Chapter 17
“What in the hell is this?”
I’ve never seen so much brightly colored fur and plastic shit in my life.
“Baba, it’s a Furby,” Gia huffs, exasperated with my exasperation. “I want the purple one, and Spencer gets the orange one.”
“We’re here to buy him a birthday present,” I explain. “It’s not your birthday until May.”
“But I want one, too.” Gia uses that cute I’m-twenty-seconds-from-tears face that I can’t resist.
“Yeah, Baba.” Scarlett grabs the purple plush toy off the shelf for her. “She wants one, too.”
“I had a black and white one when I was five,” Zar piles on, and I’m outnumbered. “I really liked it when it said ‘Pet me’ all day long.”
I snort. He’s being a smartass, and it’s hot. But Scarlett, standing beside him, pushing the red shopping cart, looks even hotter.
Rolling my eyes, I surrender, grabbing the orange one, too. “Fine,” I growl. “Do they have gift bags here?”
“It’s Target,” Scarlett scoffs, “they have everything except your favorite Dolce and Gabanna.”
“It’s DG, darlin’,” Zar corrects her, and she punches his arm.
Gia grabs my hand, content that I caved on the toy for her while I lead the way, guided by Scarlett and Zar behind us.
“Go up three more aisles, then take a right,” Scarlett tells me before she mutters to Zar, “I can’t believe he’s never been in a Target.”
“He’s never been in a Walmart, either,” Zar adds over my shoulder. “Which is a damn shame because the owner’s granddaughter is quite fine.”
Scarlett chuckles. “You did not date the heiress of Walmart.”
“Nah,” Zar teases. “I sure didn’t date her.”
“Baba,” Gia tugs at my hand, “can we go to McDonald’s, too?”
“Gia, we don’t eat fast food.”
I swear, this is episode two of What Is Happening To My Life.
It’s been a week since that night with Scarlett…and Zar. And it’s taking me days to process. I still don’t think I have. The memory of Scarlett and Zar on their knees, sharing my hard cock and cum keeps flashing into my mind at the most inappropriate times.
And I want it again tonight.
And I want this now.
The four of us are toy shopping for Spencer’s sixth birthday party in an hour. This part is fun. This feels like family.
But I want to go to this birthday party like I want my balls punched, but I can’t be an asshole. Maren, Spencer’s mom, invited the entire karate and school class. I won’t deny Gia the fun day, though it will be hell for us.
The only thing that makes it worth it is Gia’s spending the night with her cousin and aunt. She’ll be happy and safe there, and that will free me to do everything I want tonight. I even gave Celine the weekend off.
“But I’m hungry.” Gia skips beside me, tugging my hand again so I have to look down and fall victim to her adorable extortion. “And Harper says McDonald’s has the best French fries.”
“They do.” Scarlett makes it worse. “And their chicken nuggets with barbecue sauce are finger-lickin’ good.”
“Wrong chicken.” Zar chuckles.
“Wrong dinner.” I turn around, grinning at Scarlett. “I’m feeding you a Greek tonight.” Then I glance at Zar. “You too.”
Scarlett blows me a covert kiss.
Yes, I want them on their knees again, but that’s as far as we ever go. I can live forever with their mouths drooling over my hard cock, though I don’t like the idea of their tongues touching. It’s too much like kissing, and no one gets to kiss Scarlett.
And fuck, I need to stop imagining it.
I’m in Good Dad mode today. Not Dickish Dom.
“Please, Baba, please,” Gia begs. “Can we go to McDonald’s on the way to Spencer’s?”
I can’t win with these three, so yes, we buy the annoying toys and big birthday gift bag, and then I have to bite back my bark at the innocent worker in the drive-thru, taking our order for fried crap to feed my daughter. And, of course, she devours it, and now she’s hooked.
Gia sings The Little Mermaid, happy in the back seat with Zar, while I endure hell, driving back over the bridge toward Maren’s house, also in the French Quarter.
But my life finally feels right again.
I finally have the family I want, one I never imagined was possible, but like before, like this spot coming up on my left on the bridge, I fear I’ll lose it all again.
“Hey, Gia,” Scarlett calls out from the passenger seat beside me, “let me play a song for you and Baba. I’ll teach you the words so you can sing along.”
Glancing Scarlett’s way, I force a smile while my hands sweat. They shake, too, guiding the steering wheel. Dark memories flash, like the red lights surrounding us that rainy night on this bridge, while Scarlett quickly taps away on her phone.
I know she’s doing this for me. I know she’s figured out some things about the crash, but I will never tell her the truth.
She can’t know how evil I was, or I’ll lose her, too.
“Here, y’all.” Scarlett presses play, and a country violin kicks in. “This is ‘Wagon Wheel’ by South Carolina’s proud son, Darius Rucker.”
“Yee-haw!” Zar calls out before Scarlett starts howling the catchy lyrics, and I glance in the rear-view mirror.
The smile on Gia’s face lights up my soul. I forget where I am for seconds because this is all I need. Her. Happy.
We make it over the bridge, singing and playing the song twice while god must like me today. I find a parking spot only a block from Maren’s Historic Charleston home.
Proudly, I enter with Gia holding my hand and Scarlett and Zar behind me. The screaming kids contrast with the stately antique furniture. Gia runs to join her friends gathered in the back courtyard while Maren greets us with a smile as genuine as cubic zirconia.
“Welcome,” she coos, offering me a glass of punch while I politely kiss her cheeks. “I didn’t get your RSVP for four today.”
“We have a business meeting in an hour,” I lie to Maren before I turn and give the punch to Scarlett.
Let that be my covert signal because as much as I want Maren and everyone to know Scarlett is mine, she’s my family, too, just like Zar, I can’t. No one can know about us. They may call Charleston the “Holy City,” but it’s full of devilish tongues.
If I didn’t have to protect Gia’s reputation and my family business, I’d proudly hold Scarlett’s hand with Zar brushing my shoulder beside me, wearing his collar, too.
Zar’s not a holding-hands or a snuggle-under-the-covers kind of man. At least, I don’t think he is. But we have exchanged deeper looks this week. We didn’t discuss what happened when we left the suite last Saturday night. Why should we? We know it will happen again, and we know we enjoyed it. Greatly.
“Abbey is taking Gia home after the party,” I fill Maren in. “They’re doing a cousins’ sleep-over.”
“That’s nice.” Maren bats her lashes. “Why don’t you come back then, after your meeting? I still owe you crab cakes.”
“I’d love some crab cakes!” Zar loves pissing off Maren. At one point, it was obvious Maren was attracted to him, too, but never. She’s not his type.
Scarlett’s our only type, and right on cue, she joins Zar. “Why, yes, Maren. I’d love some crab cakes, too.”
I can’t fight my grin at these two.
Every preppy, traditional parental duo fills Maren’s home today, buttoned-up in Charleston’s uptight Southern style.
But not me. Not us.
I crave fine white linen and relaxed denim on my skin for the weekends, Scarlett in that black Prada sweater dress, and Zar in those jeans and black Tom Ford sweater. I gave it to him for Christmas last year. Yes, I also lavish Scarlett in couture fashion because both belong to me now.
“Well,” Maren pouts her new lips, “perhaps another time.” She touches my sleeve. “When it’s just us, Luca. I have some photos of Darby I found. I want to put them in a custom photobook for Gia.”
When it comes to my daughter and her mother, I’ll never refuse. “Of course,” I tell her. “Some other time, and yes, that would be very kind. I love Gia having pictures of her.”
Maren swishes away, joining her seersucker crew, while Zar muses, “I bet if we bought her a giant dildo to fuck, she’d finally get that little stick outta her ass.”
Scarlett laughs, tossing her head back.
This entire week, I couldn’t rip my eyes away from her. If she’s not protecting my daughter and making her giggle, too. If she’s not sipping the coffee I make for her, gently thanking me. If she’s not ignoring the shit from people like Maren with strength and grace. If Scarlett’s not standing by my side, dazzling me with her smile and wearing my jeweled collar, I’m watching her in my cameras.
Don’t think I missed her tense exchange with her colleague and former fuck-boy, Jameson, in the parking deck. I’ve watched it several times, my blood boiling hotter with each play. She did nothing wrong, and I can’t wait to punish her tonight.
“It’s Luca, not a giant dildo she wants.” Scarlett lowers her voice, telling me, “Maren’s so horny for you, she’s ready to kill me to get you.”
Even though kids race by with Nerf guns in hand and parents sip mint juleps and sweet tea, I’m not feeling sweet. I feel something else when I lean to whisper in Scarlett’s ear, inhaling a whiff of her sandalwood-scented strands.
I need her to know, to be sure. I’m not leaving, and she’s never leaving me.
“It’s you who gets me, my belle.” I vow, “You get my heart now. You get my torture later. You get my pleasure in your sweet pussy and tight ass tonight. You get my cock in your dirty mouth, too.” She sighs against my cheek. “Is that what my sweet whore wants? Every torture Maren can’t have?”
“Yes,” she sighs back.
“We’re late for our meeting,” Zar declares. He doesn’t need to hear what I share with Scarlett to know my tone.
An hour later, we find Gia surrounded by kids at the large dining table. The birthday boy is opening his presents with Gia beside him and her cousin beside her.
Abbey gives me the I-Got-This wink before I squat down and kiss Gia goodbye.
“Bye, Baba,” she chirps. She’s excited about tonight, not worried about leaving me, and that’s how it should be.
But then she surprises me. She lifts her gaze, searching for Scarlett standing behind me. “Bye, Scarlett.” Gia lifts her arms, beckoning a kiss from Scarlett, too. When she leans down to give her one, Gia wraps her little arms around her neck. “Will you be with Baba at brunch tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Scarlett assures her. “Have fun tonight with your new Furby.”
“Bye, Zar!” Gia waves to him, too.
“Bye, my girl.” He says it every time because it’s true.
She’s mine. She’s his. She’s our world. We could’ve lost her, too, so with an open heart, I share Gia with him.
Zar insists he never wants to marry or have kids, and why should he?
He has us.
We belong like this, me on one side of Scarlett, Zar on the other, enjoying an afternoon stroll. I aim our steps down the sidewalk, back toward my car, but then I keep walking.
“Where are we going?” Scarlett’s curious, so I rest my hand on the small of her back, allowing my pinky to caress her ass.
“Shopping,” I tell her, leading our path under wrought iron balconies above and black shutters on our right, framing window boxes spilling with pansies for the coming mild winter.
Quickly, they figure out our destination. Delta’s is only a few blocks away, and our silent anticipation adds to the tension.
I called Stacey Evans yesterday. I’ve paid a handsome sum to have Delta’s open only for us this late afternoon. Though everyone who would judge us is back at Maren’s home, I can’t afford the risk of running into anyone who truly cares about us.
It’s a Saturday. Redix and Cade could be here, shopping with Silas. They enjoy their throuple, and I wish I could be as open as they are. Redix suffers no secrets nowadays. They’re toxic. I know.
I die with my secret every day.
But now I have this bringing me back to life.
Zar pushes the iron gate open while I guide Scarlett up the wooden stairs. Instantly, my body remembers the last time we were here, and it simmers in Scarlett’s eyes, too, as the same massive bodyguard lets us in.
“Well, hello,” Stacey politely greets us in the parlor. It seems she and the bodyguard are the only staff this afternoon.
Though I must keep Scarlett and Zar a secret, I trust Stacey’s discretion. She’d go out of business if she didn’t protect her clients’ privacy. I kiss her cheeks before introducing Stacey to Zar. Of course, she’s already met Scarlett, and I catch what Zar instantly admires.
Stacey’s long blonde hair is twisted in a French knot. She’s wearing black silk pajama pants with matching high heels. But her black silk pajama top drapes open, proudly revealing her see-through black mesh bra, her nipples greeting us, too.
It’s the perfect, elegant outfit for a woman who owns the most exclusive sex shop in the South. Stacey is not shy, and neither is Scarlett, her gaze dropping to admire Stacey’s ample breasts.
I lick my lips, remembering the show Stacey and her men gave us. I lick them again, remembering last week how Scarlett writhed, blindfolded over my naked hard cock. Scarlett knew by touch that Zar and other men and women served her that night. She’s into both, and I’ll allow them to pleasure her on my command.
But no one fucks her, especially not me.
“Please,” Stacey offers us flutes of Champagne before directing, “the upper floors are all yours. Take your time and ring the gold bell by the doors if you need anything or have any questions.”
Delta’s is familiar, and I feel like the tour guide leading us up the grand staircase. Scarlett steps beside me, and I can’t resist. My palm lands on her ass, guiding her up the stairs, and Zar chuckles behind us. “Darlin’, you sure have a sweet set of cakes to admire.”
But Scarlett teases him over her shoulder, “Yeah, he sure does have some hot cross buns, doesn’t he?”
I grin, leading our steps to turn right at the top of the stairs. “Keep talking about my ass,” I warn, “and I’ll show why they call anal play a Greek art.”
“Promises, promises,” Zar mocks.
And suddenly, it shoots straight to my cock.
I’ve been close. With my hard cock wedged against his flexing, pumping ass, I’ve fucked Zar’s crack. I came on his back while he fucked a very-willing Harvard Economics professor. She was hot and couldn’t get enough of our college games.
That should’ve been my warning then that what Zar and I share is powerful. Women want it, and we want it, too.
But that feels like a lifetime ago.
With Scarlett joining us now, I don’t think I could survive that temptation again. I’ll definitely kill Zar if he fucks her, and I’ll definitely break if I get tempted to fuck his ass, too.
So I control us.
“We each pick something for you to wear.” I direct Scarlett toward the ivory lacquered drawers featuring the finest lingerie, ranging from naughty to nice to role-play to raunch.
“Three outfits in one night?” Scarlett asks.
“No.” I pull open a drawer. “Tonight, my stud has earned his turn. Next week, it’s mine, and if you’re good, you get our third Saturday. Then we’ll take turns.”
I know what Zar craves. One of his many fantasies. Maybe he’s fulfilled this outside of our Saturday nights, but my heart doubts it.
No, I’m sure.
Zar’s been waiting—waiting for me, waiting for us to find the perfect woman. His first choice was tragically wrong, but Scarlett feels so right.
So now, how far will we go? What does Zar want with me? I’m not sure. But I know what Scarlett wants, though none of it matters. We get the punishment I deserve—no one gets what they really desire.
I select a soft, tight black pleather teddy. It’s cupless and crotchless. Looking like the dominatrix Zar craves, too, Scarlett’s exposed breasts and pretty pussy in this will taunt him while I strap him to his cross.
Tonight, I’ll teach Scarlett how to whip him. How to make Zar come. It’s the hottest sight when his hands and ankles are bound, his chest and thighs red with welts from my flogger, while he stares at my hard cock, exposed for him, and he comes without a touch.
Silently, Zar searches through the finest lingerie collection I’ve ever seen.
On the circular glass table in the middle of the room, Stacey has a half dozen open black gift boxes with ivory ribbons and silky paper inside, waiting to wrap our selections. She anticipates I’ll make a generous purchase, and she’s right.
Zar makes a smirking show of setting his selection in a box. It’s a red bow teddy to wrap Scarlett like a present I can cut open with my favorite scissors.
He knows me too well.
But it’s Scarlett’s silent selection that drives me mad. It’s beyond perfect. It’s a long, sapphire silk nightgown with thin straps and a slit up the thigh. I choke down a moan, imagining how she’ll look like an elegant lady, bound by her neck, wrists, and ankles against her metal tower, while I rip that gown apart, reminding her that she’s my whore too, teasing her pussy all night long.
We select other items, too.
I ask Stacey to send the box with a black leather saddle and its remote-controlled dildo, just like the one she rode for us, straight to my office this afternoon.
Zar selects two open-mouth ring gags for him and Scarlett to wear for my cock fucking their throats, and I fight back my growl.
Scarlett tempts me, too, smiling while she sets nipple and clit suckers into a box. Those and a glass thruster dildo, designed for one to receive and one to hold the long handle, delivering the pounding pleasure.
My mouth is watering. I almost can’t speak. When we’re done, we stand in the front parlor of Delta’s with bags and boxes to be delivered immediately to my hotel, courtesy of one of Stacey’s discreet bodyguards, but I’m past caring.
My cock is hard. So is Zar’s. And by the hooded look in Scarlett’s eyes, our shopping has her soaked with anticipation.
With all that we can play. With all the kinky options we can explore, courtesy of Delta’s, I can keep my grave promise while I satisfy my darkest demands forever.
Our heightened arousal doesn’t escape Stacey Evans, either. In the hour we spent shopping, she summoned two of her men. I think her blond man, Luke, serves in the Army. He’s not here, but it seems we’ve inspired a night of play for Stacey, Ford, and Mateo, too.
“Enjoy your night.” Mateo offers his hulking hand. He’s a gentleman wrapped in a thin white T-shirt, revealing the dark warrior tattoos from his collar to his wrists.
“Thank you.” I shake his hand, then Ford’s. Zar does the same, while Stacey offers a kiss on Scarlett’s cheek that lingers longer than polite. It’s sexy, and we all enjoy it.
“Dayum,” Zar huffs as the door to Delta’s closes behind us, and we step into the mild evening dusk. “Kink is in the air tonight.” He sounds thrilled while I hold Scarlett’s hand, escorting her down the stairs and back through the iron gate.
I can’t fight the semi I’m sporting, and Scarlett’s glance has her licking her lips at it.
“When we get back, go to our suite,” I tell her. “Put on the leather outfit I bought for our stud. Wear my plug, too. Then get the black leather flogger. The one with red suede straps too, then we’ll?—”
The phone in my jacket pocket rings with a tone that skyrockets my pulse.
It’s Abbey.
“Hello?” I answer her call, knowing something’s wrong.
“Gia’s sick.” Abbey sounds calm. “She threw up at the party, and she’s crying. She wants to go home. We’re on our way there.”
“Bring her to me now!” I quicken my steps. I’ll get my car later. “I’ll meet you at the door.”
It might be a five-star hotel, but The Mercier is my home. I rush there with Scarlett and Zar on my heels, all plans for the night shot because Gia’s our focus.
We’re only a few minutes, a few blocks away, where I meet Abbey’s car, pulling under the porte cochere of The Mercier.
“Baba!” I hear Gia crying from the back seat of Abbey’s Range Rover before I can even yank the back door open.
“It’s okay, my kóri.” I reach for her, unsnapping her from her seat beside her cousin’s.
Harper, my niece, looks as distressed as I feel because Gia’s covered in vomit. And I don’t care, wrapping her in my arms.
“She doesn’t have a fever.” Abbey rushes to our side, handing Gia’s overnight bag to Zar. “She just ate a bunch of junk. They all did. At a kid’s birthday party, candy buffets may look fancy for Maren, but it’s hell on little tummies.”
Gia whimpers in my arms, and I can tell by my hand cupping her sweaty curls that she’s not warm; she just feels awful.
“I got her,” I assure Abbey, quickly wishing her and Harper goodbye before I rush Gia through the glass and gold doors being held open by our bellhops.
“Scarlett.” Gia holds her little hand out for her. “Zar,” she pleads, too.
And yes, Gia’s my blood. She’s my daughter because she needs them as much as I do.