Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DRAKE
“I’ll grab an Uber,” Cadence says, face blank with shock as we walk to the elevator.
Stacey has already made her way down the stairs, a bonus tucked in the side of her bra because her performance tonight was pitch perfect. Especially her indignant defence just now.
As Cadence stares at her phone, there’s a flutter in my chest at her dawning realisation.
She doesn’t have the money.
Her mother’s new sugar daddy is rich, but he pays bills and bestows gifts rather than handing out cash. A way of exerting control to ensure his fixations don’t leave him. Not until he’s done.
A trait that annoys me but plays nicely into my hands on this occasion.
“No need,” I reiterate, sparing her the bother of correcting herself. “Arnold would kill me if I didn’t get you safely home.”
I watch the arguments rise and fall in her eyes as she tries to find a way out and can’t. The push and pull that’s been between us, growing stronger with each passing day, is playing havoc on her tonight.
She melted under my fingers, then immediately ran away to her inconvenient little friend.
I would have preferred to be chosen, but this is good, too. This is a different type of power.
“Don’t,” I warn her as she turns back to Hudson. “Leave him alone so he doesn’t scream more insults at you he can’t retract.”
Cadence appears defeated as she gets into my car and, not gonna lie, it looks good on her. The slumped shoulders, the tiny gasps of her breathing.
Her dull eyes stare sightlessly ahead, bursting into flame when I lightly caress her shoulder and her body remembers what we’ve already done tonight.
Remembers… and wants more.
“Happy to be rescued?”
The sharp sideways glance could cut steel. “You’re not the hero in this story.” She shakes her head, ticking her tongue against her teeth. “Hudson did nothing to you.”
“He did nothing for you, either.” Her deepening frown makes me laugh. “I’ve never seen someone look as bored as when Hudson kissed you, earlier. Is your hand still itching to wipe his slobber from your lips?”
She bares her teeth at the mention and my jeans feel tighter. I plant my foot, the engine roaring as it obeys my command.
“There are speed limits,” she grumbles, hands clinging to her seatbelt.
“And when you’re the one driving, you can obey them to your heart’s content.”
As we make the journey home, a pulse hits behind my right temple. The steady throb that means another headache is due to land. Ignoring it, I steer the car up the hill, smirking at her regretful gasp as I drive straight past Arnold’s, parking in a rest area at the top of the hill.
“Fucking hell.” Cadence’s eyes widen at the view over the harbour, then she twists in her seat, staring at the valley behind us where sheep are dotted about, grazing between the tussocks and the sparse patches of gorse. “This is incredible.”
I get out of the vehicle, walking to a public bench not far away. After a minute of hesitation, she follows, hands tucked into her armpits as she chooses the side of the bench farthest from me.
“Do you come up here often?”
“A bit.” I reach into my blazer pocket for a half-smoked blunt, curling my shoulder against the wind to light it.
“Are drug laws also something you think are for other people?”
“It’s medicinal.”
Her jaw clenches. “You attack me for taking anti-anxiety medication but smoking a random joint is just A-OK?”
“Funny, I don’t recall seeing your name on the prescription.”
She nods at my hand. “And that does?”
“My doctor recommended it. The only reason I don’t have a prescription is because it’s far too fucking expensive.”
She rolls her eyes, giving a soft snort. “And here’s you, with barely a cent to your name.”
I pluck a stray scrap of leaf from my lip, inhaling a lungful and holding it, lidding my eyes against the fragrant smoke. “A cent is overstating things. Why?” I arch my eyebrows at her. “Has Arnold filled your bank account to overflowing?”
A wrinkled nose is her answer.
“He has money. I don’t.”
She shifts on her seat, leaning forward as she twists to the side, eyes trying to see everything at once. As the minutes pass, she relaxes. Finally asking, “Was it weird? Finding out you had a rich dad all along.”
I shrug. “Considering the first thing he did was pack me off to strangers for three months, it wasn’t great.”
Her head dips, hiding her face.
“Why? Do you still harbour dreams that one day, your real dad will seek you out?”
She stiffens at my teasing tone. The confession is one she made years back while the other kids in school daydreamed about being adopted. “I was worried they’d stick you in a group home, but boot camp sounds even worse.”
“You were worried, were you?”
When she turns to me, her teeth are sunk deep in her lower lip, an apologetic expression on her face. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. Everything I thought of saying just seemed like it would make it worse.” A sheen in her eyes catches the glow from the nearest streetlight. “I should have tried harder, especially when I thought they’d take you into care. I remember how awful it was to walk into a group home. Each time, I thought it would be better, but it got scarier.”
There’s fear in her voice, like she’s stripping herself naked. Her face looks impossibly young.
“I didn’t know you were in care.”
She shrugs, tucking some curls behind her ear. Her hair looks better down than scraped into its usual ponytail. My fingertips itch, wanting to touch. “It was never for long, just when Mum was struggling. The last time, I was ten.”
I smother my sympathy as it rises. My emotions are torn enough over Cadence without adding another layer into the mix.
My joint has gone out, and I busy myself relighting it even though it’s already working its magic. The tension eases from my shoulders, my nausea subsiding with each long-held breath. As it goes, my need to touch her increases, aching to feel the weight of her breasts in my palm.
“You want a drag?” I offer the joint between finger and thumb, but she shakes her head, fingers curling against her lips.
“I’ve never tried it before.”
Holding in one long final inhalation, I wet my fingers to pinch it out, tucking the remnants back in my pocket before sliding along the bench. My fingers curl around her neck, drawing her close until our noses bump. Her eyes flare, lips parting as mine find hers, holding her steady as I exhale into her mouth.
She jolts in surprise, trying to withdraw, then relaxes as the sweet smoke flows from my lungs deep into hers. The periphery of my brain notes she didn’t pull away from my kiss, only from the smoke.
Excitement hums in my veins. A rush of anticipation.
I pull back, rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip, laughing at her tension. “Don’t worry. You won’t get high off that tiny puff.”
“No, I’m just going to smell like it.”
“You should explore your room further. You’ll find a bathroom where you can shower that scent away.” A scene the security cameras will capture. One I’ll delight in watching.
She waves a hand in front of her face, to far less effect than the salty breeze off the harbour.
A smile lights my face before frustration wipes it away.
I’m meant to be rewarding myself, not wooing her. Not sharing stories and bonding over our appalling childhoods.
When I walked into the theatre bathroom, I meant to force her onto her knees and instead… Instead, I touched her and couldn’t fight the impulse to please her. When her knees gave way, I helped her stand rather than taking advantage.
I could have dragged her into a cubicle, locked the door, and used her mouth until I felt the same shuddering release I’d given her while the boy she pretends to want stood outside, listening to the sounds he’ll never pull from her throat.
With a grimace of impatience, I flick her collar.
“Come on. You took a ride in my car, and you know what that means. It’s time for your forfeit and those buttons won’t undo themselves.”
Her face creases into disappointment, then regret, then stubbornness. She folds her arms, staring in the opposite direction and I chuckle. “The longer you leave it, the more difficult it’ll be.”
She doesn’t respond outside a shiver.
Her dress doesn’t offer any protection against the cool evening breeze.
I slip off my jacket and drape it across her shoulders, using the lapels to bring her near enough to kiss again; no excuse this time, just the urgent need to feel her lips against mine.
My fingers plunge into her hair, combing through its soft curls, the reality better than my imagination. When she doesn’t withdraw, I grab her hips, lifting her to straddle my lap, facing me. My hands curve around her ribcage, holding her steady until she stops digging the heels of her palms into my shoulders and lets her hands rest there, instead.
“Arnold told you to give me lifts to school and home. I don’t owe you a forfeit.” Her chin juts in defiance. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Arnold says a lot of things I take no notice of.”
“This isn’t fair.”
I settle my hands lower, cupping her hips, enjoying her weight on my thighs while an inappropriate burst of rage surges.
“You want to know what’s not fair? Coming home to find your mother’s dead body after she overdoses.” Her wince adds fuel to my fire. “Or when a girl overreacts to some playground bullshit and gets you dragged to boot camp a week later.” My voice drops to a ragged whisper. “What we’re doing now? This is me following through exactly as I warned you I would.”
Her expression is stricken when she raises her eyes to mine. “That wasn’t—”
I bend my head to rest against hers, creating a small private space between us, my breath stirring the ruffled neckline of her dress.
Her sympathy, her guilt, are useless to me.
I want her fear. I want her compliance. I want to see the war rage across her features as reluctance battles with desire.
“Should I undo your buttons, or will you do the honours?” Her hands shake as she fumbles with the first. I raise my right hand to cup the side of her face, stroking her soft skin with the pad of my thumb. “That’s the way.”
She raises her gaze to meet mine, unshed tears magnifying her eyes until they’re enormous. Their vibrant green muted by the nearby streetlights.
Tears of pity? Tears of guilt?
Her teeth snag her lip, digging deep marks into the soft skin until it pulses red.
“Keep going.”
Cadence responds better to the order than she managed on her own, working on the next button and the next, until the dress gapes open to her waist. I tug the sides farther apart, flicking another two buttons open so I can hook the material behind her torso, exposing her chest.
She drops her eyes, cheeks flushing crimson until I forget my purpose, blood pulsing, cock thickening, pushing against the gentle weight of her spread thighs.
Her sleeves will trap the straps of her bra if she unhooks it. “Push down your bra,” I order, mouth watering as her breasts spring free of the cups. They’re forced up and out by the restraining underwire, like a delectable offering.
Her obedience is made sweeter by her eyes, still spitting fire, her chin still raised in protest.
My prick throbs again, demanding attention and I tilt my hips to press more firmly against her, catching the quick flutter of her lashes as the friction between us increases.
I enjoy her discomfort. Her reluctance to indulge in anything approaching intimacy.
But I love that her body still responds, tilting her forward so her pussy rides along the firm outline of my cock until I’m dizzy and panting with need.
Those gorgeous tits are so close, bared for me, and my mouth floods with saliva, desperate to suck and lick and bathe them in my spit, teasing those tightening peaks with my tongue.
I compare it with her sleeping response, preferring the lively wriggle of her body.
The joy as she stops fighting and succumbs.
Her pussy bumps against me again and it takes most of my self-control not to tug myself free, roughly scoop those thin panties to the side, and thrust inside her.
My eyes focus instead on the centre of her chest. Where the words scrawled on that first night have faded, barely legible. I swallow, fighting my desire into submission before I run my curled knuckle along the line of text, watching her skin erupt into goosebumps where I touch, shivering in sympathy.
A pinch of regret strikes.
I should have written my name in bold letters when I had the chance.
Her back arches slightly, thrusting her chest closer to mine, her nipples stiffening in anticipation while she cautiously raises her eyes.
“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself. Again.” My lips find her ear to whisper, “This is supposed to be a penalty. I’ll have to think of something worse for next time.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
She attempts to slide off my lap, and I easily keep her in place, a knot loosening in my chest as she fights back, her spirit resurging.
Then her pussy bumps against me again and I’m lost, this time clinging to her, holding her in place while the friction against my sensitive cock sends my mind spiralling. Until I grind against her again, feeling the giddy pulse of release, mouth open against the side of her neck, helpless to stop my satisfied groan.
Fuck.
I wrap my arms around Cadence and the tight band around my chest loosens. I inhale her rich scent until my lungs strain to bursting. She feels like the past. Before my life went to shit and everything I clung to slipped through my fingers.
My arms squeeze tight, anchoring me to her until reality creeps back in.
The wet feel of my briefs dulls the last remnants of pleasure. I force my arms to loosen, shifting her hips back, and clear my throat.
This isn’t how it was meant to go. I wanted her at my mercy, begging me like her body begged me in the theatre bathroom.
Not this quiet humiliation. Not the loss of control and deluge of emotion.
My heart pounds, racing at a million miles a second.
Avoiding eye contact, I untwist the tangle of her bra and secure the clasp, then fasten her buttons. I slip her arms into the sleeves of my jacket and, as her bare skin disappears, my control returns until I’m calm.
“There’ll be a new penalty starting tomorrow,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her tremble. “And believe me, this was easy compared to what I have in store for you, so be prepared.”
“Why?” She hits at me with her weak fists, putting no effort behind the blows. “I haven’t done anything wrong so why are you punishing me?”
I mean to tease her, taunt her, gain the upper hand and hold on too tight for it to slip through my fingers. But when I open my mouth, the truth emerges instead.
“Because you made me hate the only girl I ever wanted.”