24. A Level of Fuckery I Never Imagined
A LEVEL OF FUCKERY I NEVER IMAGINED
Fable
On my knees in the huge circular tub, my back arched, I squeeze the edge of the porcelain as my Lord pumps into me from behind. His hand grips my neck while his other holds my hair in a makeshift ponytail. Water sloshes around us as our bodies slap together.
“Come for me, Fable,” he orders, and I do, for the third time tonight, screaming at the prolonged intensity.
He groans and climaxes, coming on my back.
One minute we were snuggling in the tub—him reclined with me between his legs while he washed me. The next, he was holding me like a boyfriend would.
If that wasn’t enough to blow my mind and make me want to both run away and fuse myself to him forever, his hands started exploring my body under the water in the most sensual way.
A soft graze of my nipple. A brush of my clit.
Then his fingers were inside me, and I was riding them like a dying alien who needs orgasms to survive.
After I came, he set me on my knees and said, “My turn, angel.”
I can’t tell which I like better, when he says my name or calls me angel.
It’s a huge turn-on. Everything about him is.
I don’t know how anyone can walk away from this.
Literally—I will feel this in the morning—but also figuratively.
Where do you go from here? No one will match up.
I get why Noah is so sad about getting only one night with her lord.
This masked Lord has me wrapped around his finger and his cock.
My forehead rests on the edge of the tub, my backside still in the air, as I catch my breath.
A big hand smacks my ass, jolting me to the present. My Lord rubs away the sting with a tender hand, then kisses the warm skin. “I need a shower now.”
“Shower?”
“This water is no longer clean.”
It takes my just fucked brain a minute to catch up. “Because he just came in it—or on me—or both. And yeah, gross. But also, he’s a clean freak, like me. As if I need another reason to like him.
I hear him climb out and turn on the faucet in the big shower behind us.
Slowly, I lift my head and squint at the mirror above the sink as fog creeps in from the corners.
Why is it so bright all of a sudden? I tense with realization.
I can see. My blindfold fell from one eye.
I’m about to yank it up when I glimpse a very tall, very naked, muscular man walking into the shower.
Tattoos cover some of his back—a death moth with a skull face, a coat of arms wrapped in thorns with droplets of blood, and a vine coiled around an opened book that has angel wings.
I gasp.
No. No. It can’t be. My heart pounds and my head turns, my eyes straining for a better look.
Facing the wall, he ducks his head under the spray of water.
It’s the same man I saw in the shower at Mr. Ashford’s.
The same sexy body. The same tattoos. My stomach twists, and bile climbs up my throat. What kind of sick joke is this?
I shove my blindfold back in place and get out of the tub. My body quivers as I feel around for the towel on the nearby chair. I stub my toe on the wooden leg. “Ow!”
“What are you doing, Fable?” Wes asks. Wes! The asshole I hate. “Wait. I’ll get you.”
I thrust my palm up. “No. I’m okay.” Don’t come near me, you sick freak.
His big hands land on my shoulders. “Come join me.” He turns me toward the shower.
I try to hold my ground and clutch my stomach. “I don’t feel good.” True! “I’m sorry. Can I go back to my bedroom?”
“What’s wrong?”
A large soft towel is wrapped around my body. I hide inside it, wishing it were a magic portal back to my room. A second later, I’m hoisted off my shaky legs and into my Lord—Wes’s—arms. Oh god.
My stomach rolls. I know wealthy people can be narcissistic assholes, but this is a level of fuckery I never imagined. And bravo for his acting skills. A real-life British Lord and a Golden Globe winner.
Wes lowers me onto a bed. His bed. I resist and sit up, desperate to get away from him. “Please. I need my room.”
“I’ll send for someone. Just give me a minute.”
“No. Please. I don’t want to get sick in here. Just call Noah,” I cry, losing it more, my lungs racing as I teeter on the verge of hyperventilation. “Just call her. Please.”
Curling onto my side, I bury my head in the pillow that smells sexy, delicious, and like the evilest man I know.
His voice rumbles behind me as he talks to someone.
I don’t lift my spinning head from the pillow. I can’t.
“Fable? It’s me, honey,” Noah’s voice sounds in my ear. “Can you stand?”
I sit up and turn her way so quickly that dizziness has my stomach churning again. She helps me to my feet and wraps me in something silk and long. The cloak?
I keep my head down and let her guide me from the room. We walk down the hallway at a slow, torturous pace. The farther away we get from Wes, the better I feel.
“You can take the blindfold off now,” Noah says.
We’re in the staff hallway. A smidgeon of relief passes through me. With every step, the desperate need to escape pushes the nausea farther into the background. Soon, I'm running to my room.
“What are you doing?” Noah hurries to keep up. “Are you going to barf?”
I make it inside and lock the door behind us. Bear is asleep on his bed on the chair by the dark window.
I grab my bag and start filling it with everything.
“Fable! What are you doing?” Noah demands.
“Packing. I need to leave here tonight, and you can’t tell anyone I’m gone.”
I empty what little amount of clothes I have in the closet.
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” She comes up behind me. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Yes. But not like you think.” I dump the clothes in my other bag. I don’t have any more, but I still have stuff to pack that I used to keep in cardboard dressers and bins, which I tossed, thinking I could stay here.
What to do?
Trash bags! I get a big black one from the cabinet in my bathroom and stuff my towels and toiletries inside. It dredges up the memory of filling trash bags with Mom when we were kicked out of Hale Manor. Orchestrated by the earl’s pig of a son who once again has found a way to ruin my life.
“You need to explain this, Fable. I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened.”
“I’ll explain later. When I’m gone. Promise.”
“Fuck this. I’m getting Camila.” She stalks toward the door.
“No!” I shout, startling Bear awake. “She can’t know. No one can.”
I explain everything to Noah, leaving out only the details of the sex I had with Wes. Every time I think about it, my stomach clenches.
“That’s certifiable fuckery, for sure. What would motivate him to go to such extremes to hurt you, especially when he’s the one who screwed you over years ago?
You literally saved his fucking life! You should have left him for dead.
” She kicks a drawer closed, causing Bear to jump to the floor and hide in his carrier under the chair.
“Shh.” My gaze darts to the closed bedroom door. “No one can know I’m leaving.”
“I’m leaving now too. There’s no way in hell I can stay working here after what he did to you. I hate him!”
She turns for the door.
I leap in front of her. “Wait. Just wait a second, please.” I give her a moment to calm down.
“I appreciate you wanting to leave because of this, but I need you to cover for me here—at least for a few days—until I’m somewhere safe.
If Wes has done all this to mess with me, imagine what else he might do?
I need to be long gone, and I need a good head start in case my leaving pisses him off, and he retaliates further.
You understand?” I nod, praying she does.
She rests her hands on her hips and exhales, her shoulders softening. “What if he questions me about you? He has to know we’re friends.”
“Would Camila let him interrogate you and make you feel unsafe?”
“Not unsafe, but she’d help him get information if he wanted it.”
Guilt twists in my gut, and I slump. “It makes me sick that I ruined this for you.”
She puts her hands on my shoulders. “You didn’t ruin anything. If anything, I caused this by inviting you here.”
I shake my head vigorously. “You didn’t know. How could you?”
“Where will you go?”
“I think it’s better if I don’t tell you. In case you do get interrogated.”
She runs her fingers through her long curly hair. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t. Because it’s unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.”
“I know.” I try not to focus on it so I don’t have a mental breakdown.
I need to stay on track. I dig Bear out of his carrier and snuggle him close, blinking back the heartache burning my eyes.
“I need you to do me a favor, Noah. I need you to keep Bear.” Tears stream down my cheeks.
“I can’t go on the run with him. It wouldn’t be fair.
” I kiss his head, soaking his cream fur.
Noah appears at my side, hugging me and Bear and crying too. “I’ll take such good care of him for you. You know I will. I’m so sorry, Fable.”
For a minute, the three of us stay locked together. Then I pass him to her and wipe my drippy nose, resisting the urge to take him back. She cuddles him in her arms like a newborn.
I kiss his head again. “Bye, Bear. I love you.” He licks a tear from the tip of my nose. I wipe my face dry and finish filling my bags. “Can you get my car from Jace in secret somehow?”
She nods and removes her phone from her pocket, texting with one hand.
Ten minutes later, I’m at a side entrance I didn’t know about. Noah left Bear in her room so she could walk me to my car. I wish I could give him one last kiss.
She told Gavin she needed to leave to get some personal stuff for me and didn’t want Camila or Jace to know. Leaving without security isn’t allowed anymore after another server came back beaten up by her boyfriend.