Forbidden: A Romance Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  My hands squeeze her flesh over my thrusting dick to her throaty mewls and shaking legs.

  “You want to get fucked in the ass, dirty girl?” I slap down on her flesh. The sight of it imprinted with my hand is divine. The sting that ricochets through my arm is fucking addictive.

  Her reply is garbled through her moans and her cries as I tease and mark her flesh. My cock aches, throbbing with the need to take every inch of her.

  Trailing down to her pussy, I spread her ass, and as she drags in a deep breath, I plunge inside her without warning. A hoarse scream pushes from her, her wet cunt pulsing around me, her ass clenching at the merciless intrusion.

  “So deep…so fucking deep,” she chants, a hand reaching back to try and ease my assault. “Oh my God, Damon…fuck…”

  “If your cunt can’t handle my cock, how’s your ass meant to take it?” I spit on her hole and spread it with my thumb, rounding and probing as I fuck her pussy to her obliterated moans and groans.

  My thumb inches in as I edge my cock out of her pussy. Her hand grabs at me, and releasing her ass cheek, I hold her arm to the curve of her star-dusted spine as I slam home.

  And fuck what a picture it is with her loud moans and hoarse cries. Her pleas for more and overwhelmed groans. Her body trembles as I remove my thumb, releasing her arm and pulling her flush to my chest by the knot of her messy hair.

  “Who do you belong to, little mouse?” I yank her hair, tilting her face up to mine. It’s tear tracked and fucking glorious.

  “You.” A long, languid sob escapes her lips as I flex deeper into her.

  “You want to know why, Ava?”

  Smoothing her sweat- and tear-drenched hair from her face, I kiss the moans right out of her mouth.

  “Because I love you.” Her eyes widen on mine. Terrified. Overwhelmed. “You should be scared, because once you’re mine…once I love you…there’s nothing I won’t do to keep you. Nothing. All bets are off.”

  I pull out hastily, turning her to face me. Grabbing her arm, I throw it over my shoulder before I hoist her up my body and bury myself inside her again. Perching her ass on the back of the sofa, I grasp her throat, squeezing and stroking as I fuck her in earnest.

  I fuck her until she’s boneless in my hands and her body is shaking so violently with the spurts of my cock, that I’m not sure whether I’ve broken her or not…but either way…she had it coming. Because if she’s going to rob me of my power, I’ll rob her of everything. Her body. Her heart. Her soul.

  Chapter Twenty

  DAMON

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” Dex slams his drink down on my desk. “This wasn’t the plan.”

  “The plan’s changed. If you can’t handle it…” I clear the drive with the surveillance clip from the bar and sign the paperwork Grayson drew up last week.

  “If I can’t handle it? You’re thinking with your goddamn dick, Damon!” He falls silent, clearly waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he leans over my desk, grabbing my attention. “Is her pussy really that good?”

  “It’s better actually.” Resisting the urge to ram my fist through his fucking teeth, I sit back in my chair. I lace my hands together, resting my elbows on the arms of my seat. “Dex.” I call his full attention to me. “Don’t forget—I made you VP, but this is my company. It’s my money, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with it all.”

  “You’re going to regret it.”

  “Get the fuck out, before I fire your ass.” I grab my drink and finish it as he leaves my office.

  Before he walks out of the door, he turns back to me. “Bros before hoes, right? Isn’t that what you always said?”

  “Get out.” It’s the last warning.

  I’m glad he listens; I’d hate for our years of friendship to be obliterated by his loose tongue.

  Once I’ve finished signing the contract, I hand the documents to William. “Grayson needs these today.”

  “Yes, sir.” He pauses and then asks, “The awards. Will you be taking a plus-one?”

  He knows the answer of course, but he wants confirmation.

  “Yes,” I tell him just as Ava comes through the door in time for lunch.

  “Hey.” She grins at me, standing in the doorway. When William looks at her, she waves and says a soft “Hi.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Monroe.”

  “Are you ready?” she asks me. She’s wearing a tight pencil skirt that cuts off below her calves, but the slit to the middle of her thigh shows enough of her long legs to make my dick twitch. The thin, string-like straps of the top she’s wearing expose the crystal-embellished straps of her bra and the strings crossing over chest. I’m not sure whether it’s even a bra because her nipples are too obvious for there to be a barrier between her skin and the shirt. “Damon!”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a meeting with Robert this afternoon and—”

  “You’re going to see Robert today?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wearing that?”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  Is she serious right now?

  “What isn’t?”

  “You didn’t take issue when I put it on this morning.” She shrugs. “Come on, Damon, I don’t have time to argue over this. I have a jacket. You know I do.”

  I do, but still, the thought of Robert ogling what’s mine doesn’t sit right.

  “Fine.”

  “So, lunch?”

  “Let’s go.” I grab my jacket from William and head out with her.

  We settle on the small Mexican cantina a block from the office. Ava barely touches her food though. She’s moving it around the cardboard dish, and her margarita is untouched.

  “What’s wrong, beautiful?” Grabbing her fork, I put it down and tip her face to mine.

  She looks a little bit peaky. Her blue eyes are darker than usual, and her skin is a little pale.

  “Nothing,” she murmurs. “All the late nights we keep having. Robert and Lacie on my back to get things with Callum rolling…I guess I’m tired.”

  I’d noticed she was working late; even after we’re in bed she’s reading through Robert’s manuscript or writing emails. I just didn’t realize it was all piling up on her because she makes a point of not being given favor. But if it’s making her sick…

  “Get an assistant. I’ll email HR and tell them they need to find someone.”

  Ava sits up in a flash, affronted. “No way. We have assistants.”

  “They’re clearly not enough.”

  “Or maybe we need to slow down.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “So what, Damon? You give me my own assistant while the other editors share…and I’ll be exactly what everyone is already calling me.”

  I know people are talking. I’m not stupid, and I’m not exactly hiding our relationship, but I haven’t heard anything bad.

  “What are they calling you?” I ask her. She’s clearly upset even though she’s trying to hide.

  “It doesn’t matter. I just need to be more efficient.” Ava picks up her jacket and throws it on. “I’m going to be late for my appointment.”

  “Ava!” I follow her out, grabbing her before she gets away. “What are they saying?”

  “It’s silly, and I’m an idiot for letting it get to me. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me,” I snap. Her eyes round, and with the bright sun, I see the dark circles around her eyes. And I notice how her hair isn’t as bouncy and full as usual.

  Fuck.

  “You matter to me, and we’ll slow down if that’s what you need, but you need to tell me what the fuck people are saying. If you don’t, I’m going to go back to my office and issuing a memo to the entire—”

  Tensing, she looks up at me. “I’m not a gold digger. I’m not a slut. And…and…” She swallows. “I work hard, Damon.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, I see it.”

  “If you give me an assistant
, people will just see it as—”

  “I don’t care what people think. You’re getting an assistant because you work hard and have a shit ton of things pilling up on you. It’s in the company’s best interest.”

  “It’s not how it will be seen.”

  “Fine.” I stroke my thumb down her nose. Her skin feels different. And the longer I cup her cheek, the more evident it becomes that it’s lost some of its plumpness. “I’ll get HR to find personal assistants for all the editors. I’m sure we can then allocate the extra work to the current team. That way everyone wins…and you’re not killing yourself.”

  “That’s insane. That’s four extra salaries you’ll take on. Fran wouldn’t agree on this.”

  “Fran would have your back like she’s always had mine.” I press a kiss to her head. “I told you: there’s nothing I won’t do for you, little mouse.”

  “Some things are too much.”

  “Not when it comes to you.”

  She collapses into me, her arms wrapping around my waist. After a while she looks up with a long drawn-out breath. “I need to go. I can’t be late for my appointment. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  I don’t bother telling her to move her meeting with Robert to another day. She won’t, and it’ll be another thing that she’ll fret over. Instead, I make a mental note to book some time off with her. Maybe take her somewhere nice where she won’t be working at all.

  I call Ava one more time, but she doesn’t pick up. My worry amps up. I should have taken her home. I shouldn’t have let her carry on like she was all right when she very clearly wasn’t. I send her a quick message, while Robert goes on about everything they’ve been doing.

  Damon: Are you okay?

  “Is everything all right?” he asks, taking his coffee from the server.

  “Yes.” My sighed reply comes out terse. “It’s that time of year where we’re full steam ahead.”

  He laughs. “I can’t believe the book will be done in the next couple of weeks. After the last twelve months of writing and reading and rewriting… Of course, Ava is already onto the next part. I sent her the first few chapters, and she said it was good, so…”

  “I thought she was meeting with you today?” I grab my own coffee.

  “We were, but she asked to reschedule. She had a clash in her schedule.” He shrugs as we leave the coffee shop. “Anyway, it was good to see you.”

  Fuck. I call her again as I part with Robert. And again, her call goes to voicemail. I’m about to message her when she texts:

  Ava: Call you after my meeting.

  Huh?

  Every possible scenario is going through my head, but I resist the urge to track her down. She’s probably with Lacie going over Warner’s shit.

  Still, a lump forms in my throat, and my chest tightens in that way it always does when I can feel something’s off.

  Not bothering to go back to the office, I call Gerry to pick me up. Once he arrives, I head straight to Fran’s. She’s good at talking sense, and I don’t want to be a dick when Ava’s clearly not feeling great.

  Fran opens to the door to her and Grayson’s Chelsea red-brick town house. “What are you doing here?”

  I walk in, taking my shoes off—like she always gripes at me to—before I head into her kitchen. It’s all mismatched wood and exposed bricks painted a bright white with beams and wide windows.

  “I need you to talk me off a ledge.” Dumping my cold coffee in her sink, I dispose of the cup before I sit at the kitchen table. She has the back door opened out into the small walled patio garden and a chaise in front of it with a stack of books beside it.

  Sitting, she hugs her belly. It’s swelled enough that even in a loose dress it’s impossible to hide.

  “I’m listening.” She lies back, looking at me like this is some kind of counseling session.

  “Ava lied to me.”

  “Okay. What about and why do you think she lied?”

  “She said she had a meeting with Robert this afternoon, but I bumped into him at the coffee shop close to the office and he said she’d rescheduled.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s lying.”

  “I was worried because she wasn’t herself at lunch, and people have been talking… I think she’s overworking herself and…”

  “Get her an assistant,” she says like that’s the fucking issue I’m trying to work out.

  “Yes, I know. I’m on that already.”

  “Good.”

  “I tried to call her and it went to her voicemail.”

  “Right…” She’s already looking at me like I’m being an unreasonable asshole, and I haven’t finished.

  “I sent her a text, and she didn’t reply.”

  “So you called her again?”

  “Yeah, and she text me telling me she was in her meeting.” I sit, going over everything I’ve just told her, feeling like a whiny adolescent.

  “Damon, it sounds like she wanted you stop calling. Maybe she wanted some space…especially if she’s not feeling herself. Being a woman is fucking hard, okay?” Fran rolls her eyes with a give me patience laugh. “Besides, Robert isn’t her only client. Not to mention that she could’ve rescheduled the meeting after she left you and again, didn’t want you all up in her space and making her feel worse. You guys can be so overbearing at times. You make shit harder than it has to be.”

  “Don’t preach to me about how Grayson takes care of you. That’s not what I was doing at all. I was just making sure Ava was okay.”

  “So, she answers and tells you she’s had to reschedule because she’s that sick. What would you have done?”

  I have a feeling this is a trick question that’s only going to make me look like an even bigger ass. But I answer it honestly anyway because Fran lives to point that shit out.

  “I would’ve gone to her. Made sure she was okay. Taken care of her.”

  “Is she an invalid?”

  “No.”

  “Is she dying?”

  “No.”

  “Is she incapable of looking after herself?”

  “I guess not.” She gives me that be real look. “No.”

  “So, we agree that your little freak-out is completely blown out of proportion and you’re being a tad melodramatic.”

  “When you put it that way…” I bury my face in my hands.

  “Damon…” The chair beside me scrapes on the floor before Fran sits with me. “You love Ava, and I know that it’s hard for you see the people you love hurt or feel shitty. But sometimes, the best way to love someone is to give them space. Especially if they’re feeling crappy or overwhelmed. Fuck, sometimes we just want space for the sake of it.”

  “I know. And I’m a jerk. And I’m sorry I came to whine about it to you.”

  “Are you kidding me? This is great. I love that you’re on your toes with her.” Nudging me with her shoulder, she asks, “Is she going with you to the awards next weekend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you actually asked? You’re not assuming?”

  “What do you take me for?”

  “Do you want me to answer that for real?”

  “It was one of the easiest conversations we’ve had, actually.” Not that she was exactly with it after I fucked her so hard, she could barely move.

  I can’t help but grin at that, because we had to take it easy the next day.

  “Oh Jesus, you fucked her into it, didn’t you?”

  I smile wide at her.

  “Oh man…” Getting up, she puts the kettle on her stove and goes about making us a drink. All the while I keep trying to reason with my worry.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  DAMON

  Ava leaves my office a little drawn and sad. She seems better in herself; her color has come back some, but there are times where she’s distracted. I know she’s desperately trying to mend things with her mother, but the woman won’t even give her shit.

  Maybe I should’ve written that into the contract with
her father. Forced them to be better parents. Forced them to care. To love her like she needs them to. Even if they don’t deserve her. Maybe I don’t deserve her after the way I reacted last week…doubting her even though she’s never given me reason to.

  Still, it’s water under the bridge, and I’ve had her new assistant send me her schedule so I can plan something for us, away from the city and all our responsibilities.

  “Is there trouble in paradise?” Dex saunters in, a grin cutting his face like he’s about to win a bet or something. “Why else would Miss Monroe be looking for a job elsewhere? On a different continent…that bad, huh?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He sits in the chair Ava just vacated. It’s probably still warm.

  “Did you know Beckett are looking for an editor?” he asks simply. “I thought they were going broke, but it seems they have one last hurrah up their sleeve.”

  The fucking nervous habit I’ve had since I was fourteen comes back. Frantically tapping my thumbs on my desk, I wait for him to get on with whatever he’s about to tell me.

  “Hayden’s in town for the awards.”

  “Hayden Hearst? Since when is he in publishing?”

  “Since Beckett restructured and merged the management for press and media. They cut management costs to invest in a new editor. Someone that could bring big business their way.”

  My chest tightens with the way he’s so fucking jolly over whatever is coming.

  “Word is they were seen together last week.” His smarmy grin finally fades, and he straightens in his seat. “Beckett were one of houses she approached when she left Monroe. So why the fuck is your girlfriend entertaining them now?”

  Shit. All the fucking worry and suspicion from last week blast me, and all I can do not to lose my shit in front of him is swallow it down. Push it right down until I’ve had a chance to clear it up with Ava. Because she wouldn’t go behind my back like that.

  Would she?

  But then she’s been distracted and distant…what if there’s more to it than her relationship with her mother? What if it’s something other than her workload?