate’s love life,” I lie. If he’s keeping secrets from me, I care. And I will unearth them.
“Really? Because he really cares about yours.”
“Again, it doesn’t matter. Nate’s always been that way. Ever since prep school.”
“Yeah,” she spits out, a flash of irritation on her features. “He said he gets all your leftovers.” She shudders, darting her eyes away from mine.
That one move makes my blood run cold.
“At least you have a pair of arms to land in when we’re done playing.”
Her pouty dick-sucking lips part as she sucks in a shocked gasp. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“I told you. That ship sailed a long time ago. Go to sleep.”
“I would never willingly touch him.” She cringes at the thought. “He’s no better than my stepbrothers.”
I hold her stare for a long beat and then I take my out. “If you’re going to spend all night trying to drive a wedge between me and my best friend, you can waste those efforts on someone else. I’m sure Shrimp would love to hear all your conspiracy theories.”
“Win…”
“I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
“You’re going to renege on your deal? Since when, Constantine?” Her eyes are hot with anger. “This isn’t your style.”
“And fucking poor, lying maids isn’t either but here we are. It appears I’m doing all sorts of new activities I’d never see myself doing.” I slide out of bed to start yanking on my clothes.
“You can’t do this,” she hisses, sitting up on her knees, hot as hell naked and temptation personified. “Don’t go. This is a breach of our agreement.”
“Sue me.” I smirk at her. “We both know I have more money. You’ll run out of steam long before I do, little girl.”
“This makes you a liar, Win.” Her gaze hardens. “This makes us even.”
I throw on the rest of my clothes and then start for the door. “I’ll send Daniel again in the morning. Don’t be late.”
“Winston!”
“Go to sleep, Ash. For fuck’s sake, just go to sleep and let me go.”
* * *
Turns out, I obviously didn’t want to sleep alone. My dick and my mind both punished me after walking out on Ash last night. I was tortured with memories of the evening which only served to make my dick hard. I’d slept fitfully and now I’m grumpier than usual.
“Sir,” Deborah says from my doorway, “your eight o’clock is here.”
“Send him in. And bring me more coffee.”
She scurries off. Seconds later, Ulrich saunters in. At six and a half feet tall, Ulrich is a Russian giant who towers over everyone in sight. Since he was tall for his age, growing up, his mother would use him to help her con men out of money. He’d pretend to be her abusive boyfriend or some shit, and when the mark came to her aide, she’d rob them clean. Poor Ulrich took a lot of ass beatings, hence his horribly crooked nose, but it also made him a bit fearless. Once, he tried to scam Dad, before I was born, but my father was quicker at putting the pieces together than most men. When he called them out on it, Ulrich’s mother took off running, leaving her son to deal with the aftermath. Dad offered him a job, at first getting information from enemies, and it only escalated from there. The only caveat was he wasn’t allowed to go crawling back to his manipulative mother who used him for her own gain. In return, Dad took care of Ulrich. Now, all these years later, I’m the one taking care of him.
Luckily, he’s worth his weight in gold.
Ulrich drops into a seat, reeking of stale cigarette smoke, smacking his file folder down on the desk with a thwap and sending his smell my way. It makes my eye twitch knowing the scent will linger. If my maid wasn’t so useless, I’d have her do something about it.
“What do you have for me?” I ask, cutting straight to business.
As promised, Ulrich pulls a photo from his file folder and slides it over to me. “This for starters.”
I pick the aged photograph up by the corner and bring it closer so I can see it. My heart does a regretful twist at the image of Meredith when she was younger, around the age when I’d stopped dating her if I had to guess. Her golden-blond hair curled under back then giving her a wholesome look. Little did I know, it was all an act. She had no problems luring Vincent Morelli into her bed. My gaze slides over to the other woman in the picture. Manda. Back then she was older, maybe nineteen or twenty or so. You can’t tell for sure that Manda is pregnant, but the way her hand cradles her stomach, it’s pretty obvious.
“They go way back,” Ulrich explains.
“I didn’t know they were friends back then.”
Deborah hurries in to drop off my coffee and keeps her eyes averted while doing so. When she’s gone, Ulrich speaks again.
“It wasn’t common knowledge,” he says, tossing another picture of them, this time with them both in evening gowns. “Back when Manda got pregnant, she was barely making a name for herself in the social circle. She’d come into some money, though she remained tightlipped about it. After you and her split, Meredith had gone to some rich women’s retreat up north.” He shoves a copy of an email at me. “They were both there. It was after that they were inseparable.”
I thumb through the file. It amazes me how resourceful this guy is. Over the years, he’s learned some tricks and made some connections. Plus, he has damn near an unlimited amount of my money to work with and make shit happen.
“Check this out,” he says, thumping the folder, “half of those botched surgeries I found the other day were of women who they also went to this retreat with.”
That sparks my interest. “Do you have a list of all the names?”
“You know I do.”
I scan the list, recognizing many of them. “Seems suspect that those surgeries also came from this group of women. Some kind of catty revenge?”
“Women can be bitches. Especially rich ones. Who the hell knows what happened to piss Manda off, but I’d say she got them back with fucked-up boob jobs and shit.” He points at another paper in the file. “And there’s this. Thought it might prove to be useful.”
Meredith’s social calendar. And she has an upcoming appointment labeled “lunch to discuss Paris.” Interesting.
Not that I would give a fuck before, but now that I know she’s involved this deeply with Manda, I have a more vested interest. The mention of Paris has the wheels turning in my head.
“This is good,” I commend. “Find out the details on where Manda met Baron Elliott. I want all the specifics on how that union came to be.”
He winks at me. “Don’t worry, my man. Your momma has me already looking into it.”
Ash’s life was always going to be up for scrutiny simply by being involved with me. I knew Mother would eventually start shredding it to bits. Considering the way she behaved at my birthday ball inviting Meredith and feigning shock when she’d been offered the introduction to Manda, I’d say Mother has been sniffing out this bone long before me.
“Let me know what you find out. I’d rather just get what I need from you rather than cross-referencing notes with my mother.”
“You got it, boss.” He tips his head at me. “If they’re hiding something, I’ll find it. It’s what I’m good at.”
I’m counting on it.
I can’t be the king of the whole goddamn city if there are snakes slithering around with secrets I don’t know about. The thing with snakes, though, is they always strike. You just have to be ready to grab them by the throat when they do.
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br /> And then you cut off their heads.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ash
Three days.
Winston has gotten away with ignoring me for three days because he’s been slammed busy with meetings with his attorneys, some creepy tall guy, and Nate. The last one bothers me the most for some reason.
He’s the reason, after all, Win bailed on me.
I’m still mad that he’d do such a thing. Since when does he ever back down from a challenge?
Since you became too much of one…
I let the self-doubt trickle through me for only a second before I push it away. Nate was clearly a touchy subject which makes me want to poke at it more. I’m tempted to go snooping around in his office again, but the last time I peeked into his drawer, the look of pure hatred he gave me chilled me to my bones.
Don’t touch my things.
Not eager to get myself locked away in his office with him. Luckily, despite Win’s ignoring me, he’s put me back with Perry. At least Perry’s my friend, not counting when he was being a dick at lunch with Tate. The workday isn’t so horrible when I spend it with Perry.
“When will Win be back?” I ask Deborah, though it kills me to have to do so.
A smug grin teases her lips. “He’s out with Mr. Lambruski. Taking care of…” She trails off, her lip curling up as she flitters her fingers my way. “You know what.”
The scandal that keeps growing with each passing day rather than going away. Just this morning, I was horrified to find a journalist outside my apartment. Daniel had to practically manhandle me into the car to keep me protected from the guy.
Whore apartment, I correct.
It’s hard to think of it as a whore apartment though. Especially since I spent my lunch hour yesterday buying new plants and décor for it. I even got a pretty new bedspread and a matching rug. It’s feeling a lot more like home.
“Can you tell him to come see me after?” I grit out since he’s not been responding to my texts either.
More ammunition for this hag.
“Oh,” she says, making a fake sad face, “I’m afraid he can’t do that. He has a lunch date with Layla Reynard.” She lowers her voice. “Between us, I think this is exactly what he needs to take the heat off him. She’s his age and of his same caliber. It really is for the best. I hope you understand.”
