Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WHO HAS THE NEPO BABY’S HANDS TIED, FORCING HIM TO BEHAVE?
TRIPP
I’d already been on edge all dinner—and not the good kind.
Greer’s accidental touch of my cock had offered a distraction.
An outlet. A twisted possibility. It always felt good when she touched me, but it was more than that.
It was the way she’d gotten flustered, unable to eat as I forced her to touch me more.
She might’ve been uncomfortable, but she’d done it anyway.
And it just went to how fucked in the head I was that her reaction hadn’t been enough to make me stop. I liked her nervous. I liked her uncomfortable but willing to do what I wanted anyway. Pre-cum was stuck to my slacks.
But the distraction had been short-lived, and once she’d left the room, the edge came roaring back to stab at me.
Just being in that house made me miserable.
It was still a glorified time capsule to all my father’s many accomplishments.
His acting roles. The celebrities that he claimed owed him everything.
His awards. His posters, playbills, and ad spreads.
Yup, every damn thing that was important to him.
And not a single picture of me. Not even one of us.
It didn’t matter that I was a thirty-three-year-old man who’d already surpassed my father’s glory.
Sure, he had the soap fans locked down, but I was on a trajectory he couldn’t have hoped for, even in his heyday.
It still cut to know that I wasn’t viewed as something he was proud of.
Not even to milk my success and claim the rights to it for all he’d done along the way.
Which was exactly jack-fucking-shit. He wasn’t abusive or anything. He just wasn’t there. He’d had no interest in being a father, and he hadn’t been shy about sharing that. When he did get involved, it was only to point out what I was doing wrong.
A trend that’d continued over dinner.
At least he’d held out on the shitty stuff until Greer left the room.
Then he’d taken the time to hammer home what a mistake I was making with Summer.
How my bad choices were going to catch up to me, and since I had no backup plan, I would be left doing gig work for pennies.
How I wouldn’t be able to support myself, much less a gorgeous and much younger woman.
It was bullshit.
But that didn’t mean it didn’t irk me to hear my own father spew it.
My already thin patience dropped to nonexistence when I’d gone to check on Greer, just to have her lie to me. Right to my fucking face.
Again.
Every time I thought I was making headway with her, those damn walls seemed to shoot back up. Taller and reinforced with the same steel that infused her spine as she stubbornly lifted her chin.
Taking her to Gilded was just as much for me as it was for her. Because contrary to the lies, something was wrong. Something that left streaks of tears down her cheeks when I wanted to be the only one who made her cry.
And I wanted to do it in a very fun way.
We walked into Gilded, and Greer’s steps slowed. I hadn’t anticipated seeing many people there, but apparently, we weren’t the only two who wanted to utilize the club to relieve holiday tension.
Greer echoed my surprise. “I didn’t think it would actually be open.”
I jerked my chin to where Atlas stood behind the bar. “He knows people need somewhere to gather on stressful or lonely days.”
“He doesn’t have a family to be with tonight?”
“He does, but they’re in Tennessee.” I lowered my voice. “Technically, they’re Cohen’s family, but they’re the only one Atlas knows.”
She studied him for a second. “They’re not actually brothers? I guess that explains why they don’t look alike.”
“Not by blood, but they’re still brothers.” I gripped her chin and redirected her focus to me. “Wait here.”
“Okay, Sir,” she said instantly, slipping right into her role.
I released her and moved to the bar to speak to Atlas. “Been busy?”
“Yup.”
Man of so many words.
His gaze went to Greer. “Usual room?”
I shook my head and gave him the number I wanted.
He tapped the computerized system they used to track occupancies, cleaning, restocking, and fuck knew what else. “It’s already open. Go ahead back.”
“Thanks.” I took a step away before backtracking. “You good?”
“Fucking hate Christmas.”
“You and me both.”
It felt like an underwhelming thing to say, but that sense of togetherness during the loneliness worked. His lips curved into what he would classify as a smile.
Or he had a twitch.
I wasn’t sure which until he looked behind me again. “Looks like there’s no reason for you to hate it this year.”
He wasn’t wrong. Any other year, and my father’s words would’ve sent me into a self-destructive tailspin. I didn’t need to drink or snort or party away the pain.
I could take it out on Greer, at least in some small measure.
Or maybe not a small measure.
I returned to her before guiding her down the hall. We passed the bondage one, and her gaze shot to me. Her brows lowered before they shot up her forehead when I stopped us just outside of a new doorway.
Her delicate throat shook as she swallowed hard, and I wanted to wrap my fingers around it to feel her pulse thump below my palm. I knew it had to be racing as her pretty eyes took in the woven leather net hanging from the ceiling like the world’s least comfortable hammock.
“What happens if you say stop, Greer?” I asked as I gently inched her farther inside so I could close the door.
“Everything stops, Sir.”
“Would you like to say stop now?”
She gave the net another thorough inspection before shaking her head.
Thank fuck.
I took a few large steps back, putting some space between us. She tried to follow before I bit out, “Don’t move.”
Her body rocked to a stop. When I took a couple more steps, ending near the net, she lifted her hands to untuck and retuck her hair.
She’s nervous
Good.
I knew what I wanted. What I’d been thinking about since the dream I had. What fueled every fantasy and self-given orgasm while I stroked my dick thinking of her.
But I still hesitated. I liked to push her, but not to the point where she would end things. And I wasn’t sure if my demand would be what shoved her over that edge.
I gave it anyway, fully prepared to back down if she said the word. “Crawl to me.”
“W-what?” she stammered.
“I want to watch you drop to your hands and knees in that pretty dress, and I want you to crawl to me.” Since I was already putting my cards out on the table, I spelled out the rest of what I had planned for the night so she knew what she was agreeing to. “And then I want to hurt you.”
“W-what?” she stammered again, and that time it came out even more staggered. “Why?”
“Because I’d like that. And, more importantly, I think you would like it, too.”
Her laugh was little more than a sarcastic scoff. Forced and fake, like she was doing what she thought she should.
Not what she actually felt.
“Do people like being hurt?” she added.
“Yes.”
Her fuckable lips parted into a perfect O that I wanted to slide my dick into. “Why?”
“Lots of reasons. It makes them feel. It distracts them. It calms them.”
Her eyes flared, and even from a distance, I could see that had her.
“And if you’re wrong?” She smoothed out her skirt, all prim and proper and begging to be dirtied up. “If I don’t like it?”
“Then you say stop, and everything stops. You always have the power, siren. This time, I’m giving you my trust as I ask for yours.”
“Giving me your trust how?”
“Because I’m showing you something I like.
Something I haven’t trusted anyone enough to do in a long, long time because I didn’t want them to twist the experience into a twenty-part story of my abuse, or for them to agree to what they weren’t into just to be able to say they fucked me.
If you run online and tell the world, it’d fucking suck. ”
It was an understatement.
And to say Greer was insulted was an understatement, too.
Pushing her shoulders back, her eyes narrowed in a pissed off glare. “I would never do that, and not just because of the two NDAs I signed.”
“I know. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I had any doubts.”
She clearly had enough for both of us. Her shoulders didn’t just relax. They slumped in defeat as she slowly admitted, “I don’t think I’d like to be hurt. But I don’t want to let you down.”
My long strides quickly ate up the distance I’d put between us until I was cupping her face in my hands.
I kept going, being mindful of her heels when I backed her against the door.
“You could never let me down. Fucking never, Greer. If you’re unsure, we don’t have to try it.
Or we can work up to it. But it only works if you want it. ”
“Why?”
That was a damn good question. How did I explain that it got me off to think about her putting her own comfort aside to make me happy?
Or that the thought of seeing her cry made my dick so hard, it became a mutual pain?
Or—more important than my sick, selfish needs—was the simple fact that she was strung tight, and I’d fucking kill to be the one to make her feel better.
That in that room, I wanted to be the only thing that mattered to her because she’d quickly become the only thing that mattered to me.
“Because you hold the power,” I reiterated instead.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as her head tilted. Surprise tears—and not the good kind—filled her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, of course not.”
“So…” She sniffled. “So, this isn’t a punishment?”
“Oh, no. Baby, absolutely not.” I yanked her to me, kissing her mouth. Then her cheek. Then her other cheek, the salty taste of her escaped tears coating my lips. “It’s meant to be the opposite of that. Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready.”
She gave a jerky nod as she looked to the side for a few beats. Her voice was a thin whisper when she said, “Go over there?”