Chapter 21
LILA
There’s a change of plans.
Well, I do stick with my original plan, yet I’m forced to make an important adjustment.
Instead of going out to eat, I go out to look for Damon.
I slip on a summer dress and sandals, spray some perfume on my wrists and neck, grab a bite in the kitchen, brush my teeth and my hair, put on some mascara and lip gloss, and off I go.
I call a car outside the gate, and the driver drops me off in front of Damon’s club a few minutes later.
He might not even be here.
He could be at a restaurant, or someplace else.
He might be seeing someone, not necessarily a woman, most likely people he’s doing business with.
I pull up in front of a bouncer and tell him why I’m here. The man doesn’t bat an eyelash when I ask him to take me to his boss.
He pushes the door to the club open and invites me in.
Once we move past the rowdy crowd, we enter a quiet corridor that takes us straight to Damon’s office upstairs.
Pressing his hand against the door, he tilts his chin, signaling me to walk in and wait.
The door closes behind me as I look around. The screens are turned off, his desk is clean.
I sit behind his desk, and l leaning back, I swivel with his chair and glance around the room.
It looks like a legit business, and for a second there, I wonder whether any horrific things have happened in this room.
I check the time on my phone. It’s been about twenty minutes since I walked in.
Just as I begin to think that I’ve made this trip for nothing, footsteps ring outside.
A casual dialogue drifts through the air, and I suspect the bouncer didn’t tell Damon that I’d be here, waiting for him.
The footsteps stop in front of the door, and the dialogue goes on for a few more moments before the other person walks away, the door opens, and Damon’s silhouette fills the doorframe.
I rise from his chair and step aside.
He brings his eyes to me eventually, no reaction on his face, which makes me think he knew that I’d be here.
“Lila,” he murmurs. “What brings you here?’
Do I like his frosted voice? Not in the slightest.
He makes a stop at the bar and pours himself a shot of hard liquor.
A sharp suit hugs his muscular frame while a starched white dress shirt highlights his neck.
I wait for him to turn around and face me.
He does that eventually, but instead of coming to his desk, he leans back against the bar, brings his drink to his lips, and observes me over the rim of his glass while sipping whiskey.
His attitude throws me off.
“Does your work offer still stand?” I ask, and his expression immediately changes.
He sets his drink down, crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his lips into a smile.
“Absolutely. Did you quit your other job, or did you get fired?”
“No to both. I just want to start working for you on a part-time basis. Maybe on the weekends?”
A knowing smile creases his lips, amusement glinting in his eyes. He pushes off the smooth edge of the bar, walks to his desk, and claims his seat.
All of a sudden busy, he turns on the screens and checks the live feeds from around the venue.
“Why are you really here, Lila?” he asks, his eyes pinned on one of the screens.
I prop myself against his desk and study his profile.
Eventually, he turns the screens off and looks at me.
“I heard that Henrietta’s stuff was about to be moved to the guesthouse,” I say.
“You did?”
He leans back, lifts his arms up, and clasps his fingers together behind his head.
His broad chest strains against his shirt.
He doesn’t wear a tie today, and his suit jacket is open, revealing his torso and the belt highlighting his trim waist.
My eyes slip below the shiny buckle and linger on his groin.
“How come?” he asks.
“I heard Livia giving directions to the staff.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He straightens and leans forward, pondering something before removing his jacket and sliding it onto the desk.
“Was she still mad?” he asks quietly, and I pause.
“What makes you think she was mad?” I ask after a moment.
He glances up.
“She was mad.”
Then he looks down, drumming his fingers on his desk.
“The only reason Henrietta is still on the property is you,” he says sternly.
What is he saying?
Are they separating? Getting a divorce?
If that’s the case, why won’t she just leave?
She’d probably be more than happy to move out and take me with her.
“How did she get the news?” I ask.
“She threw a tantrum.”
“Should I be concerned with her?”
He searches my eyes.
“You have no reason to fear her. If anything happens to you, she’ll lose way more than her inheritance.”
“So where is she now? Is she back in town?”
“She won’t be back until next week.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“She won’t be back,’ he says.
I suck in a long breath.
“Okay, then. So when can I start?”
He arches an eyebrow in amusement.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I was talking about work,” I say, in a better disposition.
He purses his lips, no longer looking at me, before he flicks his eyes up.
“What else do you have in mind?” I murmur.
DAMON
There comes a moment in a man’s life when he falls for a woman and experiences a trickle of fear for the first time. No matter how much leverage he has, he can lose it all.
It takes one little step in the wrong direction, one bad circumstance, saying the wrong word, asking the wrong question, making the wrong move, and he can go from having it all to nothing in a blink of an eye.
I haven’t invented this.
Women haven’t invented this.
It’s nature’s way of saying that the winner takes it all.
So, from now on I’ll need to tread carefully.
I can’t show this woman how much I need her.
It would scare her off, make her get cold feet, have second thoughts, and also think long and hard before committing to sharing her life with someone like me.
The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about her.
And it isn’t only about having sex, although thinking about it doesn’t help either.
I’ve jerked off at the idea of fucking her too many times to count.
As a rule, Henrietta and I aren’t traveling together when we leave town for business. And we’ve been doing this for a while now.
We used to do it differently.
We used to collect the money from my associates and strike new deals together.
That was before she screwed up and stole money from me.
Now she visits my low-ranking associates, and a couple of my men accompany her at all times.
She’s protected, and no one else can get close to her without my approval.
My suspicions that she has an accomplice have never been confirmed. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t founded.
I know her well.
If she had a boyfriend, a wannabe gangster, or even a legit businessman, they’d do anything for her. Hooking up with a real businessman is probably a stretch, but hey, you never know.
Being married to me and waiting for Lila to graduate keeps things steady for now, but once this life cycle ends, a lot will change.
Henrietta can’t touch me or Lila.
And if she had a man in her life, she’d need to be careful, unless she wanted to have a dead man in her life.
So, Henrietta fussed about my plan of moving her out of the house.
Truthfully, there’s no point in having her in the house.
We’re only married on paper. Things have gotten a little tense around the house lately, although we’re not in love or really a couple.
She didn’t heed my warning to stay out of it, so I had to make a move.
I can’t send her away.
She’ll need to buy her way out of this if she wants to leave.
There’s also Lila’s father’s will. I can’t have Henrietta take Lila away from me.
She knows it. I know it. And she gives me grief because of it.
We might not be together, but we once were, so she knows how to push my buttons and drive me up the wall.
That’s why she threw a tantrum when I told her she needed to move out.
She didn’t like the idea.
She’d planned to be a thorn in my side for as long as I’d keep her locked in this fake marriage.
That’s the thing with Henrietta. She forgot how we got to this point.
Livia was mad for a different reason.
She doesn’t know what happened between Henrietta and me. To her, I’m the man who’s kicking his wife out to have fun with someone else.
It doesn’t help that she’s triggered by what happened to her daughter.
And Lila?
Lila proves to be the biggest surprise of my life.
I’m sure she’d say the same thing about me.
We’re clearly coming from different worlds. Her looking for a certain type of man doesn’t surprise me.
She was taught right. Men like me are nothing but pain. So, how will I bring it up to her that I need more from her?
My entire life I was convinced women like Henrietta were my jam. Immoral, thuggish, unreliable. Women who have drama tattooed on their foreheads. Women who steal a lot of cash, bamboozle some old man who doesn’t know any better, and get away with it most of the time.
It was fun for a while.
We were toxic to each other.
We thrived on it. Revel in it. Made a big deal out of it.
Maybe that’s what made her steal money from me.
But I didn’t find it funny. Didn’t even crack a smile. And it wasn’t only about the money.
Something inside me no longer felt entertained.
Had it happened any other time, I would’ve probably laughed it off, sent my men to collect her, locked her in the club, and punished her with dark raw sex, the kind she always loved.
But that impulse was no longer there. It had withered away at some point, and I hadn’t even noticed.
So, maybe that was a turning point. A crossroads. The universe telling me that I had enough of it.
Was it clear to me back then? No, absolutely not.
Even if it were, I wouldn’t have known who to replace her with.
Had someone told me Lila Skye would show in my life I would’ve laughed my ass off.
Lila and I have nothing in common.
She didn’t catch my attention when I glanced at some pictures of her in the past.
My current wife was droning on about something and asked me to take a look at the pictures.
There was a group of people. Lila’s father was in the pictures, too. And I completely dismissed her. Not because she wasn’t pretty, but because she was flying under my radar.
And look at her now.
I’m hard as steel, her spit making my cock glisten down to my balls, her hands spreading the moisture as she sucks on the tip, rolling her lips, swirling her tongue, her hair falling over her face.
She props her elbows on my thighs and bobs her head, her unfocused eyes closing, her lips swollen, her breathing shallow.
I love her to death. Not because she has me in her mouth. Not because she likes to suck me. Not because she’s trying to please me.
But because she is so different than what I had. So interesting. So unpredictable at times. I like her when she does stupid shit and comes to me to argue with me.
Not like Henrietta.
I know all that woman’s tricks. It got boring after a while. And it’s not only that.
She’s doing it facetiously, never striking the right balance between being aggressive and sly.
Lila and I have so little in common, or so I think. I’m no longer sure. Maybe something is changing for me.
Maybe some of her innocence rubs off on me.
I’ll never be the person she is, but her spontaneity seasoning my life right now can’t be a bad thing, can it?
I relax in my chair and lock my fist around my erection. She quickly gets the hint, opens her eyes, and looks at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips wet.
I beckon her to me.
“Strip for me, please,” I say, tilting my chin toward her clothes.
She sheds her clothes without breaking her stare away from me, and straddles me.
When she slides down, with her legs open across my lap, her pussy warm and wet, my cock is about to explode.
It pulses inside her as I run my eyes over her, hands cupping her ass, my bottom lip rolled under the edge of my teeth.
She grinds on me, her tits bouncing, her hair moving. Her eyes twinkle when I lift my stare.
“Don’t stop,” I say, almost inaudibly.
She doesn’t.
She moves like a goddess, enjoying herself, not performing for me, not concerned with how I regard her.
I hope she doesn’t notice how famished I am for her.
These few days while I was away were probably the worst. I couldn’t wait to come back and fuck her.
I grab a tit and squeeze it.
She laughs at me, feeling no pain. I lift my forefinger and push it through her lips. She closes her mouth around it and sucks on it.
I push another finger in, and she gives me a smile, sucking on my fingers, and bobbing her head, as if she’d suck my cock. The more she does it, the closer I get to bursting inside her, and the more urgent my need to ram into her.
I let her do her thing for a few more moments before I tear my hand away from her, wrap an arm around her, hold her to my body, and with the other sweep some things to the side on my desk.
I lay her on my desk.
Her pussy throbs around my cock as I push her torso down, ensuring she’s right at the edge of my desk, so I can push my hard-on all the way in.
Her eyes widen as I press my hand to her abdomen and feel myself moving into her.
The pressure makes her bite her lip and claw at the air as she tries to reach me.
“Stay there. You’re gonna like it.”
I move into her harshly at medium speed while running my thumb down her open slit and stroking her clit.
My balls draw tight, and I can tell she’s close to coming by how hard she’s trying to squeeze her legs around my hips.
“That’s my girl,” I say, stroking her as she begins to rock her hips, taking that journey up.
I ram into her harder. And harder.
She’s moaning, crying out my name, reaching for things to grab like she’s possessed.
Her eyes roll back in her head as she arches her spine, getting close, just not there yet.
“You like it…” I say, looking down and relishing the way my veiny cock enters her. “There we go,” I murmur when her center begins to clench fast and her moans get louder.
Tensing up, she releases a throaty sound, and that’s my clue. I grab her hips and hammer into her until my cum fills her up.