Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
DEXTER
I look at my gold Rolex as I wait on the balcony. The city is a living, breathing thing that rushes around the hotel, making itself known with dashing lights, horns and hollers, vehicle fumes, and the occasional wisp of tobacco.
This was the same yesterday.
But I was not.
I smooth my tie down my shirt.
The city, Vallie, Donnie, and Tyler lived, and built, and progressed, and moved, while I was in a stalled state.
I sip my espresso on ice. Pretend I don’t wish it was whiskey or wine.
An ambulance siren pierces the atmosphere. I lean over. The lights cut through the flood of cars that are bumper to bumper.
My phone chimes.
Donnie: She is on her way up. She wanted this. I did not. Let me make that clear.
Crystal.
I stand and walk inside.
It’s too much activity.
I finish the coffee and set the empty glass on the marble coffee table before I turn back to close the balcony sliding doors, draw the curtains, and lock the public world outside.
A ping from the elevator has my head snapping to the side, on edge. A side effect of the past five months. Guards entering whenever they please.
I stride toward the elevator as it opens, revealing a stunning curvaceous blonde in a tight black ankle-length dress that cuts low and tight across her cleavage, nearly spilling two plump globes over the seam.
Christ.
“Wow, penthouse, fancy…” she says, peering past me and across the top-floor two-bedroom penthouse suite I had refurbished with lush cream carpets, gold trimmings and marble accents only a month ago. She looks back at me and blushes as I gawk. “You said to look nice, right?”
I told her to wear a nice dress, but I forgot those curves cannot be tamed, cannot be unadulterated. “You have indecent curves, Baby Girl. It is any surprise that Tyler let you leave the house like that.”
She chews on her lip, shame in her darting brown gaze. “ Well , we actually didn’t tell Tyler. He gets in these zones now that he is playing the piano again. He can just play and play for several hours. I have to go in and physically snap him out of it. It is like he’s in a different realm. Lost.”
“He sees the music.” I open the door, and she walks into the hotel room. I stare at her arse, lifting and dropping as she moves. “Did you know?”
She smiles, spinning to face me, awe touching her lips. “Really? That’s special. He is so special.”
“Yes. It is called chromesthesia.”
I open my arm to direct her gaze to the dining room table lit with two candles, already set with two plates sealed with steel lids, steam dancing from the small hole in the centre.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says, and I realise how unnatural we both feel when she fidgets with her dress. Not at all like before. Stagnant, almost. I need a fucking drink. That is what I need. I haven’t even touched her yet; maybe I need to grab her and remind her who I am.
You won’t let go…
I remain calm.
“Actually, I did.” I walk to the table, pull out her chair, and after she sits, I move to the chair opposite her. “I need to make sure you’re fed.” I feel my cock thickening, all my intent playing out across my face when I narrow my eyes at her. “I need you hydrated.”
She swallows, and I follow the roll of her throat, imagining how deep my cock will be in less than an hour from now. I look at her eyes again. Really look. “Last time we were all together, I wasn’t quite myself. I had only been dry for a few weeks. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, or them. I’d hoped, of course. But I knew I only had a few days with you, so I didn’t want to waste them on dynamics.” I clear my throat. “I wanted more for you and us from the start. I was wild with the need to get inside you. Things are different now. I’m not like my brothers. I need you to know that this is me, Baby Girl. The man who will spoil you. Dinners. Dresses. Diamonds. Events. Travel. You’re Mrs Vaughn. And that is my role in this. But…” I run my thumb across my lower lip while I eye-fuck her spilling tits. She squirms in her seat, and I wonder if when she stands up, she will leave a trail of moisture from her wet pussy. “You’re a brat,” I go on. “Your mouth is a real problem.”
She sneers, and my cock twitches. “Excuse me, ‘my mouth is a problem?’”
“Please”—I gesture across the table to her plate— “eat. It’ll help with your mood.”
She begins to mutter, “Condescending prick,” and then I lift the silvery lid, and the scent of steak hits her, silencing her bratty mutters.
I smirk.
“It does smell good,” she admits, adding a punch to her tone to show me she’s not happy. “Don’t think I won’t bite that smirk again.” Attitude. Sass. Nevertheless, she begins to eat her filet mignon, and I clasp my fingers together and watch her.
“You look stunning, Baby Girl. I am a very lucky man.”
She can’t stifle the blush. Her body likes my praise.
“You look…” She pauses to scan my suit. “Powerful. And handsome,” she says, roaming my fifteen-thousand-dollar attire, from my crown to my tattooed fingers. She looks back at my face. “I don’t know what it is about tall, dark-haired men with blue eyes, but it’s a formula that never fails.”
“Neither does tanned skin, bleached blonde hair, dark eyelashes, big brown eyes, and obscene curves, Baby Girl.”
She swallows a piece of steak and sighs contently around it. Yep, women can be soothed by three things: praise, food, and orgasms. “Are you okay, Dexter?” she asks. “Do you have a plan now?”
I lean back and smooth down my tie. “Take my place in my family’s company.” I smirk at her. “Take my place in your life. In Tyler’s. Get him straight. Back in the orchestra.”
Vallie’s brows weave. “He said he has a record. No one would hire him.”
“I can be convincing.”
“He doesn’t want that, though. He is happy being his own musician. Writing his own pieces.”
“For whom to listen to?”
“Us. Molly. Me.”
“Tyler needs guidance.”
“Tyler is happy being a dad.”
I frown at her backchatting lips and lower my hand to my crotch, palming my erection. I had forgotten how protective she is of Tyler. How possessive she is. They are co-dependent.
"We'll see.”
“Ugh. You’re a patronising fuck.”
I smirk. “I know. And watch your pretty mouth.” Visible heat paints a trail from her breasts to her neck as I rub myself and groan. I plant my hands back on the table. “Tell me about your wedding?” I ask. They sent me photos of the small affair, both my brothers dressed in charcoal suits. I recognised Quinn and a few other faces, and an old lady I didn’t.
“I sent you the photos.” She smiles and looks at her wedding ring, rolling it with her thumb, the various cuts meeting the light, sparkling beautifully. “It was nice. Weird.” She giggles. “But, of course, it was. It was a weird situation.”
I deadpan. “Indeed.”
“Don’t be like that. We did it for you. So, we could adopt Molly. Marriage was the thing that cemented us as a stable couple with a secure home for her. That with the mother’s signature…” She shrugs. “The courts had no reason to deny us rights.”
I hum, my muscles uncomfortably affected by envy. I wanted that. Wanted Molly and Vallie. “For tonight,” —I roll my shoulders— “let’s just get you ready.”
She enjoys most of her meal and reluctantly drinks two glasses of water, bathes, and moisturises. Now, she is standing before me with a white towel around her body.
“Drop the towel, Baby Girl.” I loosen my tie and feel my eyes darken. “I have seen what is under it. Show me my obedient, pretty body for the night.”
She lifts her hand and opens her mouth, overcome by obvious nerves. “I’m not a prude. I have done things with your brothers I cannot spell, but you’re intimidating me right now, Dexter.”
Poor, sweet thing.
Smoothly, I move towards her, eyes like arrows that puncture through her flesh. The room is lit only by candles, and the dancing flames move in seductive waves across her lovely round figure.
“Dexter?” she murmurs, shuffling.
I circle her, and she freezes.
Reaching out, I pull the towel away from her body, unravelling it to reveal smooth curves and thick thighs that need to be spread wide to see her wet core, pinned down to cushion my hard thrusts. This woman is made for fucking. For bruising. “I did promise you once that I would soon see my finger marks dotting these thighs.” I continue around her, taking in every supple inch, sliding my fingers along her belly as I go. All woman. Short. Full. Gorgeous. “I did warn you what to expect. What is your safe word, Baby Girl?”
She cranes her neck to meet my eyes, whipping her head around to follow me as I prowl her perimeter like a wolf outside a rabbit’s warren. “I don’t have one.
“You don’t have one?” I tsk.
“Donnie and Tyler don’t usually ask for consent.”
“Well, that isn’t acceptable. I have never been very good at taking no for an answer, but if I’m going to be your daddy, I will need your consent, Baby Girl. And Donnie should know better. Choose one.”
“Lemon.”
“That was quick.” Tension builds inside me. I crack my knuckles. “Have you had one with other men?”
“No.” She shakes her head, staring at my fists as I work out the surge of possessiveness. “I read a lot of spicy romance books. I read that one somewhere and liked it.”
“Do you want levels?” I ask, moving to sit on the leather sofa, spreading my thighs and leaning back. I remain completely clothed in my suit while she is completely vulnerable. “Slow down? Stop and offer care?”
“No.” She breathes. “Just lemon.”
My cock pulses at my thigh as I ask, “What do you call me, Baby Girl?”
She swallows. “Daddy?” She tries the term out, her voice softening, sweetening, and my cock thickens further down my thigh.
“ Yes .” I narrow my vision on her and unlatch my belt with one hand, leaving the leather tails hanging open at the zipper. “And you’ll be a very good girl for your daddy. Tonight, you’re going to show me obedience. It is what Daddy needs, Baby Girl, after being locked up. Give me consent now, and I will start and not stop for anything short of lemon .”
“I consent.”
“Drop to your knees.”