Dared to Love (The Billionaire Parker Brothers Book 3)

by Kayla C. Oliver

  I find a medical kit under the sink and take it out. “I’m fine,” he says, pulling away as I reach for him again, but I grab his hand and give him my best I’m in charge look. He relents and gives me his hands.

  “I didn’t want him to follow you,” he says, watching me take out some antibacterial cream. I smear it on the cuts and take out some gauze.

  “But you were protecting yourself, too,” I say, needing him to be honest with me. “You didn’t want people to find out I’d been drinking. You might have gotten charged with supplying a minor.”

  But he shakes his head. “That was such a small part of it. I wanted you to be safe. I knew it was only a matter of time before things escalated with you. He’s got a pattern.” I sense his anger ramping up and know he’s blaming himself.

  “Thank you,” I say as I place the gauze on his knuckles and grab a roll of medical tape. I look up into his eyes. “For making sure I wasn’t the next one,” I say, the words catching in my throat as I realize how close I was to disaster. He’d saved me from something horrible.

  I wind the tape around his hands, feeling tears rising up to choke me. How had I not known? I mean, I had a creep vibe from him; I knew he wasn’t genuine. But I never would have suspected he was as bad as Dakin said he was. And judging by the number of girls who’d hung back to talk to Dakin’s friend who knew the cop, I had a feeling there was a long line of people that had something to say about Jackson’s crimes.

  As I finish wrapping up Dakin’s hands, he reaches out and touches my face, but I can’t look at him. I can’t let him know I’m about to cry. I’m so damn stupid!

  “Hey,” he says softly as I put the tape back in the bag. Both his hands come up to capture my cheeks and I shiver at the sensation of his rough fingers on my face. He tilts my head up and I blink back the tears. But there’s nothing more than worry and warmth in his eyes as he studies me.

  “It’s okay,” he says. Suddenly, he leans in and places his lips on my forehead. My arms slip around his shoulders and I cling to him. He’s warm and safe, reminiscent of home and love.

  His arms come around me and I just cling to him like he can wipe away all the fear, all the humiliation, and all the uncertainty I feel right now. “I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like an idiot. I’m here crying and nothing even really happened to me. Sure, Jackson kind of attacked me, but compared to the other girls, I feel like I’ve got nothing to complain about.

  He didn’t actually get to hurt me. He raped them. I can’t complain about being grabbed by the throat.

  “You’re safe,” Dakin whispers, his lips still on my forehead.

  I pull back and gather up the last remnants of my self-confidence, composure, and strength.

  But Dakin seems bothered. “Don’t close up,” he says gently and I smile at him through the sheen of tears in my eyes.

  “I’m okay,” I say. Because I am. He didn’t rape me. I got lucky, and I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Besides, didn’t I leave the house hoping to go home without my virginity?

  Oh, hell no, I think. I did not just give myself that stupid, victim blaming line that I wouldn’t have dressed that way if I didn’t want to get raped line. Fuck him for making me even go there in my mind.

  “I should have let you kill him,” I whisper.

  Chapter Ten

  Dakin

  I see it in her eyes. She’s blaming herself. But her struggle begins to fade and she looks up at me again. “Why did he think you were going to help him?” she asks, and my heart begins to sink.

  It’s not what she thinks, but I’m certain it’ll look bad no matter how I tell her. So I lie. I’m not proud of it, I feel like shit, like a total asshole for not being honest with her. But I don’t see any good coming from the truth.

  “I was going to help him get home, but I guess it was ambiguous.” There’s a flash in her eyes and I know she knows I’m not being totally honest.

  I take her hand and we leave the bathroom and head back up to my room. Since I know she might decide to leave, I’ve got to go talk to a few of the bodyguards I trust. I’ll have them follow her and keep her safe.

  “Stay here,” I tell her. “Lock the door behind you.”

  She perches on the bed and nods.

  “Do you want to talk to the cops tonight?” I ask, needing to give her the option. She shakes her head and answers in a clear voice that’s unmistakably strong.

  “I’ll give them a statement tomorrow if they even want one from me,” she says, her hand creeping up to her throat. The skin there is a tiny bit red, but I’m not sure it’ll even bruise.

  “There’s enough on him…” I say, knowing that she’s rethinking talking to the cops at all. The girls who are going against him will all build a pretty solid case, I’m sure. And I know the DA. He’ll gladly push to hang Jackson out to dry.

  She nods and I step out. But I don’t walk away until I hear the soft snick of the door lock.

  Downstairs, the party has dimmed a bit, and the girls who needed to talk to Zac are gone. Jake is smiling ear to ear and I know he’s trying to get the party back into swing. Several of the buddies I rock climb with are in the group and I see fresh drinks being poured.

  I walk over to the group I’ll gladly rub shoulders with. Brice lifts his drink in my direction. Jake’s eyeballing me as I take the drink Shane offers me.

  “Damn, man,” Brice says, shaking his head.

  But I’m here to talk to Cliff, who’s standing to my right with a sullen expression. “If she leaves, man, I need you to keep an eye on her.”

  Cliff nods, downing his drink and leaving the group.

  “How’s the other guy look?” Brice asks me, and I shrug.

  “Like hammered shit,” Jake says. He nods at my hands. “Little lady?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at me in a knowing manner.

  I nod, not willing to talk about it.

  And I see it, that moment where the guys look at each other and glance at me. They fucking know.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Brice says, and I feel anger rising up.

  “Stay the fuck away from her,” I growl, knowing what Brice would do to a pretty girl like her. He might be my friend, but she’s just a sweet, unassuming girl and I’ll kill him.

  He nods, and I know I’ve failed the test.

  “It’s not like that,” I say, needing them to know I just feel responsible for her while she’s here, in my house, and tipsy. “She’s been drinking and she’s not thinking straight.”

  The guys nod, but Brice is looking at the ground, Shane’s looking past me, and Jake’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “You can’t get attached, man,” Jake says, and I shake my head.

  “I’m not.”

  But Shane lets out a low, gruff laugh that makes me want to smash his face in. “Attached? She’s got you hook, line, and sinker.” He pats my shoulder. “I’ll see ya again, never.”

  “Bullshit,” I say, hating the joke that if I’m with a girl, they’ll never see me again because she’ll rule my life. “Are we going out climbing this weekend?” I ask, needing to steer this sinking ship another direction.

  “We are,” Brice says, elbowing Shane as he chokes on his drink, “You’re gonna be under the whip.” He mimes cracking a whip and I feel my jaw clench.

  “Fuck off,” I mutter before leaving the circle. I don’t need their shit. Today has been terrible enough. We might be friends, I might trust them with my life, but clearly they’re all blind mother fuckers if they think I’m in love.

  As I head back toward the stairs, I wonder where Cliff went. Likely outside. If he’s not watching her, he’ll be contacting someone to do so. But he’ll handle it. That’s why I asked him. So I turn and head outside, hoping to bump into him.

  He’s out on the bench beside the house with his phone in his hands. But he’s aware of me. I know it in the change in his body language. He’s a big guy. He’s well over six feet, with dark hair and olive skin. He blends in, oth
er than his height.

  Somehow he can melt into a crowd and just fit in. It’s a talent he uses to his advantage. But what unsettles people who don’t know him is how quiet he is. He just listens and rarely speaks unless he’s got something real to offer.

  I sit beside him and pull my phone from my pocket.

  “What’s the worry?” he asks me quietly and I choose my words carefully.

  “Jackson attacked her. She’s been drinking and is… was intent on losing her virginity.” I know he’s turning his head to look at me out of the corner of his eyes, but I don’t meet his stare. “I’m not a piece of shit,” I say, hating that I even have to explain myself. “With everything that’s happened, I’m not sure she’s still feeling like getting laid.”

  But Cliff says nothing and I wonder if I’m just projecting my worry onto him. Since when do I second guess myself and what people think about me like this?

  She’s fucking messing with my head.

  Chapter Eleven

  Camille

  All the stress is weighing on me. I feel it crushing my soul and I want to relax. But with Dakin gone – even with the door locked – I feel like I’m in danger. What if Jackson comes back to finish what he started? Will I ever feel safe again?

  Putting my head in my hands, I take a few deep breaths.

  I’m okay. The cops would have arrested Jackson. With all the girls stepping up to tell their stories of him, there’s no way he’s not sitting behind bars right now. Right?

  As I calm myself down, I realize how tired I am. My brain is struggling against my body. My body wants to sleep, but my brain is running a million miles a minute.

  But I know that tomorrow, in the light of day, all of this will look a hell of a lot less terrifying and a lot less ugly.

  The thought of Dakin’s face as we talked in the bathroom swims back to the edge of my mind. There’d been something so broken in him, something so raw and frightening. But he’d also told me he’d never hurt me.

  And I trust him.

  Maybe I’m crazy. Scratch that, I am absolutely crazy. But something about him just digs at me. The way he studies me, the way he seems to look right through me into my very soul… it just makes me sure there’s so much more to him than I thought in the beginning.

  And he’s every inch the bad boy I thought he was… to a point.

  Then again, what kind of bad boy has a girl practically fawning all over him and begging him to fuck her and just says no because she’s been drinking? That sounds oddly like someone who’s a good person.

  Throwing myself back on his bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Overhead, I see stars beyond the skylight and wonder what it would be like to have him right here beside me.

  The confines of the dress are feeling like a bit too much. But I’m reminded how very sexy I feel as I look down and see the flesh of my tits struggling to escape the plunging neckline. In this foreign place, I’m suddenly excited like I’ve never been before.

  This is Dakin’s bedroom. A place where he’s undoubtedly fucked plenty of girls. But instead of being grossed out, my body hums to life. What if I was one of them?

  Better yet, what if I was the last one?

  Fuck it, it’s my fantasy, I’m going all out on it.

  Studying the stars overhead, I run a hand down my flat belly and let my fingertips trace the gentle jut of my hip bone.

  What would it feel like if they were his hands? How would Dakin touch me? Would he be gentle as if worried he might break me? Would he be rough and demanding? My hips tilt as my fingers find the bare skin of my thigh and inch up, tickling, teasing, and leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

  Tracing over the top of my thigh toward the delicate flesh if my inner leg, I run them up as if to touch my pussy, but fall short. There’s no coming back from this. If I get off to him right here in his bed, right now while he could walk in, I’m never going to live it down if he walks in.

  Then again, if he walks in, maybe he’ll put me out of my misery.

  I can live through a little humiliation. I’ve lived through worse, right?

  My fingers slide sexily on the moisture between the folds of my pussy. It’s delicious, and I hear the sound of how wet I am as I touch and explore. All the while, I see Dakin in my mind’s eye. I can imagine him over me, teasing me with his fingers to prepare me for more, for him.

  A moan breaks from my lips as my body hums to life. Sensations crash from everywhere in contrary waves. My belly tightens and my hips buck into my hand as if I’m just going too slowly.

  Pressing my eyes closed, I whimper and bite down on my lower lip. I don’t want anyone to hear me. That would be worse than him walking in on me.

  Not that him walking in on me would be a bad thing, judging by how my body responds to the thought with more moisture and a burst of pleasure in my belly.

  With my free hand, I tug the neckline of the dress and let my tits free of the confines they’ve been imprisoned behind. Their pale complexion is broken by a few scattered freckles and the dusky rose coloring of my nipples.

  My hard nipples.

  Damn, I guess this fantasy is better than I imagined. With my free hand, I squeeze one of my nipples and choke back a yelp of pain and pleasure at the sensation. My fingers find my clit and I work quick circles around the delicate button.

  The dress covers nothing that should be covered now. It’s just hiding my belly and ribs while my tits and pussy are on display. And it’s fucking sexy.

  Rubbing my clit with one hand, I continue teasing my nipples to tight little points while struggling to keep my noise to a minimum. Every tweak of my nipple sends sparks of pleasure bolting straight to my core.

  And my fingers move faster as the pleasure begins to increase and increase. Fuck, would he lick me? Taste me? Tease me to orgasm before finally deciding to take the disgraceful stigma of virginity from me?

  Sucking in a shuddering breath, I feel my belly coiling up tight and my hips begin to jolt as I reach the edge of orgasm and teeter cruelly. It’s incredible torture, the best and worst thing I’ve ever experienced, and all I want is to just come.

  Suddenly it all crashes over me as Dakin’s name leaves my lips. My teeth slice through my lower lip and I taste the sharp metallic bite of blood as everything in me hits overdrive. I feel faint, on the edge of something great, and my core is a coiled spring ready to release.

  And shockwaves explode out from my core in an intense circus of pleasure. Moans and Dakin’s name leave my lips over and over, quietly, but so loud to my ears I’m both afraid and exhilarated that he’ll hear me and know I’m in his bed, thinking about him fucking me.

  And that I’m coming while thinking of him.

  As the twitching of my core wrenches every last bit of breath from my lungs, I suddenly see the stars overhead again. It’s as if the world had faded out slowly without my notice and suddenly blinked back in.

  The clenching of my pussy begins to slow and my whole body relaxes as I just stare out the skylight. I feel wicked and delicious, sexy and spent, exhausted and ready to be gathered up in Dakin’s arms.

  But he’s not here. My fantasy dissolves, but my resolve to find out if the man measures up to the fantasy solidifies in my mind.

  Slowly, my breaths begin to return to normal and I feel my eyelids growing heavy as the world begins to drift off into darkness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dakin

  Whatever’s got me so worked up over her has got to be in my head. Or maybe it has something to do with her plot to get me to fuck her. Whatever it is, I need to get her out of my system. I’ll wait until tomorrow when I won’t have to worry about my conscious screaming that I’ve taken advantage of her.

  But for now, I’m going to check on her. I need to know she’s okay. I need to know it with every ounce of my being because I know I’ll never forgive myself if something bad happens to her while I promised she’d be safe. She’s in my house, under my care, I need to know she’s alright.<
br />
  At my bedroom door, I try the handle. It’s locked. Instead of knocking like a normal person might do, I’m compelled to force it. It’s like something deep within me is taking over and the part of my brain in charge of rational thought is simply away on vacation.

  The door releases with an almost inaudible sound. The handle turns easily in my hand and I peek in on her.

  And the scene I see is enough to instantly have my cock at attention and my whole body intent on joining her. She’s sprawled back on my bed, legs spread, fingers on her pussy, tits pointing to the ceiling and her eyes closed.

  She’s fucking sexy and I want to destroy her.

  “Dakin,” she moans and my cock strains against my pants as I back out of the room and close the door, certain she didn’t hear or see me.

  Standing there, feeling my heart pump in my chest and feeling the thump of my pulse in my cock, I’m struggling against the urge to burst back in and fuck her.

  I’m not controlled by my cock.

  But she’s in there, thinking about me while she fingers her sweet pussy.

  She’s also been drinking.

  But said she wasn’t drunk. She’s not drunk!

  It’s worth the risk.

  I’d never forgive myself.

  Pulling my arm off the wall, I resist the urge to strike out and smash my knuckles through the drywall. Before I can do something I’ll regret, I turn and walk down the hall.

  Like I’m wasted myself, I stumble down the stairs, not even caring if I make a noise now. Downstairs, the party is back in full force. Music thumps and lights flash, creating still snapshots of pretty girls moving in time to the beats.

  As I step off the last step, two pretty blonds instantly flank me, each leaning into me like I’m the one person they’ve been waiting for all night.

  But I want them gone.

  I want Camille.

  Still, some caveman throwback part of my brain promises that if I fuck these girls, I’ll be calm for Camille. Hell, it’ll allow me to be more gentle when I fuck her. When I take her god damned virginity. Fuck, it sounds nuts, like some stupid fluffy chick flick. Some annoying rom-com I wouldn’t watch unless I needed some noise to sleep through.