Chapter 5 Everett #3
I look out the window wall. I’m going to have to invest in some thick drapes.
Black this bitch out. My childhood home was in a neighborhood, and the neighbors were so fucking nosy.
My father was rarely ever home, but when he was, I heard the rumors and watched them drive by slowly to see which whore he had at his house on the nights his car was in the driveway.
The nights that he wasn’t home, they’d knock on the door to see if I was okay, knowing I was home alone.
I got good at lying at such a young age.
“Thank you for being able to meet us on such short notice,” Amber says to the real estate agent.
“Of course.” He beams at her. “It just came on the market a few weeks ago. Lots of buzz on the street. This gated community has its own hundred-acre lake and private school. It’s so safe that most children walk. The Willington spans three thousand acres.”
“Honey, do you want to look around?” Amber asks me.
I turn and smile at her over my shoulder. “You go ahead.”
She slides her arm through the crook of the realtor’s and drags him out of the living room with a bounce in her step, leaving me alone.
The sight of the matte-black BMW M4 has me focusing my attention back out the windows.
It turns into the driveway across the street, idling for a few minutes before the brake lights turn off and the driver’s side door opens.
A blonde steps out, dressed in a pair of black high heels.
They accentuate her long legs that are wrapped in black latex, sitting high on her thin waist and showcasing her plump ass.
A black tube top is wrapped around her large breasts.
Her hair is up in a high ponytail, highlighting her tan shoulders and fragile neck, with a pair of designer shades covering her face. Her lips are the color of blood, and they make my cock hard. I can’t wait to have them wrapped around my dick until I pull out and come all over her face.
She’s got an iced coffee in one hand and her large YSL purse in the other. I check my watch to see it’s seven thirty in the morning. Pretty late—or early—to just be getting home. Which tells me she was out all night.
The way she’s dressed makes me think she just spent the night at Kink—a members-only BDSM club—but there isn’t one located here in Pennsylvania. The thought of another man tying her up and whipping her makes me as red as her lips.
So that begs the question, where the fuck has she been all night?
If she was with a man, I hope he knows that’s the last woman he’ll ever fuck. The moment I find out who he is, he’s dead. I refuse to share my girl with anyone else. I’ve waited six years to find her, and the Lords placed her in my hands.
I had to move fast, since she saw me a couple of days ago at the cathedral. I can’t give her the luxury of time to run from me again. I’m not going to let her slip away. Six years is too long.
I almost fell over when I saw her there, washing the unlucky bastard.
She knew it was me. I don’t look the same as I did back at Barrington.
I’ve put on more muscle and am covered in ink, and my mind is even darker than it was.
But she knew who I was. I heard it in the way her breathing picked up and by the way her skin broke out in goose bumps when I touched her.
If Haidyn hadn’t been with me, I would have said something, but I kept my mouth shut because now I know she’s here.
She looks a little different now than she did then, too. Her breasts are bigger; she’s put on some weight. She was so tiny and frail-looking then. She’s still on the smaller side but looks healthier. This time when her green eyes met mine, they looked brighter. More confident.
“Miss Everett Sinclair.” The real estate agent speaks, coming to stand next to me while watching my future wife enter her home through the front door.
“I sold her that house.” He turns and smiles proudly at me.
“She’s lovely.” His face falls. “No kids that I know of. She was single when she purchased that house. I showed her numerous locations and lots. She looked for three months until she found what she wanted.”
I would normally tell someone rambling to shut the fuck up, but he’s giving me information that I won’t be able to find anywhere else. “Single, huh?”
“Yes. But she did have a daddy.”
I turn to face him. “What do you mean by daddy?”
“You know…” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“No. I don’t.” I cross my tatted arms over my chest. What an odd thing to tell me, but again, it’s something I’ll need to know. I’m also not surprised after our first encounter. She’s moved up from a man trying to rape her on a yacht to having some bastard buy her a six-thousand-square-foot house.
“She, uh”—he lowers his voice—“I showed her the house. She called him and told him she wanted it. And he purchased it for her. Wire transfer.”
“Who was he?” This is interesting.
He shrugs. “No name was ever given. Everything was done in hers.” He winks at me like some secret guy code for “she’s a whore who sucks dick good enough for some pathetic married man to buy her a house where he can fuck her whenever he wants.”
Or maybe that’s just my jealousy talking and thinking the worst. Six years is a long time. A lot can happen in that amount of time. But it doesn’t matter if she’s married. He’s dead. If she has a boyfriend, he’s dead. If she has a sugar daddy, he’s dead.
My angel will rely on me for everything.
“I love it,” Amber shouts, entering the living room once more, interrupting our conversation.
“We’ll take it,” I tell the man.
He smiles, looking at Amber as she jumps up and down with her tits bouncing to the point they’re about to fall out of her top.
They begin to talk about interior decorators in the area, and I place my attention back on the house across the street.
My girl exits the front door, locking it behind her. She’s changed into a short-sleeved crop top, yoga pants, and tennis shoes. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and her shades still cover half her face, but her red lips are gone.
She pauses with her hand on the door handle of her car, but doesn’t look up. She can feel me.
I smile to myself.
Hello, angel. It’s been too long.
Yanking her door open, she falls inside, starts it up, and backs out before driving away.