7. Darby
Darby
“You look like an angel tonight, Red.”
Selene flushes and looks up at me. Her eyes are glistening like a thousand stars.
I lean down and kiss her beautiful red lips, not caring that her lipstick will leave a stain. When we return to the party, I want people to know we kissed and that I belong to her.
I grip her waist and slide over the smooth fabric of her blue dress as I press her closer, so close there’s no room for air or thought.
I slide my tongue into her mouth and find hers. She sticks out her tongue, too, and we do a little sloppy dance. When I bite her lower lip, she moans against me.
The sound makes me press her harder against the railing of the balcony. And then I slide my hand into the dress where her cleavage is showing, and I cup her soft tits.
In response, she tilts her head and presses tightly to me so that she grinds against my cock and deepens the kiss.
The motion makes my head spin, and I cup her ass with my free hand, dinging my fingers so deep that I hope to leave a mark there.
I love leaving marks on her body so the world knows she’s mine.
She does the same to my shoulders, digging through my shirt. I love how hard she holds on to me, like she will never let go.
I hike her blue dress up her waist and break the kiss briefly so I can see her beautiful thighs. Then I run my hands up her legs. They’re perfect.
I kiss her lips and explore the smooth skin of her cheeks, her neck, and then her collarbone. I kiss the line of her cleavage and run my tongue between it.
The urge to take her, to let everything unravel, roars in my chest.
I wonder how my cock would feel between those soft folds of flesh. I haven’t fucked her yet, and I can’t wait to.
When my fingers graze her panties, she moans my name and pulls back.
“Let’s go home, Darby,” she says breathlessly. “Screw this party. Let’s go home.”
I give her one long, hard kiss before pulling her towards the car.
Once we get to my tiny apartment, her hands are on my jacket, slipping it off my shoulders. It falls to the floor in a quiet thud. I slide the thin straps of her dress down her arms, revealing pale, flawless skin that makes my mouth water.
My breath catches.
She's so sexy.
My shirt comes next, buttons scattering as her hands tug at the fabric. Her nails scrape lightly down my chest, and it sends a jolt straight through me to my throbbing cock.
Everything is heat. Her mouth, her body, the way she moves against me. It’s all-consuming and blinding.
I’m going to fuck her, and nothing can stop me.
And then I blink.
Suddenly, the room feels wrong. Off.
My eyes open, and I freeze. There’s no marble wall. No dim light. No Selene in my arms.
I’m in my bedroom, tangled in sheets damp with sweat. My chest rises and falls like I’ve run a marathon, and my heart pounds in my ears.
It was a dream.
A memory. Of the first time Selene and I made love.
I look down and see that my cock is as hard as a rock, and it’s throbbing painfully in my briefs.
I sit up, dragging a hand over my face. I can still taste her and feel her soft body pressed against mine. I could never truly forget Selene.
“Fuck.”
And although it’s been a while since I dreamt about her, I know that there is only one solution to the throb in my cock, or I’ll be miserable the whole day.
I stand, kicking the twisted sheets off my legs.
Selene ruined me.
No woman has ever made me feel the way she did. After her, nothing felt right or the same. Though I’d rather die than admit this, I even had difficulty getting it up some days.
Her disappearance fucked with my head in more ways than one.
My steps are heavy as I walk into the bathroom, flipping on the light. The brightness stabs at my eyes, but I don’t care. I turn the shower on cold, as cold as it’ll go, and step in without waiting for it to warm up.
The shock of the water hits me as hard as I’d hoped. I tilt my head back, letting it pour over me, willing it to drown out everything—her scent, her voice, the feel of her skin.
I hold my cock in place and hope that the cold water is enough to bring it down.
It doesn’t.
Even now, in the freezing spray, I can still see her. And every time I come up with an image of her, she’s wearing less clothes than the last time.
Now, there’s a vivid image of her wearing matching red underwear. Her nipples are pressing against the lace of her bra, and she’s smiling at me.
I slam a hand against the tiled wall, breathing hard.
But my body betrays me even further. The cold water does nothing to douse the fire coursing through me. The ache is still there, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.
I shut my eyes, leaning forward, the water streaming over my back. Images of her flood my mind again, but I don’t fight them this time.
My hand moves lower, and I give in, chasing a release I know won’t satisfy the real craving.
I wrap my hand around my cock tightly and slowly begin to stroke. In my head, Selene is doing a little strip tease. She pulls her nipples through her bra with one hand. The other hand slides inside her panties.
I groan and increase the pace of my stroking. Every beat has Selene doing something freaky. Fondling her tits, sliding her fingers between her pussy, spreading it open for me to see. Taking my cock in her mouth.
I pump harder, and then, with a loud groan, I spill my seed all over the shower wall.
It’s quick, harsh, and unsatisfying. When it’s over, I stand there, water still pouring down, staring at nothing.
I feel worse. Again.
Angrier.
At her. At myself. At whatever cruel twist of fate made me run into her after spending eight years trying to forget her.
When I finish the shower, I curl back into my bed, planning to skip work and get some more sleep. But my phone starts vibrating relentlessly on the nightstand. The screen lights up but I ignore it.
It doesn’t stop.
I groan, roll onto my back, and reach for the device. The screen is cluttered with missed calls and texts. Aden’s name is at the top of the list, followed by several from the office.
Emergency. Call me NOW.
I skim through the messages. Words jump out—leak, PR nightmare, sex club, video.
Fuck.
I dress faster than I ever have and make the thirty-minute drive to the office in twenty minutes.
When I arrive, my secretary informs me they’re all waiting in the boardroom. I enter the room and see Aden and Garrett both waiting, wearing similar grim expressions. A few people from PR are in the room with them, too, with faces pale and drawn.
I take a deep breath and, as the company president, walk to my seat at the head of the table. I need to look as collected as I can. “What happened?” I ask, even though I have a pretty good idea of what has happened.
Aden gestures toward the screen at the front of the room. A paused video clip is displayed, the image grainy but clear enough to send a chill down my spine.
It’s me and the woman from the sex club in Hawaii.
I look at him, still maintaining my composure. “So, I hooked up with an older woman. And?”
“She’s married,” Aden says. “To Hawaii’s Senator Carver.”
What. The. Fuck.
“No way. That…that can’t be.”
“She was on a family vacation in Hawaii,” Aden says. “I guess she must have wanted to unwind.”
I would have thought it was a prank if this weren’t too serious to joke about. Because what are the odds? I now realize why everyone looks so pale. This is terrible. This isn’t just a scandal—it’s a disaster. A big fucking disaster.
“Who leaked this?” I ask, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
“We don’t know,” Garrett says. “It’s already made its way to a gossip site. From there, it’s spreading fast.”
I stare at the screen as memories of that night come rushing back. How the hell did I agree to have sex with a strange woman in a bizarre club with a camera in the room?
What in God's name was I thinking?
One of the junior PR reps speaks up. “The good news—if you can call it that—is the wedding article. It’s been getting a lot of attention. The scandal hasn’t reached the big media yet because people are distracted by the article. So, it’s still within our control. For now.”
I glance at the printed page on the table. Garrett and Olivia’s smiling faces take up half of it, the headline cheerful and upbeat. Below it, in bold letters: SCANDAL IN THE CITY: PROMINENT MARRIED WOMAN SEEN AT SEX CLUB WITH MYSTERIOUS MAN.
I grit my teeth. “Not mysterious enough,” I mutter.
Aden clears his throat, stepping forward. “We need to contain this while we can. Our stocks will take a big hit if we don’t get ahead of it now.” He looks around the room. “Damage control is the priority. Ideas?”
The room is silent for a beat. Then voices start overlapping, each person eager to find a solution.
“Release a statement denying it was Darby,” one says.
“Too late,” another cuts in. “The video’s too clear.”
“Spin the angle. Focus on the woman’s infidelity, not Darby’s involvement.”
“That’ll backfire. It looks like we’re throwing her under the bus.”
“We could lean into the wedding article. Build on the positivity around Mr. Garrett and his wife. Keep shifting attention away from the scandal.”
None of it feels like enough. I’m usually sharp regarding things like this, but right now, I’m blank.
Aden chips in after a while. “We need someone who can shape a story good enough to cover up this mess. Someone who understands the public and can craft a narrative that sticks.”
He pauses, looking directly at me. “We need the person who wrote the wedding article.”
The air leaves my lungs. “What?”
“If her article is doing well enough to hold back this scandal, we should reach out to her and see if she can write something just as impressive.”
“No,” I say.
Aden doesn’t look surprised or deterred by my unexplainable answer. He just pushes. “Her article is the only reason this isn’t worse than it already is. She knows how to connect with people and how to find the angle that resonates. If anyone can help clean this up, it’s her.”
I shake my head, the knot in my chest tightening. “She’s not an option.”
“She’s the best option,” Aden counters.
My jaw clenches, and the memory of our last interaction flashes in my mind. The slap. The anger in her eyes. The way she said she never wanted to see me again. I didn’t want to see her again, either.
“She’s not coming back,” I say, my voice cold.
The room falls silent.
Aden studies me for a moment while everyone in the room remains quiet. He and Garrett exchange looks, and Garrett speaks.
“This isn’t about personal feelings, Darby. This company hasn’t always been your priority, which is why you are the president and not the CEO. Has something changed?”
I stand there as all eyes in the room are on me. I look at the screen and consider all the options.
She might be the only one who can fix this.