“And a fucking great job you’ve done so far, Percival; you might be right about God being gracious after all,” she stated coldly, raising a brow when he stepped threateningly towards her. Knowing what she did now, she was never going to allow this man to touch her again without a fight.
“You’re skating on thin ice, Rochelle; don’t forget that I’m still your father!” He snapped, and she shrugged, refocusing on an already prepared bag, ensuring that her back was no longer to him.
She so wanted to tell him where he could shove his fatherhood, but she bit her tongue, hoping that in doing so, she could formulate the foundation to win the war. Her head snapped up, and she jerked, when a heavy folder fell onto the bed beside the bag.
“Right now, speaking business seems to be a safer topic than my take on being a parent,” he stated, when she reached for the folder suspiciously. The cover gave nothing away of its inner contents.
She turned sharp, assessing, hazel eyes on her father’s six feet, broad-shouldered frame, and briefly saw why many of the Hummingbird Club ladies had crushes on him.
“And what’s this?” She questioned, with a flick of her wrist, that caused the pages to separate before slamming back together.
“That’s your seventy-five percent of the shares, Rochelle, and I hope that you know what the fuck you’re doing,” he stated unapologetically, a glint of pride shining forth, and Rochelle almost understood his fear when he’d found out that Monica was in the hospital. A lot was at stake, least of all his reputation; well, to her that is.
She hid her triumphant smile, knowing that she held him in her tightly closed fist, and oh, how she wanted to crush him. Percival Jones was scared shitless of what his twenty-year-old daughter could do to him and his businesses, and she planning to thoroughly exercise the length of each chain she had wrapped around his neck.
She held his hazel gaze with hers, a sarcastic slant on her mouth that could not be defined as a smile, before she parted her very womanly lips. “If that’s all, I believe that you have a very fragile wife who is in need of your attention,” she murmured silkily.
He raised a brow and threw her a smile that rivaled hers.
“Oh, I will leave, Rochelle, and don’t wait up for me, because I’m sure that our new client will keep you very occupied,” he stated coldly, as if he knew something that she didn’t.
She stiffened, wondering if her father had picked a right brute as her partner for the evening. “So, I’m not going to get the normal bio for the client?” She questioned, with a raised eyebrow, and her father shrugged as if he knew the location to Ali Baba’s cave full of treasure.
“He paid enough to keep his identity a secret; just know that he is an obscenely wealthy and influential man, probably the richest man on the eastern part of the world, and a close second to Bill Gates,” he stated with a Cheshire cat smile. “He has paid a king’s ransom for just tonight, after that, he claims that the ball is in your court.”
Rochelle’s shoulders stiffened at her father’s tone as he approached the bed to snatch up the bag.
“Ensure that you give him all his money’s worth,” he said with a cold, emotionless smile, as his eyes darkened, and she knew that she could breach no request.
The ownership of the shares would only be passed to her the next day- if she satisfied the customer.
She looked up from the first page of the contract, her lips clamped together in a flat line.
“This is not the agreement that we came to,” she stated as she threw the folder on to the bed.
Percival chuckled, before swinging Monica’s overnight bag over his shoulder. “No, sweetheart; you demanded seventy-five percent of the Hummingbird Club, but you did not imply how I should arrange for you to gain that portion of the business,” he said cockily, as he turned to leave. “I pray for your sake that he is nothing like the Texan from three years ago,” he laughed, and her shoulders stiffened as his voice carried up the staircase.
She collapsed onto the divan as the front door closed with a bang, fear washing through her.
How could she ever allow another man to touch her after him?
✽✽✽
Carter pressed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel when the driver of the black Mercedes Benz blew him as they passed in the driveway.
He reached up an unsteady hand to brush back a stray lock of hair onto his still wet head. He had been in too much of a hurry after he had dropped the twins off at Hilton to really care whether or not he had blow-dried his wild curls.
Slowing the Audi in front of the garage, he typed in the code for it to open, smiling at his tech-team’s brilliance. The only information Tyler hadn’t been able to hack from their security database had been Rochelle’s cell phone number. Digicel had set enough loopholes in that one that any attempts would have triggered an alarm. That had been done for all the members of the club.
Slowly, he eased the car between the Lexus and the Honda before cutting the growl of his vehicle. He looked across at the twin Glocks that lay in the seat beside him on his suit jacket, their silver metal glistening against the stark black material.
He felt at touch uncertain about taking them with him, but with the shadow of the unknown always lurking, he couldn’t leave himself unprotected.
She already knows that you have them, a voice stated, and Carter frowned, remembering her expression when she had teased him about having a thing for twins, seeing that his bodyguards were twins.
A pity that she didn’t know that his best friends were twins too.
His frown deepened as his mind picked up on something that his sleep-fogged brain had not noted at the time. The first morning after, the click of metal against metal had pulled him from deep-sleep. He’d opened his eyes to see her reloading one of the Glocks, but then he had only stretched out his hand and beckoned her to return to bed. She had carefully put on the safety, placed the gun beside the other on the bench, before climbing in beside him.
He remembered teasing her about not playing with dangerous weapons while he was in the same room and her laughter had stirred a lot more than his libido.
With a snap, he placed one pistol into the small of his back before grabbing his jacket- allowing the other to slide onto the seat- before alighting out of the vehicle. The lines of the jacket slid into place in time with the automatic garage door, and the overhead lights flickering on.
Straightening his broad shoulders, he headed to the side door.
Pausing mid-stride, his long longs partially extended, he shook his head with a soft chuckle, before retreating to the car. Pulling the backdoor open, he retrieved the plastic wrapped bunch. With a smile, he headed to the connecting door that led to the living room, hoping that the roses would say all that he couldn’t.
While upstairs, Rochelle was slamming the gauge of the pistol into place, and placing it into the bedside table’s drawer before stripping down and heading to the bathroom, her mind resolute. She would protect herself at all cost.
Downstairs, Carter groaned in distress as vanilla fragrance wrapped deftly around his muscular frame.
“Rochelle.”
Her name slid silkily from between his lips and his fingers clenched around the thick, green stems. Following the rich scent, he advanced to the stairway, heat flushing through his body and causing his member to jerk. It was no gentle unfolding or stirring awake of this powerful organ, but a rapid-fire rush that internally seared his veins, bringing about a throbbing, instantaneous boner.
He bit his lip before running his tongue over it in amped anticipation. A million dollars was a pittance in comparison to the pleasure that he was about to partake of.
Visions of her luscious body flashed through his mind’s eyes and the roses fell from his nerveless fingers as he entered through the slightly opened door of the room where the scent was strongest.
Small pieces of clothing were strewn across the floor, stopping directly at the bathroom’s doorway, where a thong hung precariousl
y from the door’s handle. Steam slid through the crack of the door, and he began to understand why the whole house seemed to be cloaked by the scent.
The color of his green eyes darkened to jade, and his nostrils flared to take in the perfumed air. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow, his member also protesting as it struggled to be free of its expensive constraints.
Without taking his eyes off the door, he raised his Armani clad arm, removing his Rolex before opening his platinum cufflinks and complimenting her trail of clothing with his.
✽✽✽
Rochelle gasped and water poured into her mouth from the multiple massaging jets, when familiar, large, warm palms cupped her full breasts. She hadn’t even heard when the shower door had opened. Her head fell back on his shoulders as electricity shot through her body, as one hand went to farther explore her body when his leg forcefully separated her weak ones.
“Carter,” she breathed, as his moist lips grazed her moist and overly sensitive neck. Only he could hit her body like a train at high speed, leaving behind a well-established train wreck, with her loving the results.
You came for me, was her first thought, as he hauled her closer to his solid frame.
Carter’s jaw clenched tightly at the sound of his name on her tongue, while her body sank into his hardness. His hand tightened around her breasts as he struggled not to combust against her spine.
She groaned, turning her face towards his neck and shoulder joint, as a shiver ran through her delicate body. Releasing her breasts, he reached up to remove her hands that had somehow managed to wind their way around the thick column of his neck, before tunneling her fingers through his now wet hair. She whimpered when he subtracted his body heat and he sighed deeply.
This is nowhere near done yet, pet.
Cupping her shoulders, he turned her to face him, before raising her eyes to his with a chuck beneath her chin. “Let’s get you clean, sweetheart, because you’ll be too tired to later,” he murmured, and saw a shiver of apprehension run through her body.
He bent his head slightly, and saw her lips tremble in anticipation. Her body stiffened ever so slightly when he lifted a hand as if to stroke her face, but instead, he reached behind her for another sponge and the shower gel, causing her to whimper loudly.
Laughing, he pushed the sponge that had fallen for her fingers earlier towards the drain before applying shower gel to the new one.
Chapter Twelve
“Let me take you out of hell and show you a little taste of heaven.”
—C.A.G.E. Thompson
ROCHELLE’S FINGER DUG INTO the sheets on either side of her head, her breath coming out in long, agonizing groans as Carter’s breath ruffled the hairs at the nape of her neck in time with the soulful song blazing from the speakers. His long fingers kept hers splayed, preventing her from digging them deeper into the silk- just as his lower half kept her legs splayed and pinned her to the mattress even though she was dying for elevation. He was going breathtakingly slow, his thrusts deepening every time he slid home, causing her body to catch fire with every movement.
“Carter, please,” she begged, trying to push to her knees, as a storm built up in her lower abdomen.
Carter’s response was to slam home, none too gently, causing the breath to rush from her lungs, as her fingers tightened around his. He held himself there so deeply within her, as if he was trying to pull them both from the edge of the precipice, but it only intensified her distress.
She cried out when he flexed his hips, driving himself still deeper into her warmth, and her muscles clenched roughly around his shaft. She groaned, writhing beneath his powerful muscles when his firm lips caressed the top of her spine before grazing her nape with his pearly white teeth.
Unraveling their fingers, he reached down to grip her hip, pressing her pelvis deeper into the bed before rearing up, trying to cram more of his pulsating, hard length, into her tiny body. He held her there, suspended in breathless animation, and she almost didn’t want to move, but her hunger was far greater.
She began to push up once more to get him to move, but he slammed her back into the soft mattress, with a push between her shoulder blades before sinking even deeper. Rochelle screwed her eyes shut, as he left her feeling heavenly filled; yet, she still craved something- something so close that she could almost taste it, but couldn’t reach on her own.
“If you don’t stop moving, I will not be responsible for my actions,” he stated through clenched teeth.
Rochelle’s breath came in sharp draws, as the storm in her built to a hurricane; she could feel his heart beating hard and fast in her as blood filled his thick shaft. The feeling was so surreal, that it almost made her explode around him.
Still, she needed something more- she craved the need to feel alive. She was burning for him- yes- the feeling of him filling her was great- yes, but she needed to feel him taking her as if his life depended on it. Almost like a prisoner screwing his woman one more time before being taken to the stakes to be lit.
She bit her bottom lip, struggling to keep still, the muscles in her thighs quivering as her body neared the brink, crying out for release. His cold lips and hot breath sent a sharp shiver through her body, as they ran down her spinal column as far as his gymnastics training brought him. His warm hands kneaded the muscles in the back of her thighs, spreading them some more, prolonging the torture. He eased back as he massaged her right butt cheek, moving his left hand to her shoulder. Her breath hitched in anticipation at his actions, but was swiftly changed to a cry when he slammed home roughly, with a shocking slap; she instantly climaxed around him.
The quakes rocked her body roughly, as he held her down by her thigh muscles, keeping them splayed, causing her orgasm to intensify when she instinctively tried to bring them together to ease the explosiveness.
“Good girl,” he murmured encouragingly, before biting her shoulder playfully as he kneaded her butt cheeks. Slowly, he assisted her to her shaking knees, his length still strong and breathtakingly hard within her.
He kissed her neck gently as he reached around to gently mold her breasts. Her neck arched under the skillfulness of his tongue, teeth, and lips; her body quickly ripening once more after a brain-shattering release. She groaned when he reached between her thighs to stroke her very wet pearl. A shiver raked her body when he pulled it between his thumb and index fingers to roll it together, mimicking his fingers on her right nipple.
“Fuck!” She gasped, when he sank a little deeper, reminding her that he was still very much alive within her; the sensitivity of her inner walls caused her to shiver once more.
Carter smiled against her neck. “Oh yeah, that; I could’ve felt that you wanted to be fucked earlier and so I’m obliging now,” he murmured huskily. “This is my turn to reclaim a piece of heaven with you.”
He sucked in a sharp breath when her muscles clenched around his throbbing cock.
“I’m not sure that I can handle another orgasm,” she groaned, as she bucked against him when he pulled her hard knob.
He moved back some to stroke the two pink lips that were kissing his length, and saw them quiver from the top. “You always can take one more, cara, but I’ll make this one quick- for both our sakes,” he groaned. “Count the strokes, sweetheart, so that we can explode together,” he cooed, as he gripped her hips tightly, sinking into her warm, tight passage slowly, a breath hissing between her lips.
Seven hard, and deep strokes later, they collapsed onto the sheets in a tangle of limbs and harsh breathing.
✽✽✽
Rochelle swallowed shakily, as she tried to moisten her parched throat moments later. A slight groan passed her lips when he attempted to turn her onto her back. “Don’t you ever get tired?” She mumbled, and heard him chuckle.
“I was just trying to get you comfortable, so that we can both get some sleep,” he stated lowly as he tucked her back to his front, and even though he wasn’t hard, she could still feel his impressiv
e length digging itself into her spinal column.
With a contented sigh, she snuggled into his overheating body, relishing the rapid beat of his heart between her shoulder blades as his warm breath ruffling the tiny hairs at her ear. “That sounds nice,” she whispered. “I can’t have you too tired for my breakfast snack before work,” she giggled.
A cry ripped from her lips as he spun her over and pressed her into the bed with a now hardening lower body member. Carter frowned when he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes, quickly realizing that her cry hadn’t been one of sweet pleasure, but pain.
Easing back, he noted her flinch and apprehended that his hand had tangled itself with her long mane, aggravating her injury.
“Oh, baby.”
Rochelle watched his eyes soften with regret, after brief anger flashed through them, just as they had when he’d accidentally found the lump while washing her hair in the shower. A sad smile tugged at her lips as she recalled his angry outburst over her treatment by her father, then the tender way he’d bathe her.
She reached up and cupped his cheek gently as a trainer trying to soothe a startled horse. “I’ll be fine, Carter. You just accidentally reminded me that it was there,” she whispered, before running a finger across his bottom lip, trying to distract him. She saw the answering hunger flash through his green eyes, but watched him push it down before lifting a hand to gently brush the strands of hair from her face before easing down and kissing first her temple, then her lips, reverently, careful of the slight cut to one corner.
Rochelle groaned beneath him and arched into his solid frame as she tunneled her fingers through his thick, dark mane. “Carter,” she whispered, as she rejoined her still slightly swollen lips with his, trying to remove the air trapped between their bodies.
Carter gripped her waist to force her into the mattress, tearing his lips from hers. “Baby—baby, you need to rest for your breakfast treat,” he stated, before placing a small kiss on her lips, then attempting to settle beside her.
From A Harlot To A Princess Page 12