Whiteout

Chapter Twenty-Five

It came out of nowhere. This urgency inside him. A primitive need to claim her, mark her, make her his, and only his, in every conceivable way.

Ian carried her to his room and laid her down atop soft linen sheets. He took the boots off her feet, then the tights that were caught around her knees, before lifting the hem of the cable-knit dress and sliding it over her head. Bathed in moonlight, Breanna looked up at him with an expression on her face he could only describe as beatific.

And with his gaze never leaving hers, he rid himself of his clothes.

Gathering her in his arms, he placed a tender kiss on her lips. The urgent need growing ever stronger, Ian couldn’t hold back, and knowing his princess, she wouldn’t want him to.

Fingertips skating down her spine, he deepened their kiss. They traversed across her hip, up her side, and down again. Her movements matched his own. Soft hands roaming over his skin, Breanna pressed him closer to her.

Wet between her thighs, Ian ran his fingers through her folds. He dipped two inside her tight, hot cunt, his thumb pressing hard into her clit, and Breanna whimpered.

“Yes, yes, yes…baby…please…fuck me.” She held onto his wrist and spread her legs wider. “Make it hurt.”

“Want my fist?” he asked, shoving four fingers inside her.

“God…that feels so good.” Her hips lifted off the bed. “More.”

He did as she asked. Fucking her with his fingers, he rubbed her clit. Cum squirting from her hole, he tucked his thumb against his palm and pushed his way inside. “Look, baby. I got all of me in you this time.”

Her thighs shaking, tears streaming down her face, Breanna glanced down to see his hand was inside her, up to his wrist. “I fucking love you, Sinjin.”

“And I love you so fucking much.” Her pussy clamping down on his hand, he carefully turned his wrist from side to side. “Is this okay, baby? Am I making you feel good?”

“God…yes,” she moaned, her fingers seeking her clit. “I’m gonna come.”

“You will not scream. I’m going to make you forget how to breathe.” And ruining her pussy with his fist, he licked the cum from her fingers on her clit.

Ian lay beside her after, rubbing her cum into her skin, trailing it up the split of her ass, kissing every inch of skin his lips could reach. Breanna embodied everything he ever wanted in a partner, in bed and out. She was it for him. He thanked Fate, the universe, the mountain—whatever put her in his path that day. God, he never realized he could love someone as intensely as he loved her.

Languidly, and it felt like heaven, she stroked his aching dick. “I need everything, Sinjin, and I can take it. Promise you won’t ever go easy with me.”

His baby liked it rough, and that’s the way he knew how to give it. Tender kisses. Hard fucking.

“Never.”

Kissing his pec, Breanna whispered, “I’m brave enough now.”

Brave enough?

His fingers continued their strumming. “What is it, my dirty girl?”

“I love that.” Tipping her head back, she glanced up at him.

“What?”

“That I’m your dirty girl.” And she squeezed his cock. “Fuck my ass, baby. Please, I want you to.”

His finger slipped inside her unfucked hole.

Breanna mewled.

Ian rolled her onto her tummy, and rubbing the globes of her ass, he parted them.

“Mine.”

And heaven help the bastard who tried to take what was his.

Caught up in tangled sheets and twisted limbs, he opened his eyes to see the most beautiful girl in the world sleeping next to him. Nothing could be better than starting every day like this, and as much as he wanted to stay in this bed and love on her some more, Derek was in a room on the other end of the hall.

Ian kissed her brow, carefully extricating himself from the bed so as not to wake her. Naked, he strolled over to the window and looked out at an overcast sky. They weren’t expecting snow today, but flurries blew from the trees, dancing to the tune of the wind. Maybe that would be enough to convince his cousin to hightail it back to Sacramento, but somehow, he doubted it.

In front of the fireplace, Hera stretched out her paws, then walked over to the door. He patted her and opened it, watching her scamper off into the snow. Warm lips kissed his back, her arms wrapping around his middle. “It’s still early, baby. Come back to bed.”

Right then, there wasn’t anything Ian wanted more. He closed his eyes and, wrapping her fingers around his morning wood, saw his fist disappear inside her pussy, his dick sinking into her ass. “I have to get rid of him.”

“Shhh.” Breanna stroked him.

He placed his hand on hers, stilling her movement. “We need to go downstairs.”

“And do what?”

“You are going to decorate Christmas trees with Francie and my mother,” Ian said. And turning around, he kissed her. “I’m going to buy us some more time.”

“I love you.” She rubbed her head on his chest.

He smoothed her hair down her back, tucking a wisp behind her ear. “I’m keeping you. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Breanna smiled against his skin.

His hand dropped to the sweet place between her thighs and he cupped her pussy. “My babies are going to come out of here.”

“I’m not ready for that yet.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes locking on his. “Someday.”

Nodding, he kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

They were all in the morning room having breakfast when Ian came downstairs. All except Breanna, that is. A naked tree stood in the center of the windows, waiting for the women he loved to dress its branches in holiday finery, hanging lights and baubles and bows.

“Good morning, darling,” Pamela crooned from where she sat beside her sister, sipping coffee. “Sleep well?”

“I did.” With a smile he couldn’t hide, he took a plate from the sideboard. “Looks delicious, Auntie.”

“Your mom did the cooking this morning.” Francie grinned, bringing a napkin to her mouth. “She insisted.”

“Made your favorites. It’s not every day I get to spoil my only son.”

Eggs Benedict topped with crab, roasted asparagus, savory breakfast potatoes, and croissants. Ian would never hurt her feelings, but Breanna’s waffles were his favorite now.

“I see that,” he said, filling his plate. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, dear. Where’s Breanna?”

His face hidden behind a newspaper, Derek snickered.

“She’ll be down shortly, I’d imagine.”

“Good, because we have business to attend to.” His cousin tossed the paper to the table. “Perhaps she’s in her right mind now.”

Ian wrenched out a chair, and cocking his head, he glared at his cousin.

“What?” Derek rolled up his sleeves with a smirk. “We are all aware Miss Dalton suffered a terrible concussion and hasn’t been able to make a sound decision since. Headaches. Delusions. Mood swings. I have plenty of witnesses that can attest to it.”

Fucking bastard.

“It’s you who’s not right in the head, cousin.” Leaning across the table, Ian got in his face. “Breanna sent the papers to her mom to look over, and their attorney, so, for now, she’s not signing.”

So what if he fibbed a little, right?

“I gave you one simple task, Ian,” he said through gritted teeth.

Francie looked up from her plate. “What papers?”

“Your darling nephew here concocted a shitload of phony documents bequeathing the entirety of Valerie’s estate to Dalton Trust Development Opco—which happens to be Derek, by the way.”

“Nooo, it’s all of us. And Breanna gets a million.”

“How generous of you.” Ian rolled his eyes.

If it wasn’t for his mother and his aunt, he’d wipe the haughty smirk off Derek’s face. With his fist.

“I thought so, considering she hasn’t earned her rightful place here.”

“Through no fault of her own,” Pamela said, throwing down her fork.

“Derek.” Francie held her hands to her cheeks. “Think about what you’re doing, honey.”

“Fraud, forgery, embezzlement, misappropriation of funds.” Ian cut into his eggs with a shrug. “Shall I keep going?”

“This isn’t at all what Valerie wanted,” Francie said, as if her saying so would make any difference.

“Why should you care what that old bitch wanted? It was our family who helped make the Daltons rich from the very beginning and she stole it from us.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Derek tipped his chin at their aunt. “Come on, look at you, nothing more than a servant who wasted her life cooking and cleaning for that woman.”

“No one forced me to care for Valerie and this house.” Raising her voice, Francie tore the napkin from her lap and threw it on the table. “Mr. Keeler and I met here. We built a life we love here, and this is where I want to be.”

Francie never yelled. The silence that followed, then, was deafening.

Ian glanced around the table. His arm around his wife, her kind eyes filling behind her glasses, Ted stared daggers at Derek. The callous fucker shrugged, indifferent to the fact he’d shown no regard for Francie’s feelings.

“Apologize to your aunt,” Pamela seethed. “Now.”

Though it’s unlikely he would have, Derek never got the chance to. Breanna came in, and reading the tension in the room, quietly said, “Good morning.”

“Miss Dalton.” Thank fuck. As he stood, Ian pulled out a chair for her between him and his mother. “Can I fix you a plate?”

“Uh, sure.” Her gaze flicking around the table, she tentatively sat down. “Thanks.”

Offering Breanna a half-hearted smile, his mother cleared her throat. Still trying to collect herself, Francie stared down at her half-eaten plate. The ringing of Derek’s phone was almost a welcome intrusion. He picked it up and silenced it.

“It’s Miranda, dear.” Peeking over his shoulder, Pamela smirked. “You probably want to take that.”

“Excuse me a moment,” Derek said with a huff, and left the room.

Sitting down with Breanna’s breakfast, Ian grazed her back with his fingertips. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” She picked up her fork, silently tucking into her food.

“I’m sorry.”

Her lips parted to speak, but then Derek came back in. “My apologies, but I have to return to the city.”

“Is Miranda all right, dear?” Pamela asked, feigning concern with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Derek ignored her.

“Take care of Miss Dalton in my absence, will you?” Slapping him on the back, he bent down and leaned into his ear. “One task, cousin. You better get it done.” Then he kissed Breanna’s cheek. “Be a good girl and listen to Mr. Maynard. I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”

“What do we do now, Sinjin?”

“We keep looking for the documents.” Ian glanced at Francie. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Valerie might have kept them?”

“No,” she said, worrying her lip.

He sat back and exhaled, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I’m going to Sacramento on Monday, then. I can slip into the office after hours, get the files, and slip back out.”

“It isn’t just about money for him, I’m afraid. The root of it goes much deeper than that.” Pamela pursed her lips and sighed. “Like his father, he’d love nothing more than to wipe out the Dalton name.”

“Why?” Breanna asked, putting down her fork.

“Revenge.” She paused, her bottom lip disappearing behind her teeth. “Once, there were four of us, you see. My sister, Sharon, was the eldest. The summer she graduated from high school, she came up here to help the former Mrs. Dalton, your great-grandmother. Lawrence was home from college for the summer. Sharon was always going on about him. Your grandfather was quite handsome when he was younger, and quite the catch, too.” With a bob of her head, Pamela’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Anyway, she fancied herself in love with him, and one thing led to another, I suppose. Summer fling, you know? School started up again in the fall, and that was the end of that.”

Ian knew this story, of course, but Breanna didn’t. His arm went around her shoulders, hugging her to his side. No more secrets, baby.

Still smiling, his mother continued. “I was only eleven, but I remember watching Sharon get ready for the Thanksgiving open house. She was so excited to see him again. You see, she believed Lawrence was in love with her, too.”

“But he wasn’t?”

“No, as it turned out,” Pamela said with a shake of her head. “They were, you know, typical kids with raging hormones. She wasn’t quite nineteen that summer and Lawrence was just a couple of years older.”

“What happened?” Breanna asked, her attention rapt.

“We walked into the grand foyer, and there was your grandfather, looking as handsome as ever, with Valerie Kimball on his arm.” She blew out a breath. “They announced their engagement at dinner.”

“Oh, no.” Her fairytale eyes going wide, Breanna gasped. “How awful for her.”

“She was devastated, to say the least.”

“I remember that and I was only five.” With a nod, Francie finally spoke. “Sharon ran out of there in tears.”

“No one could console her. Not even my brother, and she and Raymond were extremely close. Two days later, Sharon came out of her room smiling as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Told my father she was going shopping, kissed his cheek, and said she’d be back before dinner.”

Pamela wasn’t smiling anymore.

The eyes behind her glasses pained, Francie shrugged a shoulder. “But she never came back.”

“They found what was left of her car the next morning,” his mother recounted, staring out at the mountains through the window. “She drove herself right off the pass.”

“On purpose?” Her jaw slack, Breanna gazed up at him with a look of disbelief on her face.

Pamela nodded. “And Raymond never got over it. He blamed your grandfather for her death.”

“Because he broke her heart?”

“There’s so much gray to every story, dear. Nothing is ever black and white. I don’t know this to be fact, but supposedly, Sharon was three months pregnant with your grandfather’s baby when she died.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Breanna covered her mouth with her hand. “Wait, weren’t Raymond and my grandfather good friends?”

“You know the old saying, don’t you? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” She pursed her lips to the side, then released a heavy breath. “Look, I loved my brother, and while I understood his grief for our sister, as the years went by, he became more and more unhinged. Drove his wife to divorce him. Infected Derek with his crazy nonsense, too, it seems.”

Ian glanced down at Breanna. She seemed a bit shaken. Hugging her to him a little tighter, he kissed her crown.

“Everyone knows Shane’s death wasn’t an accident.” Pamela got up from the table and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet. “I always suspected my brother had something to do with it somehow.”

“No, Pamela.” Her lips pressed tight, Francie watched her sister pour a generous helping of whiskey into her coffee. “Raymond wouldn’t…”

“Valerie thought the same.” Ian nodded. At least, according to Sarah Benjamin, she did.

“I know, dear.” Pamela took hold of his hand. “It’s the very reason she kept Breanna far away and you close by her side.”

“I take it back.” Ted took the whiskey from Pamela and poured some into a glass. “I’m thinking that boy ain’t blowing smoke out his ass.”

No shit.

His cousin might think he was smart, but Ian was smarter.

He had the girl.

Now he was going to put an end to all this bullshit. And maybe, if it wasn’t too late, he could save Derek from himself.

He just wasn’t sure exactly how.