by BJ Bentley
“No, it’s not,” he said, laughing. “The spare is there in the event that you lock yourself out of your house. Again.”
“April has a big mouth,” I muttered, turning back to the stove.
“Indeed, she does, but in this case, it worked to my advantage.”
I rolled my eyes. “You hungry?”
“Starving. Thirsty?” he asked, retrieving a bottle of wine from the fridge and uncorking it without waiting for an answer.
With our dinner plated and the wine poured, we sat at my small kitchen table and ate while darting furtive glances at each other.
“Anytime you’re ready,” he said simply, in between bites of asparagus.
How he could look so calm and unconcerned when I was about to blow everything to smithereens was beyond me. I set my fork down and picked up my wine glass, downing half of it in one gulp and topping it off again before I spoke.
“Remember all those embarrassing stories April told about me? My wild days of running underwear up flagpoles and entering wet t-shirt contests?”
“Let’s not forget the pig thievery,” he murmured.
“Right. That too. Well, those stories are pretty mild compared to what I’m about to tell you. And, before I do, I need you to know that I’ll completely understand when you never want to see me again or have Tierney transferred to another class just to get her out from under my influence.”
He blew out an impatient breath and relaxed back in his chair. “Go on.”
I licked my parched lips, stalling, while I prayed that the knot in my stomach would ease. No such luck. “About a year after I graduated college, I started dating this guy, Tom. He was...everything I thought I ever wanted.” I remembered back to when I first met Tom. It was in a coffee shop. A totally cliché rom-com meet cute. He flirted with me, and I spilled my piping hot vanilla latte directly on his junk. I fumbled with a handful of napkins, patting his crotch in an attempt to dry his pants which only served to give him an awkward boner. It was totally romantic.
He asked me out after that. We dated for two years altogether, moving in together after only six months. I knew it was happening fast, but he was practically perfect in my eyes, and I thought I was finally going to get a taste of what my sister and John had when they first fell in love. And for a little while I did. But then the secretive texts and covert phone calls began. When he told me it was a friend or his work, I believed him. I believed him right up until I came home from school one day to find him gone without a word. Not even a note. No explanation whatsoever. He’d taken everything of value with him- electronics, the few small pieces of fine jewelry I owned, an antique serving set that had been passed down by my grandmother, and every penny I had to my name. Checking and savings were cleared out.
Now, as a teacher, what I had in the bank didn’t amount to much, but it was all I had. With my next paycheck two weeks away, I had no way to pay rent, bills, or buy groceries. I had twenty bucks in cash in my wallet, which I used to put gas in my crappy car. I ended up having to move in with April until I got back on my feet, during which time I told her that Tom and I had broken up and he was keeping the apartment, which is why I needed a place to stay. She didn’t know about the rest of it until the day before at brunch when I finally spilled everything that really went down when Tom skipped out on me. I thought I’d never feel as humiliated or hurt as I did the day Tom betrayed me, but all those old feelings of insecurity and unworthiness came crashing back when I admitted the truth to my big sister.
Going to the police yielded zero results for about a year, until finally, one day I got a call from the same officer who originally handled my case. They found Tom, whose real name turned out to be fucking Leroy of all things, living in his mom’s basement and scamming little old ladies online. I guess in the time he lived with me, he was upping his game. Learning how to be more tech savvy so he wouldn’t have to move in with his next mark in order to con her. Two years was a long time to commit to someone only to make off with a couple thousand dollars in cash and whatever my jewelry and antique serving set had been worth, but Tom/Leroy apparently wasn’t all that bright. Apparently, when the police questioned him about how he chose his targets, he said that he’d noticed me carrying a designer handbag that day in the coffee shop. Dumbass didn’t know enough about designer gear to know that that bag was three seasons old, and I’d picked it up at a consignment shop. I didn’t pay anywhere near retail for it. I was a teacher for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t exactly rollin’ in dough.
“So, there you have it.” I kept my eyes on the table, unwilling to witness the condemnation in Damon’s eyes.
“Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I scoffed, mumbling.
“Sophie, look at me.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t bear to witness how he must view me now.
“Sophie.” His tone was gentle yet stern, an unmistakable thread of steel underlied his words.
I lifted my chin and swallowed.
“Tell me why this was so hard for you to talk about.”
“He stole from me. Worse than that, I thought he loved me, and he betrayed my trust in the worst possible way.”
“I understand that, but what I don’t understand is how any of that is relevant to the relationship that you and I have. I’m certainly not going to steal from you.”
I knew that, of course, logically. He was a billionaire; he had no need for my pittance of a paycheck. But that wasn’t what worried me, what held me back. “I let him,” I admitted softly.
“Explain that to me, so I understand where you’re coming from.”
I thought the issue was obvious, but I explained anyway. “I chose him. I said yes when he asked me out. I invited him into my life when I barely knew him. I fell in love with him. Trusted him. I made a judgment call that backfired in a way that it took years for me to rebuild my pride, and to this day, I still feel like I can’t trust my own judgment. I’m a fuckin’ idiot!” I jumped from my chair and stalked to the counter and back, pacing.
Damon was suddenly in my space, backing me up against the counter and trapping me there with his arms on either side of me. “Let me get this straight. Some toolbag betrayed your trust, dicked you over, and you blame yourself?”
“But, don’t you get it? I allowed it to happen. I should have, I don’t know, seen the red flags or something.”
“Well, they say hindsight is twenty-twenty, right? Looking back, what were the warning signs?”
That was something I’d thought long and hard about more than once over the years, and the truth was, I didn’t see any, not even in retrospect. That didn’t mean they weren’t there, it just meant that I was blind to them.
“Were there any?” he asked when I didn’t answer.
“Not that I could see,” I admitted, grudgingly.
“So, someone who was adept at subterfuge pulled one over on you. That says far more about his character than it does about yours. What happened was not your fault.”
I swallowed thickly, terrified of his answer to my next question. “Do you think, um, you could ever...do you think we could still….” I lost my ability to form coherent sentences, so I waved my hand between us to make my point.
Damon apparently didn’t feel like using words any longer, either. Grabbing the waistband of my pants and panties, he stripped me from the waist down in one fluid movement before hoisting my bare ass up onto the counter. I gasped when my skin hit the cold tile.
“Hands on the counter. Grab the edge, and don’t let go.” He turned one of the kitchen chairs around so it faced me, then he walked toward the refrigerator and came back with an ice cube between his fingers.
“This countertop is already cold enough against my skin, so whatever you’re planning on doing with that, can you rethink it?”
“I’ve done nothing but think about it from the moment I walked in here tonight.” He situated himself in the chair between my knees, and I watched him slide the ice cube between his lips
. Leaning in, he swept the icy wetness over the lips of my bare pussy before pushing them apart and sliding the rapidly melting ice cube into me.
My fingers gripped his hair as a gasped, squirming.
“Hands on the counter, Sophie,” he warned.
I whimpered but complied. “Please, Damon.”
“Such a good girl, begging me,” he cooed before dipping his head again and sucking what was left of the ice cube back out along with my juices. “Legs over my shoulders,” he ordered, and I had no choice but to obey. I’d give him anything, and if he wanted to eat me on my kitchen counter, I’d welcome him to the buffet with a fucking lobster bib and a smile.
When he was done with me, I was destroyed. Forget coherent sentences, I couldn’t even get a grasp on coherent thought. All I knew was that I was feeling good, cognitive skills be damned. He helped me down from the counter, and not even the five o’clock shadow burn on my inner thighs could kill my mood.
“In case it wasn’t clear before now, I don’t blame you for what that fuckwit did to you, nor does it make me think any less of you. Am I understood?”
“Hm? Oh. Yeah.” I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I was in no position to formulate an argument at that moment. I was still floating around in a Damon-induced lust fog.
“Perfect. Then you should also know that I’m not him, and the only fucking over I’m going to be doing to you is over the back of that couch.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the living room, I guess, in case there was any doubt as to which couch he was referring.
I gave a half-hearted shrug. “Mmkay.”
“Excellent. Come along, doll.” He grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the living room. “I have a pussy to reclaim.”
Chapter 30
Damon
I had no intention whatsoever of telling Sophie that I already knew all about Tom/Leroy Abernathy. She’d be pissed if she knew I’d run an incredibly thorough and invasive background check on her using one of the top private investigator’s in the country. It was something I did for anyone who was to have constant contact with Tierney. I’d done it for all her teachers so far and would continue to do so in the future. I’d also done it to Chloe, though she was the only one who was actually aware of it.
Was I paranoid? Maybe. Over the top in my protective nature? Perhaps. Was I ashamed of my obsessive need to know every detail in the lives of those to whom I entrusted my daughter’s care and education? Not one bit. But that didn’t mean I was going to confide that little fact in Sophie. Giving her another reason to get mad and push me away would be counterproductive to my goal, and nothing came between me and my goals.
I’d known that Abernathy’s betrayal had upended Sophie’s life, but hearing her tell the story in her own words gutted me. I’d always thought of Sophie as warm and sweet with a vibrant fun streak. Now, I see why she subdues that part of herself. That part that longs to break out and take chances. The part that fell in love and moved in with someone after only six months. The same part that encouraged her penchant for doing the crazy stuff that most people are too cowardly to admit they regret not doing. He’d done more than just break her heart. He’d broken some part of her. The part of her that was carefree and trusting of the world around her.
I aimed to fix that part. Sophie was mine in all ways, even if she didn’t know it yet. And, in being mine, I’d make sure she never hurt, never feared, and never felt alone. A tall order, for sure, but I was nothing if not determined. Just like I promised Sophie that I’d do anything to get her body underneath me, I was making another promise. This time I was promising Sophie the world.
I woke up in Sophie’s bed after fucking her over the couch after eating her in the kitchen. I’d also taken her up against the shower wall before we fell, exhausted, into bed. Now, in her bedroom, with dawn’s first rays filtering in between the curtains, I looked at the alarm clock in the hopes that I’d have enough time to fuck her silly before we both had to leave for work. The clock read five forty-five. Perfect.
Rolling over to where Sophie still slept, face down, I positioned myself behind her, gently nudging her legs apart. I touched her, testing her readiness, and lined myself up and entering her in one smooth stroke. She moaned, thrusting her hips back, but I pushed her back down to the mattress, forcing her to take what I was giving her in the way I wanted to give it.
“Damon,” she moaned.
“Good morning, doll. Sleep well?” My voice was already husky with sleep, now it was growing even raspier for a different reason.
She tried to push up on her elbows, so I pinned her arms down.
“Tsk tsk. Take what I’m giving you, darlin’. See how good that feels?”
“I’m going to come,” she whimpered.
I smiled. “I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.”
I felt her walls clench around me, drawing me in deeper as she soared over the edge, taking me along for the ride. I could definitely look forward to doing that for the rest of my life. I withdrew from her body and laid next to her, but I couldn’t stop touching her. I ran my hands up and down her back and over her hip, pausing to give her ass a light smack.
She turned her head to look at me in the hazy glow of the rising sun and smiled. “Hi.”
I smiled back. “Hi.”
“What time is it?”
I glanced back at the clock. “Time for me to get a shower. Why don’t you doze for a little bit longer? I’ll wake you when I’m done, so you can get ready for work.”
“Kay,” she mumbled, still wearing that satisfied smile.
I showered and dressed before waking Sophie and informing her that I’d be in the kitchen making breakfast while she got ready for the day. She came downstairs just in time for me to plate her eggs and bacon and slide a fresh cup of coffee across the table for her, sweetened just the way she liked it.
It was the kind of thing that couples did. There was a comfort in the routine of starting each day by making love and then feeding your family. Providing for them. Supporting them. Letting them know with actions that they were loved and appreciated. The only thing missing was Tierney. I needed both my girls present to fully appreciate what I’d made for myself.
We finished eating and piled our dishes in the sink. Sophie insisted on leaving them there and washing them later. “Mornings aren’t for chores,” she’d said. She was the type to wake up slowly and go about her morning at her own pace. Apparently, household responsibilities did not factor into that outlook. She wanted to enjoy the time she had to prepare for the day ahead without stress or anxiety setting her on edge first thing. In other words, she did not thrive under pressure. It was a philosophy I could get behind after years of always feeling like I was living for a deadline.
I walked Sophie to her car, giving her a thorough kiss before watching her climb in and buckle up. I braced my hands on the frame and leaned in before she could shut the door. “I love you.” She didn’t say the words back, but I was okay with that. Instead, she reached for me, pulling me down so we were face to face and kissed me. She may not have said the words, but she definitely felt them, so I didn't push. I’d just have to make sure to get her to a place where she felt safe enough to utter them. And then I’d demand that she say them to me every single day for the next fifty years, at least.
The traffic as I drove to Hatchling Tech was surprisingly light, which was unusual for city traffic on a Tuesday morning. I made it to the office in record time, noticing that Lydia’s car was already in her reserved parking space. Guess I wasn’t the only one feeling a little proactive this morning. I whistled to myself as I strolled to the elevator that would take me to my office. I smiled and nodded to the faces I passed whether they were familiar or not. I asked Greg, the security officer on duty, about his daughter’s piano recital, which, according to him, she slayed. I bypassed the pastry cart in the lobby, not wanting a sugar crash that would kill my buzz.
By the time I made it upstairs, Lydia was already taking calls. Hatchling
Tech was a hive of activity already, but instead of stressing out under the pressure, I thought about how Sophie felt under me that morning and grinned like a loon. The high I was riding took a sharp nosedive when the intercom buzzed and Lydia announced that Georgia was requesting to see me. Lydia stressed the word ‘requesting’ in a way that I knew Georgia was acting spoiled and making demands. “Send her in.” It wasn’t fair to Lydia to have her deal with Georgia’s haughty attitude, when I took so much delight in putting her in her place.
“Damon, I’m not sure your secretary is a good fit for her job. She was quite rude to me.”
“Was she? I’ll be sure to give her a raise.”
She scowled at me for a nanosecond before her southern breeding kicked in and she smoothed her expression into one of polite indifference.
“What do you want, Georgia?”
“I want to arrange another day with Tierney.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You said you were going to text me, not show up unannounced at my office.”
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something else, as well,” she hedged, and warning bells began to ring in my mind.
“What could you possibly have to talk to me about?”
She licked her lips in a nervous gesture. “I know you have an interest in the medical community, as do I.”
What she meant was, she had an interest in her father’s pharmaceutical company.
“Daddy’s company has a new project. It’s an experimental drug that could save thousands of lives. I think it could be something that Hatchling Tech, and you, could benefit from if you were to invest in it.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Cut the crap, Georgia. First of all, you know how I feel about your father’s company. Could this experimental drug save thousands of lives? Maybe. If he wasn’t determined to sell it at an exorbitant cost to patients who likely won’t be able to afford it with or without insurance. He also knows my feelings on his business dealings, which is why he himself isn’t here to ask for my backing. Why send you?”
