Chapter 10
“What do you want?”
That’s not a question I can answer.
My life isn’t about what I want. From the day I was born, I was told what that is—I want to run a global hotel empire. Then, when my daughter was born, my life became about what she wants and needs.
Besides, from the moment Gia’s mother died, I didn’t want anything but bone-breaking grief.
But time changes everything because the grief is gone. Like cancer in remission or cured, I don’t have it anymore, though it constantly threatens to return.
But the guilt?
It’s here.
That’s what I want—guilt.
Because if I keep that emotion wrapped around me, desire won’t win. I can keep my grave promise if I can keep my guilt. Because if I let it go…
All I want is Scarlett.
What did that night at the club mean to me? Why did it mean so much to me to have Scarlett innocently offer to be my “whore”?
I’ll never tell her.
Because when I was inside her, I realized I could feel again, live again, love again, and it terrified me. I felt my pain threaten to heal, so I had to let her go, though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Hello?” The sound of her sweet, raspy voice calls out almost every morning from our foyer now, and I need it like the sunrise.
“In here,” I shout out from the bedroom floor, trapped with my eyes closed and dreading this.
“Baba, be still,” Gia bosses me, and I love it. I’m raising her to be a CEO. “I’m not done.”
“Gia, you’re going to be late for school.”
“But you said if I took a shower like a big girl and not a bath, I could do your makeup.”
She stabs my eyelid with a Q-tip, and I wince, answering, “I’m wiping this off the minute you’re done. And that’s it. You’ve got one more minute.”
“Well, my, my…” The voice I crave sings like a song, but…I’m not looking. “Don’t you look as pretty as a pumpkin but twice as smart.”
“I’m doing Baba’s makeup for work,” Gia answers Scarlett, and I’m not opening my eyes to witness Scarlett’s glee.
“Baba looks so purdy.” Scarlett chuckles. “All glittery and colorful, like a grumpy unicorn.”
I will triple her salary if she’d stop.
Gia pokes my eye again, almost blinding me with a Q-tip. “That’s it.” I open them, insisting, “Enough, my kóri. We’re going to be late.”
“But, Baba, you need lipstick too.”
Gia lords over me and the shit I do for my daughter. Humiliation is at the top of the list, but usually, only Celine sees this. Zar did once, and I never heard the fucking end of it.
And now Scarlett looms above me, too.
My gaze caresses from her black heels up her bare, shiny calves. Her skin glows under a black sweater dress that falls below her knees. The damn thing covers every inch of her but leaves nothing to the imagination. Today’s poison is a one-shoulder dress. One long, knitted sleeve covers her right arm, while her left is exposed, the one adorned in a sleeve of colorful tattoos, and I find myself curious about what they mean.
“Yeah, Baba.” Scarlett tilts her head, her flaming strands pulled into her usual high ponytail wearing our hair clip, and my cock twitches. “You need some lipstick.”
She sounds too much like Zar. What did they do? Exchange notes last night?
Since Zar busted us in the bathroom, I don’t know if it was a blessing or a curse. We didn’t talk about it. I focused on Gia the rest of the day, Scarlett went home, and Zar let me stew in it like he always does.
None of us said a word about how close I got to breaking my rule again with Scarlett.
Every time she’s near, I feel my resolve falter.
Maybe I can have Scarlett and my guilt.
She knows my secret now, what we do on Saturday nights. Maybe I can punish myself doing it with Scarlett instead.
“Baba, wear this pink one.” Gia shoves a tube with butterflies on it in my face.
“Men don’t wear lipstick.” I lurch to stand, and my torturers step back.
“Yes, they do,” Gia answers me. “Rocco, the concierge, wears makeup, and he’s a boy.”
I brush white carpet lint off my black pants. I have a meeting this morning; I can’t believe I got suckered into this.
“You’re right,” I answer. “Our staff can express themselves however they desire.”
I’m fine with my employees being themselves. I sure as fuck don’t get what I desire. I’m happy at least they do.
But when my eyes confront Scarlett with her sexy pink pillow lips cocked in a half-grin? “You look beautiful, Mr. Mercier,” she teases, and even Gia giggles at my torment.
I storm into my ensuite bathroom, growling over my shoulder, “Gia, get your backpack. And Scarlett, I need you to drive her to school. I have a meeting I can’t miss. Our Bali property had a fire.”
Scarlett’s on my heels, her face serious, while I glimpse mine in the mirror.
Fuck me.
Purple, pink, and blue makeup?
I look like a clown who went down on a pussy that glitter-bombed all over my face. Because yes, that’s what I think about when Scarlett’s this close—eating pussy.
“Is everyone okay?” But she keeps it professional.
“Yes.” I wet a washcloth to remove the ego damage. “Just a few rooms were damaged. The guests got out safely, but with the time difference, I can’t miss this call. It’s getting late over there.”
“Okay,” she eases. “I’ll drive Gia to school.”
Dragging the warm cloth down my face, I confess to her in the reflection, “No one’s ever driven her but me. This is my hell. I need you to protect her. To be careful. I need you to?—”
“I understand.” Scarlett softly grins. “I’m the titled fighter who’s completed three defensive driving schools. I’m overqualified for the job. What skills you got?”
I could slam her against a wall again and show her my hard skills. All I could punish her with and fuck her with, all I crave to do with Scarlett, to torture her with pleasure and?—
Fuck.
Stop it.
I can’t take much more. Scarlett’s blurring the lines that keep me safe. “Please.” I close my eyes, dragging in a painful breath, because the guilt returns. “I can’t lose her, too.”
A gentle touch lands on my shoulder, and I let this moment be. I let Scarlett comfort me because I can’t open my eyes to what I know I’ll see—a woman I need more every day, and I’ve never trusted one like this.
Not since…
“Luca,” her voice weaves into my soul, “I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise. Gia’s more than a job to me. I love her, too.”
Hot boulders suddenly choke my throat, the memory of Darby’s gravestone exploding into my mind, and I have to open my eyes so I can breathe. I have to turn around, dropping my washcloth on the marble floor while I cup Scarlett’s cheeks, lifting her blue eyes to mine before I stare at her lips.
God, to hear her say that. What I want at this moment. What I feel at this time that’s stopped.
Her lips part, her eyes searching mine, and I know exactly what I should say, and how I should change, and how I should kiss her and?—
“Baba, where’s my backpack?”
I drop my hands, letting Scarlett stagger back seconds before Gia waltzes into my bathroom.
“You left it under the piano,” I answer her as I pick up my washcloth. “Gia,”—this is hell—“Scarlett is taking you to school today, and you must behave. Don’t distract her while she drives.”
“I won’t.” Gia chirps, “We’ll sing The Little Mermaid.”
I roll my eyes, dread pumping through my veins as Scarlett adds, “I’ll text you once I drop her off.”
“And meet me in my office when you return,” I order. “I want a full report.”
Scarlett salutes with a grin.
Ten minutes later, I start my video meeting with my Bali office while I’m focused on my security cameras, on the one sight that imprisons my breath.
It’s a beautiful auburn-haired angel in the parking deck, whisking my daughter, my soul, away in a black car headed toward that bridge…and my guilty heart crumbles into dust.
“Revenues are down in Mykonos.”
Zar tosses the quarterly report on my desk, almost knocking my plate of orange slices onto the floor. “We’re not canceling our trip. We need to find out why. It’s our crown property and makes no sense.”
I open the folder, thumbing through the pages. “We don’t need to go. It makes sense. My father put his unqualified best friend as the manager there years ago, and this is what we get, mixing family with business.”
Zar plops down in the chair across from my desk, stacking his feet on top of it.
“Well, I’m family.” He smirks. “I’m your best friend, and when we mix, our numbers are always up, and you’re very welcome.”
I grin, scanning the numbers, but I don’t answer. I don’t need to address the truth.
“Speaking of,” he pushes. “Are we still doing that field trip to Delta’s this Saturday? Maybe Scarlett can watch the private demonstration with us.”
He taunts me, and still, I won’t answer. My mind is flooded with worry.
Scarlett texted me twenty minutes ago that she had safely dropped Gia off. Glancing at my screens, she’s back; I spot my Escalade parked in the garage.
She’s on her way to my office, and Zar’s stressing me out with some plans I’ve made, too.
Last week, I took a stroll down the street to visit a friend of my friends who’s opened a new store in the French Quarter. Lucky for me, it’s an exclusive sex store disguised as a boutique—Delta’s.
The owner is Stacey Evans, the former wife of that evil monster, Senator Gentry Evans. That man’s trial is all over the news, but it doesn’t bother Stacey.
She and I had a great meeting. She showed me around her new store, giving me a pre-opening tour. You’d think we’d be uncomfortable drinking mint juleps in a room full of high-end sex toys, but we weren’t.
I’ve met Stacey before.
She was at Redix and Cade’s thirtieth birthday party with Silas. But Stacey was busy that night with the three men she loves while I was busy having my world flipped.
Yes, that’s the night I fucked Scarlett at a sex club.
And I swear, it’s like destiny loves tempting me because now, Stacey Evans’s new adult store, Delta’s, is like a beacon down the street.
I was planning to take Zar there. I asked Stacey for one of her private demonstrations of the sex furniture she has on the third floor in a parlor-turned-showroom. I saw the sex bench, the sex chaise, and the sex swing, and I thought Zar should see them, too.
The fact that we can watch Stacey and her men demonstrate how to use them thrilled me even more. I figured Zar and I could shop at Delta’s for more furniture and toys for our room.
And fuck.
What am I thinking?
I’m not controlling my temptations; I’m making them stronger.
I say I won’t do something, then I half do it, and Zar’s right there, taunting me to go all the way.
It’s too much. Like an addiction, it’s getting out of hand. Like a drug, I won’t be able to resist.
“No,” I answer Zar. “No more. No trips to a sex store. I’m canceling our demonstration there. I’m canceling all Saturday nights. We’re losing control.”
I glance up, and Zar’s furious. He seethes, “When are you going to stop this shit?”
“What shit?” I glance over his shoulder, noting that my office door is ajar, so I lower my voice. “Quit busting my fucking balls. They’re my balls to bust.”
“Exactly.” He rips his feet off my desk and leans forward, lowering his voice, too. “They’re your balls, and it’s time. You can break your rule with Scarlett because you already have, so quit fucking punishing yourself. It’s been long enough.”
“It’ll be until the day I die because I deserve it.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
I glare back at him. “Yes, it was.”
“I loved her too.”
I snarl, “I’m reminded every day.”
But he doesn’t back down. “I lost her, too. But she’d want us to move on.”
Zar did love Darby, and she loved him—just not as much as she loved me. I was the first man she was with, and Zar watched from the sidelines of our brief life together. My love with Darby was pure and innocent. She was never part of what Zar and I had shared in our dorm room. She never knew about it. I hid it from her.
It was dark and tempting, my drug, our drug. Zar and I didn’t plan it. We stumbled across our addiction.
First, we brought two women back to our shared dorm bedroom. Zar was fucking one on his bed, and I was fucking the other on mine. The women tried to hide under our bedspreads. They were shy. But once I saw the lust in Zar’s eyes watching me fuck, I was hooked.
He was hooked.
Then it became about him watching me fuck. My dates thought Zar was asleep, but he was stroking off, secretly watching us. Zar would also try to date the same women, and most did. They couldn’t resist him either, and I craved acting like I was asleep, but really, I was relishing him enjoying my seconds, and he loved having them.
The power exchange started to build between us. We’ve always had a bond. Then, an admiration. Then, an attraction.
Finally, one night, Zar’s date realized I was awake, and she didn’t freak out. She was on her knees, sucking Zar’s cock, and begging me to join them. She wanted to fuck us, and we did. But it was when I fucked her first and how I growled in Zar’s ear, telling him exactly how to fuck her next, that we were born.
“Feel my cum inside her?” I pressed my chest to his back while he knelt, fucking her while I taunted him. “Pump your hard dick into where my cock stretched her pussy for you. Keep going. Don’t stop. Feel how I made her wet for you.”
Controlling him like that made me so hard again. I wedged my swollen cock between his ass cheeks, and Zar got off on me doing it. “Yes,” he groaned. “Make me. Own me.”
“Pull your dick out. Let me see my cum on it. That’s it. Look.” We both did. “Damn, my cum looks good on your cock. Now, fuck her harder. Fuck her with my cum. Fuck her while I watch. While I make you do it.”
The power between us was clear; I needed control, and he needed to submit.
Both Zar and I were ruled by names, by legacies we didn’t want, so we shared the sex we were forbidden to have. But he doesn’t always obey me when we’re not in scene. I like it because it pisses me off, too.
“I don’t get what I want, and neither can you,” I growl low. “If I can’t fuck Scarlett, you can’t either. I told you, she’s off limits.”
Zar leans back, his eyes narrowing. “She wants to. I heard her in the bathroom with you. I heard what she said. It sure sounds like she wants us to play with her limits.”
“We’re not fucking playing with her. We’re not using her. Not that way.”
“You’re full of shit, and you know it. She’s perfect for us. She’s tough as fuck.” Zar grins. “She’s a badass and beautiful, and she can take us. She’s not another Brooke.”
“No, she’s not. She’s more than that, and that’s why it stops. We can’t lose her. We need her.” My worlds threaten to crash again, and here comes the soul-crushing guilt. “Gia needs Scarlett. She’s fallen for her.”
His grin grows. “You’ve fallen for her.” I stare him down. He’s mocking me. Tempting me. Zar’s too damn good at it. “Admit it.” Zar doesn’t whisper. “You’ve fallen in love with Scarlett.”
A gentle tap interrupts us. Speak of the beautiful devil. There she stands in my office doorway.
“Listen…”
Scarlett demands, sitting in the chair Zar just left. He has a meeting, and my world won’t stop unraveling.
“I’ve proven you can trust me,” she says, “and I’m sick of the secrets. I can’t do my job protecting Gia if you don’t tell me everything, every risk. So fess up before they release Brooke from jail today.” Her scarred eyebrow points. “Tell me right now what happened with her.”
My exhale is long. She’s right. My stalker is a risk, so I confess, “Zar met her first. Like he always does.”
“Where did he meet her?”
“Playing golf with her husband.”
“She’s married?”
“Yes.”
“Does her husband know about?—”
“Yes,” I interrupt, trying to get this over with. “Brooke would go home and tell him about it. He got off on it. The first time, it was the usual—her playing with another woman while Zar fucked her, and I watched.”
Fuck, my dick has a mind of its own.
I’m getting hard telling Scarlett this.
“But Brooke wanted more.” I try ignoring it. “She asked to come back and wanted us to take pictures. She wanted the whole pony play thing. She said her husband wanted to jerk off to it. He’s some rich equestrian. So I got a photographer, and she came over and took the shots.”
“So a photographer knows about what you and Zar?—”
“Yes,” I keep interrupting her, shifting in my chair, trying to will my cock to stand down. “Vivian. She’s an incredible photographer. She did our advertising shots here, and she can be trusted. Don’t worry. They all sign NDAs.”
She crosses her arms. “How long ago was this?”
“Nine months or so.”
“So what happened with Brooke?” Scarlett crosses her legs. Is she getting turned on, too? “Why did you end your arrangement with her? And why is she fixated on you and not Zar?”
“Because the third time she came back after she showed her husband the photos, she said she used our names to cuckold him. And she wasn’t supposed to reveal our identities, so I ended it. We can’t afford for it to get out.”
“But in the bathroom, when we caught her, Brooke acted like she’s in love with you,” Scarlett persists, “not like she’s mad at you. Why?”
I really shouldn’t tell her this…
But I’m too tempted.
“Because Brooke had Zar, but she never had me. Zar fucked her hard from behind while she looked into my eyes. I told her to scream my name and to say, ‘Fuck me harder, motherfucker,’ and she did, and I guess, somehow, that?—”
“That’s what I said to you.”
It suddenly dawns on Scarlett. She understands my obsession now, what’s making my cock so hard again. My fists clench, and my tongue licks my lips because she licks hers, too, at the memory.
She asks, “How many women have you made say my words to you?”
My edges are cracking. “All of them since you.”
“How many women have there been?”
“Countless. Ask Zar. It doesn’t matter to me. I never fuck them.”
“But…” Something troubles her blue eyes, her tone wavering like she doesn’t want to know. “You had Gia. You had sex with your wife. Did you and Zar ever?—”
“Never,” I bark. “I never cheated on my wife. I never shared her. She was too pure and innocent. She wasn’t a whore.”
Scarlett flinches like I slapped her, like I insulted her, and I immediately regret it. “I mean…” I try to explain. “Zar and I discovered our fetish before her. But Darby wasn’t a very…sexual person. I loved so many other things about her, so I hid that part of me from her. That part of me that needed that in a woman.”
“She never knew you were a Dom? That you’re Zar’s Dom?”
“No, she never saw that side of me, and it wasn’t until a year after she died that I couldn’t take it anymore. I made my promise to her grave, but I needed something.”
“Why did you make a promise to her grave?”
I gnash my teeth. “Next question.”
I’ll never tell Scarlett. She’ll hate me. No one knows but Zar. Our secret died with my wife.
But Scarlett nods as if she needs more intel, so she asks, “So what happened after a year? What did you need?”
“I kept my promise but needed to watch, and Zar needed me back. We both needed something, so he suggested the suite we made and the Saturday nights we share. I collared him, and now he picks the women, and I control what he does to them. Watching him is my relief and his reward.”
My chest pounds. My dick throbs hard. I’m aroused telling Scarlett but afraid for her to know all this.
Is she disgusted?
Will she hate me like I hate myself?
“Do you love him?” Gently, she asks, surprising me, and it makes this worse in the best way.
I want her so bad.
“Do I love Zar?” I twirl the gold band on my finger. “Yes, but we don’t say it.”
“Do you fuck him?”
The way she asks, she’s not judging us. Scarlett’s perfect for me, made for me. She’s mine, and it ignites my veins. It turns my resolve to ash. She’s so damn beautiful, I can’t fight it.
“No,” I answer. “I’m looking at the only one I want to fuck. Every day. In beautiful and brutal ways like my whore. Harder. Like a motherfucker.”
Her pink lips part with a soft gasp, so I let go. “Remember? That’s what you said to me,” I coax, “while I fucked you the third time like a rabid dog.” Just a little taste. “While our cum dripped down your thighs, you screamed at me to fuck you even harder. To hurt you.” I can control it. “So I fingered your ass, getting ready to fuck it, too, while people watched me make you scream. I love your screams, Belle.” I won’t break my rule. “And I want to hear them right now.” Her eyes flood with lust. “I want to watch you be a whore for me, Scarlett. Is that what you want?”
She nods like she’s been waiting for me to crack, so I do.
But not all the way.
“Get up, Ms. Jones,” I command. “Close my office door and lock it.”
When she rises, it’s with triumph. When she walks, it’s for my gaze. When she turns around, after securing our privacy, it’s for me.
All of her is mine.
“Sit on the edge of my desk.” I push my chair back. “And do a good job for me.”
Scarlett sits in front of me like a lady, crossing her legs at the knee. “I’d rather do a very bad job for you, Mr. Mercier.”
“I can get sued for this.” I spread my legs. “And you can get fired.”
“Well then.” She frees her hair from our clip, shaking her fiery mane for me. The sunlight streaming through my office windows makes her glow like the fire she is inside me. “If I’m going to get fired, Mr. Mercier, then make me come so hard; it’s worth it.”
I demand, “Pull your dress down and show me your nipples. You’re not wearing a bra today. You’ve been teasing me like a dirty little girl, and now you’re going to play with them for me.”
Pulling her sweater dress down, she frees her arm from its one sleeve, leaving her dress around her waist.
“Fuck, Belle, your tits,” I groan, rubbing my cock, hidden by my pants. “Your pointy, pink nipples. Play with them. Pinch them for me.”
“Like this?” She doesn’t take her eyes off me. Arching her back, she rolls her body while her palms cup her breasts, her fingertips thrilling her hard nipples, and we’re both enraptured.
But when she glances over and sees my orange slices on the plate beside her, she picks one up. Squeezing sticky citrusy drops over her nipples, she makes them drip, and I’m in hell.
I love it here.
“I get so juicy for you, Mr. Mercier. Is that what you want? To drink my sweet juice again?”
“Rub it on your nipples. That’s it.” I watch the fruit graze her pink peaks, covering them with nectar I need to lick off if I want to live. “Now eat the orange for me,” I command. “Lick it like a pussy. Have you licked pussy before, Ms. Jones?”
“Yes,” she sighs into the juicy flesh before showing me her experience with her tongue, and I’m dying. I moan, unzipping my pants. “Is that what you want to watch, Mr. Mercier?” Juice drips down her chin, her tongue licking between her taunts. “You want to watch me eat a woman’s pussy for you? Like a good little slut?”
She’s going to torture me, and it’s exactly what I need.
“It makes you wet, doesn’t it? The thought of being my whore again.” Using the slit on my boxer briefs, I free my cock, and her eyes get wide at its size. “Does this make you wet, too, Ms. Jones? Seeing my hard cock again?”
“I make you that hard, Luca.” She grins with her glistening chin. “You need me to be your whore, and I will. I want to.”
Setting the orange down, she reaches, shifting and lifting her dress. My dick drips at the sight on my desk; that pussy I can’t erase from my mind. Glimpses of it tease from under her black lace thong.
“Pull your panties down your thighs, but leave them on,” I demand. “In case we get caught. In case someone sees you being my dirty little whore.” I love the idea. “Now lean back, prop up on your hands, bend your knees. Put your feet on the edge of my desk.” She obeys. “Good girl. Now, spread your legs for me.”
“But with my panties like this, I can’t do it all the way for you.”
“Exactly.” I smirk, stroking slowly, wishing it was her hand but loving the naughty sight of her pussy. “We don’t get all we want, Ms. Jones. We get just enough.”
“Is this what you want, Mr. Mercier?”
With one hand, she reaches between her thighs, spreading her lips open, her middle fingertip with a French manicure circling her firm, pink clit, and makes me stroke harder. It makes me regret so much. It makes the world outside disappear because this is my world—Scarlett’s pussy in my face.
“Fuck yourself,” I sigh. “Fuck yourself like I fucked you.”
Our hands start matching tempo, our eyes fixed on our desire—her fingers pumping into her wet cunt, and mine pumping my hard cock.
I’ve gotten off so often like this, just watching Scarlett, but it’s more. I’m not watching her; I’m with her. She pulls me into her gaze, into her tight, wet heat, and I don’t exist. The guilt is gone. I’m hers. For minutes. For hours. Forever, I’m with her, and it’s almost good enough. I can almost get by like this.
“Say it. Say who you are. Say who I am, Scarlett.”
“Yes, Master, I’m your whore. Your only whore.” Her two glistening fingers start pumping harder, just like my fist over my cock. “Play with me. Use me. I’ll submit to you.”
“If I play with you,” I warn, “I will use you. I’m a Pleasure Dom. I will torture you with intense pleasure. I’ll make you come so many times until you can’t take it. It will torture us both. Is that what you want?”
I can’t believe I’m offering this. I can’t believe I will do this, but I have to. I can’t go back to a life without Scarlett. There’s no oxygen there.
“Yes,” she gasps. Her nipples point hard, her pussy is so pink and wet, her milky cum coating her fingers, and it swells my cock.
“You’ll be so dirty for me,” I insist. “I’m going to do lewd things to you and let people watch, and you’ll obey my commands, but I won’t fuck you. Is that what you want?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her thighs shake.
Fuck, I love this hell. “Say it, my whore. Say what you want me to do to you.”
“Fuck me, Luca.” Her voice. Her eyes. “Fuck me harder, motherfucker.”
Scarlett can take every inch of my cock and pain. But when she sighs, “Luca,” with her two glistening fingers disappearing into the place that brought me back to life, I need more. “Luca, please.” Her eyes droop, and she needs more, too.
“Come, Belle.” My fist keeps pumping, the fire in my veins white hot. “Come on your fingers, then put them in my mouth. Let me taste your sweet cum on my tongue again.”
“Oh fuck,” Scarlett groans, “I’m coming.” Her thighs, bound by her panties, shake feet from my face, and I can hear it. I can smell her sweet lust. “Fuck, Luca.” She buries her fingers inside and keeps them there, jerking harder inside her pussy as I watch with hunger.
Iwant to be inside her again. I want to feel that pussy take my breath away again. I want to give her everything inside me. Her orgasm is my home, but I can’t join her there, and suddenly, the punishment isn’t sweet.
“Luca, please,” she sighs again, her shoulders lurching. Her orgasm won’t stop, and it’s torture for her too.
“Ma flamme, give it to me,” I grunt. “Give me that pussy. Let me taste your fingers.”
I stand up so fast, pumping my swollen cock as she slides her two tangy fingers over my lips. Tasting her again, I’m barely hanging on. The flavor of her cum returns to my tongue, to my memory, and I break for her.
“You can fight me, Luca,” she sighs, pumping her fingers in my mouth while I suck them, and I’m right here, staring into her eyes, seeing her wet pussy exposed to me. “But I’ll win. You can watch me. You can torture me. You can degrade me and use me. You can come all over me, but you’re mine, too. I will make you mine.”
Fuck, yes,I groan, sucking her fingers so hard I splatter her pussy with my creamy cum. I grunt, spurting more, watching Scarlett, my erotic dream. Her fingers hover over my lips while I confess, “Yes, Belle. Make me.”
I want Scarlett to make me. To fight me. To fight for me. To break my rules. Scarlett’s the only woman who can, and I can’t get enough of her.
I’m not as guilty if Scarlett makes me love her.
“This Saturday,” I murmur, wanting to kiss her, but I don’t. I lean forward and kiss her hair, knowing what I need, what we can do. “Join me.”
“You and Zar?” She reaches for me, her palm caressing my pounding chest, and I hold her hand there.
“No,” I answer. I don’t think I can handle watching Scarlett with Zar. I can’t even think about it, not with how her touch over my heart soothes my pain.
“Join me at an adult store,” I command, “where only I will play with you first.”