by Lana Hartley
“I gotta say, little sis, I applaud you.” He continues to clap.
“Seriously?” I look at him as if he’s lost his fucking marbles.
“Yes,” he says with a grin. “You’re finally seeing the light. Reality is hitting you. Now you realize that shit is not as important as you think it is.”
“I don’t know if you’re making fun of me, but I’m feeling uncomfortable now,” I say and stand up.
“Are you going somewhere?” Harry stops laughing and eyes me.
“Yeah, away from you assholes,” I say.
“Molly, get back here right now.” My father’s voice booms and bellows through the otherwise silent room.
“I’m not coming back, Daddy.” I don’t even look twice before walking out the door.
I call my driver who swiftly picks me up to bring me back to my apartment.
On the entire ride home, I replay the conversation with Harry in my mind. I don’t regret the things I said, nor do I want to take back my decision to have a break from the work scene for a while.
I need a fucking time out, a break to find myself, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I lock my apartment door behind me a few minutes after riding the elevator up. I’m sleepy, and all I want to do is take a nice warm bath and reflect on my past mistakes and how to fix them for a better future. Now that I’m not going to be working, I have all the time in the world.
Unfortunately, all I’m able to think about as I sink into the warm bathwater is fucking Owen. Ugh.
Chapter 24
Molly
The water feels warm and melts my worries.
I don’t want to get out.
I could stay in here all day, hiding from the world.
I don’t even care anymore; this is the freest feeling surging through my veins I’ve ever felt, and I not only want to embrace it, but relish in it and savor each moment that I remain uncommitted to anything or anyone. I actually did put Owen out of my mind once I got in the bath.
You know that expression ‘no fucks to give?’ Well, that’s me. Look it up in a dictionary and you’ll see my face and submerged body in this tub right now.
I mean damn, even the taste in the air is different. Is that really possible? I think so, because I’m living it right now.
Don’t call me crazy or spastic. It’s called perspective, and I’m finally seeing it clearly for once in my fucking life.
I finally climb out of the tub and pat my skin dry. My chest feels lighter, and the weight of the world is fading fast from my memory.
No longer do I feel trapped or as if I’m collapsing on the brink of losing control. I’m not dramatic, I’m just pissed.
Well, maybe I’m not even angry anymore. The new me doesn’t care enough. No fucks to give, remember?
I lather lotion on my still-damp skin, moistening it until I’m radiantly glowing as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I may appear the same on the outside, but on the inside, big changes are festering and taking place in my mind and spirit.
I drape a white terry-cloth robe around my body and pull it closed tight around me, wrapping it nice and snug.
I walk to my living room to fetch the glass of water that I suddenly remember I left sitting on the coffee table. It’s refreshing as I gulp it down, good to every last cool and savory drop.
I jump nearly a foot in the air as the doorbell rings inside of my apartment, scaring the living fucking daylights out of me.
Who the fuck is at my doorstep at this hour?
I clutch my robe tighter and head apprehensively to the front door.
I stare through the peep hole first, wanting to gauge who’s on the other side.
It’s too dark down the hallway for some reason. Should I open the door to reveal the visitor? The old me would probably say no, but the new me is too full of curiosity not to wonder.
I inhale sharply and whisk the door open in one fell swoop.
I’m shocked to see who’s on the other side.
“Hi, Molly, I hope it’s not too late to see you.”
“Owen?” I stand there, just staring at him and trying to comprehend what he’s doing here.
I notice his hand behind his back as he slowly pulls it forward to reveal an enormous amount of long-stemmed white roses in a perfect bouquet.
“These are for you,” he states softly, and pushes them towards me.
I take them, sniffing their flowery aroma. I can’t help it, their color symbolizes purity, and I feel a tug in my heart even though I should probably resist. No, I know I should resist.
“Thanks,” I say. “What is this for?” I have to grip the flowers with two hands because they’re so heavy.
Undoubtedly, I’m confused as ever.
“These roses are the beginning of the apology I want to give you,” Owen recites.
He’s wearing all black—black jeans, a black sweater and a black coat.
He clears his throat to begin what I assume will be a speech about his wrongdoings.
“Molly, I present these roses to you as a way to sincerely apologize,” he says.
So I’m right, I can sense these things. The guy in the dog house wants to come back inside.
“Molly, there are one hundred white roses here, and each one represents how truly sorry I am for hurting you.”
I don’t know why, but all I can do is stare blankly at him. I don’t have a reaction…not yet anyway.
“Can I come inside?” He gestures towards my living room.
I still can’t bring myself to speak, so I continue to stare a hole in the wall across from him.
“Please, Molly…”.
I finally regain some control over my muscular activity. I simply nod, but I still don’t say anything to him.
He walks past me and takes the roses, placing them on my kitchen table.
“These will look good here,” he offers.
I stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else.
“Molly,” he holds his hands up, “I am so, so sorry. Yes, it’s true that my plan began with trying to win you over so you would lift my suspension from the Expose. I really wanted to fuck Crystal in the beginning.”
I flinch at his words.
He pauses here, waiting to see if I will counter, argue or fly into his arms. I do none of these things; I simply look at the ground and remain silent, still.
Owen has no choice but to continue on with his apology.
“What was not part of the plan,” he says, “is the way I now feel about you. I can’t deny it any longer, Molly. I think I’m in love with you.”
Whoa, hold the train. No way. Owen fucking Wolfe just said the L word?
His words are powerful, and I can hear the vulnerability in his voice, but I’m not quite ready to open up to him yet. I’m not sure what to think, if I can trust him. I need a little more.
Owen approaches me and takes my hands in his, cradling them gently. I don’t protest or try to pull away.
“Molly,” he whispers softly, his voice like a prayer, “I love you. You’re the only thing I can think about. I can’t fucking sleep, I can’t fucking eat. Without you, I’m fucking nothing.”
I ponder his confession and digest it, allowing it to sink into every fiber of my being.
“Do you think you can grant me a second chance to fix everything I’ve fucked up?” Owen asks softly.
I breathe in the intoxicating and sexy scent of his masculine cologne. He’s only standing close to me, but I can feel his amazing strength and safety, as if I’m already wrapped in his arms.
I finally know how to answer him. I decide to go with the truth.
“I’m scared.” My voice cracks and my eyes pool with tears.
“What are you scared of?” He leans in and rubs my cheek with his thumb.
“I’m not sure I’m a risk-taker after all,” I admit, and look at the floor.
“You’re a fucking strong and incredible woman,” he proclaims.
&
nbsp; I finally muster the courage to make eye contact with him. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve been heartbroken,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry that I’m the reason for the latest one,” he says, his eyes full of genuine regret.
I shake my head as the realization hits me. “I used work as a Band-Aid, a way to distract myself from being lonely and hurt. Now what do I have to show for it?” I shrug. “Not a damn thing.”
“You have me.” Owen gently hugs me close to his body. I want so badly to believe him, but the pain of all the hurt in my past makes me feel like I can’t let him in.
Surrendering to Owen would mean finally being free of the shackles that bind me, but I need for him to prove his love first.
Chapter 25
Owen
She’s with me and all seems right in the world.
She’s mine at last and I will never fucking let her go.
Having Molly in my arms feels fucking perfect. It’s like everything I never knew I wanted. But she still hasn’t forgiven me.
Not that I can blame her. I fucked up royally, and she’d be perfectly within her rights to kick me to the curb right now.
But I fucking hope like hell that she won’t.
“Molly,” I say, cupping her cheek in my palm and tilting her face up to mine. “Can you forgive me?”
She stares at me for a long time, and I can see the fear in her eyes. Fear that I helped up there.
“I know it’s asking a lot,” I continue. “But please. If you just give me a chance, I’ll spend every fucking day for the rest of my life proving to you that I really do love you. None of what happened between us was a lie. Of that you can be certain.”
The rest of my life. Those words hit me hard. But I know they’re true. There’s not another woman that could do to me what Molly does. She’s it. I know it now. I feel it with everything that’s in me.
“Owen, it felt so real. All of it. I just can’t believe that you tried to deceive me like that. Everything was built on false pretenses.”
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “Maybe that’s the reason that brought us together, but nothing—nothing, do you hear me?—about a single second we’ve been together has been false. Every bit of it’s real. Including how much I love you.”
This time she gives me a small smile. “I love you, too.”
All the air rushes out of my lungs in a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Fuck. She loves me. It’s almost impossible to believe.
“So, you’re saying there’s a chance?” I give her teasing smirk.
“I’m scared,” she says again. “But I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to take a chance. I want to see what’s out there for me.” She pauses. “Or what’s right here.”
That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll spend every day showing her that everything she could ever want is right here. Us. Together.
I stare into her eyes for several heartbeats, then I slowly lower my mouth to hers. She doesn’t resist. In fact, it feels like…surrender.
Within moments, what starts as a slow kiss grows deeper, needier. It’s like we’re both starved for each other. My hand comes up to graze along her side and up over the firm mound of her breast, then I’m sliding the robe off her shoulders.
I kiss along her neck and down her collarbone, reveling in the fact that she’s in my arms.
I’m never going to let her go.
She shrugs out of the robe, and then she’s standing pressed against me, her soft delicately scented skin driving me mad.
In one quick move, I hoist her up against me and she wraps her legs around my waist.
I’m a man on a mission now as I stalk toward her bedroom. We kiss the entire time, not breaking apart. I feel like I can’t get close enough to her.
I spread her out in front of me on her bed, and she lets her knees fall to the side, exposing her beautiful glistening pussy for me to devour with my eyes.
Then I’m devouring it with my mouth. I do feel like a man starved. I eat her out with a fiery passion like I’ve never felt before, wanting to make her feel better than she ever has.
“Oh, fuck, Owen. Oh my God,” she pants as she writhes and convulses under my attention.
I slide two fingers inside her hot, tight pussy, and her slick walls clamp down on me. I tease her G-spot while I suck her swollen clit into my mouth, and then she’s coming apart underneath me.
Cum squirts out, drenching my face and my hand, and holy fuck is that sexy as hell. My cock is throbbing painfully, desperate to be inside her once again. Right where I fucking belong.
“Fuck me, Owen, please.” She’s begging, and I fucking love it.
“I think I can get down with that,” I tease.
Then I’m climbing up and hovering over her, staring into her eyes as my cock teases her cum-coated slit.
I wait, drawing the moment out as I brace myself above her. “I love you, Molly,” I say, more earnestly than I’ve ever said anything in my life.
And I fucking mean it.
As I slide into her soft, silky wetness, I keep my gaze locked with hers. This is different, more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t want to miss a fucking second of the expressions that flit across her gorgeous face while I make love to her.
Yeah, that’s fucking right. I mean, I’m going to fuck her, make no mistake about that. But this is so much more than just a fuck.
Molly’s made a new man out of me. And I don’t ever fucking want to be the same old guy again. I want a life with her. Starting right fucking now.
“You’re it for me, Molly,” I say as I take her with long, slow thrusts.
Her eyes widen, and her breath comes faster.
“I don’t know what all that entails, but I know every word is fucking true,” I whisper as I lower my forehead to hers, loving how it feels to be this close to someone in every way.
Who the fuck knew, right?
“Only on one condition,” she says, a smile curving her lips.
I pump into her harder, unable to take it slow anymore, even as I’m desperate to hear this ‘condition.’
“What’s that?” I bite out, my breath coming faster as her pussy squeezes and contracts around my cock.
“That you promise to fuck me every single day and make me cum my brains out.”
I laugh, then give her a hard kiss on the lips.
“That’s one fucking promise I guarantee I’ll never break.”
Starting right fucking now.
So I do. I make her come her brains out, then I do it again, pumping that pussy so full of my man juice that by the time we’re done I know we’ll be a filthy mess. Then I do it again. And again.
Yeah, all that bullshit about being a lone wolf? That’s exactly what it was. Bullshit. Because now I know that when you find the right woman, there’s nothing better.
And I know she’s mine forever.
I fucking own her.
And I’ll make her remember that time and again, for the rest of our lives.
Stolen
By Lana Hartley
Copyright 2018 by Dark Princess Press
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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Jacob
Leah Waterson is going to look so damn good when she’s looking up at me. By then, the only thing blocking my view of her would be my cock.
Right now though, I’m on my knees before her, picking up the earbuds that shot from her ears when she whipped her head around. Not expecting me to be in her hallway.
Well, I wasn’t expecting her to be here at all.
I�
�ll probably fire this crew because they didn’t inform me that another person would be on the premises. Though I was going to fire them anyway. I don’t keep a crew.
After all, I’m a tech and finance billionaire.
I don’t need to steal art. Of course, rarely do I need anything.
Not like the way I need those pink lips she’s biting to be wrapped around my cock. Her delicate porcelain skin is reddening, and she wouldn’t look me in the eye after I pressed the earbud back into her ear.
“You must be Mrs. Waterson?” I ask, but I know that Mr. Waterson is really her father.
I heard what he did to his son, and he must be hiding his daughter. Because if this was his wife, he wouldn’t be meeting me right now. He’d be burying his cock in her.
I lurch inwardly thinking he might be planning to do that later.
Peter Waterson is a sick fuck.
Those green-blue eyes look into my own, and my cock is jumping in my slacks to have those eyes looking at me.
“No,” she says in a soft little voice. “I’m Leah. Peter, um,” she pauses to correct herself. “Mr. Waterson is my father.”
“I see,” I say, trailing my eyes purposely down her little dress.
It’s so flimsy. It could be a nightgown, or maybe a sundress.
It needs to be torn to shreds at her knees while I eat her pussy so good she screams.
My eyes follow her heaving breasts, noting her heavy breathing, only making her more nervous. It serves to make me more aware of how I’m affecting her. She must see the bulge in my slacks.
Oh, yes, good girl. She looked.
She knows the effect she’s had on me.
I think about her brother. The one Peter sold to a foreign prince to close a deal. He’ll offer this sweet angel up to me all the same.
I’ll bring Peter to his knees, and he’ll think it was all his idea.
I’ll be fucking sweet little Leah in the very room she’s headed to, before this night is out, and stupid fucking Peter Waterson will think it’s all his idea. He’ll be doing it to apologize for fucking up our merger.
That’s why Peter thinks I’m here. He’s my mark, and he fancies himself my rival.
