Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
The dress box sits at the end of the bed taunting me. Navy blue. Cream ribbon tied neatly around it, and Melissa’s perfect cursive on the card. I haven’t opened it yet.
I woke to a text that it had been delivered to my loft, and called Karson.
“I need to swing by the loft.”
Silence.
“No you don’t,” he replies evenly.
He didn’t ask what for or why, just told me he’d take care of it. An hour and half later, Cole dropped it off here. That was a few hours ago. I threw it on the bed and decided to take a hot bath. Now, standing at the end of the bed, wrapped in a thick robe, I nibble on my thumb.
“Are you going to open it?” Karson’s voice from behind me causes me to jump, my heart launching itself into my throat. My hand flies to my chest.
“Sorry, doll,” he says walking over to me. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” His head tilts.
“I just didn’t hear you come in,” I sigh, my hand gripping the back of my neck as I roll it to ease some of the tension. My eyes fall back to the box.
“Guess I probably should,” I mumble. My fingers graze the corners of the box, then carefully lift it.
The dress is beautiful. Of course it is.
Deep emerald silk. High neckline. Long sleeves.
Elegant, respectful and completely not me.
Huffing through my nose, I reach out and rub the material between my fingers.
It’s not meant to be me. It’s meant to be palatable.
Presentable. Grateful. The poor little foster child they “saved”.
The proof they parade around when donors start asking where the money goes.
Emerald because it looks expensive. Modest. Wholesome. Structured, keeping everything sharp and contained. Just like they prefer me. Melissa gets her picture. Jack gets his handshake. Board members nod in approval, and those donors empty their pockets.
And I let them. That’s the part that stings. Because I could say no. I could tell them to keep their money, their car, their careful little arrangements. But I don’t. Not yet. So I play along. For now.
I swallow, my fingers tightening on the silk.
But I don’t belong to them anymore.
“Try mine,” Karson says along the shell of my ear, an arm wrapping around my waist.
From over his shoulder, he brings a garment bag to the front of us. I didn't even realize he was carrying something.
My brow lifts. “You bought me a dress?”
He hums against my hair. “I corrected one.”
My stomach flips.
He releases me long enough to unzip the bag slowly, deliberately. Inside is champagne silk embellished with gold and champagne-toned beading. It has delicate straps with a plunging v-neckline and a thigh high slit on the column style skirt. It’s elegant. It's powerful.
It’s me.
My fingers hover over it, almost afraid to touch it.
“That’s not very wholesome,” I say with a smirk.
Karson steps in front of me. He brushes my chin with his thumb, tilting it up. His gray eyes steady.
“Good.” His lips press to my forehead.
“I’ll let you get ready. I’ll be in the other bedroom if you need me.” He exits the room, and I carry the dress with me into the bathroom.
An hour later, my hair and make-up are finished and the dress is on.
I went with a bronze smokey eye, and a deep berry lip stain.
My hair falls down to the middle of my back in wild, but styled to perfection loose waves.
Champagne silk hugs my waist, skims my hips and falls clean to the floor.
The neckline exposes the smooth skin of my torso.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I look up to see Karson standing near the window adjusting his cufflinks. He’s devastating in his pressed black tux, crisp black shirt, and a champagne tie draped around his inked neck to match the dress. He looks up and goes still.
His hands fall from his sleeves, his jaw tightening. Not in anger. In restraint. His gaze drags down my body once. Slow. Possessive. Heat blooms under my skin. I shift on my feet.
“Well?” I ask, lifting a brow.
He doesn't answer right away. Just crosses the room toward me, stopping close enough that the air changes.
“You look incredible,” he murmurs. The tips of his fingers touch my arm, sliding up to my shoulder to adjust the strap, setting every single nerve ending on fire.
He steps behind me, his steady hands settling at my waist. He adjusts the dress slightly over my hips, then his fingers find the zipper.
He pauses, his knuckles brushing against my skin. My breath hitches.
“Hold still.” The zipper glides up slowly before his palm presses lightly between my shoulders.
When I turn to face him again, he’s closer this time. Much closer. His finger hooks gently under my chin, tilting my head up.
“I can’t wait to peel this off of you,” he says in a low voice. Liquid heat pools at my center, and I bite the corner of my freshly painted lip. His thumb slowly pulls it from between my teeth and he groans.
“Careful, doll,” he warms. My cheeks warm and I clear my throat.
“I just need shoes-”
“Already taken care of,” he says. Stepping around me, he walks back to the bed and lifts a pair of heeled, gold strappy sandals with one finger. Crossing the room again, he stops in front of me.
“Let me help,” he says before dropping to one knee.
I grip the frame of the bathroom door as his large, tattooed hands gently lift one foot off the ground.
He slides the shoe on gently, then buckles the strap around my ankle.
Lowering it to the floor, he picks up the other foot.
His hand slowly slides up my leg, stopping behind my knee.
Once the other shoe is on, he presses a kiss to the inside of my knee.
My breath catches, and he looks up at me from under his lashes.
His mouth lingers long enough to make my pulse trip, then he stands slowly, rising to his full height in front of me. My knees feel weak. My panties, damp. His thumb drags up the inside of my thigh, stopping at the top of the slit.
“You’re going to walk in there just like this,” he says quietly, adjusting the strap on my shoulder one last time. “Head high. Shoulders back.” His hand slides to the small of my back, tugging me against his body. “And you’re not going to shrink for them.”
Something in my chest straightens.
“I wasn't planning on it,” I reply softly.
His eyes search mine, making sure.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because if anyone in that room treats you like you owe them something…” His jaw ticks. “I’ll remind them who you belong to.”
Heat rushes through me at the possessiveness in his tone.
“You behave,” I tease.
His head tilts, a slow, dangerous smile curves his mouth.
“Never.”
Then he leans in. His lips press to mine.
When he pulls back, he bends his elbow for me to hook my arm through.
I take it and we exit the penthouse.
Stepping into the elevator, Karson presses the button for the valet level of the garage, and we begin our slow descent.
My skin tingles where his hand rests on my hip, and I shift on my feet.
His head lowers to my neck, and his lips press to my skin.
I tilt my head to give him better access, a soft moan leaving my lips.
“Fuck waiting,” he growls, reaching out to slam the emergency stop button.
The elevator jostles, causing my heart to leap into my throat.
He turns to me, grabs my hands and throws them above my head.
They slam against the mirrored wall, and his lips crash into mine.
I open for him immediately. The way his hands were on me in the penthouse has left me aching for him.
One hand grips under my thigh, hooking my leg around his back, while the other holds my hands in place above my head. Then, that hand slides in between us, quickly undoing his belt, and pushing his pants down to the middle of his thighs.
“I want my cum dripping down your thighs tonight,” he says.
Tearing my lace panties from my hip, he stuffs them in my mouth before sliding his cock inside my already wet pussy.
Hard and fast. My head thuds against the elevator wall as he slams into me.
The taste of my arousal tangy on my tongue.
The piercings drag along my inner walls, making my pussy pulse.
“That’s it, dolly. Fuck, you take me so well,” he grits through his teeth. Picking up the pace, he fucks me into the wall relentlessly. Trying desperately to get deeper and deeper. My eyes roll into the back of my head.
“Fuck. Karson,” I mumble through the fabric as the cross hits that spot inside of me that threatens to undo me entirely too soon.
“That’s it. Right fucking there, doll. Cum for me,” Karson orders and my pussy clamps down around him. My body shudders against the cold wall, and he lowers my hands to his shoulders.
“Gooooood fucking girl,” he growls against my neck. He continues thrusting recklessly, fucking me harder into the wall, and another wave of pleasure slams into me. He pulls the lace out of my mouth, dropping them to the floor.
“Let me hear you, terror.”
“Oh fuck. Karson,” I gasp before moaning his name over and over like a prayer, until he finds his release.
His spine stiffens before his dick pulses inside of me, filling me with his cum.
He peppers soft kisses along the side of my neck while he makes sure he’s completely filled me, pushing into me deeper.
Once his breathing slows he carefully pulls out and another moan leaves my lips.
He chuckles and adjusts the skirt of my dress then lowers my leg back to the floor.
Keeping a hand on my waist to steady me, he pushes the button again, and the elevator moves.
Plucking my underwear off the floor, he stuffs them in his pocket, then pulls his pants back up.
He adjusts his suit before standing next to me, allowing my head to drop to his shoulder.
His fingers lace with mine, and he brushes his thumb along the top of my hand slowly.
Helping bring me back down from my high.
The door slides open, and he leads me out into the valet.
His Camaro pulls around the corner, the exhaust echoing off the walls.
Leading me to the curb, he opens the door for me as the valet steps out of the driver's seat, and he helps me into the car.
After buckling my seat belt, he rounds the hood, tips the valet, and drops into the driver's seat.
“Alright, doll. You ready?”
I smooth my hands over the silk at my thighs and lift my chin.
“Always.”
His lips curve slowly as he shifts into first gear. Perdition disappears in the rearview mirror. So does the version of me that used to walk into hell alone.