CHAPTER 18
NOW
DAPHNE
“What do you mean you’re not coming? Lucian, it’s our wedding registry. Your input is kind of necessary.” I stand in front of the high-end home goods store, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.
“I told you earlier in the week when you booked this for today that there were no guarantees I could make it.” Lucian groans. “You know I have to work one Saturday a month. I don’t know why you would’ve scheduled it for today of all days.”
I stifle a snort at his use of the term “work.” He’s so full of shit. Luc may have been at the office today, but it was for all of five minutes when he picked up one of the secretaries before heading out to one of his family’s properties on Long Island.
I’m not an idiot, though he obviously takes me for one. Every month, Luc disappears for an entire Saturday under the guise of work. However, he’s really off fucking one of the sluts from his office. It’s a mutually beneficial, albeit sad, deal for them. The flavor of the month gets to feel important for the day, while Luc gets to bask in the adoration his ego craves when he pulls up to one of his family’s mansions, and the blonde bimbo beside him stares at him like he’s the most spectacular catch to ever walk the earth.
Some may consider it wrong the way I’m quick to throw such derogatory terms around when it comes to his side pieces. That it’s somehow a betrayal to the “sisterhood” to condemn them when he’s the one who’s engaged. To that, I say, fair point. He’s a cheating asshole. However, call me a traditionalist, but there’s just something that doesn’t sit right with me when a chick will smile to my face when I drop by the office on a random Wednesday, only to happily choke on my fiancé’s cock three days later. Just doesn’t scream girl power if you ask me.
“Daphne.” He sighs. “How about I try to get out of my afternoon meetings? I obviously won’t make the appointment, but we could meet for an early dinner. What do you say, sweetheart?”
“I say save yourself the two hours it would take you to trek your ass all the way back up here from Long Island this time of day, and go back to fucking your skank, Luc. Just don’t complain when you don’t like the China pattern I pick out.”
I hang up, stuffing my cell into my purse just as the screen lights up with his picture. The vibrations of his incoming call continue for several more seconds before cutting out, only to restart again moments later. I’m not surprised. Though I’ve known about Luc’s transgressions for nearly the entire time we’ve been together, I’ve never called him out. My sudden revelation no doubt has him rattled, though I assume that has less to do with me and more so over concern surrounding the PR nightmare his parents would be subjected to if his son’s engagement fell through over him fucking a lowly office employee.
No one in our social circles wants to be branded a cliché, though we all are one in some variation or another.
The vibrations continue to hum in my bag as I enter the store, only serving to fuel my annoyance. I reach in to silence the phone once more before turning it off altogether. As the screen powers down, a wave of disappointment washes over me. I feel like I really don’t ask much of him. I don’t give ultimatums. I turn a blind eye to his extracurricular activities. All I expect in response is for when there is a conflict between the lives he leads, that he put me first.
Pick me. Why is that such an unreasonable expectation?
“Can I help you?” An older gentleman with salt and pepper hair greets me, clutching an iPad.
“Yes. Hello. I’m Daphne Burke. I have an appointment to register for my wedding.”
Glancing down at his iPad, he taps the screen several times before looking back to me with a warm smile. “I’ve got you right here Ms. Burke. And may I say, congratulations to you and Mr.—” He glances back down to the screen. “—Devoreaux on your upcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you.” I manage to force a smile.
“My name is Gerald. I see here it looks like you pre-registered all your information. So, once Mr. Devoreaux joins us, I’ll take you back and show you how to work the scanners then set you free in the store.”
“Oh, he’s—”
“Late! Sorry!” a deep voice calls out from behind me, his imposing frame appearing a split second later in my peripheral as he comes to a stop beside me.
What. The actual. Fuck.
“Sorry, princess.” Nicky presses a kiss to my cheek.
“Not yet, but you will be,” I whisper through gritted teeth before driving my elbow into his side. He chuckles in response, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into him.
“Mr. Devoreaux?” Gerald smiles, seemingly oblivious to our tense exchange.
“Call me Nick.” He extends his hand, which Gerald promptly shakes.
“I’m sorry, sir. It appears we have incorrect information. We have you in the system as Lucian. I’ll correct that immediately.”
“No need,” Nicky interjects. “Nick’s simply a nickname.”
“Very good, sir.” Gerald nods. “If you’ll both follow me, I’ll set you up with scanners, and then you can get started.” He turns to lead us to the back, gifting us a moment of privacy as we trail behind him.
Reaching down, I pinch and twist the skin of his forearm still positioned around my waist. The sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up to his elbows, granting me unobstructed access. Nicky hisses in response, ripping his arm away to rub frantically at the mark left behind.
“Shit, demon. Warn a man before them claws come out to play.”
“What are you even doing here?!” My hushed words rush out in annoyance.
“Keeping you company. You’re welcome.”
“I’m going to kill your sister.”
Gerald glances back at us over his shoulder, and we both force smiles in response.
“Why J?” Nicky whispers once our associate’s gaze returns straight ahead.
“Because she’s the only one besides me and Luc who knew about today.”
“Calm down, Daph. Maybe she knew you’d need my style input. God knows white girls can’t be trusted to make reasonable design selections that don’t result in an overabundance of Live Laugh Love decor.”
“Bite me, dick.”
“Bend over so I have something to sink my teeth into, demon.”
I stop short, turning to face him as I thrust my finger in his face. “Let me tell you some—”
His large palm clamps down over my mouth, effectively silencing me. “For the sake of time constraints, Imma move this along. Yes, you’re very strong and capable. Go Team Vagina. You hate me and you’re over my shit. Noted. You don’t need the help of any man. I’m aware. But considering you’re supposed to be registering for your wedding—an event that requires two people last I checked—I’m inclined to think that while you may not need a man, you’d certainly like the input of one.”
Nicky finishes his rant, slowly lowering his hand from my mouth.
“And what, pray tell, makes you think I give a flying fuck about your input?”
“The fact that you could’ve ended this little ruse the second I lied about who I was, but yet here we are, a whole six and a half minutes later, about to register for gifts.”
My mouth snaps shut at his assessment of our current predicament.
“Mr. Devoreaux? Ms. Burke?” Gerald calls our attention to him up ahead, where he stands in the doorway of a small office, clutching two small electronic devices in his hands.
Nicky holds up a finger, signaling to Gerald to give us a minute before returning his attention to me.
“Truce?” Nicky holds out his hand between us.
I eye him warily, knowing full well I should tell him to get lost. And yet…
“Fine.” Against my better judgment, I thrust my hand into his, sealing our ceasefire with a shake.
“See now, demon? That wasn’t so hard.” His palm moves quickly, making contact with my ass cheek with an audible slap. I yelp, gripping hold of my backside as the arrogant asshole continues on toward Gerald’s office.
“Fuck me,” I mutter followed by a low string of expletives, cursing whatever karma has landed me in this hell.
Nicky freezes, glancing back at me over his shoulder with a sly smirk. “Seems a bit forward, but if you insist.”
“Go!” I command, shoving him in the direction of our sales associate whose face is now tinged pink with embarrassment.
***
“Okay, now I know you’re doing it on purpose.”
Nicky turns to face me, clutching a hideous bronze vase in the shape of a koala bear.
“What?” He forces his eyes wide, feigning a look of innocence.
“Don’t what me. You’re purposely picking ugly décor items to put on my registry!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” I cross my arms over top my chest, arching a brow. “You’re telling me you actually like that vase? That’s something you’d have in your house?”
“It doesn’t matter if I’d have it in my house. I’m not decorating for me right now. I’m decorating for you and Luc. It’s all about what screams Lucian.”
“A bronze koala bear screams douche.”
“Well, then—” Nicky scans the tag on the vase before placing it back on the shelf. “—I’m right on target, aren’t I?”
I snort, shaking my head as I go back to scanning the throw pillows beside me.
“Those aren’t gonna go with the rug you picked out,” Nicky teases me.
“I think you mean the rug you picked out.” I turn, tossing one of the tufted pillows at his head which he catches with ease. The $9,000 white sheepskin rug he scanned is not only one of the most impractical things I’ve ever laid eyes on, it’s also freaking hideous. “Joke’s on you, though. Lucian would love that thing.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” he mutters, running his fingers through his tousled blond locks.
“Hey, Nick,” I call his attention back to me. “Why aren’t koalas considered bears?”
“Because they’re marsupials. Well, technically they’re classified in their own family called Phascolarctidae.”
“No.” I snicker.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, his gaze hardening as though he can’t believe I have the audacity to dare challenge him.
“I assure you. That’s correct.”
It undoubtedly is. I sometimes forget how smart he is.
“Na-uh. It’s because they don’t have the right koalafications.” I bite down on my lip, fighting to control the laughter threatening to break free.
Nicky stares at me, blinking several times as though he’s struggling to process what I’ve said. Then he fucking loses it. I watch with absolute glee as Nicky C.—the head of an entire criminal empire—doubles over. He plants his hands on his knees, bracing himself as he howls with laughter. Random shoppers look on from various corners of the store, their disapproving glares doing little to quiet us.
“That is…” Nick pushes up, swiping at his eyes. “…the fucking dumbest shit…” He hyperventilates, struggling to force the words out. “…I’ve ever heard.”
“Damn, Conners. Been a minute since I’ve seen you laugh like that.” I chuckle, giving his arm a playful shove as I pass.
Swiping the last few remaining tears from his eyes, he follows me around a large shelf into the somewhat secluded bedding section. “Yeah, well, not many reasons to smile these days.”
“I miss her, too, Nick.” My lungs tighten at my reference of my best friend. “She’ll be home before you know it.”
“Nah, I know. It’s not even that. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking miss J. But shit’s just all so fucking heavy all the time.” He stares off at the wall, and I’m not even sure he realizes how hard he’s rubbing at his chest.
I scan his face, momentarily worried one of his panic attacks are about to make an appearance. While I wouldn’t care, I know Nicky would rather die than let anyone see him like that. My concern lasts a second longer before a quick bob of his Adam’s apple has him swallowing down any glimmers of emotion threatening to peek through.
“You good?”
He straightens, pulling his shoulders back to full height as that cool calm fa?ade slips back into place. “You know it.”
Offering up a subtle nod, I begin perusing the items in a small shelving alcove off to the side.
“So,” Nicky’s hands slip into the pockets of his dress slacks once more, his body leaning against the corner of the wall, “how’d you get stuck doing this by yourself today, anyway? Work got the future hubby tied up?”
“If a five-foot-three blonde with a vocabulary that doesn’t expand beyond two-syllable words constitutes as work, then yeah.” My eyes slip closed, my hand frozen on the embroidered throw pillow on the shelf above me. Fuck. Why would I say that? The last thing I need is Nicky thinking I can’t keep my fiancée satisfied.
“He’s cheating on you?” Nicky whispers at my back.
“Shit,” I hiss while slowly turning to face him. “Can we please pretend I didn’t say that? Seriously, it’s not a big—”
Nicky cages me in, his arms bracing against the shelves on either side of my head. “Are you really about to say it’s not a big deal?” He stares down at me, his lips inches from mine. His breath fans against my face, and I inhale his scent, my head becoming dizzy in the process.
“Men cheat, Nick.” I exhale, trying to calm my rapidly racing pulse. “My dad does it to my mom. Mav did it to Jonsie.” Something darkens in Nicky’s eyes, but I press on. “Men aren’t capable of fidelity.”
“That’s a load of shit,” he bites out. “Rico’s dad doesn’t cheat on his mom. My father’s fucking obsessed with Shannon. They entered the honeymoon phase and never left.”
“Unicorns. Exceptions to the rule. Let’s be real, Nicky. I’m not the type of girl that inspires a man to crave monogamy. I can be a lot.”
Nicky’s hand snatches my chin, forcing my gaze back to his.
“And if he’s not man enough to handle it—” He shifts, pressing his knee between my thighs, forcing them to widen. “—then he should go find less.” He pushes forward, his thigh forcing up the hem of my green suede mini skirt as it comes within centimeters of my core.
“Nicky.” I attempt to shimmy free, though all I seem to accomplish is to cause the sleeve of my cream-colored cowl neck sweater to slip from my shoulder.
He drives forward, pinning my body between his torso and the shelves behind me. The bulge of his obscenely large erection presses into my hip the same time his thigh connects with my undeniably soaked panties.
I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Not the type of girl that inspires monogamy? Daph,” he rasps, “when you walk in a room, other women cease to exist. You’re the type of woman that brings men to their knees.” He lowers his forehead to mine. “You’re the type of woman wars are waged over.”
His hold on my face loosens before his fingertips trail their way down my neck and across my collarbone. I hold back a whimper as his hand travels lower, my body instinctively arching into him as he follows the curve of my breast before sliding down my stomach and coming to rest below my bellybutton. Gripping hold of my skirt, he fists the fabric, attempting to pull it upward.
“No.” I could live a hundred years and never know where I just found the strength to say that word. My pussy throbs as it practically screams at me in rebellion.
Nicky’s movements still, his eyes softening as he looks to me in question.
“I’m engaged.”
“He’s cheating on you. According to you, he’s balls deep in some Barbie wannabe as we speak.”
“True. But all I know is if I let you touch me right now, then I’m no better than him.”
Nicky clenches his teeth, the gesture making the sharp lines of his jaw that much more prominent. “Then I won’t touch you.” He releases my skirt, his hand coming to rest alongside his other against the shelf above my head. Though he’s done exactly what I’ve asked of him, I still can’t help the wave of disappointment that crashes over me. “Use me.”
“What?” My head snaps up.
“Use. Me.” He presses his thigh up into my heat, pulling the beginnings of a moan from my throat.
“I just told you I’m not going to cheat.” My voice staggers out practically pained.
“I’m not asking you to cheat. My tongue, my fingers, my cock… none of them are going anywhere near that pretty little pussy. I’m gonna stay perfectly still so you can take the edge off. All you gotta do is bear down, baby.”
This time it’s a whimper that slips past. Nipping my lower lip, I bite down as I fight to hold in the small noises threatening to break free.
“Jesus, Daph. I can feel the heat from your pussy through my pants. Come on, demon. Just shift those hips a little bit so you can get some relief. I promise I won’t move an inch. It’ll be no different than if you were using a toy.”
Stay strong, Daph. Stay strong.
“Why? So you can throw it in my face later how weak I am when it comes to you?”
“No.” The muscles in his forearms flex, and though I can’t see his hands, it’s evident he’s gripping the shelf above me with excessive force. “It’s because it’s been two hundred and forty-eight days since I’ve last watched you come, and if I have to go one more second without it, I swear on whatever God you pray to, I’m gonna fucking snap. So, either grind that pussy against my leg until you make a mess of my pants or call the fucking psych hospital and have me committed. Because I can’t go on like this.”
Any sliver of rational thought flies out the fucking window as I bear down atop his thigh. The groan that travels up the length of Nicky’s throat is downright savage, spurring me on while I roll my hips against him.
Fuck. Holy shit.
“Jesus,” he groans, allowing his eyes to roll back in his head. “So fucking wet.”
“Sex toys don’t talk, Nick.” My movements quicken, the pressure of his muscular thigh pressed to my core coupled with the friction from his pants against my clit driving me further toward the cliff of my impending orgasm.
“Mmmhmm.” He mumbles out a strained response. Chancing a glance up at him, I’m met with an unexpected sight. The typical rugged arrogance that normally lends itself to his confidence is nowhere to be found. Instead, I find his brows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut in the presence of his tortured expression.
I alter my movements, shifting to an oscillating rhythm at a slightly slower pace.
“What’s the matter, Nick?”
“Nothing,” he rasps. “Not a fucking thing. Fuck, don’t stop,” he pleads.
“Does Daddy wanna talk to me?”
His eyes shoot open, the typically bright blue darkening with an intense desire. I knew it. Nicky loves dirty talk. Me telling him to shut up was probably worse than being told he can’t fuck me. The kicker is he’s fucking spectacular at it. Echoes of the filthy things he used to whisper in my ear dance in the recesses of my memory, and I’m suddenly overcome with such desperation, the next words just slip out.
“Do it. Tell your dirty little girl how much you missed this,” I beg in a soft whisper.
Every muscle in Nicky’s body simultaneously tenses. He continues to peer down at me, silently scanning my face as though seeking assurances that he heard me right.
“Tell me.” I switch back to riding his leg in a back-and-forth motion. “Tell me how good it feels to have me make a mess of you.”
Nicky dips down, drawing his lips to my ear. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve missed this pussy? Hmm? Two hundred and forty-eight days, demon? You better grind that pretty little cunt against me so hard that you fucking squirt to make up for an atrocity like that. You’re lucky I don’t take you out into the middle of this store and impale you on this fucking cock for everyone to see.”
I pick up the pace, the feeling of euphoria building within. “Is that what you want? To teach your disobedient little slut a lesson?”
“You are my little slut, aren’t you? My filthy little demon. Fuck. You’re such a bad girl, Daph. What happens to bad girls?”
“They get spanked, sir.” Oh, shit. I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck.
“Are you gonna make me spank you, Daph? Am I gonna have to rip that skirt off and send you home with my handprint on your ass?”
“No, sir,” I pant. “I’ll come for Daddy. I’ll be your good girl. I promise.”
My hands involuntarily start to roam over my body, mapping the outlines of my curves. My right one comes to rest on my stomach before slipping low in attempt to rub at my clit.
“Don’t,” Nicky bites out in a harsh tone, causing my hands to freeze. “You can’t pull up that skirt. Because the second I see it… the second I’m reminded of just how perfect your pussy is, I’m gonna drop to my knees and feast like I haven’t been fed a day in my life.”
Stars erupt behind my eyelids as a gush of liquid floods my center. My hands shoot out, gripping hold of Nicky’s biceps to steady myself as a powerful orgasm barrels through me like a freight train. I’m held captive to it, reduced to a quivering mess until the last shiver has coursed through my body.
Nicky’s hands drop to my waist, steadying me and allowing me to find my footing before releasing his hold. I stand before him, though remain propped against the shelves for additional support. As I glance down, my face heats with embarrassment as I take in the now-unobstructed view of the mess I’ve made of his expensive suit pants.
“Those are ruined. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” Nicky readjusts his still prominent bulge with one hand while reaching for something on the shelf behind me with the other. When he pulls back, I see he’s clutching a decorative hand towel. “May I?” He gestures toward my thigh.
I consent, allowing his palm to encircle the outside of my thigh, lifting it up to his hip. He reaches down with his other hand, gently pressing the towel to my center, where he proceeds to clean me up. Satisfied when he’s done the best he can, he releases my leg.
As I readjust my skirt and my sweater, Nicky takes several steps backward, allowing the guilt and shame to begin their assault. Not cheating, my ass. Nicky’s previously defined terms as to why this wasn’t classified as such suddenly seem a lot less legitimate. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…
“Bet you’re glad you let me tag along now,” he jokes, flashing me that playboy smile.
However, in this moment, I don’t find him charming. I scoff, dipping low to swipe up my purse I’d discarded to the floor while moving to push past him.
“Hey.” His demeanor shifts, refusing to let me pass. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is I just acted like a complete and total slut, and not in the good way.” I’m quick to add on the last part considering that seems to be a point of praise for us.
“You’re not a slut, Daph,” Nicky seethes. “The way you are for me in the bedroom holds no bearing on who you are as a person.”
“It does when I’m engaged to someone else!” My voice raises slightly, and I quickly scan the immediate area to ensure we’re still alone.
“He doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?” I clutch the strap of my purse, tightly securing it to my shoulder. “You don’t even want me, Nicky. I clearly wasn’t good enough, so why can’t you just let me try and have a shot at some kind of normalcy?”
“And marrying someone who fucks other people is normal?” He rears back, thrusting his hand out to the side.
“Listen, Nick. Luc may not be faithful, but when he says he loves me, I know he means it. Even if it’s not the way I’d prefer, I know he loves me to the best of what he’s capable of.”
Nicky scoffs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That’s just fucking sad, Daph.”
“No, Nick. Sad is spending years pining for some guy that you’re never gonna mean a goddamn thing to.”
“That’s not true.” He thrusts a finger at me.
“Less than three.” My words give him pause, and I notice the tightening of his grip around the towel he’s still clutching. “You remember that, right? Scale of one to ten, Nicky, how much do I mean to you? And you said—”
“Less than three,” he whispers. Hearing the words spoken in his voice, it fractures my heart all over again.
“You still feel that way?” Peering up at him from beneath my lashes, I’m met with his hardened stare.
“Every. Fucking. Day.”
The beating in my chest ceases altogether, as I’m once again subjected to the shattering of the organ that betrays me time and time again.
How many times can a heart break before it just does you a kindness and dies?
My vision becomes blurry as my eyes glass over with unshed tears. “I hate you.” The words come out small, sounding downright pathetic.
Offering up a slow nod, Nicky takes a step toward me. He raises a hand, stroking the side of my cheek just as several tears slip free.
“Good,” he whispers into the space between us.
My eyes squeeze shut, though the action does little to slow the steady streams now streaking down my cheeks. Nicky’s palm slips from my face, and when I open my eyes once more, I’m greeted to nothing more than an empty space before me and his retreating form on his way toward the door.