by Goode, Ella
She folds her arms over her chest, pushing her tits up higher as she gets comfortable in my car. I knew I should have kept my fucking eyes closed because they immediately go straight to her tits. This is absolute hell and I know it is only the beginning of my torture. To have something so close that you want but can’t have. I’ve never experienced such a thing.
“I’m not going back,” she huffs.
She’ll be lucky if I let her go anywhere, I think to myself and not out loud. I don’t want her screaming again. At least not in fear. Next time she screams it will be as she’s coming on my cock.
3
Delilah
I peek over at Drake Weston, knowing it was him from the moment he said my dad called him. There is no one else in New York my dad knows, so this has to be him. I thought he’d be older, with the way he and my dad talk on the phone sometimes. Dad is old enough to be his father too. They seem to share a special bond and I know my dad is very fond of him. He speaks highly of him, which shows me that my dad has a lot of respect for him.
I lick my lips, trying to see if I can still taste him on them. I can still feel how his mouth felt on mine, but the taste of him is gone. I wish it would have lasted longer. That was way too fast for a first kiss. Although it only lasted a split second, I will remember it for a lifetime.
I’m curious to know what Dad would think if he knew Drake Weston kissed me. I think about asking Weston about how he thinks my dad would react to the news that he kissed the crap out of me. I decide against bringing up my dad because I want him to kiss me again. I don’t need to keep reminding him of my dad and the reason he came looking for me to begin with. I peek over at him and he looks pissed. Pissed is actually an understatement of how he looks right now. He looks madder than a bull in a rodeo.
Mr. Weston can join the freaking club on being pissed. I’m not exactly sure what I’m mad about. It’s either that I know he isn’t going to touch me again or that my dad sent someone to collect me. Regardless of which of these things are making me mad, I’m not going to put up with any shit from Drake Weston. He can shove his anger where the sun don’t shine.
I try and hold on to my anger but every time I glance over at him and as the seconds tick by it slowly fades away. I was never good at staying mad. I’ve always thought it was a fault of mine. Sometimes it feels like a weakness, but it is who I am. My sweet blood, as Ma always calls it, will not allow me to hold on to anger. Even sitting in this car right now thinking of how my parents sent this big brute in a suit to come and get me isn’t making me angry. I want to be angry with them, but the thought of how much they were probably worrying about me pushes that frustration to the side. I didn't want them to be upset but what was I supposed to do? They would have never given me their blessing. I felt as if this was my only choice.
As Grams always said, I needed to shit or get off the pot. If I wanted to go see New York then I just had to go and do it. Deal with the fallout. It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“Will you talk to him?” I look over at Weston. It now feels odd thinking of him by his last name when he’s not my dad’s age. Between the two of us I know Drake would be more likely to talk my dad into letting me stay. That thought has me forming a plan within seconds of how I’m going to stay in New York City.
I clip off the seatbelt Drake put over me when I’d folded my arms over my chest and stated that I wasn't leaving. It oddly felt like he was agreeing with me when the seatbelt clicked into place. His arm brushed against my breast when he moved to go back to his side of the car. My nipple instantly hardened with his brief touch. Maybe this is why I sat there so mad for so long.
I know that he saw my nipple pucker when he put that seatbelt on me. He muttered a few choice words that would make any normal girl blush. I’m not just any girl, though. I’ve heard worse from the farmhands back home. I have to fight the smile that is trying to form on my face and keep up my determined look. I am not going anywhere and if he is trying to scare me away with his vulgar words, he has another thing coming. It is having the opposite effect on me. Every time he whispers something filthy or looks at my tits for a second longer than he should, it makes me want to stay even more.
Drake’s head snaps back from the window he’s been staring out for what seems to be an eternity when he hears the seatbelt unclip. I turn in my seat, ignoring the growl he lets out to indicate he wants me to put my seatbelt back on.
“I could stay with you!” The idea hits me quick. “If I’m with you maybe he’ll let me stay. He trusts you and I’ll be good. I promise.” I cup my hands together in front of me in a pleading gesture.
He raises an eyebrow at me like he doesn't believe me.
“I can be good!” I half shout. “I’m always good. This is the first time I-” I trail off. Okay, maybe I’ve done a few other things. I just haven’t been caught.
“Finish what you were going to say,” he demands.
“Forget it.” I turn back in my seat, reaching for my seatbelt to put it back on. I let out a scream of surprise when I’m abruptly pulled from my seat and land right in Drake’s lap. My eyes go to his and I know I look like a fish out of water. His quickness gives me a brief moment of shock. My mind is trying to catch up with my body. How can he be that big and move so fast? I am definitely in his lap so I don’t know why I am still thinking about how he got me there. There is also the hard thing poking me that has all of my thoughts jumbled.
“I don’t think you can be a good girl.”
“You’re poking me.” I narrow my eyes at him. I immediately flush because holy shit cow, he is actually poking me. I meant that he was verbally trying to get me to spar with him, but now that I am in his lap that isn't the only thing poking me.
I watch his lips fight a smirk. Of course he wins the battle. I’m sure there aren't many he doesn't. “Tell me the things you’ve been doing that you shouldn’t be.”
I shake my head no a little too hard, making my hair fly all around me.
“If you don’t give me what I want, I can’t give you what you want.” He leans back in his seat. The action makes my thighs part more, sliding more into him as I straddle his lap. My heart starts to thump in my chest at my position over him. I’ve had bigger animals between my thighs that I could control easily without even thinking about how to do it. The one thing you never do is let the animal feel that you are anything but calm and controlled. I know at this point there is no getting the racing of my heart to slow down while I am still straddling him like this. No matter how hard I try, I know that isn't happening.
I watch his jaw tick, reminding myself he isn't a horse. He’s a man. “Don’t,” he snaps. As if he’s reading my mind. The snap in his voice should piss me off, but my body doesn't get the memo. I lick my lips, knowing I’m in way over my head with a man like Drake Weston. He’s an angry bull and I’m the matador waving my red cape at him.
4
Drake
I run my hand down my face in frustration. I don’t know how to deal with all of these strange feelings or for that matter any feelings at all. Right now I’m pretending that I have to think about the offer Delilah has presented to me. I’m not sure if I’m pretending for her sake or for mine. I think it’s more for me so that I can feel like less of a bastard for keeping her here for myself. If I was a better man, I would put her on my private jet and have her home within a few hours. I’m not a better man and I’m not letting her go anywhere. I make her wait for my decision, though. She doesn’t need to think that she already has the upper hand with me. When I walk in the door of my condo and flip the lock behind us, I have to temper the thought of putting a lock on the inside of the door so only I will be able to open it. Still, the thought lingers in my mind.
“I hope she didn’t give you much trouble,” Wyatt says with a sigh into the phone. Oh, she gave me trouble but I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell him that she’s ruined me for life now. I can’t tell him that I am never letting her go.
&n
bsp; “She was a sweetheart.” The word sweetheart rolls off my tongue as if I’ve said it before.
“Really? I was sure she’d give you a fight.” I go to respond but he pulls the phone away to say something to his wife. I know she is on the phone with her daughter as we speak. I can hear Delilah talking as she wanders around my condo. I probably shouldn’t have left her alone but the idea of her snooping around in my shit doesn’t bother me in the least. I usually get edgy when the cleaners are here. I am a very private person and I hate when people touch or move my things. It surprises me that I feel a touch of happiness knowing that Delilah is all up in my shit. I want her to inject herself into my home as much as possible. The sooner she gets comfortable the better, since she will be living here forever now. She may not realize it right this second, but she will soon enough.
“Drake.” Wyatt says my name with regret in his voice that makes my gut clench. “I don’t know how to ask you this.” He sounds hesitant.
“You don’t have to ask me anything. Just tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.” The drive to make Wyatt proud is still riding me. He could pretty much ask me for anything—as long as it didn’t involve me giving him his daughter back, that is. I’m not sure at this point that it’s possible for me to let her go back home. I know if I even mention her leaving again that she will fight me. I’ve known the girl for an hour and I can already see the fire that can light up in her eyes, and that somehow she’s mixed with a sweetness I’ve never seen before. I would never have believed those two things could be inside one person, but there she is.
That little spitfire of a girl was sitting in my lap twenty minutes ago. It took everything I had inside of me to lift her off me. I had really wanted to pin her to the floor of the car, grab that fiery red hair and fuck her until she turned into the sweet, docile kitten that I knew was inside her. I had already gotten a few peeks of her softness and I wanted more.
“She’s determined to stay and I can’t make her come home.”
I guess that he never thought of putting a lock on the outside of the door like I have. I have to stop thinking these things. She isn’t trying to leave at this point, she is begging to stay. I need to ride that wave as long as it lasts and hope that I can convince her to stay forever.
“Then she’ll stay here,” I offer. I say it casually, like it’s no big deal. I’ve poured myself a glass of scotch to try and take the edge off after that car ride. My hand tightens around the glass and I take another sip, but it doesn’t seem to be doing shit for me.
“Drake, I know how you are about people in your space. More so when it’s your home. I wouldn’t—"
I cut him off. “Wyatt, I know what your daughter means to you.” I do. On one level I respect that. I know that if I want something with Delilah that it can’t only be about trying to calm the need that is clawing at me to take her. My entire being is begging me to fuck her until she’s branded with my smell. I’m yearning to have every inch of her soft skin know the feel of my claiming touch on it. I know if I go down this road that I will be playing for keeps or I’ll fuck up the friendship and respect that I value so greatly with Wyatt. Maybe if I spend some time with her I can move past this lust that is riding me. Maybe it has been too long since I’ve taken care of myself. I close my eyes, wondering if I’m once again lying to myself about the reasons why I’m trying to make sure she stays.
“You have no idea what it means to me that you’d do this for me. I know you’ll keep an eye on my little girl for me.”
I am going to keep more than an eye on her. That is the problem. I am going to keep my eyes, mouth and eventually my dick on her and in her as much as possible. I take another sip of my scotch, letting the burn distract me from the filth going on in my mind.
“Maybe she’ll see city life isn’t for her and come home soon,” Wyatt adds. I’m not sure if he believes his own words or not. Leaving this city sounds nice, if you ask me. I wonder sometimes why I am still here, but if not here, where would I be? I’ve never called anywhere else home. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we all sleep on it tonight and revisit this tomorrow?” Wyatt offers, thinking maybe I’ll change my mind and send his little girl packing.
I lift my head when I see a flash of red flutter past my open office door. Wyatt loses all my attention.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, dropping my phone to my desk and getting up out of my chair. I wonder what she’s doing out there. I can’t stop myself and my curiosity gets the best of me. I get up and go in search of her. I find her in the living room smiling. She looks as though she doesn’t have a care in the world. She’s standing there like she hasn’t just turned my nice orderly life upside down.
“I thought homes in the city were supposed to be small,” she says as she turns, taking my place in. I glance around, doing the same. The place is minimally decorated. My assistant had a decorator come in to do some work. She had dropped off some paperwork for me to sign one day and kept going on about how depressing and lonely my place looked. I knew she wouldn’t drop it anytime soon so I let her get someone in to do some basic decorating.
Charlotte said it was probably why I was always grumpy. She had the decorator do all of this work and yet the place still feels the same to me. If I am being honest, I haven’t paid attention to the changes that were made. In the blink of an eye that all changes once I see Delilah standing in my living room. She stands out from the gray walls and white furniture that no one even uses. Her red hair brings color into my life that I never even knew I needed, but now I couldn’t live without.
As if hearing my thoughts, she falls back onto the large sofa. Her hair is splayed along the cushion and the sofa looks like it’s gigantic with her tiny body stretched across it. I reach for the collar of my suit to pull off my tie, suddenly feeling like it’s getting tight around my neck. I’m on edge again thinking about her not liking it here. When I reach up I realize I have already taken my tie off and that maybe the tightness was me panicking a little. I see my suit coat on the edge of the sofa but I don’t remember taking that off either. I’m really starting to lose my shit. I’m so worked up that I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.
“They are,” I tell her, dropping my hand and taking the chair across from her, wanting to watch her. My first thought is how red her hair looks against the sofa. My mind drifts to thoughts of her pussy. I wonder if she has the same color hair there or if she is bare. I want to see her legs spread with that red hair flowing down her breasts and her pussy open to me on that white sofa. Each time she moves or the light hits her hair I swear it looks a different color and, like her eyelashes, I have an odd fascination with looking at it. I itch to touch her. I dig my fingers into the arms of the chair that I planted myself in. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this.
“This place is bigger than ours back home.” She sits up, that hair falling around her like a curtain.
“That’s because I’m more than rich and I like my space.”
Her mouth falls open and a look of mortification coats her face. I sit up straighter, wondering what it was that put that look there. The next words that come out of her mouth catch me off guard.
“You don’t talk about money,” she says in a hushed whisper. “It’s rude,” she adds with a scold to her voice. Her small button nose scrunches. Like she’s tasting something bad.
This is not the normal reaction you get from the women around here when you talk about how much money you have. I throw my head back and laugh, knowing I’ve never met a girl like Delilah. I have a feeling there isn’t another woman like her in this world. I am more than fucked because it’s clear she is one of a kind and I am all in.
5
Delilah
I have to fight a smile as his deep laughter rolls over my skin. I finally got my body under control and one laugh from him has it waking back up. His laugh is deep and rich. I get the feeling it isn’t something he does enough. I find that I want to make him laugh again almost as much as
I want to be back sitting in his lap.
It didn’t take me long to get myself together once we arrived back at his place. It wasn’t hard when my Ma’s voice filled my ear the minute I walked in the door. Her concern acted like an ice cold bucket of water on whatever my body had going on. I knew she couldn’t wait to get me on the phone and say what she needed to say. I just listened to her concerns and assured her that I would be okay. Ma isn’t happy about me staying but she will get used to it.
I don’t think there is anyone that can get my kettle percolating more than my Ma. She just knows how to push all the right buttons either to make me mad or to hit my feels. She is an expert at both. I know moms aren’t supposed to be your best friend but most of the time she is mine. She and I can be thick as thieves until it comes to my safety or what she thinks is best for me. I know she always has my best interests at heart. I just need to start experiencing things for myself. I don’t want to live in a bubble and that’s what the trip out here to New York is about for me.
It took me a minute to get her to calm down. Then Dad took over for me. Hopefully a night of sleep will do everyone some good. It is always Dad’s answer for everything when she and I start to butt heads. He is always right. We sleep on it for a night and revisit it with a fresh mind in the morning.
Most of the time we wake up the next morning fine. Sometimes I wake up with her in bed with me. She’ll be cuddling me and we both forget what we were fighting about. It’s hard to stay mad at your mom when she loves you more than life itself.
I bite my lip, watching his body shake with laughter. I know that I can’t hold the scolding look I have on my face. I was taken aback by him talking about money the way he did. It might be normal here to talk like that and I need to remember that things are different than at home. I just have to adjust to how people act about money here. I know it will be hard since it’s always been ingrained in me that you don’t speak of your wealth. It isn’t hard to see that Drake is rich. Just by looking at his penthouse one would know that. It pretty much smacks you in the face as soon as you walk in the door. It is nice and all, but it doesn’t look or feel like a home. There is nothing inviting or friendly about this place. It reminds me more of a museum than a home that someone would live in. If I am going to stay for a little while, I plan to change it up a bit around here. I bet Mr. Perfect will just love me messing with his stuff. I have to fight a laugh myself now.
