Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Ella
Kingston’s waiting in the parking garage by the elevator when I get to his place. He opens my car door as soon as Garth pulls to a stop.
The way his jaw tightens at the sight of me, and his clenched fists, that stern, disapproving glare…fuck. If I thought my panties were wet a second ago, it’s nothing compared to the situation I’m feeling now.
I jam my hands into my pockets. “Well?”
“That’s all you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
Damn, that’s hot. I decide to keep it going. “It’s not like I’m that late getting home. Curfews are stupid, anyway.”
The side of his mouth lifts slightly before he catches it and mashes his lips into a tight line. The fluorescent lights of the parking garage catch the silver in his whiskers. His shoulders are broad in his suit, his waist trim.
And those beautiful, gray-blue eyes are full of heat.
“Get inside, now,” he says. “It’s time you faced some consequences for your actions.”
I don’t know why, but I want to push him further. “Nah, I think I’ll call a friend to pick me up.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” He jams the elevator button and the doors open.
“Psh.” I turn around and start to flounce away.
His arms band around my waist. The parking garage spins as I find myself lifted up and slung over his shoulder.
“Daddy!” I yell.
His hand comes down on my ass hard, a stinging slap. “You will listen to me, or you will find yourself in a world of hurt.”
Mmm, a world of hurt. Why does that sound good ?
So, I do what any bad little girl would do—I struggle in his hold.
Laughing, he spanks me again and steps into the elevator. The doors close. I look at my reflection, upside down, past his waist. Even seeing myself like this, handled in this way by Kingston, gives me another thrill of lust.
“Put me down,” I say in a pouty voice.
“No fucking chance. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it.”
Ooh, I can’t wait to lie in it.
While the elevator takes us up, he runs his free hand over my ass and thighs, stopping between my legs to rub against my pussy. He isn’t gentle or sweet about it, but crude and rough. I fucking love it.
Abruptly, he takes his hand away from me.
“More,” I say.
“Ha. Like you get to dictate the terms of this,” he says.
The elevator chimes and the doors open to his penthouse. He still doesn’t put me down, and instead carries me to the living area. He dumps me on the couch and I bounce on the cushions, but his hands are there to catch me in case I’m in any danger of falling.
Damn, this guy is good.
“I don’t see a bed here,” I say. “You said I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.”
“Are you going to be a little brat the whole night?” he asks.
I lift a careless shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Take off your clothes, brat.”
I wait just long enough for him to narrow his eyes and give me a hard look. There’s a delicious thrill that runs through me when I disobey. I don’t understand it, but I love it.
I remember something he mentioned once, about wanting to corrupt me. Curious about what kind of reaction I might get, I lower my eyes and whisper, “I’m only misbehaving because, well, this seems so dirty and new.”
“Fuck, baby girl,” he growls. “You know just what to say, don’t you? I’ll help you get naked, and then I’m going to show you how very dirty I can be.”
His movements are gentle as he lifts my shirt over my head. I put up a protest in name only when he moves to unfasten my bra. He tugs my arms away.
“Don’t be a bad girl,” he whispers. “Let me do this. Let me…corrupt you.”
Holy. Fuck.
I hold still while he gets me the rest of the way naked, allowing him this control. He runs his hand down my front, between my breasts, over my stomach, and down to my pussy. He cups my mound, then moves his fingers through my wetness.
“So wet,” he says, grinning down at me. “Even though you’re new to this, I think you like it. You like being a dirty little girl.”
I can’t help but move my hips, trying to get more of his touch on my pussy. His words are so filthy yet so perfect.
“Do you like this?” he asks.
I nod. “It feels good, Daddy.”
“I bet it does.” He moves his hand back, skirting the cleft of my ass.
I tense up.
“No, that’ll feel good, too,” he says. “I promise, it will.”
Oh, I know it will. But we’re pretending right now, so I give a whimper of dismay and uncertainty as he moves my body so I’m bending forward. “What are you doing, Daddy?”
He takes off his shirt and tosses it to the couch behind me. “Grab your ankles, sweetheart.”
I’m so wet, it’s a wonder I’m not dripping.
“I’m going to use you,” he says, unfastening his belt and pants. “I’m going to get you so filthy, fill you with my come. And you might think it’s dirty, little girl, but you’re going to fucking love it and beg me for more when I’m through.”
I moan as he gets behind me. The head of his cock drags over my pussy and I moan again. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he presses inside.
“I can feel you squeezing me tight,” he says. “You love it, don’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You’re gorgeous—look over there, at the window,” he says.
The single low lamp that’s on provides enough light for our reflections to show in the floor-to-ceiling window at the side of the living room.
Kingston is shirtless, but his pants are still on, just shoved down low enough for his cock to come out.
I fucking love it when he doesn’t take the time to get undressed all the way, even though I am.
Something about that power inequality does it for me, and I’m not sure what that says about me, but I definitely don’t care.
His hands are on my hips and his eyes meet mine in our reflection as he pumps into me.
I never gave much thought to whether I’m “hot” or not, but this view is so arousing, it won’t take much longer for me to come.
And that he’s doing this raw, without a condom? My pussy clenches at the very thought.
“Yes, you do love it, don’t you?” he asks. “What do you think about this?”
He touches me with his fingers, gathering my arousal up and sliding it to my asshole. His finger breaches me. I know I’ll enjoy this, but like always, there’s that initial discomfort, the uncertainty.
“It’s dirty, Daddy,” I whimper.
“Dirty, but good,” he says, pushing his finger in farther. “Isn’t it?”
I keep quiet. I don’t want to admit that I like it. He’ll win, and I can’t have that.
“Ella,” he says, “be good and answer me. Do you like it?”
“Mmm,” I say, hoping that will be enough.
“Okay, I’ll just stop, then,” he says, pulling both his cock and his finger away.
“No, don’t stop!” I shout.
His chuckle is pure evil and when he resumes fucking me, he does it harder, faster, both with his finger and with his cock. The feeling of both of my holes filled is strange and wonderful.
“Touch your clit for me, little girl,” he says. “I want you to come on my cock, on my finger. Can you do that for me, even though you think it’s so dirty?”
“Yes,” I gasp, letting go of one of my ankles so I can rub my clit. Electric bliss flows through me.
My orgasm is swift and powerful. I cry out with pleasure. Kingston’s hand on my hip is the only reason I don’t lose my balance and tumble to the ground. My entire body feels as if it’s pulsing in time with my rapid heartbeat.
Groaning, Kingston comes, too, his dick pulsing within me, filling me with a gush of heat.
“Damn, little girl,” he says after a moment. He gently pulls out and helps me stand up. Spinning me around to face him, he kisses the corner of my mouth, and then my lips. “I’ll be right back.”
He returns seconds later with a warm, wet washcloth and helps me clean up. Then he carries me to the bedroom and helps me into bed. After he takes off his pants, he climbs in, tucking me against his side.
“Goodnight, Daddy,” I say.
“I can’t stay, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my head.
“What? Why?”
“I left a shitload of work behind.”
“It can’t wait until morning?”
He sighs. “I don’t want to leave you. I’ll go in early tomorrow—does that sound like a compromise?”
“Yes.” I burrow against him, holding him tighter to me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, you’re going to meet with the woman tomorrow?” Kingston asks in between kisses over my shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“Let Garth drive you,” he says. “I don’t want you going alone. I’d come with you, but I can’t get away from work.”
“Deal. I appreciate it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to swing it with public transportation.” Hesitating, I say, “Do you think I’m turning into a mooch?”
“Oh, hell no,” he says. “I wish you’d let me spoil you more .”
Maybe someday I will.
Ella
Alyssa’s house is on the outskirts of San Esteban, closer to Fair Heights than SE itself. It’s a modest one-story with a tidy front yard. On my way up the front walk, I have to skirt around a child’s tricycle.
All this time, Alyssa was so close, Sebastian could’ve run into her by accident. I wonder if he would’ve recognized her? Probably not, given his shady memories of that night, but it’s possible.
The front porch is small, but there’s enough room for a card table and two chairs. A plate of cookies and pitcher sits out.
As I walk up the couple of steps to the porch, the front door opens.
Before me stands Alyssa White. She looks just like the picture in her file, although her blond hair is cut shorter in a bob.
“You must be Ella,” she says.
“Yes,” I say, holding out a hand, which she shakes. “Ella Marchand. Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I’m surprised—I wouldn’t meet with someone who called me out of the blue.”
She shrugs. “I get a good sense about people right away. I’m not trusting my instincts enough to put my kids in danger, though, so we’re talking out here on the porch.”
“No problem,” I say, taking the seat she gestures toward.
“Do you want a cookie, or some water? Both?”
“No, but thanks,” I say. “So, you have kids?”
“Yeah,” she says. “A five-year-old and a three-year-old. They’re napping, and my mother-in-law is inside with them.”
I start doing the math.
“Neither of them are Bastian’s,” she says quickly. “I figure that’s why you’re here—you have questions about my night with Bastian Crown.”
I nod. “I know it’s none of my business, but it’s important.”
And my relief that Sebastian doesn’t have a kid? Huge. That would be such a huge freaking complication, I don’t know how we’d handle it.
“You’re asking me if I fucked him?” Alyssa says.
I nod and give her a small smile. “Yeah. I wasn’t going to ask quite like that.”
“Relax,” she says. “I’m not ashamed of what happened.”
I wince, ready for the blow—the nail in the coffin of Sebastian’s and my relationship. I really can’t believe he’d hurt anyone, but if she says he did…I’ll probably believe her.
“We fucked,” she says simply. “We had a great time. I was sad that he disappeared afterward, because I’d thought we had a connection. But every girl who’s fucked a rockstar has probably thought that, ya know?”
Oh, I knew.
“You don’t seem like you’re upset about any of it,” I point out, half to myself.
“No, why would I be? I fucked a rockstar. And not just any rockstar, but, I mean, hello, Bastian Crown. The hottest rockstar.”
She can stop talking about my boyfriend like that any second now.
“He didn’t…force you or anything?” I ask.
“What?” she squawks. “No, who’s saying that? Holy shit, are you here because he forced you ? Are you trying to make a case? I’ll find him and cut off his nuts.”
“No, not at all,” I say. “Someone told me he forced you.”
She shakes her head so hard, her hair lifts with the force. “Yeah, it didn’t happen like that at all. But I signed something and took a lot of money to promise I wouldn’t tell anyone about that night.”
Yeah, none of this is adding up with what Trina said.
“Sorry, I just need to be completely clear,” I say slowly. “He didn’t hurt you? You’re not traumatized by any of it?”
Her eyebrows couldn’t possibly get any higher on her forehead. “Hell, no. I mean, he spanked me, choked me a little. It was rough.” She smirks, remembering.
I try to rein in my jealousy—she came before me. She is the past, I am the present.
She continues, “It was rough, but I liked it, and so did he. I was asking for it, if you know what I mean.”
Yeah, I know what she means.
“He didn’t even…like, finish, you know?” she says. “I came, and I thought there’d be more. But he fell asleep all of a sudden.”
“Was he drinking?” I ask.
“Well, yeah. We both were, a little. But we were just buzzed. It was awkward as hell. So I got dressed and started to leave, and his lawyer was right outside the hotel door. She had a contract and offered me five grand to never talk about that night. I figured it’s part of his routine or whatever, non-disclosure agreements for hook-ups, I guess.
And I’m not giving the money back—you’re on the hook for it if the lawyer tries to take it back from me. I spent it a long time ago.”
I’d bet my keyboard, if I still had it, that the “lawyer” was Trina.
“If Bastian Crown wants to talk to you about this himself,” I say, “would you be willing?”
“Willing to talk to Bastian Crown? Hells yeah.” She looks around. “I mean, just a conversation. I’m happy with my partner now. But I always did think the whole thing was weird, so, I don’t know, some closure could be cool.”
“Thank you so much for your time,” I tell her. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
I have to get to work, too—I need to get back to San Esteban in time for a shift at the pub. If it weren’t for Garth driving me, I’d never make it. I make a mental note to text another thank-you to Kingston.
Alyssa and I say goodbye, and as I leave her house, all I can think about is what an epic lie Trina has told. And for seven years.
Seven years, Sebastian has been weighed down by guilt and shame. Seven years, he’s ignored his career, his art, because of this.
That’s just fucking wrong .