by Layla Hagen
"What do you mean?"
"You have a gazillion things you are in charge of here. Multiple companies. How could you just take off?"
"I didn't take over Blakesley Enterprises until recently," he says.
"But you still had other companies here."
"I don't, for a fact, own any companies," Parker says patiently. "I am an investor in them, just like I am in James's company. I attend board meetings and act as an advisor, but rarely get involved in day-to-day executive operations."
"Ah, you don't like to be the front man, I see."
"No, I don't." Parker says simply. "I make exceptions for companies I have a special interest in, like James's, and sometimes take a more hands-on approach for a certain time."
"Wait, I’m confused about something," I say, remembering something Serena told me. "You and James had troubles with some investors right before you came back. So, if you're an investor . . . how does that work?"
Parker starts talking in a very serious, businesslike tone.
"There are several types of investors. Some, like me, are seed investors. We provide money when a business is in its very early stages. Later on, when a venture requires more money, additional investors, who can bring in much more capital than seed investors have, are needed."
I nod. "Okay."
Tara returns with a delicious-looking roasted duck with honey sauce, salad, and fries.
"Oh good, I was in the mood for duck," Helen says. I help myself to some fries, then turn to the duck. My enthusiasm for the dish is replaced by horror as Tara announces, "This is the first time I've cooked this. I hope I nailed it."
I eye the dish suspiciously. Great aesthetics don't always equal great taste, as I've had the unfortunate opportunity to find out a few times. Holding my opinion back is generally not one of my strengths; I'm even worse when it comes to food. There's nothing quite as horrible as having to pretend you like a culinary failure and force yourself to eat it. Dani smiles at me. She confessed she's no good at cooking the first day we moved in together, so I've all but prohibited her anywhere near the stove.
I relax after the first bite. The duck is not too dry or overly seasoned. The honey sauce is delicious. I close my eyes for a few seconds, enjoying its lingering sweetness in my mouth. When I open my eyes, I find Parker staring at me, his lips slightly parted.
"You certainly know how to enjoy . . . your food," he says and the deep unsteadiness in his voice sends shivers rippling through me. Seeing him run his tongue over his lower lip gives way to thoughts that have nothing to do with food. I imagine what other things he could be doing with his tongue right now, and heat floods my intimate spot.
The rest of the evening passes in a haze. I don't remember much except Parker's intense gaze on me.
When Tara and Helen announce they are going to bed, followed closely by Dani, I head upstairs too, smiling when I step inside my room. Man, did this just get more gorgeous while I was having dinner? I feel like royalty just by being here. Despite the long day and the trip, I don’t feel tired, so instead I inspect every inch of the place closely. I still when I hear Parker enter his own room, then move on.
The fireplace is really the pièce de résistance. I run my hand on the mantelpiece, then try to take out the fire iron from its holder, but it’s stuck. I imagine no one’s used it to move wood around for a while. I pull harder...and then lose my balance. I stumble backward, falling right on my ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cry out loud, rolling over on my belly and massaging my tailbone.
Someone knocks at my door three times.
“Jessica, everything all right?” Parker asks.
“Yes, no. I don’t know.” While I push myself to my feet, he opens the door, stepping inside.
“What happened?”
“Tried to take out the fire iron, lost my balance, and fell on my ass.” The damn thing was still stuck.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“A bit, but it’s better now. Here I was, feeling like royalty, then decided to poke my nose around.”
He walks around me once, as if inspecting me for damage.
“You scared me,” he says finally.
“I did?”
He nods once. “I want to kiss you so badly.” His lips curl deliciously, and he runs his thumb over my lips, walking me backward until I’m leaning on one of the bedposts. Our heavy breathing fills the room.
“So do it.”
“I won’t be able to stop at just kissing you.”
I lick my lower lip, whispering, “I don’t think I can stop either.”
"Are you sure about this?" he asks me.
I try to chuckle, but it comes out more like a hiccup. "What would you do if I said no?" I ask, not looking at him.
His lips are pressing gently on my ear; I can feel them forming a smile. "I'd convince you to say yes." He trails one hand all the way up to my chin.
"I want you, Jess," he says, his voice coarse and low. But still forceful. Still commanding. And it does exactly what I hoped it would. It gives free reign to the desire running through me, subduing the fear and the doubt. He turns me around so my back is facing him, and slips a hand under my sweater, touching my bare skin. We both gasp when he cups my breast.
"You're not wearing a bra. It almost killed me during dinner."
"Couldn't tell," I say playfully.
"How about now?" He presses his hips against mine. Feeling his hard shaft against my butt completely does me in. I turn around and find Parker's lips ready for me. Slightly open. Inviting.
"Close your eyes," he says.
"What?"
"Do it," he whispers.
And I oblige, though still confused.
For a few seconds, I feel nothing except his breath on my lips—the hot, rhythmic beats of his breath are enough to turn my need for him into a painful ache. When his soft lips brush mine, something I haven't felt in a long while awakens inside me. Butterflies. Just a few of them at first, fluttering their wings shyly—almost as if they don't dare to. But then they dare all right, and take over like a damn hurricane, until I melt in Parker's arms. He lays me on the bed and then kneels on it, his arms by his sides, his hands balled into fists, as if he's restraining himself from touching me.
"Are you still sure, Jessica?"
I sit up. "Of course I am."
To prove it, I grab the hem of my sweater and start lifting it. But Parker grabs both of my hands, pinning me back against the bed. "No. I want to do that."
Parker takes his sweet time. With his right hand, he pushes my sweater up my chest, revealing my breasts. His gaze lingers first on my right breast, then moves onto the other. His blue eyes darkening by the second, he bites his lip, as if he'd like nothing better than to fondle my breasts, graze them, lick them.
Never mind what he wants. I want that.
"Touch me," I beg.
"I will," he muses, getting rid of my sweater. "I want to look first."
"O-k-kay," I stutter under his determined gaze.
As he unzips my jeans and starts to pull them down, I suddenly become painfully aware of my choice of lingerie—a thong with kittens on the front. Not exactly the biggest turn-on. But as I look around, desperately trying to come up with something to distract Parker, I realize he couldn't care less. Because he—quite literally—rips them apart. I gasp as the fabric cuts a bit into my left hip, but then forget all about it. Parker straightens up, his gaze traveling from my ankles up to my thighs, lingering at the spot between them. His breathing becomes heavier.
"Please tell me you're bored of only looking," I say.
"Oh, I could never get bored looking you." He looks up, meeting my eyes. "But I'm done with it for now."
With a one-arm swing, he pulls me beneath him. My skin aches everywhere his body touches mine. And it's not just my skin that's aching. My insides burn.
My core is pulsing.
He unzips his jeans expertly, pulling them together with his underwear down. I swall
ow hard as I watch him put a condom on his erection. I look at him, and begin to unbutton his shirt. "I want you completely naked, too."
"No time for that," he says.
"But I want to see you as well," I protest. "And touch you."
Parker leans forward, but I put a hand on his chest, stopping him, then start undoing the buttons of his shirt. “You teased me enough,” I say. “Now I get to tease you.”
I undo every button of his shirt with sure hands, then push it back, caressing his arms and shoulders as I rid him of the shirt. I bite my lip as I push him a bit farther away from me, so I can see him better. He’s stunning. Everything about him is. His blue eyes are now dark with desire, his dark blond locks falling loosely around his face. I run my thumb over his full lips, then trail down his neck. His statuesque torso is more perfect than I imagined in even my wildest dreams. And my dreams about Parker were quite wild. The muscles in his arms and chest are well defined and strong, yet lean. As my gaze drops even farther down, I take note of his chest moving up and down with quick breaths. He’s growing impatient. Oddly, despite my own impatience earlier, I don’t feel the need to hurry now. Not to tease him, but because I can’t get enough of gazing at him. I am insatiable. Maybe he wasn’t teasing me earlier, either, when he was the one looking at me. The little well-defined squares of his abdomen show just how much work he puts into keeping his body fit. As do his oblique muscles. They are defined by sharp lines that start from his hips and go lower and lower. I raise my head a bit, peeking at his buttocks. Round and firm, no wonder his ass looks good no matter what he’s wearing. I bite my lip even harder, and now some of the impatience that plagued me when Parker was watching me returns.
Parker must sense that because I barely have time to admire his strong, muscular thighs before he thrusts inside me. Hard and raw.
"Parker," I gasp, my thighs clenching around him.
"You're so tight," he says right before kissing me. His tongue explores my mouth with soft and gentle moves, so very different from his thrusts. They aren't gentle or soft. Their sole purpose seems to be to make me fall apart with pleasure. And I intend to do the exact same thing to him. Breaking off the kiss, Parker fists my hair, pulling me a few inches away from his lips. They're swollen and moist, and I can't wait to feel them against my own again. But he places his lips on my shoulder next, then moves them all the way to my neck.
"I want you to show me what you like."
"You're doing a pretty good job without any directions," I say between gasps, and as his hand slides between us, stroking my clit, exploding pleasure hits me in waves.
Parker is the first man who's ever been genuinely interested in my pleasure, not just his own. His lips coax mine, his tongue darts inside, exploring my mouth and mimicking the moves of his hips, making love to my mouth as well.
"So fucking good," he says, driving into me with more passion than before. As I fall apart underneath him, I run my fingers on the rippled muscles of his back, feeling how defined each one of them is. He covers my mouth, his kiss once more gentle. His moves are ferocious and animalistic. And yet I have the distinct impression he's holding back, as if he's afraid he might break me. I want him to break me. I have never wished for anything so intensely before. I push my hips against him, hoping the move conveys what I can't express with words, and I succeed.
With every thrust, he spreads my legs farther apart, stretching me, touching even deeper spots inside me. And it feels so intense, oh—
I cry out, release slamming through me like a thousand daggers, and I arch my back, asking for more and more. I hear Parker's cry mingle with my own, and then his body relaxes over mine.
Not for long, though. I barely have time to catch my breath before Parker pushes himself up with his palms. Drops of sweat drip from his chest. I catch one of those drops with my lips. It's salty and musky. All man. All Parker. I raise my gaze and see that his eyes have a dangerous glint to them that sends delicious tingles all the way down. My pussy is pulsating again, despite my clit being so sensitive I think I will combust if I touched it now. Parker stands on his knees, removing his condom. He bends to one side of the bed and picks up a fresh one. I stare at him with wide eyes as he rips the cover apart and slides the condom over his still erect member. My nub throbs with anticipation, though my entire body is telling me there is no way I am ready for another round now.
"Turn around," Parker commands.
"I don't think—"
"Turn around," he repeats.
"I just came, Parker."
In a heartbeat, Parker lunges over me, cupping my face with one hand and bringing me so close to him that I feel the shot of hot breath accompanying every word against my lips. "And I’ll make you come again."
Scorching.
Hot.
Parker doesn't wait for me to turn. Instead, he grabs my hips and does it for me, pulling me on all fours. I can't see or anticipate his moves in this position, which makes his nearness so much more unbearable. I try to press myself against him, but his firm grip on my hips has me unable to move.
"Anxious, are you? I thought you didn't want this," Parker says.
"I changed my mind."
"Good," Parker says, and I gasp when I feel his lips on my back, trailing up my spine until they are near my ear.
A shiver of pleasure runs through me, and in this precise moment, I am convinced Parker can make me come just with his words. He makes it a teasing game again. He sets the tip of his erection at my entrance, but instead of pushing inside, he rubs around my entrance, going in circles on my clit, drawing a series of shivers from my already tender body. I'm close to climaxing when Parker suddenly drives into me, the force of his thrust causing my legs to buckle.
"Fuck, Jessica. Your pussy is even tighter than before."
We grind against each other in a rhythm that grows more furious with every thrust, and when Parker touches my clit with his fingers, pressure ratchets through every cell in my body.
"I want you to come hard, Jessica."
I whimper, his touch on my sleek folds almost too much to bear. I oblige, and come harder than I ever have.
Trembling, I stretch on the bed, resting my head on the pillow, trying to calm my breath. I close my eyes, the last tremors of bliss still coursing through me. Far too soon though, they fade. And then I have the courage to open my eyes and turn to look at Parker. I expect him to be already fully dressed, mumbling an excuse before rushing out the door. But instead I find him propped up on an elbow, still naked. He's looking intently at something, and I clutch the sheets beneath me when I realize what. The butterfly tattoo on my hip.
He inches closer to me and starts tracing the form of the butterfly with his fingers.
"Your tattoo guy botched this," Parker says, frowning.
Every muscle in my body turns to stone.
He leans in even closer, his thumb caressing that portion of the skin that makes up the body of the butterfly. "He left a scar."
"Oh, there's a long story behind that," I say, with all the calm I can muster. I pull the covers to my neck and turn around on one side. "I'm tired.”
A long story indeed. But it has nothing to do with the tattoo guy. Parker doesn't say anything else, but I feel him move closer to me until his warm body presses against mine, and he slides one arm over my waist.
"Good night, Jessica."
“You... you’re sleeping here?”
“You weren’t expecting me to?”
“I don’t know. I like to keep my expectations low,” I whisper.
“I know what you mean. I try to do the same.” He kisses the side of my head gently. “But let’s try to change that, shall we?”
Chapter Ten
Jessica
When I wake up the next day, I'm alone in the bed. I stretch out my arm on the side of the bed where Parker slept. It's not warm. He must have left a while ago. As I touch his pillow, I imagine how he would look if he were asleep with all his muscles relaxed.
; To be honest, I'm not sure how long I'd be able to just watch him. I bet I'd wake him up before long, aching for his touch and all the things he made me feel last night. .
I dress warmly and then go downstairs, but no one is in the living room. I debate sitting around, waiting for someone to appear, but my growling stomach decides I'd better go find the kitchen. I locate it after a few minutes—though my sense of direction usually sucks big time, but whenever I'm hungry, my body seems to turn into a food-detecting machine. Helen sits at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal.
"Morning," she says when she sees me.
"Hi." I grab a bowl and pour some milk and cereal in it, then sit opposite Helen. "Where is everyone else?"
"Oh, Tara and Parker woke up ages ago and went to play golf at the club," Helen says, shaking her head as if she couldn't understand why in the world anyone would get up early on a Saturday. I agree with her. "Dani is outside in the garden."
"You don't like to play golf?"
She grins. "A tad boring, don't you think?"
Helen gets up from the table and returns with two cups of coffee.
"How long have you known Dani and Parker?" I ask.
Her lip curls into a smile. She takes a sip of her coffee and puts the cup back on the table. "Are you really interested in Dani, or just Parker?"
Ah, no bullshitting needed. I like Helen. "Just Parker."
"I thought so. It's hard to really get to know him. He keeps mostly to himself."
"Why?"
Helen doesn't answer right away, and I can tell by the way she twists her cup in her hands she's weighing her words carefully. Very carefully. "Parker doesn't trust many people . . . those around him haven't proven to be very trustworthy in general. That's why there are very few people Parker lets in. But those he does care about, he's very protective of."
"Like with you and Tara?"
She beams at me. "Yes. We formed a strong bond when we were kids. Parker was kind to me at a time when no one else was. If I had to describe Parker in one single word, it would be loyal. He is very loyal to those few he cares about. But it takes a lot to wiggle yourself under his skin."
