by Maya Hughes
“You’d really be okay with me giving all this money to Rhys? Selling off the company you’ve worked so hard to build.”
“If you say you’ll stay with me. That you’ll give me another chance, I’d let you sell my company a hundred times.”
“I can’t do that,” she said, her hands wrapped tightly around the stack of paper. My heart sank. I felt like I was dropping fast, drowning under my own ambitions. I’d worked so hard and ended up losing the one thing I ever truly wanted.
“I can’t sell it off. I can’t do this.” She stood from the chair and I jumped up and wrapped my arms around her.
“I can’t do it without you, Rachel. I promised your mom that if you said no today, that I’d be able to walk away. That I would give you the space you needed, but I can’t promise that.” I held her face in my hands. “I can’t promise that because I will do anything it takes to get you to believe me. To make you understand how much you mean to me.”
“Killian, don’t,” she said, trying to pull away from me. Desperation tightened my chest and I pressed my lips to hers. She put her hands on my chest. At first, I thought she was going to push me away and I steeled myself for that rejection, but she wound her hands around the fabric of my shirt and pulled me closer.
The kiss morphed and deepened as she parted her lips. She held onto me and I held on even tighter to her. I needed her more than I’d ever needed anything in my life.
We sat there for hours and I spilled it all. Everything about my mom and my dad. About Rhys and what happened after she left. The glare of the setting sun nearly blinded me before she covered my hand with hers.
“I can’t sell your company, Killian,” she said, taking her hand back and putting it in her lap. My heart sunk. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.
“I can do far more good if the company is still up and running and generating revenue. Plus, it’s a tax write off,” she said, glancing up at me with a small smile. I lifted her out of the seat, my arms wrapped around her, kissing her lips hard. My lifeline.
“I promise you won’t regret it. You won’t and every day I’ll prove to you, just how good I can be to you.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Killian. Or else I’ll send my mom and Dahlia after you.”
I shuddered, imagining the two of them coming after me.
“You wouldn’t be so devious.”
“I learned from the best,” she said, pressing her lips against mine. Nipping my lip. I growled and threaded my hand into her hair, crushing her to me.
She pushed me back, keeping her arms around my neck.
“You know you have to meet my parents now, right?”
I groaned.
“I already had a long talk with your mom,” I said, rubbing my hand across my forehead.
“You did? When?” she asked, looking surprised.
“When she came to my room last night and threatened to castrate me if I didn’t give you what you needed.”
“She did?”
“I have no doubt in my mind that between her and Dahlia, they wouldn’t make good on that promise.”
She laughed. I loved hearing her laugh.
“I think you’re completely right. Good call on not pissing those two off.”
“I thought so.”
“Now what?” she said, glancing up at me, biting her bottom lip.
37
EPILOGUE
We crept into the backyard, trying to stifle our laughter. I climbed the rungs to my treehouse with Killian’s hands missing the rungs of the ladder and ending up along my legs the whole way. He nearly made me fall at least twice.
“Would you quit it, before I fall off this ladder and end up killing us both.”
“I’m not the one climbing up a ladder in a skirt wearing a thong,” he said, licking his lips.
We made it to the top of the ladder and I crawled inside, flicking on a light. Killian stalked toward me on all fours looking even more predatory than he usually did. I laughed when he grabbed my ankle and tugged me down toward him. My skirt slid up against my waist. He pressed his body against mine, his hard cock rubbing against me through my panties.
“I’ve missed you,” he growled, his lips on mine.
“I missed you too,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and running my fingers through his hair.
“He’s missed you,” he said, grinding himself against me. Pleasure rolled over my body and I let it wash over me. I lifted my hips as Killian’s hands slid over my ass, peeling my panties off.
“Looks like she’s missed me too,” he said, pushing his fingers inside of me. I moaned, unable to hold it back as he pumped his fingers inside of me. My thighs trembled, when he took his fingers out and knelt in front of me, lifting my legs up and sliding into me.
“Fuck,” he bit out as he bottomed out in me. My gasps and his groans were the only sounds that filled my treehouse as we both raced toward the white-hot orgasm we felt building.
He came down, his hips still going, and ran his hand over the side of my face.
I cried out as I inched closer and closer to the blinding pleasure that stole my breath away.
“Did you follow my rule, sweetheart?” He asked, reaching between us and tapping on my clit. My thighs trembled as my cheeks got even more flushed.
“Please Killian,” I begged, but he slowed his thrusts and ground himself against me. My eyes rolled back in my head.
“Did you follow my rule?”
“Yes,” I shouted. I’d do anything for the orgasm just out of reach. He grinned and bit the spot on my neck that set me off, while he pounded into me, pushing me along the floor along with the whole nest. I screamed so loud it would be a wonder if he weren’t deaf.
He followed me over, tumbling into his own body shattering orgasm right after me. I felt him expand inside of me and it sent me into my second climax, so hard my toes curled and everything winked in and out.
We laid there, panting and sweaty, grinning at one another like two idiots. He threw one of the blankets over the two of us and wrapped himself around me.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I said, laughing as he nipped at my neck. “I love you too.”
Our heads popped up when the trapdoor flew open and my mom’s head popped up. I buried my head in Killian’s shoulder.
“What in the hell? I thought you were being murdered up here, Rachel!”
“Sorry, Mom. Killian was just giving me the last little bit of his pitch on why I should take him back.” I giggled with my lips pressed against Killian’s neck.
“I wouldn’t say little,” Killian teased. I glanced over my shoulder at my mom, who rolled her eyes.
“I’m glad to see you two have made up. Now hurry up and get dressed, your father will be home soon.” She closed the door behind her.
“Oh shit,” Killian said, looking at me with fear in his eyes. “I’ve never met a girl’s dad before.”
I laughed and kissed him again, my heart lighter than it had been for as long as I could remember. I’d stepped into the jaws of the lion and made it out the other side. This man had taught me more about myself than I ever thought I could learn. I brushed his hair back from his forehead and stared into his eyes. He wrapped his arms around me and nipped at my neck. This should be interesting.
For a little bit more time with Rachel and Killian, be sure to check out their extended epilogue HERE! :)
And you can preorder Mr. Wicked, Frankie and Grim’s story TODAY!
Preorder at Mr. Wicked
She’s hated me since high school, but that doesn’t mean I can’t teach her the ropes…
Francesca “Frankie” Archer is the video game playing, trash talking rich girl who worked her way into my heart back in high school. Our one date turned into a nightmare and we’ve been at each other’s throat since. Now, she’s a sex club owning hottie who still looks better in shorts and a tshirt than any woman should.
We need to be civil to each ot
her as co-best men standing up for our best friend at his wedding. How hard can that be? But old feelings, a few cocktails and shared hotel suite later and I’m touching her in ways no other man has.
In the light of day, she’s ready to chalk it up to a drunken one night stand, but I’m not ready to end things just as they are beginning again. Maybe I can convince her, if I can show her everything I’ve learned since we’ve been apart. I know she’ll look amazing with the soft ropes crisscrossed across her body.
Mr. Wicked is a 60,000 word second chance, accidental pregnancy romance. It features a sassy sex club owner, sweet and sexy bondage enthusiast and a heaping helping of steamy nights.
Preorder Mr. Wicked NOW!!
Acknowledgments
I hope you enjoyed reading Killian and Rachel’s story as much as I loved writing it.
They were a difficult, exciting and sexy couple to write. Even their
Grim and Frankie will be heading to your Kindle in February 2018 and Dahlia and Ivan will have their own book as well in March! It’s been a hell of a year already and the tribe I’m creating of amazing people have kept me sane-ish :P
To my editors, Tamara, Bex and Donna, you are an amazing team every story only gets better and better with your help!
To LJ at Mayhem Cover Creations for every time change my mind and you indulge me :)
To my readers, thank you for reading my books!! Thank you for the emails, comments, messages and more, telling me how much you love my characters and I’m so looking forward to bringing you even more amazing ones in the days, months and years to come!
Lots of love and happy reading,
Maya xx
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Sneak Peek at Mr. Control
She’s the one woman I should stay away from, but I can’t help myself…
They say being a billionaire has its perks, but I hardly notice. After being widowed, my beautiful little girl is the most important thing to me. Esme hasn’t spoken to anyone but me since her mother’s death. When she goes missing, I’m thisclose to losing it.
When Esme turns up safe and sound with a cute waitress, I’m ready to give the lady a reward and be on our way, but then Esme speaks to her. It’s simple, a mere “thank you”, but I know I can’t let the waitress get away.
Melanie is nothing like the women who throw themselves at me. Her big brown eyes take my breath away from the minute I lay eyes on her. She fills out her pink waitress uniform with curves I can’t wait to get my hands on. I can’t get her out of my head.
Melanie’s bringing my little girl out of her shell, which means she’s strictly off limits. But having her under my roof and close enough to touch is too much of a temptation. My legendary control is beginning to slip and I don’t know how much longer I can resist breaking every rule I have.
Chapter 1 - Rhys
“We would like a round of applause for one of our most generous benefactors to the Ashton Foundation, Mr. Rhys Thayer,” said the rotund man with the bright red cheeks. I stood, buttoning my suit jacket and waving to the crowd as applause filled the room. You’d have thought the announcer just ran a mile in six minutes flat, the way sweat poured down his face and soaked through his shirt right at the center of his chest. But no, he’d just walked up a few steps to the top of the stage. The man, what was his name? Gary? Grant? Graham? It didn’t matter anyway.
The G man went for a handshake, pumping so hard, like he wanted to detach my fucking hand from my arm. I gripped him by the shoulder, keeping that stupid smile plastered on my face, and squeezed. Grant/Gary/Graham released my hand from his sweaty grip and I wiped it on my suit pants that probably cost more than this guy’s toupee. At least I hadn’t paid for them.
“Would you like to give a speech?” the G man said, spittle flying in my face.
“No, that’s quite all right. I wouldn’t want to keep everyone from enjoying their wonderful lunch. Plus, I’m sure everyone would much rather listen to the beautiful song that’s been prepared rather than have me squawk up here,” I said. In three, two, one, peals of laughter broke out across the crowd. It wasn’t even a funny joke. But when you had money like me, it didn’t matter. I could whip out my dick out and piss on someone sitting in the front row and they’d applaud.
Derek appeared by the side of the stage to escort me out. Saved by the fucking bell. The music swelled and some opera singer took the stage and belted out her song. I excused myself and made my way down the stairs at the back of the stage.
“What took you so long?”
“I had to make sure Esme was settled in okay with Hunter before I left,” Derek said, keeping his eyes forward as he led me out of the hotel. He needed to lighten up. I hadn’t received a death threat in months.
“How was she?” I asked, matching my stride with Derek’s, which was quite a feat considering that Derek dwarfed me by at least four inches even though I’m six two.
“She was fine. He was going to take her to the toy store.”
“Okay, good. That’s a great way for him to ingratiate himself with her.”
“Did she say anything when you left?”
Derek shot me a hard glance. “You know what I mean,” he said, shrugging. Esme hadn’t spoken to anyone but me since the day she’d been found next to her mother’s body. Derek was the only other person alive who knew that fact.
“No. She didn’t.” And that was the end of the conversation. Derek held open the door to the black SUV and I climbed in. Next stop, the bank. You’d think the life of a billionaire philanthropist leant itself to lots of free time, but it felt like all I did was get shuttled from meeting to meeting, event to event, gala to gala. I hadn’t had a day off in the past six months. It drained every ounce of energy I had. Especially when I hated every minute of it.
Chapter 2 - Mel
The din of chatter and silverware clinking filled the air. The pungent smell of carbs and coffee clung to every surface in the diner, including my uniform. I tucked my pen behind my ear as I stood in front of my eighth table this shift. At least tips would be good with so many tables packed in my section. The middle-aged couple at my table continued to flip through their menu. I’d visited this table three times now waiting for them to order. I could cut to the chase and let them know that whatever they chose would suck. The only thing that kept this restaurant open was the prime NYC location luring in a continual flow of unsuspecting tourists with their wallets wide open.
Martin reminded us time and time again that customers came to the diner for the atmosphere, not the food. I glanced around at the cracked tiles and dingy paint, tapping my foot. He was a greedy little weasel who capitalized on the fact that he’d allowed a movie to film in the diner ages ago. He’d been trading on that little gem for decades.
“We’ll have the—” Yes, finally! My enthusiasm of finally getting an order out of them was cut short by the clattering of a chair behind me. I spun and caught a streak of blue as the customers from my fifth table of the evening dashed out the front door. Fuck. I dropped my note pad on the table and raced after them, my sneakers squealing on the broken tiles as I pushed through the door.
Martin was crystal clear about the waitress’ responsibility when it came to dine and dashers. As in, it was our complete and total responsibility to stop them and if they got away, well, that came out of our paychecks. Totally illegal, but there wasn’t much choice other than quitting.
The fri
gid wind and raindrops stung my face as I pushed through the crowds of people with umbrellas wandering aimlessly down the sidewalk. Out of the way. The temptation to start body checking old ladies grew strong as the bright blue jacket of the guy I chased got farther and farther out of sight.
One second I spotted a gap in the crowd and bolted for it, and the next, the world tilted as I slammed my knees into the hard, cold, wet sidewalk.
“Ahh!” I yelped as the crowds surged past me like a rock plunked down in the middle of a river. The rain kicked up a notch and pelted me. The concrete dug into my palms, scraping them as I pushed myself up. I glanced down as a thin trail of blood rolled down my shin. My leg throbbing, I cursed the rain and the asshole who skipped out on the check. I limped off to the side of the sidewalk and found a dry spot under an awning. Shielded from the elements, even a little, I lifted my knee to check out the damage.
“Hey, baby, looking good,” someone from the surging crowd called out. I dropped my leg, suddenly aware of how short my uniform skirt was and the fact that I hadn’t found any clean underwear, so I had gone without that day. I flipped the bird to no one in particular as people flowed by. I hope whoever had called out to me had enjoyed the show.
My pantyhose was ripped and there were a few runs along the length of my leg. Martin required all his waitresses to wear pantyhose, like we were living in the ‘70s. I’d have to stop off and buy a new pair from the corner shop. I leaned my head against the brick wall behind me—and got out some money to pay the check of the dashers. Dammit. Today was not shaping up to be my day. Just like every other day this year.
I limped down the sidewalk, wrapping my arms around myself as icy rain hit me and stabbed right through my cheap pink uniform. On my way back to the diner, I came to a bank and popped inside their toasty vestibule to use the ATM. I slipped my card in, rubbing my hands together and breathing into them. My warm breath temporarily thawed my fingers enough to punch in my pin. A twenty should cover the food and some new hose. A blinking blue message flashed on the screen, “Insufficient Funds.” I checked my balance. Less than twelve dollars. That didn’t make any sense. My breath caught in my chest.
