Chapter Twenty Three
Bridgette
When my father texted me that I needed to come home after my classes for the day, my stomach roiled. How am I supposed to enjoy the solace of being on campus if he wants me home every five goddamn minutes?
Anxiety swirls inside me as I step inside my childhood home, heading straight for his office. Doing my best to remain composed, I raise my head up high before knocking on his door.
“Come in,” his deep voice rumbles.
Stepping inside, my heels click against the hardwood floors as I stop in front of his desk. Several bookshelves line the walls, and the room constantly smells like a mixture of leather bound books, cigars, and single malt scotch.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask.
He looks up from his phone, his critical eyes giving me a cursory glance before he sits up in his seat further.
“Thomas will be coming by in an hour to pick you up.”
My brows furrow.
“Pick me up?”
“For your date.” My father supplies.
“My…my date?” I echo.
“Are you mentally incapacitated or just defiant?” he snaps, his fist slamming against the desk, forcing me to startle.
“No, I mean. I suppose I didn’t realize that we would be…going out,” I say carefully.
My father’s temper seems to ease slightly.
“He’s taken an interest in you lately. He’s asked my permission to date you. I’ve approved.”
“Why?” I question, snapping my mouth shut as soon as the words escape me.
He’s out of his seat in a flash, crossing the room and slamming me against the wall. I try not to make a sound, but a whimper escapes me as he pulls me back and slams me into the wall once more.
“Because he is my best friend. Because he is a respectable member of the society with an enormous fortune and assets at his disposal, and because I goddamn said so!” he roars.
I don’t dare look away even though I’m desperate to escape his icy blue stare. Closing his eyes, he lets out a ragged breath, resting his forehead against my own as he speaks.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Daddy just…I need you to do this for me, okay?”
I close my eyes so that I don’t have to look at him, swallowing roughly as I nod. He pulls away, stepping back over to his desk. It’s like all of a sudden, I can breathe now that he is several feet away. He takes his seat when my phone starts ringing from my purse. Fishing it out, I quickly glance at the screen before surprise hits me.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Where are you?” Asher snaps.
“At my house. Why?” I ask as my father looks at me with irritation.
“I’ll be there in ten,” he says before the line goes dead.
Looking up from my phone, I meet my father’s gaze.
“That was Asher Putnam. He wants to come get me in ten minutes,” I say.
My father’s jaw clenches. This will absolutely piss Thomas off, he’s never been known as a patient man, but in the same breath, how could my father refuse? Refuse his future leader? Refuse his current leader’s son? He wouldn’t dare, no matter how much it’ll piss off his best friend. Was this divine intervention? It certainly feels that way. Thank god. Like literally, thank you god because I had no exit strategy for getting out of this night. I’d take a night with Asher Putnam over one with Thomas any day of the week. Twice.
“Fine,” my father says. “I’ll let Thomas know you need to reschedule. Get out,” he says as he taps on his phone before lifting it to his ear.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I practically sprint out of the office, heading for the front door so I can wait for Asher outside. As far away from my father as I can get.
A few minutes later, Asher’s Maserati comes screeching down the driveway before the passenger door is thrown open from the inside.
“Get in,” he snaps.
I hurry over to the car, sliding into the buttery smooth interior. I close the door and the second it thunks shut, we take off like a rocket. Asher bobs and weaves through traffic, his hands gripping the steering wheel punishingly.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“No,” he snaps.
Okay.
“Is there anything I can do?” I try again.
He whips the wheel, pulling into a park at the boat launch. Throwing the car into park, he looks at me.
“Give me that mouth,” he says as he pulls his cock out of his pants and grabs the back of my head.
I go willingly, but he forces me down with an aggression that has my eyes watering as soon as his cock is shoved to the back of my throat. I choke for a moment before breathing properly and I begin finding a steady rhythm. He still controls me for a minute or two, the anger practically radiating from him before he slowly relaxes, sinking into the seat, his head tossed back.
“Fuck. Yes. Just like that. Goddamn, you have a nice mouth,” he says as I swirl my tongue over his tip.
Smiling, I look up at him, and surprisingly, he looks down at me. His hand comes to my cheek, caressing it softly as he stares at me. He’s staring at me so intently, though, it’s almost like he’s not looking at me, if that makes sense. It’s like he’s looking at me but thinking of something else entirely.
Or someone else.
One guess as to who.
My stomach sours and I look away from him, forcing him to the back of my throat in a way I know will finish him because I just want to get the fuck out of this car. I’ve been used by Asher Putnam for years and you know, that’s fine. I was planning on using him, too. Not like this, though. What the fuck does Skyla Parris have that I don’t? What makes her so goddamn special?
I feel Asher’s cock begin to leak pre-cum and in the next moment, he’s forcing himself further down my throat. I swallow every drop of his cum before pulling away. When I do, I look out the window as I speak.
“Take me back to my house, please.” I tack on.
Asher seems surprised. Normally I’m extremely clingy after we hook up, even I know that. It’s only because I’m desperate to establish some kind of connection that will move us forward. I’m not in the mood to grovel and be rejected, though.
Silently, Asher starts up his car again and makes the drive back to my house. If he doesn’t wake up and see that I’m the best option for him, and soon, I’m going to have to make other arrangements. Otherwise, my father is clearly going to make the arrangements for me and once that happens…I’m fucked.