by S. Ann Cole
Abruptly, he reaches out to turn off the shower, while ordering me to hold on tight as he cleaves me away from the wall.
He steps out of the shower with me still wrapped around him like a Koala, water dripping from our bodies as he strides into the bedroom, all while still buried inside me.
He lays me down on the bed. Sucks a nipple into his mouth, licking and nipping, while moving painfully slowly inside me.
Freaking hell, this man is going to kill me.
Reaching down between us, he massages my clit. Soft, caressing, and careful—a testament to his expertise and experience. Before I realize it, I’m erupting like a volcano.
Skillful as all get out, he knows that after a woman has already orgasmed, you don’t just rub her clit like a goddamn eraser, but tease and coax that little bundle of nerves until it explodes.
I want to own this man.
His mouth catches mine mid-cry, stealing my soul. He knots our fingers together and positions my arms above my head.
His hips roll, slow and deliberate.
My walls clench around him and he groans. I rock my hips up and meet his.
Slow and steady we go, kissing, rolling, rocking, thrusting.
Our lips separate when he lifts his head, catching my gaze. “Give me what I want, Serena.”
I want to touch his gorgeous face but my hands are pinned. I tip my face up, silently begging for his lips again.
“Yeah?” he prods.
I don’t answer. I buck my hips bucks up against his thrust and his nose flares, overcome with pleasure.
“Say yes,” he begs. “Say it.”
Exclusivity.
He’s asking for something he already has. He just doesn’t know it. I don’t want anyone but him. But see, being rich doesn’t mean you can have whatever you want. Sometimes it’s either/or. And I choose or.
When he realizes I’m not going to give it to him, he lets go of my hands and pushes up on his knees. Grips my hips and jerks them up off the bed.
He pounds me.
Hard.
Harder.
Even harder.
Eyes locked on mine the entire time.
His grip is preventing me from throwing it back at him. That’s how he wants it. To be in control. To dominate. So I grip the sheets and brace up, taking it like a woman, without pleading or complaining.
When thick, crooked veins start bulging in his neck, I know he’s about to come.
I bite my lip and teasingly drag my teeth across it. Yes, baby, explode inside me. Let me milk you for all you’re worth.
His body jerks, and then he’s no longer inside me. White-hot liquid spurts all over my belly.
What the—No! No. No. No! I needed that! Inside me! Why the hell did he do that?!
I fist a handful of sheets and bite my tongue. I’m so pissed right now I could curse him. But what the hell would I say? Anyone who’s not trying to get pregnant would be glad he pulled out. Shit.
He’s watching me suspiciously closely, even as his body spasms.
“Thanks for doing that,” I pant, the words burning my tongue. “We’ve been pretty reckless, haven’t we?”
Wordlessly, he pulls me up by my arms, cups my face and kisses me.
Long, deep, fervent.
He scoops me up, takes me back to the shower, and bathes it all away.
And I wonder, would he have pulled out had I said yes?
Thirty – Five - Serena
“Because now is the only time we have.”
Naked and damp, I stand in front of the dresser towel-drying my hair.
Kholton is on the bed behind me, propped up on one elbow, also naked and watching me with an indiscernible expression.
It’s making me self-conscious. Nervous.
“What?” I ask his reflection in the mirror. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He lies back and clasps his hands behind his head. “Just imagining what you’d look like all fat and swollen with my baby inside you.”
I’m certain my heart has stopped beating. I’m not breathing, am I? What the heck?
Slapped mute by his words, I duck my head so damp strands fall forward to hide my face. With anxious hands, I open drawers and blindly dig around for clothes. I haul on the first piece of cotton my hands come in contact with.
“Babe?”
I raise my head. Find his gaze in the mirror. “Hmm?”
There’s a smile in his voice when he says, “Your dress is on backward.”
I glance down and sure enough, the tag that should be at the back is sticking up under my chin. Dammit. I quickly take it off and put it back on correctly.
“You okay?” he asks.
I toss the towel in the hamper before padding over to the bed. I crawl between his legs and sit back on mine. “Yeah. I’m okay. You just surprised me, is all.”
“How so?”
“You never…” I wag my head. “Kids? You never struck me as the type who’d be interested in kids.”
A frown forms between his brows and he props up on his elbows again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating how to go about this. I’m not sure what I’m looking for here. Would it even matter if he’s interested in kids? I’m looking for a donor, not a father.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I say, “but you’re kind of…unstable.”
When he raises a censorious brow at me, I blurt out, “See? You’re taking it the wrong way.”
As he opens his mouth to speak, I hold up a hand to stop him, “Wait, let me explain.”
He nods and lies back down.
“What I mean is, you do a lot. And I mean, a lot. You’re sort of all over the place, you know?” I pause and twist my lips. “For instance, I’ve been here for the past four days and I’ve hardly seen you. You’re not exactly…predictable, you know? And that’s totally fine. But people like that don’t usually talk babies.”
Hoping he doesn’t feel offended, I bite my lip and wait. But he merely studies me, his silver gaze roaming over my face.
Finally, he asks, “Do you want a baby?”
I blink. Then again. And again. Why does it feel as if he’s giving me a chance to come clean?
“Well, I, uh, I’ve never actually thought about it.” I pick imaginary lint off the sheets. “Would you, um, want to have a baby with me?”
He bites one side of his bottom lip. “Nah.”
What? After all—
“I’d want a family with you,” he says. “Not a baby-mama. The woman who’ll be having my babies, will also have my last name.”
Welp. There you go. I was right. He wouldn’t have gone for it, wouldn’t have agreed to give up all claims to the baby. He wants the real deal. The full package. None of my nonsense
We sit there staring at each other for so long it starts to feel uncomfortable. Mercifully, the quiet is soon punctured by the screech of a phone. My phone.
That’s my father’s ring tone.
Grateful for the interruption, I lurch off the bed and scramble to the dresser for my phone. “Hey, Daddy.”
“‘Rena.” He sounds strange. “Did you move it?”
“Move what?”
“The brooch.”
I go still. “No. I didn’t. It’s exactly where it’s always been.”
“Sweetheart…it’s not here.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Daddy. No one knew where that was hidden. Not even you until I told you just last night.”
“They’re here, ‘Rena.” The stress in his voice is palpable. “They are refusing to sign the papers until they get it.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Okay, um… Stall them. I’m on my way.” I’m already in the closet, grabbing shoes and my handbag. “Tell them you’re waiting on me, that you won’t start anything without me there, or something. Alright?”
A long pause. “’Rena, are you sure—”
“Yes, Daddy. I can face them,” I assur
e him. “I’m alright now. Khol took good care of me. Just stall them.”
“Okay.” A longer pause. “Okay.”
He’s reluctant to hang up, so I do it for him and promptly call an Uber. He’s concerned for me. The last time those two demons showed up, it led me to sleepless nights and a nervous breakdown.
But I will give those assholes no more power over me. If I have to dig into my trust-fund to get rid of them, I will. Whatever it takes to get them out of our goddamn lives for good.
“Everything alright?” Kholton asks when I plop down at the edge of the bed to strap on a pair of slippers.
“Yeah,” I clip. “Family stuff.”
I’d told him about my biological parents showing up, but I hadn’t divulged why they resurfaced. Not only is it none of his business, but it’s also embarrassing. Being blackmailed, especially about something so deeply personal, is not something you go around telling people. “I have to go, though.”
“I understand that it’s a family matter.” He gets out of bed and treks over to the chest-of-drawers. “But is everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, things are fine,” I lie. “Just a minor setback with an important issue.”
Grabbing my handbag, I beeline for the door, but he intersects me.
Impatient, I stare up at him, waiting for him to speak.
He doesn’t. He just gazes down at me with this strange expression, and then slams his lips to mine. No warning.
I’m irritated at first, but then I kiss him back. Because, well, he’s Kholton. He’s everything for me.
Breaking the kiss, he sweeps a lock of hair behind my ear, silver eyes everywhere on my face, as if taking mental snapshots.
“Khol, I have to—”
“Your Uber isn’t here yet.”
“We can’t know that from up here,” I argue.
“Do you feel anything for me, Serena?”
What? Why is he asking me this now? “What?”
“Tell me,” he demands. “I need it before you go.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why now?”
“Because now is the only time we have.”
What does that even mean? “Do you feel anything for me?” I return the question instead of answering.
“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Everything and anything possible for one human being to feel for another human being, I feel it for you.”
Wow. “Even hate?”
“More like resentment,” he admits.
Understandable. I resent him sometimes, too.
“So, do you?” he nudges, head bent, waiting for the answer.
Yes. Everything and anything possible for one human being to feel for another human being, I feel it for you.
Uneasy, I shift on my feet. “Can we talk about this some other time, please? I really need to go.”
His silver eyes turn to black ice. “You’re the most selfish fucking person I’ve ever met in my entire fucking life,” he growls at me. “And we live in New York!”
I jerk back, slapped by his sudden outburst. “What? What did I do? What’s your problem?”
“You are my problem.” He takes a step back from me. “It’s always about you, Serena. Always about you and what you want.”
He turns away from me and shoves his hand through his hair. “You’re a taker, Serena. That’s what you are. You just take and take and take and you never give. And I’m so goddamn gone over you that I just let you. Shit, I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
He’s ‘gone over me’? Since when?
Maybe if I wasn’t so consumed with the two biological problems waiting at home right now, I’d be able to see through what all this is about. But at this juncture, I have to choose between Kholton and my father. And I choose my father.
“What do you want me to say, Khol?”
“Nothing,” he replies with his back to me. “It’s too late anyway.”
Huh? What’s too late?
There’s a knock at the door. I go to answer it and find Brian on the other side.
“Hey, Serena.” He gives me a small smile. A kind smile. And if that’s not odd, I don’t know what is. The only time this dickhead smiles—or rather grins—at me, is when he’s mocking me. Here, he’s almost…nice. “You called an Uber?”
“Yeah, it’s here?”
He jerks a nod and moves aside for me to pass him.
Kholton turns and starts to follow me through the door. “Serena.”
“I’ll call you when I get home, okay?” I tell him over Brian’s shoulder.
He makes to come after me again, but Brian puts a hand to his chest and shoves him back into the room. “Let her go, man. It’s done.”
Our eyes lock over Brian’s shoulder. He seems…apologetic. Anxious.
Brian steps into the room and begins to slowly ease the door shut, so as not to slam it in my face. “We need to talk.”
We hold each other’s gazes until the door clicks shut and all I’m staring at is wood.
That sound, the click of the door, is suddenly the most ominous sound I’ve ever heard. Something is wrong. I feel as if I should be worried, as if I should go back in there and tell him how I truly feel about him instead of being such a coward.
My heart has always belonged to my father. Even when I was with Max. Now? My heart is split into two pieces, one significantly larger than the other. That larger piece is owned solely by Kholton Sharpe.
I’ve never had to choose before. Yet here I am, doing the exact same thing that Max did to me: Choosing loyalty over love.
Thirty - Six - Serena
“Aaron Bentley is my father.”
Living away from the noise of the city is amazing. But in times like these, the distance is a giant pain in the ass. Uber doesn’t break all the rules like Beau does, so it takes me longer than usual to get home.
Seeing the Ford Mustang parked inside our residence, security presence strong strums a different emotion in me this time around. Not concern and bewilderment as before, but rage. Blood roiling rage.
Angus isn’t sitting on the steps this time. I find them inside. At our dining table. Eating with our silverware, from our monogrammed plates.
A long fur coat is draped over the back of Virginia’s chair, and she’s wearing my pink polka-dot apron.
My father, whose misery is unhidden, glances up when I enter and visibly sags with relief.
“You let her cook in my kitchen?” I ask through clenched teeth.
He shrugs as if to say, what else was I supposed to do to stall them?
“Now, now,” Virginia starts, “that kitchen was mine before it was ever yours. Granted, quite a few things have changed architecture wise, but it still feels like old times. Doesn’t it, Ang?”
“You mean how you used to sneak me in so I could have my way with you? Cooked and fed me first before he got home from work and had the leftovers?” Angus’s gaze darts around and his mouth dips down at the corners. “Nay. Too much has changed. Blinking red lights everywhere, watching our every move.”
Virginia laughs. “We never would have gotten away with it if things were like this back then, huh? I never would have gotten knocked up and messed up the plan.” She turns her smile to my father. “All of this is because of me, isn’t it, Aaron, baby? You will never love again, never trust again. Because of me.”
Although she started off in a jeering tone, she ended on an apologetic note, as though she’s actually sorry she made him an overly paranoid shell of himself.
But I’m not having it. She can take her regret and shoot herself in the head with it.
“Hey, Jezebel,” I snap, jerking her attention back to me. “Don’t look at him. Don’t speak to him. Don’t even breathe in his direction. From now on, you deal with me. You’ve done enough, slut.”
“Hey now,” Angus scolds, “that’s your mother and my wife. You better watch how you talk to her.”
I glance over my shoulder to Max, who’s standing guard at the door and tell him
, “Throw this shit stain outside. And by outside, I mean outside the gates. Let him wait out there.”
Max doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bearded man—who looks every bit like me—up from the chair by his shirt. “Let’s go.”
Angus tries to fight out of his grip. “What on earth do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!”
Max slides me a side glance, asking for permission.
I nod my head and he smirks.
“Get your hands off me! I’m not going anywher—”
Angus falls instantly silent when Max rears back and knocks him out with one punch. His body goes limp.
Virginia shrieks. “Oh my God! Why would you do that?”
Max drags Angus’s unconscious body out of the room, his boots squeaking across the marble tiles.
“I did that,” I say, turning to her. “I’m an entirely different challenge, Virginia. I fight back. You might think you’ve ‘broken’ him, but I’ll never give you the chance to break me.” I pause to give her a fake smile, reveling in her shocked expression. “Now sit there until I get back. You move and you’ll be given the same treatment as that little pus-filled maggot you chose over a really, really good man.”
Her mouth opens and close like a gaping fish. But I don’t wait. My father and I both walk out of the room.
“Was that necessary?” he asks as we climb the stairs with brisk steps.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’m your weakness, Daddy. I make you weak and voiceless and they know that. You’ll tip-toe, walk on eggs shells, let them disrespect you in your own home because you’re so afraid they’ll take me away from you.”
We start up the second flight of stairs. “But in this, I’m going to be your strength. I’m here to be your voice. So they’ll understand that they have no power over us. That our going along with this blackmail is a choice on our part, not because we have to. And most certainly not because we fear them.”
He’s quiet. It must be an ego bruiser for a man to hear his child tell him he’s weak, in any way whatsoever. Fathers strive to be their children’s heroes. Their protectors. And he is. He always has been.
But he’s also afraid of these people. A fear that’s all about me. He doesn’t want to lose me, so he allows them to bust in and do as they please, throwing threats and taunts around.
