Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)

by Layla Hagen

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Charlie. Whirling on my heels, I strut out of the bar, and then I break into a run as I round the corner of the building, climb the stairs, and enter my apartment. I barely have time to take a few deep breaths, let alone process all this, when I hear footsteps behind me.

  “Clara.”

  “Don’t even talk to me right now.”

  “You’re angry.”

  At least he has the good sense not to put a question mark at the end of that sentence. I whirl around, facing him, holding my chin high, my shoulders straight.

  “Yes. So angry that if I had a pointy object now, I’d poke you with it repeatedly.”

  “Machete or knife?”

  “What?”

  “The pointy object, would it be a machete or knife? I need to know how bad this is.”

  “This is not a joke, Blake,” I say, deflated.

  “You started with the pointy object,” he points out. He’s so calm, so collected, whereas I’m simmering with anger.

  I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Why are you doing this? Putting me on the spot? Pushing me?”

  “Because you need to be pushed.”

  “Wrong answer. This is not your call to make. I am not ready.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been working on this for more than ten years. The best things happen when you get out of your comfort zone.”

  “Gah.” The nerve of him! “You say that because you always had a cushion to fall on.”

  Jesus, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.

  “I know that. Don’t think I ever take my privilege for granted.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you. I just...I’m not ready,” I repeat.

  Blake closes the distance between us. Brave of him, since my anger is still alive and simmering—coming close to a boil.

  “You don’t see what I see.” He puts his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes.

  “Enlighten me. What do you see?” I challenge.

  “A strong, hardworking woman who is afraid to put herself out there. You think your dream is safe as long as you keep it to yourself. You’re afraid that you’ll lose your safe haven if you get criticized.”

  Wow. Wow. I couldn’t have put this into words any better.

  “So, if you know all this, why push me?”

  “Because you want to make this step, you’re just afraid. What’s the worst that can happen? Charlie says you still need to sharpen your skills. Your confidence will take a hit, maybe you’ll even stop illustrating for a while. But then eventually you’re going to start it again. If you don’t, I’m going to nag you until you start again just to shut me up.”

  Poof, there’s my anger. Vanished into thin air. My current predicament revolves around having a knot in my throat, and if I try to form words in spite of it, they might come out mushy and emotional. Blake moves his hands from my shoulders to hold my face.

  “You have no idea how amazing you are, Clara. But I do.” He presses his thumbs gently against my temple, the rest of his fingers splayed wide at the sides of my head. “If you really don’t want to show him your work, I’ll go down alone and make up an excuse.”

  “Look at you, all democratic. Giving me a choice.”

  He smiles, kissing my forehead.

  “I’ll show it to him. I feel particularly brave. Will you stick around while he’s looking over them? Just in case my bravery deserts me and I try to make a run for it?”

  “I’ll be there. Told you I have your back. I believe in you.”

  ***

  A few minutes later, the show is on. I shove what I think is the collection of my best works under Charlie’s nose, and he’s inspecting every page, hmming and aaaahing. I can’t tell if they’re good or bad sounds, but if he doesn’t form actual words soon, the tension rising inside me will choke me.

  “Charlie, how about voicing some of that feedback?” Blake asks eventually. The two of us are standing around one of the small round tables, and Charlie is the only one sitting. Kind of wish I’d perched up on a seat too because my knees feel like they’re about to give away, and not in a good way. As if sensing this, Blake brings his hand at the small of my back, moving it in small, soothing circles, as if saying, I’m here for you, and I’ll be here no matter what Charlie says. I’ll have your back, always.

  Charlie snaps his head up. “Sorry, I tend to lose myself in illustrations. These are very creative. What’s your background?”

  “I took a class at a community college, but mostly I’m self-taught.”

  Charlie nods. “How many illustrations do you have in total?”

  “Lost count a few years back, but the number is in the hundreds.”

  “No better way to hone your craft than by continually using it. Our imprint is company-fresh talent. We’re looking to bring on board three full-time illustrators, with a two-week training period right in the beginning. The recruitment process is just about to start. Would you be interested?”

  Woooooooot! Hell yes! Breathe in, breathe out, Clara. Sound polite. Do not let your crazy come out right now. You can do a happy dance later. It might involve Blake, and we might be naked.

  “Yes, very interested.”

  “Excellent. I think you’d be a match for us. Go on our homepage, you’ll find the job posting there. Apply and you’ll hear from us. Best of luck.”

  I’m still dizzy when Charlie leaves, which is when I unleash my crazy, smothering Blake with kisses.

  “Congratulations, babe,” he says when I give him the chance to breathe. Then I attack him again.

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  Oh snap. I’m in love with this man. Head over heels in love, earth-shattering love, and any number of euphemisms are appropriate to describe what I feel. The more exaggerated the more appropriate.

  I jump into his arms, kissing him even more energetically than before. Blake stumbles backward until we arrive at the counter. He lifts me onto it, pulling away a few inches.

  “Clara, wait. I’m losing control here.”

  “Where’s the problem?” I ask wickedly. “Your team won’t arrive for eons.”

  “Babe, I have a dangerous effect on you, and I plan to take advantage of it.”

  Lifting me off the counter, he leads me into that tiny back room where he did wicked things to me that night right before we made love for the first time. Since I was hanging around the apartment, I’m wearing a rather loose dress, which Blake seems to find particularly amusing. The second we’re in the small office, he pushes me against the closed door, cinching my dress up, then pulling it over my head, leaving me in my underwear only.

  His eyes darken as his gaze slides down to my see-through bra, then lower to the silk thong.

  “You’re fucking sexy. I want you to keep these on.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” I’m not entirely sure how keeping my panties on will work, but I trust the master.

  He cocks a brow. “Thought I wasn’t the boss of you.”

  “Not in general, just in the bedroom, or the office.”

  Staring me straight in the eyes, he lowers his hands, stroking my slit over the silk once. I’m slick the next second, my knees buckling from the unexpected burst of pleasure. He smiles wickedly as he strokes again, and a new wave of heat rushes through me. My nipples press against my bra, bringing pleasure and torture in equal measures. Watching me, he repeats the movement, until my panties are so soaked through that I’m almost ashamed. But shame doesn’t keep me from coming hard. My hips swivel against his hand. Sweet baby Jesus on a unicorn. He made me climax by only touching me over my panties.

  “How can you do this every time?” I whisper, lacing my arms over his shoulders, because my legs are shaking.

  “What?”

  “Bring me to your mercy?”

  “It’s the easiest thing in the world because you’re so responsive to me. We’re doing this together.”

  Eyeing the bulge in his
jeans, I undo the button and lower the zipper, relieving some of the pressure. I want to take care of him. When I slip my hand in his boxers, he lets out a deep groan.

  “Fuck, if I’m not going to be inside you in five seconds I will explode. See? I’m at your mercy too.” He moves us from the door to the desk, then opens a drawer, retrieving a small pack of condoms.

  “Brought these here after our first night. Knew we’d make it back here eventually.”

  “Let me put it on.”

  With shaky hands, I undo the foil, then roll it on, feeling him pulse under my touch. I want this to be good for him.

  I want to make this so good that he won’t want to let me go.

  It’s crazy, I know, but I’ve never wanted anything more than I want Blake. Pushing the fabric of my thong to one side, he hoists me up on the edge of the desk, then slides inside me in one fierce move.

  “Fuck, I love how tight you are after you come.”

  Feeling him stretching me out all at once nearly whips my breath away. Drawing circles around my nipples over my bra, he pushes in and out with deep, measured strokes, sending pleasure rippling along my nerve endings. Light-headed, I cling to him at first, then perch my hands on the edge of the desk, grounding myself so I can meet his thrusts with my own. Nothing is fast enough. Nothing is deep enough. My craving for this man is insatiable.

  A faint crack has us both stopping, listening intently.

  “What was that?” I ask. Blake pushes the desk a tad, and another crack follows.

  He grins. “The table’s gonna give out.”

  Well, first time I’m having furniture-breaking sex, that’s for sure.

  “Let’s not make this poor desk crumble,” he says, helping me off it, leading me to the chair of all places. How on earth will we—

  “Perch one foot on the seat. Keep your hands on the backrest.”

  Ah, but of course. My imagination can’t keep up with his expertise.

  “Lose the panties first.”

  “But I want to keep them on like you said,” I challenge, throwing him a seductive look over my shoulder.

  In response, he gives me a light smack on each ass cheek. My muscles contract instantly as I exhale sharply.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes. I like everything you do to me, Blake. Everything.”

  With a knowing smile, he pushes my panties down, lowering himself on his haunches. I turn my head, fixing my gaze on my hands, bracing myself. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.

  He cuffs my ankles with his hands briefly before rasping out, “Step out of your panties.”

  I do as he says, shuddering in anticipation.

  “Do you want me to take off the bra and shoes too?” I ask shyly.

  “No. Keep those.”

  When he rises to his feet, he licks me right where the thong was seconds before between my cheeks. I grip the chair so tight that my knuckles pale.

  “How close are you to climaxing?”

  My entire body is tight, buzzing like a livewire.

  “Very.”

  He slides inside me, bringing one hand in the front.

  “I’m just going to touch your clit. I won’t move. I want to feel you come while I’m inside you once.”

  His words alone nearly send me over the edge. Feeling him so deep inside me while he touches my clit is too much. It’s all too damn much. So much tension. So much pleasure. So much Blake.

  I cry out when I climax, and Blake starts rocking in and out of me while I’m still riding the wave, spasming around him. The heightened sensations send me onto another wave. I don’t know when the first orgasm ends and the second one begins.

  As Blake rasps out his own relief, I allow myself to wonder for the very first time, what would it be like if Blake fell in love with me? What would it take to make him fall for me?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Blake

  “Mr. Evans, follow me. Mr. Shepperd and Mr. Meyer are waiting for you in the meeting room.”

  I follow the secretary down a narrow corridor, then step through the door she opens for me. I made an appointment with Clara’s ex-boss, Quentin Meyer, and Ryan Shepperd, the head of that trashy gossip segment We See You, using a fake name.

  I suspected that Shepperd imbecile would not give up on his goal just because he doesn’t have a story or a source. I know how these people work. If they don’t find anything, they start making shit up. Which is why I had a detective dig deeper. Turns out I was right. They concocted a story ‘revealing’ Sebastian’s double life. They plan to run it as their lead segment next week, to kick off August with a bang. They’re going to change that plan drastically after this meeting. I’m making them change it.

  The second I’m inside the room, their faces become ashen. As head of that trashy gossip segment, I was sure Shepperd would know exactly who I am, but it’s a nice surprise that so does Quentin Meyer, judging by his wide eyes.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Shepperd asks, standing.

  “You’re Blake Bennett,” Meyer comments, rising to his feet too.

  “We’ve got that out of the way, then. Excellent. Let’s begin.”

  “Wait a minute!” Meyer exclaims. “No one will begin anything. You entered this building using lies—”

  “Lies! Yes, let’s talk about that.” I sit at their meeting table, making myself at home. “I happen to know you plan to run a false story about my oldest brother.”

  Shepperd narrows his eyes. Meyer jerks his head back.

  “I’m going to make this simple for you, gentlemen.” Both gape at me as I push two stacks of papers in their directions. “You’re going to sign these, and if you ever talk or write about my family, you’re going to pay for it.”

  The two men look too stunned to speak for a few moments, then Shepperd starts.

  “Freedom of the press—”

  “Does not give you free reign to lie,” I say coldly. “Do libel and defamation ring a bell?”

  Shepperd smirks, but Meyer starts reading the document in front of him.

  I have a team of lawyers who can build a solid case of libel and defamation on short notice, which is how fake stories usually die. Some have a very wrong idea of what freedom of the press means compared to what the law actually states.

  If all that fails, good old threatening and bribing shuts people up, at least for a while. It’s my least favorite mode of operation because not only does it feel like rewarding those bastards, but it also leaves the door open for them to try to extort us later down the road. That’s why bribing usually comes with some solid threatening and intimidating.

  Right now, they are both reading the documents in front of them, and I can practically see the color drain out of them. Good.

  “You can’t—this is insane,” Shepperd mutters. “I run a gossip segment—”

  “So glad you brought that up. You aren’t running it anymore.”

  “What?”

  “Ring up Sheldon,” I say, referring to the person right above him in the hierarchy. “You’ll find out he’s waiting for your resignation.” Turning to Meyer, I say, “The same is true for you.”

  “Are you insane?” Meyer exclaims. “Horowitz—”

  “Hates your guts, as does half the network.” As do I. Just imagining this slimeball making Clara’s life hard is enough to make me want to punch him. His willingness to sell out my family only adds gasoline to the fire. “So, don’t let the door hit you on your way out. But before, you’ll both sign those documents, or I will make your lives very hard.”

  I pull myself to my full height, glaring at both of them. My bet is they will cave within thirty seconds. They cave after twelve.

  ***

  “Hello, fellow Bennetts,” I say two days later, stepping inside Sebastian’s office.

  He sits behind his desk, while Logan paces around. They both look at me curiously. I asked them to meet me for lunch today, which is why I brought burgers for everyone.

 
“Double cheese.” I put one brown paper bag in front of Sebastian, then hand the other to Logan, saying, “Extra pickles.”

  “Why did you want to meet?” Logan asks as we start on our lunch.

  “To give you a heads-up about a few things. I got wind that the slimebags from We See You plan to trash Sebastian.”

  I start by telling them everything I know from Clara and then everything I found out through my own digging.

  Logan swears; Sebastian just leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desk.

  “These people never give up, do they?” Logan asks through gritted teeth. “If they don’t have fodder for tabloids, they make it up.”

  “Exactly,” I confirm. “But I killed the entire story. Just wanted you two to know in case anyone contacts you about it.”

  “Blake,” Sebastian says slowly, “I appreciate this, but I don’t want you to get caught up in this fight. You can waste your life fighting the tabloids, but there’s no winning here.”

  “Sebastian, you’re too cerebral for your own good,” Logan says. “I’m with Blake on this one.”

  “It’s the reverse of the medal,” Sebastian continues. “The press spent years building me up to be some kind of superhero, now they want another angle. After all, there are only so many articles you can write about the success of a company and its founding family. After a while, you want some dirt, something to prove their life isn’t perfect either. People like a success story, but they love a scandal and tearing others down more.”

  “Lucky I like tearing down people who try to tear down the family,” I say dryly. I lost count on how many stories I’ve killed over the years. Daniel and I started doing this to stop our own stupidity from damaging the family. In our early twenties, we went from one wild party to another, and that’s fodder for tabloids. As the years went by and Daniel and I appeared less in public, the type of stories the press was after changed. They wanted dirt especially on the oldest trio—Logan, Sebastian, and Pippa—since they’re the pillars of Bennett Enterprises.