15. Corm
Chapter 15
Corm
“ I talked to Donovan.” Xander saunters into my office without knocking.
Dressed in black shorts and a sweaty T-shirt, he plops down on my white sofa. He reaches into the bowl in the middle of the coffee table and helps himself to a handful of nuts.
Since when do I offer snacks in my office? Fucking Larissa and her efforts to humanize me.
“Ever heard of showering after a workout? Get your sweaty ass off my sofa.”
He chuckles but doesn’t move. “You’re a ray of sunshine, as usual.”
He doesn’t know the least of it. I’ve been in the worst mood since yesterday. First, I opened the file on Saar I got from Mathison. I thought I’d started to get to know her.
I don’t know what possessed me to work from home for almost a week, but having every meal with her was more pleasant than I anticipated.
Her metabolism is fucked up after years of irregular schedules, and probably some crazy diets. I took unwarranted pleasure in seeing her eating regularly. That, by itself, should—is—concerning me.
I took her for a ride in my Bugatti, because cars seem to be the only place where she falls asleep. I drove around for hours, just so she got some rest. I told her I didn’t need a child instead of a fiancée, but I took to the babysitting duties pretty fast. Fuck.
And then there were the conversations. Some of them trivial, all of them interesting. It probably was a much-needed distraction from my daily grind, because I found myself looking forward to the next meal.
Saar is smart and well-read. She is strong, perhaps a bit too cynical at times, but I suspect that’s another result of her career. She grew a thick skin to survive the demands, the toxicity.
She’s kind of lost at the moment, but instead of crumbling, she’s searching for answers. Not that she gives herself any credit.
And she is hot as sin. I’ve been walking around with a semi, lusting after that body of hers. A very unfortunate development.
But then I read the file on her, and fuck, if that wasn’t the biggest disappointment. I couldn’t even look at her when I saw her at the shelter.
And still, I was stealing glances at her with the kitten. The woman is a siren. I need her out of sight, and hopefully soon out of my life.
She thought I was pissed about the tux. Fuck, I was upset about that, but it was kind of funny. It’s not like I can’t afford to throw it out after walking through the kennels.
I wanted to confront her then and there, but I have a business deal to think about. Screw her.
And yet she’s been on my mind every freaking minute of the day. Perhaps because she played me so well.
Never did I suspect Saar van den Linden was so deceitful, but what is worse, my bullshit radar failed me around her.
Now I have the evidence that the woman is not only bad news, but that I can’t read her at all. And it still didn’t help me stop thinking about her.
I even went to the fucking sex club to get rid of that need she sparked. But nobody got the job done. The manager was pulling his hair, sending one girl after another to my booth in the VIP section.
I sent them all away. Why? I tried to come up with lies, but to be honest, I sent them away because they were not Saar.
The Morrigan bewitched me. Her smiles, her quips, her body, her wit. All of it is wrapped around my cock.
But there is no way I can succumb to that temptation after what I found out. And like an idiot, I have her followed now. Because the best guy for the job, Mathison, uncovers something, and I still need more proof. Or hope for her redemption. Goddammit.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. But that’s a minor mistake, and I won’t deepen it.
“What the fuck do you want, Xander? I’m busy.”
“And as pleasant as ever. Hopefully, this news will cheer you up…”
“Impossible.” Declan walks in.
Where the fuck is Larissa? I don’t have an open-door policy. Quite the contrary.
“You’re probably right.” Xander snorts. “Anyway, Donovan complained AetherTech is not taking their calls. I guess Vlad is keeping his promise to stall for two months.”
Declan nods. “That’s why I’m here. How much do you want to send to Vlad’s charity?”
“Let’s wait for that. Betsy finally got me the invitation to his fundraiser—it got lost in the mail.” I clasp my hands behind my head, leaning back. Lost, my ass. But if Vladislav expected to be rid of me, he was mistaken.
“I guess it’s smart to wait. We’ll adjust the donation to his expectations once you see what others throw his way.”
“Yeah, the event is in two weeks. Hopefully, by then, he will be mollified enough by my recovered image.”
Xander snorts again. “So how is the wedding planning?”
“Let’s focus on business. Vlad said he doesn’t like how long it’s taking to sign the deal, and then he suggested he’d stall to ensure our involvement.” I tap my fingers on the table.
“Motherfucker.” Xander immediately picks up on my line of thinking. “You think he’s talking to another firm?”
“I think you should shower.” I glare at him. “And then find out who might be courting AetherTech.”
“Excuse me.” Larissa pops her head in. “Betsy Ham is on the phone, claiming it’s urgent.”
I sigh. “Put her through.”
Declan sits beside Xander like this is a fucking theater. “Do you mind?” I snap.
“Unless you start paying her from your own pocket, put her on speaker,” Declan says. He raises his eyebrow, daring me.
“The vote of confidence is duly noted.” I press the answer button. “Betsy, Xander and Declan are here with me. What’s so urgent?”
“Things have been going so well, and you can’t keep your fiancée on the leash, Corm?”
“Careful there, Betsy.” I have had enough of this woman’s patronizing attitude. How dare she talk about Saar like this?
“We have a crisis on our hands,” she snaps. “Your fiancée—”
“Watch your tone, Ham. You found her, not me.” I’m not sure why I bother reminding her.
It’s like my mind wants to avoid whatever she wants to say. Because as much as I want to stay away from Saar, I don’t want more reasons to do so.
“Have you seen Saar’s social media?”
Why would I? “No.”
Xander pulls out his phone and whistles.
“I suggest you read her last post. It went viral. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I suggest you ask her to pull it down immediately.”
What the fuck? I gesture to Xander, who comes over and turns his phone to me.
The image rams into me like a freight train. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Sitting on the bench in the window of my house, she looks small and lost but also like she belongs.
Seeing her in my space like that squeezes at something in my chest. Like she’s mine.
Her dark blue eyes stare at me with such raw honesty, almost pleading to be seen. The photo captures her looking fragile and strong at the same time.
Okay, well, based on Betsy’s fussing, I thought Saar posted nudes.
“What’s wrong with the picture?”
Betsy huffs. “Not the picture, the caption below it. Look, we’re coming up with a mitigation strategy, but try to motivate her to take it down. She’s not answering my phone.”
“What makes you think she’d answer mine?” I rumble.
“I’m adding a pain-in-my-ass markup to your next bill. Find her; talk to her. I’ll call you in an hour with an idea on how to spin this, or at least make sure it doesn’t derail your deal.”
I hang up and snatch Xander’s phone and read the post.
My new home… And it’s a lie… I have never felt more out of place than I do right now… I’m exhausted… And pretty damn lonely… Just me, sitting in a huge mansion, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do next.
“Wow, she has over a quarter of a mil likes already. She spent a week with you, and she’s suicidal.” Xander grabs his phone and leaves, laughing. Fucker.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m pretty damn lonely . You and me, The Morrigan, you and me.
That woman will be the death of me. Because not only did she make me look like an asshole, but she made me feel responsible for her wellbeing.
And her honest cry in the form of a social media post makes me want to strangle her and embrace her at the same time.
“You can cajole huge corporations to do your bidding, and you can’t control your fiancée? Seriously, Corm, get your shit together, finally. Dad is dead. It’s been almost a year. He wouldn’t want you to derail your life like this.” Declan sighs.
“What the fuck do you know about what he wanted, or who he even was?” I grab a stapler and hurl it at the window.
Declan shakes his head. “He’s gone, Corm. You’re giving him way too much power.”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“This has everything to do with him. Otherwise you wouldn’t get arrested, drunk, high, fuck strippers, and jeopardize your business. What was in that fucking letter he left you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I stand up, yanking my suit jacket from the backrest. “It doesn’t fucking matter.”
“If you say so.” He opens the door. “Go to talk to her, and try to leave your charming personality behind. If you want to spiral down, so be it; just don’t drag us all with you.”
“Saar, Saar,” I holler before I even close the front door. Livia comes from the kitchen, blinking. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Mr. Quinn, Ms. Saar is on the patio. It’s such a lovely day finally. We didn’t expect you to—”
“Take the afternoon off, Livia,” I snarl, rushing through the long hallway to the glass wall with the double door.
I stop at the threshold and take a deep breath to calm myself, but also to take in the vision in front of me.
Saar is wrapped in a thick, long, woolen dress that hugs her slender form, hiding and seducing. With her legs stretched out on a lounge bed, she’s wearing sunglasses, looking like the model she used to be.
With her side to me, she doesn’t know I’m there yet. My anger—irrationally—dissipates a notch just from the pure beauty of her. Her presence has an air of serenity that calms me.
It makes no sense, because most of the time she gives me her sass, and yet having her around has given me a sense of… what?
I can’t name it. Fuck, I don’t want to name it. These unchartered feelings are unwelcome.
For a moment, I wish I could just join her, sit beside her, and close my eyes. Let her breath wash over me. Make me feel whole and not so… lonely. Fuck, no wonder her post went viral; it even relates to me.
But that’s not what I’m here for. That’s not what would get me my deal.
I clear my throat, and she turns to me. “You’re home early. Or at all.” A sarcastic smile tugs at her lips.
The sunglasses are huge, covering half of her face, and it’s still the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen.
“Enjoying yourself?” I growl, clenching my fists because if I’m honest, I want to fuck her and kill her too.
“Yes.” She turns her face to the sun to demonstrate I can’t spoil her fun.
“Enjoying your minute of fame? I thought you were over the attention.” I sit on the lounge chair beside her, bracing my arms on my knees.
She raises her glasses, pushing them into her messy hair, and frowns at me.
“What were you thinking, Saar?”
“You need to be more specific, darling. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. All the ways I could rid of your body. What I will do with my life once I’m free of you. What to wear to the theater on Friday—”
I snap, pouncing. With my knee beside her, I grip her jaw and lower my face to her. Her breath hitches, and I immediately regret my impulse because her gasp goes directly to my groin.
“I thought you understood the deal, The Morrigan. We’re supposed to be presenting an image of stability, not broadcasting that you’re lost and isolated. You’re making me look like I don’t even know how to make my fiancée happy.”
She glares at me, but the hatred mingles with something else, something more primal, raw. Carnal?
And then I remember: I can’t read her. That Mathison’s file confirmed she showed me only a tiny part of herself. And even that might be a lie.
“It’s true, though. You can’t make me happy.”
My hand shakes on her jaw, and despite my anger, I’m acutely aware of the softness of her skin, the lushness of her lips, the fire in her eyes. The need to kiss her.
“We’re not in an actual relationship; the truth is irrelevant here. I’ve regretted this arrangement a thousand times over, and every time I think we might just cohabit decently, you have to act out.”
“If you want to get rid of me so badly, just set the date finally. The sooner we get married, the sooner I’m gone, and you can replace me with one of your sex-club trophies.”
“Are you jealous?” More importantly, why do I want her to be? And why am I derailing the conversation?
“You wish.”
Yes, I do. Fuck. “Delete the post.”
Against my will—that’s the story I’m sticking to, because I’ve become proficient at lying to myself—my hand moves, caressing her chin, down her throat, her skin like smooth velvet under my touch. I dip my fingers into the neckline of her sweater.
We stare at each other, tension and lust mixing, morphing the moment into something it shouldn’t be, filling it with agonizing temptation.
I want to move away, but I can’t. Fuck, I don’t want to.
She breaks first, cups my nape, and pulls me to her, her lips fusing with mine. It’s not a sweet kiss or a claiming one. It’s a desperate one—full of pent-up tension, frustration, and all our animosity.
Our teeth clash, our tongues fight as we suck, lick, bite, full of frenzy. I forget where we are, who we are, my entire being craving more of this woman. Craving a release from this fucked-up situation.
I scoop her and flip us around. She straddles me without breaking the contact, gripping my hair in a rage and fervor and pure need.
“This means nothing.” She pants.
“Agreed.”
“I mean it, Corm.” She looks at me, the fire in her eyes pouring lava into my veins.
“This means nothing,” I say, wishing for it to be true.
She grinds her hips against me, and fuck, I’m going to come in my pants. What is she doing to me?
Her dress rode up, exposing her lean legs clad in thick, black tights. “Fuck, there is too much fabric between us.”
She smirks against my lips. “What are you going to do about it?”
I slide my hands up her thighs, the feel of her under my hands electrifying. It’s like our bodies held on by a thread for weeks, and now all the bets are off.
No inhibition. No control. No reason.
She whimpers when I bite her bottom lip, and the sound reverberates through me with maddening intensity.
I want all her whimpers, all her gasps, her moans, her cries. All her sounds.
Even for this one time. One time. The thought stops me, and my hands sliding into her waistband from behind freeze.
She senses my hesitation and cups my erection. “What is it, Corm, you think you can’t handle me?”
“You I can handle, The Morrigan. Are you sure you can handle me? And the aftermath.”
I cup the back of her neck and seize her lips in a punishing kiss. Like I don’t want her to answer. We are past the point of return.
“This means nothing, remember?” she grits out against my lips, her hand holding me in a tight grip.
Like she knows what I like. Like she needs what I need. Like this has happened many times before, and we know the choreography by heart.
We know shit, but for this one time, I can surrender to the illusion. Because, fuck, I need her wrapped around my cock, and damn the consequences.
I’ve been reckless many times over. As a teenager. In recent months. And now, again. But never have I been reckless with such dedication.
My hands glide down the globes of her ass, squeezing it. She straightens up and pushes her pelvis forward, seeking friction. Greedy little nymph.
The shy spring sun shimmers through her tresses, creating a halo around her.
Her slender body in the black, knitted dress is gorgeous, and I can’t wait to see the beauty underneath.
We shouldn’t be doing this, but the forbidden fruit always tastes the best. She starts working on my belt, but I put my hand over hers. I need her nice and ready for all the ways I wish to devour her.
She looks at me, frowning, uttering a frustrated huff. God, she’s adorable. Fuck, I shouldn’t be noticing this.
“What?” she grumbles.
“Greedy much?” I chuckle.
“Asshole much?” She glares.
“Always.” I pull down her tights and her underwear. “Lift.”
She obeys, and they come down to her mid-thighs. This won’t do. I grip the front and rip them off.
“What the fuck, Corm?”
“They were in my way.” I pull the lever to recline the lounger’s backrest. Saar yelps as I jerk her with me, her body sprawling over me in the new horizontal position.
I find her lips again, my cock twitching painfully. She tastes like sin and innocence. Like storm and sunshine. Like mine and definitely not mine.
She pushes my jacket down my shoulders, but I don’t budge, so she yanks my tie.
“Come sit on my face, sweetheart.”
I take in her swollen lips, wild hair, and flushed face. And that strange sense of serenity grabs me again. I stare at her, mesmerized. Spellbound. Taken.
Screwed.
Fuck. My. Life.
She stills. “What?”
“Be a good girl and listen for once, The Morrigan.” I grab her hips, prompting her forward.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She tries to distract me and goes for my belt again, flustered. I like this version of her. Fuck, I like every version of her.
“As you wish.” I flip us again, hovering over her. “You don’t have to sit on my face for me to thoroughly eat your pussy.”
She cringes like the idea isn’t appetizing.
“I’m going to eat your pussy, because it’s been the only meal on my mind for the past few weeks. And you’re not going to deny me, The Morrigan. For once, stop fighting.” I slide my hand up her leg and cup her between her thighs.
She is staring at me, a mixture of apprehension and need. And like she wants to surrender. Or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking.
I spread her with two fingers and flick my thumb through her folds. She inhales sharply, arching her back. I remove my hand and put the thumb to my mouth.
“Delicious,” I hum.
Her eyes widen. What kind of ultra-vanilla idiots was she with before? My other hand grips her hair, white-knuckled, the thought of other men making me completely unhinged.
I crush my lips against her and then move down to her neck. My hands explore her wool-clad body, and I briefly consider moving to the house so I can explore every inch of her flesh. But there will be time for that.
Right now, I’m a man starved. I lean back on my haunches and bunch up her dress. I roll down the remnants of her stockings, her skin silky under my fingers.
“Open,” I growl.
She scoots higher and spreads her legs a bit, her eyes glued on me with scorching heat and something else. Something soft and confident. Like she believes she is safe with me. Like she’s decided to trust me.
It should scare me. It really should make me pause and reconsider, but instead it instills responsibility and desire. I don’t want to let her down.
I can see the moment when the intimacy of our silent exchange spooks her.
She licks her lips. “Are you just going to stare at me?”
“Here she is, The Morrigan. Spread wider,” I order.
She slides her feet on the lounger closer to her ass and then she drops them to the side, opening wide.
“This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. You should see yourself like this. So ripe for me, already dripping.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she lifts her head like she wants to make sure I’m not lying.
I chuckle. “Relax, sweetheart.”
With my hands on her thighs, I lower my head and dive in. Flattening my tongue, I lick her from her ass crack to her clit and back first, and then I take her sensitive bud between my lips, sucking.
She gasps and bucks her hips, her hands gripping my hair almost painfully. I look up, and fuck, if that’s not a picture to keep me on my knees.
Saar’s head is back, her beautiful long neck straining and bobbing as she moans and sighs with delight.
That one look, along with her sounds, spurs me to action. Okay, and my painful cock that wants in on some action. “You taste better than I imagined.”
“You thought about this?” She almost snorts, but her pants turn it into a moan. Even getting unraveled, the woman sasses me. Fuck, I love it.
“Every minute of my days since I saw you in that restaurant. Perhaps even before.”
I add a finger, sliding it deep inside her. “Fuck, you’re tight.” My cock twitches again, straining against my zipper. I really might blow in my pants. Jesus.
Saar gasps and arches her back as I add another finger and another; I curl them while assaulting her clit with my tongue, and she cries out.
Her walls close around my fingers, and she comes undone. “Oh my God, Corm. Oh, my God.”
I pump my fingers in and out while she’s coming, hoping to prolong her pleasure. She’s beautiful even when exhausted and scowling at me.
But Saar in the glow of her orgasm is alluring. I don’t think one hit of her could ever be enough.
I stand up, ignoring my painful erection, and scoop her up. “I need you naked. And we need a condom.”
She sighs contentedly. “And lube.”
I step inside the house and stop. What? “You want me to fuck your ass?”
“No,” she cries and slaps me.