Chapter 9
chapter nine
Dayton
Itap my fingers on the glass table in the conference room. My Miami office has an ocean view, but looking out at the turquoise water makes me think about Coconut Beach.
Stop picturing her.
I’ve permanently ingrained the photos Summer accidentally texted to me into my twisted, fucked-up brain by staring at them for hours, multiple times, since last weekend.
That lacy pink teddy hugged her curves just right.
Her pink nipples are the size of a quarter, and somehow finding out exactly how her bikini tan lines look on her skin has given me an unhealthy obsession with the paler skin of her breasts and ass.
I keep fantasizing about biting the white lines on her hips.
I still remember the first time I saw her in a swimsuit at sixteen, and I kept my sunglasses on all day so she couldn’t see the way my eyes stayed glued to her.
Her body has changed since then—for the better.
I’ve memorized the curve of her ass in her yoga pants, but now having a clear picture of exactly what that body looks like has begun affecting my concentration and focus while I’m working, dealing with billionaire clients and shitloads of money.
Fuck, now I’m getting an erection while one of my biggest clients sits across from me.
I shift in my leather chair, knuckles whitening as I grip my pen.
“Mr. Humphries, I’m pleased to inform you that your accounts have all profited by twelve percent since our last meeting. I strongly suggest increasing your investments in the following accounts by ten percent or more.”
My secretary, Ava, clicks through the slideshow up on the screen, displaying the many zeros that have been brought in since we accumulated the Humphries account.
Mr. Humphries is only thirty-two, but when his grandfather died, he inherited a line of liquor manufacturers, which he’s grown impressively in the last five years.
“I want to increase by thirty percent. I have to say, I’ve been impressed by your team, Copeland. These numbers are staggering.”
Ava clicks to the next slide. I drone on about his investment account activity and the minor adjustments I want to make for the upcoming year.
“After the holidays are over and the new year begins, we’ll be in the first quarter, and we can expect an overall dip in sales.
Most people’s New Year’s resolution to drink less only last a few weeks, if that.
” He rises from his seat and reaches out a hand to shake mine.
“Looking forward to seeing where our partnership leads in the future, Copeland.”
I stand, gripping his hand in a firm handshake and nodding. “Thank you. Looking forward to it as well. Enjoy your weekend.”
He nods at Ava before exiting the conference room. The door clicks shut behind him.
“Well, that was unexpected.” She smiles up at me.
I hired Ava for a simple reason. Rich people prefer to be around beautiful women, and there’s an abundance of aspiring models in Miami. Ava is a professional, but I haven’t missed her lingering glances and shy smiles.
I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship.
I had a steady physical coupling with a woman who lived in my building in New York City.
It was strictly sex, nothing more. She was a fashion model with honey-blond hair.
It was the hair that got me because I don’t usually go for tall, thinner women.
I like them shorter, with something to hold on to.
Summer’s pictures infiltrate my memory again.
I need to get laid soon. I wonder if Noelle would fly in for a night.
I consider texting her as I make my way back to my office. We had a consistent but casual relationship before the funeral.
Ava sways her hips as she walks in front of me, but I find myself navigating to my text thread with Summer. I shut my office door before pulling up the pictures of her in the pink lace.
Fuck me.
She sent me three, and if I were more of a gentleman, I would have deleted them. Despite my disciplined nature and self-control, I haven’t been able to talk myself into it.
The first one is my favorite. She’s sitting on the bed, legs spread wide, making her thighs look delicious and grabbable.
Her thumb is pressing into her bottom lip, eyes looking directly into the camera.
Her nipples are hard and perky. Her breasts are on the smaller side of a C-cup, just enough for a handful.
I have big hands, but I know cupping her ass with them wouldn’t quite be feasible.
I groan, leaning forward over my desk. My dick is as hard as stone now.
If Summer Sullivan took up any more real estate in my mind, I’d run this company into the ground from sheer neglect.
With a few clicks of my mouse, I navigate on my MacBook to the security cameras that show the backyard of the beach bungalow.
She’s outside now, talking to a man. I still as my eyes follow the pixelated version of her on the screen, walking around, pointing out areas on the cinder-block wall that separates our yard and the neighbors.
I wish this damn thing had audio.
The man walks up to her, draping his arm around her shoulders.
I grit my teeth, releasing an exhale and exiting out of the screen. My muscles are tense. I need a good, long workout session and a swim in the salt water of the Atlantic.
After leaving work, I drive to my penthouse and change into my running clothes.
I nearly sprint the two miles down to the beach before stripping off my shirt and shoes and diving into the chill water.
I swim out, relishing in the waves rapidly cooling down my overheated frame.
I tread water for a few minutes while watching the sun begin to dip down over the horizon before finally making it back to shore with long strokes.
I pull my shirt over my head and put my shoes back on.
I jog back to my penthouse at a much slower pace, trying to train my thoughts to focus on work-related issues as my clothes dry. I always run in moisture-wicking shorts that dry most of the way before I get home.
Normally, I would be calling my dad on a night like tonight.
He would be cooking dinner for Clara and trying out a new bottle of Merlot.
I would casually inquire about Summer, and they’d update me on her life.
I miss talking to my dad. He was the one person in my life I never felt the need to perform for.
Now, I’m left with my only connection to Summer being the sensual pictures she sent me accidentally and her legal obligation to work with me if she wants any of her inheritance.
I wasn’t supposed to think about the pictures.
I’m riding the elevator to the top of the building when my thoughts take the dark road down to the gutters of my mind.
Her breasts look so soft and sensitive to touch. They weren’t innocent pictures, but somehow, her expression was vulnerable. It makes me want to teach her things.
Once I get to my door, I’m relieved mine is the only one on this floor because my erection is tenting my shorts. I shut the door behind me and walk to the kitchen island, where I left my phone. It only takes seconds to navigate to the pictures I saved in a hidden album.
This is wrong. This is so fucked up and wrong.
I can’t help myself. I’m like a man possessed as I select my favorite one, and it fills the screen. I kick my shoes off.
It’s not enough. I need to see more detail. I want to study the color of her tan lines.
I walk into the living room and grab the remote. I forcefully hit the power button to turn the TV on. Once I select the screen share option on my phone, I’m able to cast the picture to my TV through the Bluetooth connection.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter under my breath as her body fills the screen.
Guilt plagues me like a curse, but it’s not enough to make me stop. Now that the photo is on a seventy-five-inch screen, I can make out the pink slit between her legs and the freckles on the top of her breasts.
She didn’t send these to me. They were meant for another man. She hates me. She would hate me even more if she knew what I was doing.
I still can’t stop.
I reach down and peel off the damp shorts.
My dick springs free, already seeping from the tip.
I keep my eyes on her as I sit back down on the couch with a groan, stroking my hand over the velvety skin of my cock.
The lotion is all the way in my bedroom, but I can’t force myself away from the picture of Summer on my screen to get it.
I spit in my hand and keep rubbing up and down.
I picture myself between those thighs, spreading them wider than they already are.
I want to see her up close. I want to taste her.
I already know this isn’t going to take me long.
I’ve been fantasizing about her for thirteen years, but I’ve never had anything like this to look at.
I’ve imagined her naked body countless times, angrily jacking off to thoughts about wrapping her hair around my fist while she was thousands of miles away, hating my guts.
I hate her, too, but damn if she isn’t a walking, talking, infuriating fantasy come to life.
I picture her on her knees in front of me, wearing the pink lace, honey-blond hair spilling over her shoulders. She blinks up at me with her big eyes and says something snarky.
“Put it in your mouth,” I say.
Great. Now I’ve added dialogue.
But she does, and I close my eyes, imagining what it feels like.
She’s so fucking hot, the sensual shape of her body on the screen unreal with how perfect the proportions are.
She has places to hold on to, places to spank and squeeze and suck, but a toned stomach from all her yoga.
I’ve never fucked someone I was so chronically obsessed with, and the short amount of time it takes me to bust all over my abs would be mortifying if she were here to witness it.
As soon as I stop panting for air, I look down over myself, a heavy weight of rage, mixed with guilt, flooding my veins. I slam my fist down on the wooden coffee table.
“Dammit!”
I’ve got to make myself delete those fucking pictures.
Tomorrow. I’ll delete them tomorrow.
thirteen years earlier
“You shouldn’t let her wear that. It’s inappropriate.”
I’m staring at Summer as her mom helps her pin the braids around the crown of her head. She rolls her eyes at me in the mirror. My father grunts, grabbing my arm and shoving me out the open sliding back door.
“We don’t tell women what they can and can’t wear. You’d better learn that right now, son.”
Still, I can’t take my eyes off of her in that dress. When Will asked her to prom, I decked him in the middle of the locker room an hour later.
“Dayton, look at me. Summer isn’t my daughter, first of all. Second, she’s your stepsister, so you shouldn’t be looking at her like that.”
I finally peel my eyes away from the sheer fabric showing off half of her side to meet his gaze. “If she’s not your daughter, then what makes her my sister?”
He sets his jaw. “You need to treat her better. I don’t know what your problem is. Clara and Summer have graciously tried to accept you into their lives. You owe them the same courtesy.”
My eyes trail back over to her. Her full ass is defined in the too-tight pale yellow dress. “She’s dating my friend. Am I supposed to just be okay with that?”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “If he’s treating her right, what’s the problem? You should want her to be happy.”
No one is good enough for her. Least of all Will.
“All the guys talk about her all the fucking time. I’m sick of hearing it.”
So sick of it that the coach said I’d be suspended if I hit another player. I barely talked him out of calling my dad about what happened with Will today.
My dad’s amber eyes narrow on me. “Well, it’s your job to defend her. Have I taught you nothing? I raised you to be a gentleman. We stand up for women.”
That’s why decking Will was the right move. All he wants is to smash.
“I do that. Doesn’t mean I have to like her.”
He sets his jaw. “I’m disappointed in you, Dayton. She lost her father the same way you lost your mother.”
“Honey? Can we get a family picture?” Clara appears from the doorway, a forced smile on her lips.
“Of course, dear.” Dad grabs my arm, guiding me into the house.
Will has arrived, wearing a tux and looking as smug as I’ve ever seen him. His mom must have attempted to cover his purple eye with makeup, but I can still see the outline. He grins at me, holding up Clara’s phone.
“Everyone, get together.”
My dad tries to make me get in the middle, but I refuse, moving to his other side.
My mouth stays in a straight line, even when Clara says, “Smile!” right before the flash of the phone.
“Okay, now Will and Summer! Let’s go take it outside on the lawn.”