by Roxy Sloane
My cheeks burn. I look away. “I realized I shouldn’t be there.” I lie, “I changed my mind.”
But Vaughn won’t accept it. His hand flies out, taking hold of my arm. “Look at me,” he orders.
The commanding note in his voice makes my knees weak.
I look.
Damn, he’s gorgeous. Shadowed here in the dark of my front porch, his face is all chiseled lines and intense gaze. And that mouth... My stomach twist in knots, remembering the pleasure he’s given me with those lips, that hot tongue...
“Tell me the truth,” he demands. “Why did you run?”
I gulp, the humiliation crashing back. “Why do you even care?” I wrench free, fumbling with my keys to open my door. “Don’t try and pretend it meant anything to you.”
“Dammit, Keely,” Vaughn curses. “Stop playing games. Just tell me what the hell I did wrong.”
I step over the threshold and whirl around. “I heard you, on the phone.” My voice rises, twisting with pain. “Talking to your friend. I know everything, so don’t even try and pretend you care.”
Shock flashes on Vaughn’s face, then his expression smoothes over. Cautious.
“What did you hear?” he asks.
“You boasting about getting me into bed.” I feel a pang in my chest just thinking about it. “You said I was a done deal, that I was begging for you. You made me sound like some kind of cheap slut.”
Vaughn exhales. He almost looks relieved. “That’s it?”
I gape at him. “That’s plenty. Now leave me alone.” I try to slam the door in his face, but Vaughn shoves it back, stepping inside.
“Listen to me, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“No--” I try to argue, but Vaughn talks over me.
“What you heard, it’s bullshit. I was messing around with a buddy. I just wanted to get him off the phone and get back to you,” Vaughn explains, taking another step towards me. “I’m sorry.”
I falter. Up close, his presence is overwhelming. “You can’t talk about someone like that,” I protest, backing away.
“I know,” he says calmly, moving closer. “I never thought you’d hear. He’s been giving me grief for weeks, about how I’m chasing after you. I guess I was trying to make him jealous. Haven’t you ever bragged about something to your friends?”
“No.” My voice trembles. I take another step back, but then I feel the wall behind me. There’s nowhere left to go.
“You didn’t tell anyone about me?” Vaughn quirks an eyebrow. He stops just inches away from me, so close I can feel the heat from his body.
Oh God, he smells so good.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“That’s right.” Vaughn’s voice turns amused. “I’m your dirty little secret.”
He leans in, pressing his hands against the wall on either side of my face; his body not touching mine, but still, pinning me in place.
“You don’t want anyone to know, do you?” he whispers, raw. “How you’re wet, just thinking about me. How you sit at your desk all day, fantasizing about my tongue sliding up your cunt.”
He strokes his thumb across my lips. I let out a whimper.
I should push him away. He could still be lying. My mind is telling me not to trust him, to turn him away. To tell him no. But this is my undoing: his wicked, wicked words.
“Or maybe you don’t want to come over my mouth,” he muses, trailing lower. “Not when there are so many ways I can fuck this gorgeous body. Ways you can’t even dream of yet.”
My head spins as he takes my breasts in both hands, squeezing in a firm, delicious grip. His thumbs pinch hard around my nipples, and I mewl with pleasure.
“Here would be fun,” Vaughn pauses, his eyes glittering and dark. He pushes my breasts high together, making a valley between the flesh. “I’ll shove my cock right there,” he says, squeezing with every word. “So you can lick the head while I fuck your tits. Yeah, you’d look damn good with my cum dripping off your sweet nipples. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
I gasp for air, sensation flooding through me. A deep pressure is building between my thighs, aching for him, the way I ache late at night, with nothing to comfort me but memories, and my own reaching fingers.
But now, with Vaughn so close, murmuring such dirty things in my ear, the ache is unbearable. Hungry for him.
“No, I think you want me here.” Vaughn pulls away, and suddenly reaches between my thighs, pressing hard against me with a deadly accuracy that sends a moan crying from my lips. “Right. Here.”
His fingers drum a torturous rhythm, hard on my swollen clit. Even through the fabric of my skirt and panties, it’s enough to send pleasure ricocheting out across my body.
My legs give way. I sink back against the wall.
“You want my cock driving deep inside you,” Vaughn growls, circling swiftly, driving me higher. “You want every fucking inch of it, all the way to the hilt. I’ll bend you over, and fuck you right here against the wall until you’re screaming out of your goddamn mind. “The neighbors will call the cops, you’re so loud,” he continues, holding my gaze, rubbing me faster. “But you won’t care, will you? Because it feels so good. They’ll find you on your knees, with my cock buried down your throat, but you won’t stop sucking me, you won’t break position, until I say because I’m. Not. Done. With. You. Yet.”
His fingers pulse harder with every word until suddenly he pulls away and I cry out in frustration. I’m close to the edge, my body shaking, needing his touch.
“Vaughn,” I pant, grasping hold of the wall for support.
“What?” he demands, his face dark.
“Please,” I beg, not caring that a moment ago, I swore never to forgive him. All I can think about is the ache in my body, the hungry need possessing me.
“Please what?” he murmurs softly.
“Touch me. Anything!”
Vaughn yanks my skirt up and shoves my panties aside, burying his finger deep inside of me.
I cry out in pleasure, bucking towards his hand. His finger curls deeper, his thumb rubs hard against my clit.
Oh God.
I thrust my hips, desperate to find a rhythm, and I’m rewarded with another finger sliding into me, pulsing up against my walls, driving me headlong towards the edge.
“Remember what I told you,” Vaughn growls, using his other hand to grip my jaw tight, forcing me to look at him. “This pussy belongs to me now, and don’t you ever forget it.”
His lips crash down in a brutal kiss as -- fuck -- he thrusts a third finger inside me, stretching me tight with a brutal pleasure as his palm grinds my clit and his fingers surge higher and I explode in his arms with a scream.
“You’re mine.”
5
VAUGHN
She stumbles back against the wall, looking like she just saw God.
Not yet, baby, but soon.
I withdraw my fingers and suck them in my mouth. “Sweet as sugar,” I drawl, licking her juices clean.
Fuck, I need to be balls-deep in that pussy right now.
Keely pulls herself upright. “You need to go.”
What. The. Fuck?
She gulps, looking away from me. “I can’t... I can’t do this right now. It’s all too much. This day... This week...”
I’m seconds away from bending her over the couch and showing her what a real cock feels, but something makes me stop.
I see the shadows under her eyes for the first time. She’s pale, shaking. And it’s not just because I gave her a damn good finger-fuck.
Something’s wrong.
“What’s going on?” I ask, fighting to control the raging hard-on in my pants.
She hugs her arms around herself. “It’s just... Stuff with work, that’s all.”
“That Ashcroft guy?” I demand, alert.
Her eyes widen. “How did you know?”
It is him, the bastard. “What did he do to you?” I demand.
“It’s not
like that.” She stops. “He’s dead.”
The world crashes in on me.
“What?” I struggle to stay cool, so she doesn’t know the emotions storming in my chest -- emotions I’ve spent the last twenty fucking years fighting to keep under lock and key. “When?”
“Three days ago.” Keely swallows. “It’s… complicated. I’m under a lot of stress right now. I’m sorry,” she adds in a small voice. “I can’t do this right now.”
She lifts her eyes to me, plaintive.
I step back. For once, claiming her body is the last thing on my mind.
“I understand,” I say curtly. “I’ll go.”
Keely frowns, like she’s sorry I’m leaving. She looks so lost and confused standing there, I feel a surge of something unfamiliar.
Concern.
“You should get some sleep,” I tell her, softer. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t know,” she replies slowly. “Yesterday, maybe...”
I pull out my cellphone and speed-dial my regular Thai takeout place. “Yeah, I need your combo platter. Extra rice and wontons.”
“Vaughn--” she protests.
I ignore her, giving the directions to her place and telling them to put in on my tab. I hang up.
“Eat. Sleep,” I order her. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
I head for the door.
“Thank you.” Her voice comes, soft behind me, but I don’t turn around. I get the fuck out of there before she can see what her Ashcroft bombshell has done to me.
Before she can see the truth.
* * *
Ashcroft is dead.
The words echo in my mind as I speed up through the Hollywood Hills to my place. I park and let myself in, heading straight for the bar to pour myself a drink.
I gulp down the whiskey straight from the bottle, ignoring the burn in my throat. The city lights are spread down in the valley, a million-dollar view, but I don’t see a thing but darkness and bitter fucking regret.
All these years, I swore I’d have my revenge. That I’d make the bastard pay for what he did to my family. One day, I promised myself.
One day.
But I’m too late. That day has passed, and Ashcroft is gone. He never suffered the way I did. He never had everything he loved ripped away from him.
I waited too long. I failed.
And now there’s no going back.
6
KEELY
After Vaughn leaves, I feel a strange stab of regret.
It’s crazy, I know: I ordered him to leave, but a part of me wishes he had stayed. To keep doing those incredible things to my body, blocking out the chaos that is my life right now, making it so I could stop thinking and worrying, and just let him take control.
I crumple to the floor, lost in thought. Too much has happened for me to process, and right now, my body is betraying me: wet and aching for him despite all my doubts.
I still don’t trust him.
Whatever mystery he’s hiding, I know he’s dangerous. The devastating effect he has on me. The dark power he wields over my body, his way of making me submit. I’ve never been this way with any other man, but just one steely look from Vaughn’s blue eyes makes my knees weak and sends all logic flying from my mind.
His filthy words. His commanding voice.
I want to surrender.
I catch my breath, still feeling the rough grip of his hands on me. Hard and dominant; precise and controlled. God, that man is a miracle. He knows just what buttons to push, the way to touch me, the dirty, shocking words that make me so utterly hot. He can drive me to the edge of intense pleasure in moments -- and keep me there until I think I’ll lose my mind.
But what is he hiding?
The doorbell interrupts me. It’s the food Vaughn ordered for me, enough to feed a dozen people. I lock the door behind the delivery guy, and spread it out on the coffee table. It looks delicious, the scent of ginger and garlic hitting me square in the gut. I dig in, suddenly ravenous.
I flick on the old TV, channel-hopping for some distraction, but I keep coming back to the phone call I overheard with Vaughn, the one that made me run.
“I told you, nobody turns me down. She’s begging for it, just like I said she would.”
Even now it hurts to remember, but his explanation makes sense. Bragging to a buddy, guys do it all the time, and although I don’t like it, I can already feel my resolve start to slip.
He said he was sorry. Everyone makes mistakes. We all say things that we later regret.
Do you believe him? a voice argues. Or do you just want him back -- whatever the price?
Either way, I know, it doesn’t matter. Vaughn made it clear, he won’t stay away any longer. He may have given me a temporary reprieve tonight, but I’m under no illusions that this cat and mouse game will end in only one place.
His bedroom.
I shiver, thinking of the last time I was there, just days ago. When he made me get on my knees, and submit to him: do the kind of filthy things I’d only ever dreamed about. I should be ashamed, but instead, my heart is racing, counting down the minutes until I’ll see him again.
Soon, he promised, he would show me what a real man was made of.
Soon can’t come fast enough.
* * *
I spend a sleepless night thinking of Vaughn, tossing and turning in my crappy Craigslist hand-me-down bed.
I wake up with my back aching and yawn. The first thing I do when I get any money is buy a decent mattress. And some pillows. And maybe even some fancy linen sheets...
I stop dead. It hits me for the first time.
I could be rich.
I know I’ve had days to process it, but for some reason, it hasn’t been real. It’s all legal papers and lawyers arguing, but now, right now, I get it.
Five hundred million dollars.
Holy crap.
That’s life-changing money. I could do anything with it. Pay for law school and an army of tutors to get me there. Donate to charity, set up foundations to help under-privileged kids -- and still have more than enough left over for a house, a car, new clothes...
I gulp, overwhelmed. For a blissful few minutes, Vaughn made me forget about Ashcroft and the will, but that time has passed. The real world is still out there, with me dropped bang in the center of a bitter legal battle. And judging by Brent Ashcroft’s angry outbursts in the meeting yesterday, he’s going to fight me to the bitter end.
I drive to work, still thinking about the money. I’m not shallow, but I’ve spent too many years scraping by, paying attention to every dollar not to relish the thought of suddenly being wealthy beyond my wildest dreams.
No more silent prayers that my paycheck will clear before the rent comes due. No more sweltering in the summer heat because I can’t afford AC. No more buying produce at the end of the day when it’s cheaper, or skipping out on dinner plans with friends to avoid the embarrassing moment when the check comes.
My parents never wanted me to live like this. They were the kind of people to plan ahead: they had a modest life insurance policy, and when they died, it seemed like I would be set. But college tuition doesn’t come cheap, and with their credit card debts to clear and a mortgage to pay off, it didn’t last long. I’ve learned to get by with my wages as a paralegal, tutoring a little on the side, but I have to admit, I’ve watched the partners at the firm with envy -- their designer clothes, and expensive dinners, and vacations to exotic foreign cities I’ve never been.
London. Paris. Rome. I feel a shiver of excitement. I could go anywhere, do anything.
But only if it’s really mine.
* * *
The moment I walk into the office, I can tell something’s wrong. People stop to stare as I pass, whispering the minute I’m out of earshot.
I feel a surge of dread.
Justine is over by her office. I walk fast, pulling her aside. “What’s wrong? Why is everyone looking at me?”
She looks around, leaning in to drop her voice. “They know.”
“About Ashcroft?”
She nods. “There was a partner meeting, first thing. I don’t know what happened, everyone’s keeping quiet. But they’re not happy.”
“Oh shit.”
My stomach lurches. I knew it would come out eventually. After all, Hudgens, Cartwright and Abrams were Ashcroft’s lawyers on the case: they prepared the original will, and even if Ashcroft had my name added after without anyone knowing, news like this would travel fast.
“What should I do?” I ask, panicking.
“Stay calm. I have court this morning, but I’ll come find you later, see what I can find. The secretaries always talk,” Justine adds, with a comforting grin.
“Thanks,” I say. She picks up her briefcase and heads out, leaving me alone to face the whispers and gossip.
I force myself not to react, walking slowly to my office cubicle with the other paralegals. But I haven’t even booted up my computer when my phone rings. It’s my boss, Carter.
“Get in here, now!”
He hangs up.
Oh crap.
I get up, and head down the hallway to his office, feeling like I’m walking to my execution. With every step, my nerves grow, until by the time I reach his door, I swear my hands are shaking.
“Miss Fawes.” Carter is waiting for me, with a weird smug smile on his face. He gestures me ahead of him with mock-politeness. “After you.”
I step inside the room. Usually Carter doesn’t come in until noon, after his racket-ball game and appointment with his personal ‘masseuse.’ But it’s barely nine AM and he’s wide awake and leering at me like I’m the entertainment of the day.
This is bad. Really bad.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Carter asks, sitting back in his chair and resting his feet on the desk.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. It’s something to do with Ashcroft, I’m sure, but I have no idea what.
“One of our clients has brought a serious charge against you,” Carter sneers. “Brent Ashcroft says you exerted undue influence over his father. His weak, invalid father.”
“That’s not true.” I speak firmly. “I didn’t even know he was putting me in the will.”
