Chapter One
TESS
“Ass up, face down,” Novak Christiansen barks from the middle of the room. He’s sitting in a wing-backed leather chair and his steely blue eyes are burning a hole between my legs.
“Fuck you.”
He smirks at my disobedient reply.
“I won’t say it twice,” he says in a husky whisper.
“Yes, you will.”
“Hmm?” Novak brings his thumb and index finger under his chin.
“You will,” I repeat. “You’ll say it again, and again because you’re desperate.”
His eyes drift back to my bare stomach. His constant inspection unsettles me and I shield my breasts with my hands.
“Move your hands.”
I shake my head.
A growl rolls through Novak’s chest. “You’re starting to piss me off.”
“So you’re right where I want you to be,” I mutter.
He launches out of his chair and his thick, muscular frame charges toward me. Before I have a chance to figure out what he’s planning to do, Novak has both my wrists in a tight grip, and my breasts are exposed. He pulls me tightly against himself and his mouth hovers near my ear.
“You’re getting loose-tongued and feisty,” he whispers. Hot breath tickles my skin and sends shivers down my spine. “You know what that does to me, right?”
I can’t stand being around him… usually. He’s too charming, too confident, and too handsome. Novak Christiansen is the kind of man a caring mother would warn her precious daughter about. But, like a moth drawn to a flame, I’m ensnared in his trap.
“Wh… what are you going to do about it?” the choked words leave my lips.
“I’m going to fuck the stubbornness out of you,” Novak says.
His grip loosens on one wrist, but not the other.
With a strong twist, he spins me around.
He snakes his fingers around the back of my neck and drives my body forward onto the chest of drawers that sits beside his bedroom door.
He pins me in place, and his eyes sweep over my body in a shameless inspection. Ass up, face down. It’s what he wanted.
And Novak always gets what he wants.
“Was that so hard?”
He runs his tongue along his upper lip.
I shove my hand onto his groin. It’s met by an enormous bulge. Novak groans.
“It was,” I say.
Novak tears himself free of my grip. He crowds his body against mine until his clothed cock is pressing against my most delicate spot. I’m not afraid to whimper, even if he’d never dare. I do as he takes control of me yet again.
Novak sinks to his knees. He clutches my ankles and spreads my legs apart. The light stubble of his five o’clock shadow scratches the tender flesh between my legs.
“Say it,” he whispers.
My hips instinctively buck towards his face, and his tongue meets my silky pussy.
We’re like two magnets, Novak and I. In any other setting, I would be repelled by his presence.
He pisses me off, gets under my skin, and drives me up the wall.
But when he’s on his knees, worshipping my pussy, I can’t get enough of him.
Our bodies are made for one another. We’re connected on some level that transcends the bullshit of day-to-day rules.
“Say it,” he repeats, lapping at my clit.
I can’t think, let alone find the words he’s looking for. From the sting of his belt to the gentle sweep of his tongue between my legs, I’ve been thrown into a wild mix of emotions and bliss.
“I fucking hate you.”
He responds with a raspy chuckle.
Novak drags his tongue through my pussy before thrusting it inside. He cups my ass, spreading the cheeks and giving himself a better position on my opening. His tongue dances in short, quick bursts, delivering overwhelming pleasure and turning my knees to water.
As quickly as he started, he stops, and then he stands to his full height, once again.
He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me away from the drawer, forcing me down to my knees.
Medium-length locks of curled black hair stream down his forehead.
He usually keeps them swept back and perfectly styled, but in our frantic dance of pleasure, Novak has thrown caution to the wind when it comes to his appearance.
“What are you?” he asks. Annoyance is building in his voice.
I know the words he wants to hear, because I’ve said them a hundred times before.
I stare at him with puppy dog eyes, and a big pout on my lips.
“I’m your… good little slut,” I say. The shame and humiliation of those words burn my cheeks.
A satisfied groan escapes from Novak’s lips.
“Now, beg for my cock,” he orders.
I nibble on my lower lip. “Give it to me.” It’s my turn to be demanding.
“Not like that… you know how to do it!” He shakes his head, staring at me with hooded eyes.
“Please, sir, give me your cock.” My heart flutters in my chest. “I want it.” I reach for his pants, grabbing at the bulge straining beneath the fabric. “I need it.”
Novak leans forward. “There’s my good girl. But you can’t have it now. You didn’t work hard enough for it.”
I open my mouth to respond; but, then… as on cue – as if she had some sixth sense for what was happening – I hear my mother’s voice.
She’s shouting, “Kids, where are you? Are you ready? We’ve got to go now or we’ll be late for church.”
We both pause.
“We’re coming,” Novak responds for both of us, with a smug grin.
He steps out of my bedroom door, leaving me in a puddle of shame and unfulfilled desire.
I am left, as I always am, to contemplate my situation, or should I say our situation. It’s not an exaggeration to say I don’t like Novak. And I’m pretty sure he dislikes me, too. He might even hate me. Sometimes I think I hate him.
I am well aware of the long list of reasons for why children in blended families don’t get on.
Expecting two sets of different people to suddenly live together and to play the cards of Happy Families that their parents dealt is a big ask.
Most children can’t cope. They are still processing the death of what they thought was the solid family unit and suddenly they are moved into a new one.
Sometimes it’s because one child feels disadvantaged or left out; jealousy is natural between children and often leads to hatred.
But Novak’s parents divorced a long, long time ago and my Dad did not choose to leave us; he was killed in a freak accident. I understand that and I am glad that our parents found happiness together.
What it is – there is a shadowed force in Novak that calls to me. It has awoken the darkness in me that I always fought so hard to suppress. That is why I hate him. He holds up a mirror, so I can see myself spiraling, faster and faster, and beyond all hope of control.