by S. M. Soto
“What?”
“I thought my life would be different by now, you know? But here I am, still in the same place I was all those years ago. Maybe not physically, but I’m still there. And I’m tired, Baz,” I whisper. “I’m so tired. I want to let go, but I can’t. Why can’t I just let go?”
I finally look up at him, and his face gives nothing away as he listens to me vent. I get the sense he’s letting me get it all out here in the open, so I take that opportunity.
“I thought by now I’d have a career, I’d be madly in love with a good man, and we’d be starting a family. Isn’t it sad that that’s all I’ve ever really wanted out of life? Someone to love and someone to love me back for once?” The truth is spilling out of me like word vomit now, thanks to all the alcohol I’ve consumed throughout the night.
Baz sighs and takes the seat next to me. “There’s nothing sad about that. You can still have all of that.”
I laugh, but it comes out choked and strained. “You know that’s not true. Don’t lie to make me feel better. I’m a mess. I’ve been a mess for the last nine years.”
“What do you want then, Mackenzie?”
My bottom lip trembles. I shift on the leather seat, turning to look at him. “To be happy.”
His eyes rake across my face as he processes my answer. “And what would make you happy?”
“Ava would.” I say it without thinking. It’s not a lie, but I know I’m in no headspace to raise a child, even if I could give her a family. Someone who would love her and protect her. I’d protect her with my life.
I wonder if this is what Madison meant on the night of the accident? Did she mean I was supposed to put all my anger aside for the sake of Ava? Or some other little girl out there who is just as lost as I am?
The hard edge that’s usually lingering at the edge of his eyes is no longer there. Now it’s replaced by something else entirely. I don’t know why I say it, but the truth continues to fall from my lips.
“And you.”
He frowns. “What about me?”
“You asked what would make me happy.” I shrug. “And I said you.”
Heat flares deep in the depths of his eyes, and then his mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me. I moan into his mouth, his lips teasing mine open. There’s a softness to his touch, but an urgency in his ministrations, as though he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. I slide my hand across his angular jaw, relishing in the feel of his stubble grazing my hand.
We both pull away, our chests heaving, lust pouring out of our eyes. My skin suddenly feels feverish, tingles erupting across every inch of my skin, just begging for him to kiss me, to touch me, to love me.
“Fuck me. Please,” I beg against his lips. A growl rumbles in his chest. His eyes scour a path of fire across my skin as he searches my face. Seeing what he needs to, he pushes to his feet, taking my hand and leading me through the building. Baz is short with everyone as he says his goodbyes. He lets out a pained groan when he realizes he has to drive us to his luxury condo because he gave Dan the rest of the night off.
Once we’re in his Bentley, I start tearing at his clothes, trying to get him inside me. He sinks his fingers in my hair and drags my mouth to his, kissing me senseless. Suddenly jerking back, with his chest heaving, he meets my gaze, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips.
“Not here.”
He revs the engine, pulling away, but unable to help myself, I start unbuckling his pants, trying to stroke his cock while he drives. My lust is fueling me. I just want him inside me, his skin on mine. Lust and alcohol swirl through my body, fogging my brain. All I want is him.
Baz grits his jaw, his hands tightening on the wheel, as I work his length. He’s warm and thick, and I have the urge to take him in my mouth. As if sensing where my thoughts are headed, his hand suddenly shoots out, stopping me.
He’s right. It’s probably not the greatest idea to suck him off while he’s going ninety on these streets.
“Lift your dress and touch yourself,” he commands, his tone filled with grit. My stomach dips, and I trap my bottom lip between my teeth. I fumble with the material of my dress, tugging my thong down my legs. I keep my gaze fixed on Baz as I spread my legs. He glances down at me, his fingers white-knuckling the wheel as he tries to focus on the road. A jolt of pleasure travels down my spine when I start touching myself. A low growl rumbles in his chest.
“Fuck yourself, Dirty Girl.”
I slide a finger inside myself, and I toss my head back. My eyes slam shut as I imagine it’s his finger. I can picture it so clearly, his strong, hard body hovering over me as he finger-fucks me. Moans spill from my lips. I arch and stretch in the seat, feeling my core clench around my digit, my orgasm looming. The sounds of my wetness echo around us along with my heavy breathing. Or is it Baz’s? I can’t tell.
The car is suddenly jerked hard, and my eyes fly open at the sound of tires screeching. I blink, surprise lighting my features, when I see we’re parked in the condo’s underground car garage. Baz is on me the second the car is turned off. Pushing his seat back, he drags me over the center console, and without warning, he slams me down on his cock.
One hand goes to his shoulder and the other goes to the ceiling for leverage. His hands grip my hips as he guides my movements, rocking me over his cock. I ride him, my moans spilling around us, filling the cabin of the vehicle. His hand disappears in my hair, and he tugs, dragging my gaze to his. My eyes are half-mast, our gazes locked. His mouth slams against mine. The kiss is brutal, almost as brutal as his punishing thrusts. I feel so full in this position. The way his hips piston inside me, I’m not going to last long.
“That’s it, baby. Come all over my cock. Just like that,” he growls against my lips. Those words are my undoing. I fall apart around him. My pussy grips his cock, my juices coating his shaft, and the sound of slapping flesh and my wetness are the only soundtrack surrounding us.
Baz grips the back of my neck. Tugging me all the way down on his cock, he grinds me over his erection, his tip rubbing against that spot deep inside me that has me seeing stars.
“You like that, Dirty Girl?” he asks in my ear.
I nod, mumbling incoherently.
Just as another orgasm slams into me, Baz’s grip tightens around me, and he comes inside me. Warmth floods me, and I collapse against him. I nestle my face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in as I work to control my heavy breathing. Goosebumps raise on my skin as Baz rubs his hand down my spine, toying with my flesh. The pads of his fingers trace small circles, damn near putting me to sleep.
With one of his hands still gripped in my hair, he urges my head back softly, so I can look at him. My chest tightens with emotion as we stare at each other. We don’t say anything, just sit there with his dick still lodged deeply inside me. Every part of me softens. That wall crumbles when he releases my hair, his hand cupping the side of my face now. His thumb strokes my cheek. He searches my eyes, his gaze trailing across the entirety of my face like he’s committing every part of me to memory.
I open my mouth, and I almost let the words out, those words I’ve been holding on to, keeping close to my chest, but a shaky breath escapes instead. Before this moment disintegrates, I trace his features with the pad of my finger, missing being able to touch what is mine whenever I want. Now, the only time I can do that is after he fucks me. A crease forms between my brows, and Baz blows out a sigh. Obviously, I’ve broken the moment by thinking too hard.
He lifts me off his lap and helps me climb back into the passenger seat. He situates himself, then opens his door and walks around the car. Baz opens my door, and I rush to hurry up and cover myself, but he drops to his haunches beside the open door, helping me. His warm, calloused hands slide up my thighs as he pulls my underwear up. He glances around then helps me out of the car, taking my hand to steady me as he straightens the material of the gown. I feel his cum sliding down my legs, and my cheeks heat. He smirks down at me as though he knows exact
ly what’s happening.
We walk hand in hand into the building. I glance around, still amazed by how much money this man has. He has a place to stay wherever he goes.
“Why did you buy this place?”
Once the doors to the elevator close on us, he shrugs, leaning back against the chrome wall. “To be near you.”
My eyes widen, and my breath catches. “You bought a whole ass condo to be near me? That’s insane, Sebastian.”
His mouth quirks. “You know, it’s actually growing on me, you using my full name.”
I roll my eyes but grin. There’s an easy, lighthearted feel between us right now that hasn’t been there in a long time. “What about that other house in Calabasas?”
He shrugs, glancing away from me as the doors open on his floor. “It’s good to invest in property.”
My brows crease, still thoroughly confused by his decisions, but I shrug it off. I don’t have the money he does, so what do I know about buying property? I wouldn’t be able to afford a treehouse in California, even if I tried.
We take the elevator up from the garage to his condo, and once inside, I hover in the living area, remembering the fight we had when we were here just a few weeks ago. It feels odd being here now.
Baz heads to the bar and pours himself a drink. He drops into one of the leather chaises, all without uttering a single word to me. I glance around, wondering if I’m supposed to hang out here with him or disappear into one of the rooms out of his sight. I roll my shoulders back, deciding to take a seat on the couch next to him and not overthink it.
“When was the last time you remember being happy?” His voice cuts through the silence, his gaze fixed on the tumbler resting on the wooden table. I press my lips together, rubbing them anxiously. I want to tell him the last time I was really happy was before any of this happened, back when I was with him.
But I don’t say that. I shrug. “I don’t really know. Maybe when Madison was still alive?”
His gaze darts to mine, and we stare at each other. I try to get a read on him and what he could be thinking, but his face gives nothing away. He’s back to wearing that blank, aloof mask he’s perfected.
“Did you mean what you said in there?”
I swallow, looking down at the table between us. “Yes.” Emotion clogs my throat, so I shake my head, forcing a dry laugh. “But I know that isn’t an option. I wouldn’t know the first way to get in contact with the agency. And even then, I’m not exactly in any place to care for a child. Hell, I was a mental patient just a month ago. That’s not exactly reassuring.”
He leans back against the chair, nodding mostly to himself. He raises his hand, his thumb rubbing over his bottom lip in contemplation. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
My stomach twists. News like this can never be good. I straighten on the chair, preparing myself for whatever he’s going to say. “What is it?”
“A publisher reached out to me on your behalf.” My eyes widen as he goes on. “They want to offer you a book deal. Tell your story on a bigger platform.”
I fall back against the couch, flabbergasted. “What? What does that mean?”
“It means you’re being offered the chance to change your life.”
I frown, shaking my head, still unable to wrap my head around what he’s saying. “But why reach out to you? Why not reach out to me?”
“Because you’re mine,” he says so matter-of-factly, my core tugs.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea. The first time didn’t exactly work out great for me. Being with you hasn’t changed the public’s opinion about me.”
He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. “They’re giving you a chance to tell your story the way it was supposed to be told, Mackenzie. If that isn’t enough of a turning point for you, they’re offering six figures just for signing. That’s not even calculating sales or what else this can bring.”
My breath escapes me in a rush. Six figures? What the hell is happening?
“And you’re okay with this? Me talking about us, about the Savages?”
He shrugs. “It’s not my story. It’s yours. You do what you want.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Baz sighs. He was obviously expecting a different reaction. “Just think about it. This can change your whole life.”
I nod, mostly to myself, letting all that sink in. He drains the contents of his glass and sets it back on the table and pushes to his feet. “Meet me in the room when you’re ready. And lose the dress this time. I want to see all of you when I’m fucking you tonight.”
He turns on his heel, heading toward the bedroom. My stomach dips. So many emotions and thoughts running through my head. In the end, I do just that—my dress long gone as I make my way into his bedroom.
I wake sometime in the middle of the night. Shifting on the sheets, I let out a hiss as my body pangs with soreness. Last night, Baz was rough, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I got the feeling he needed to release his pent-up anger through me, and I let him. I relished in it.
Sitting upright, a frown pulls taut across my face when I realize he’s not in bed. The cool sheets on his side tell me he’s been gone for a while. Sliding off the bed, I pick up his discarded white button-down from last night and slip my arms through it. I button the two middle buttons to keep the shirt closed, then I go off in search of Baz. I pause just near the threshold when I hear his deep voice. He’s speaking in a low tone.
I freeze in place, feeling the sudden need to be silent, instead of making my presence known. As quietly as I can manage, I open the door, blowing out a sigh of relief that it doesn’t creak or make any noise. Poking my head out, I glance around the darkened hall, trying to pinpoint where his voice is coming from. Careful to stay quiet, I follow the sound of his voice.
I realize it’s coming from the living room. I pause just before the threshold, so he doesn’t see me. Resting my back against the wall, I work to control my breathing and listen.
“You think I don’t know that?” Baz hisses to whomever he is talking to on the phone. “If he turns up, you tell me, and I swear to God, Trent, pull this shit again, and I’ll kill you, got me? Zach is back in LA. He’s the next one I’m paying a visit. I suggest you get it together, or I’ll be paying you a visit, and I promise, it won’t be pretty.”
My chest heaves as I step away from the wall, trying to process what I just heard. He said he didn’t know where Zach was, but he just said he’s home. And if Zach is home, that has to mean Vincent isn’t far behind. My stomach clenches and worry slithers through my veins.
I want to believe Baz and his claims that he’s on my side, that he doesn’t trust the Savages, but if he doesn’t trust them, how can he still talk to them so easily, as though nothing is amiss?
Corruption.
That’s the only logical explanation. Real corruption is a thin, subtle blade you don’t feel until it’s lodged deep into your back. Until you feel the blood pour from your flesh and the pain seep from your pores.
I hurry back into the room, careful to leave the door cracked, so I can hear him coming. I climb back on the bed, resting my back against the headboard. Hugging my knees to my chest, I rest my cheek across them and close my eyes, trying to remain rational.
This doesn’t mean anything, I try to convince myself. It’s a snippet of a conversation I know nothing about. I cannot jump to conclusions until I speak to Baz about what I heard.
“You knew you couldn’t trust him. What are you going to do now?”
I clamp my hands over my ears, trying to get the voice to go away. She’s not here. She can’t be.
“You need to protect yourself, Kenzie. You can’t trust him.”
“Go away,” I hiss, slamming my eyes shut. When I open them, my chin trembles when I see her standing at the foot of the bed. I shake my head. “No. No, we’re not doing this.”
“You know what you have to do.”
And I do
. I can’t let my feelings for Baz overshadow everything else. My safety comes first, and it is clear the Savages won’t stop until I’m dead.
I’ve been on edge since the night I heard Baz talking on the phone with Trent. He’s been acting shady, too, which only makes me more suspicious. That thin blade of corruption? We are both walking it.
What is he up to? Why does he always feel the need to take his calls in private?
He’s hiding something from me. I can feel it.
Since Baz is gone again, I decide to use this time to look through the articles. When I asked Dan where he went, he said he needed to handle something out of town. That, of course, only made me more suspicious. So far, each article is about Baz and me, the complexity of our relationship, the controversy surrounding me, his friends, and our past. Was I telling the truth or lying? That was the main question everyone wanted to know.
One article in particular snags my attention, so I click on it. It’s a quick video of the paparazzi filming Zach leaving Kings late last night. The man shouts out a question to him.
“Zach! Zach, how do you feel about your best friend’s choice in women?” It’s then I see Baz in the back of the frame, Trent at his side, and I swear, my heart stops when I see who’s standing next to him. It looks a whole lot like Vincent. But it can’t be. Baz wouldn’t do that to me.
Sure enough, when the paparazzi moves the camera, giving me a better view, I realize how very wrong I was about Baz. My stomach drops, and I choke.
He’s here.
“He could do much better. That’s all I’ll say. But you know what they say about crazy girls. They give the best head.” He cackles with laughter. The paps laugh with him, and shame coats my cheeks. The clip cuts off just as Baz grips the back of Zach’s neck and says something to him. That’s all I have to go off of.
I watch the video three more times, just to be sure I’m not jumping to conclusions, but sure enough, it’s all there. The more I watch, the angrier I get. I feel it building inside me. My hands vibrate as I rest them in my lap. I’m dying to grab something and hurl it at the wall.
