Chapter 15 #2
I bob my head quickly before I change my mind. It’s a clear shot out unless he’s lying. But I have no way of telling right now.
“Is this still a no?”
Oh, it should be.
But the right side of me dissolves when Bronte begins to fuck me harder. He slowly lays me on my back and towers over me, careful to keep his weight off.
Out of my peripheral, the Christmas lights beam over us as he fucks me hard and fast.
One of his fingers brushes over my clit, teasing the area but not fully giving me what I want.
“Yes or no, Daydream,” he presses, running the pad of his finger over my sensitive nub again. “We going full opening yourself up to me, or are you doing yourself a disservice? Maybe you never thought of old me after all—”
“Yes,” I impart, the fact that we’re in Prague, away from everyone watching me sin with this man, coming to the forefront of my brain.
Bronte seems pleased, a slow smirk lining the corners of his lips, but he doesn’t say another word.
Instead, he hands me over the generous need to rub on my clit while his cock stretches and fills me up.
Bronte doesn’t stop his quickened pace, maybe because he thinks I might abruptly change my mind.
I’m not that strong.
Not when the first time we met sits front and center in my brain.
All the Christmas sex sessions we had where it felt like a gift because Bobby was attentive normally, but nothing like what came around the holidays or our birthdays.
It’s like he was a different man—he was a different man, but not once when I’d mention how good it was did Bobby ever question it.
I don’t understand.
Did he not ever pay that much attention to me? Was this Jolene chick always at the forefront of his mind, and he couldn’t remember who he fucked and how?
He cheated on me.
God knows how many times over the course of two years.
“He’s a grown man, Meirna,” Bobby argues. “And he’s coming back for the family fortune, and I don’t know what his intentions are.”
“You said you didn’t share.”
“Yeah, I did,” Bobby says. “And I don’t. And I’m not going to. That first day we met, it changed everything. That kiss…I couldn’t resist myself because I knew you were it for me.”
He doesn’t remember because he wasn’t there. Bobby couldn’t keep his stories straight.
And it wasn’t just Jolene but several others.
“You’re too good for him,” Bronte grunts, thrusting deep into me before stopping. “Tell me you know that, Daydream.”
I don’t.
Because why would he waste his time—because he needed money.
He used me.
I was his free pass.
His bank account.
His way of getting out of the mob, potentially.
“Look at me.” Blinking a few times, that’s when I realize tears were welling up there because one hits my cheek.
“You’re too good for anybody. But you’re going to come on my cock…
and you’re going to scream for me. And then, we’re going to go get some fresh air and roam the streets of Prague so we can decide what you want to do tomorrow, okay?
” I barely give him a nod, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to make me feel better.
“We’re in Prague, Daydream. Don’t let me or him ruin it for you. ”
I bob my head some more and mumble, “Fine.”
“That’s a good girl.” He runs his fingers up my clit again in one swipe, then allows them to disappear completely. “You run this shit, Meirna. No one else. You decide who to give your heart to. And that’s all I want.”
Where would we have ended up if we met…again?
Would we be exactly where we are now? Would I like him?
I know nothing about him, but he’s already given me strength and power. That, regardless of what he’s done, I can allegedly get out.
“You promise?” I pose, panting in pleasure because there’s no point in hiding it anymore.
“I promise. Take half my shit, if you want to. You didn’t sign a prenup.”
But I did with Bobby.
It was something he skated around, but Catherine was really dead-set on making sure I couldn’t purge half of Harding Holdings for myself.
She either didn’t know the trouble it’s allegedly in or she truly didn’t want me to stamp my name on anything because I was never good enough.
Bronte loosens his grip around one of my hips, then uses it to drive into me again, forcing me still and compliant.
He growls, the domineering sound piercing through my inner turmoil running rampant in my head.
Bronte is giving me a choice—be with him, be with Bobby (maybe), or break free of both.
And I’m too desperately turned on with the man in front of me, aware I should be and disgusted with this whole freaking ordeal, but Bronte seems to know how to work my body. To make me break and feel everything from my head to my toes on what he’s trying to relay.
This penthouse suite is magical.
It’s full of Christmas and the spirit of my favorite holiday, with a hot man fucking me until I’m starting to only see what’s in front of me and a whole lot of built-up angst.
I never said I was a strong woman, just a hardworking one.
Because when my orgasm breaks free, Bronte tucks his head into the crook of my shoulder and mutters mine in my ear before he’s milking my climax for his own.
He kisses my neck when he comes apart, sucking and licking at the warm flesh, and me, I stupidly pull him closer.
However, I’m not done digging into this myself.
Bronte isn’t telling me everything.
And I’m going to find every freaking detail.