“Yeah,” Caitlin says. “Thanks for the ride, Dad. And thanks for, you know, not sending some hired goons after Kenny. Even if he deserves it.”
“He does deserve it,” Solomon growls. “But you know me, Caitie-kins. I’m a picture of self-control.”
Caitlin rolls her eyes and climbs from the car.
I glance over at Solomon briefly, trying to read the message in his face. I wonder if he feels the same as me, this warring certainty and uncertainty like everything’s going to work out and everything’s going to combust at the same time.
How can I be so sure of both outcomes?
“Thanks for the ride, sir,” I say.
I can’t help adding the sir.
His jaw tenses and a smirk touches his lips. Hunger flares visibly inside of him, making his body tense. His eyes are twin green flames in the rearview mirror.
“No problem, Miss Clarkson,” he says.
I climb from the car, my heart pounding a beat, traitorous thoughts whispering through my mind.
“What do you feel like this evening?” Caitlin asks, looping her arm through mine as we head toward her apartment building.
It’s one of the fanciest high rises in town, the lobby all pristine marble. A doorman in a suit – Alonso, the same man who’s been stationed at the door since she moved in – tips his hat and opens the glass door for us.
“I don’t mind,” I tell her. “I’ll have whatever you like.”
Whatever you want, Caitlin, I feel like screaming. I’ll do whatever it takes so you don’t hate me.
I end up staying the night at Caitlin’s, calling Mom to arrange a change of clothes for me. Caitlin sends one of Solomon’s guards to collect it. It’s just one of the perks of being a billionaire’s daughter.
And what about being a billionaire’s wife? a voice hisses in my mind.
I shut that thought down as I drop onto the guest bed, lying back and staring up at the ceiling. We’ve spent the evening binging TV and eating pizza, and now I feel bloated and tired.
My eyelids are heavy from my first day at Solomon Sky Digital, and yet I find that true exhaustion dances away from me.
Over and over – relentlessly – my mind returns to the scene in the garage.
I remember the way he stood over me when I was bottomless, the fierceness of his eyes, the way his gaze seemed to consume me so that I felt like the only woman alive.
Did I dream it?
I can’t possibly have done something so sexual and heated with Caitlin’s dad, the man I’ve fantasized about for more years than I could ever admit to my best friend.
I stand up and walk into the ensuite, brushing my teeth and then returning to bed. I strip down to my underwear and climb under the covers, rolling over and closing my eyes, trying to banish traitorous thoughts of Solomon from my mind.
My pussy twinges any time I relive the way his tongue seared across my sex, the passion in the firmness of his hands on my thighs.
I bite down, knowing it’s wrong even as I do it, sliding my hand down my belly and toward my sex.
I’ve touched myself to thoughts of Solomon before, but this is different.
This is based on something that actually happened.
I smile widely when I remember him softly pinching my cheek, smirking at me.
Does it feel real, my little dreamer?
Yes, it felt real. It felt like the most real thing I’ve ever done.
I’m about to slide my hand under my panties when there’s a knock at the door, woodpecker-like, frantic, and anxious.
“Soph?” Caitlin calls. “I’m sorry. Are you asleep?”
“N-no,” I say, voice faltering.
There’s no way she can know what I was about to do, is there?
God, this is such a mess.
“Can’t sleep?” I say, raising my voice.
“Can’t stop thinking about that asshole,” she says. “I was wondering if we could hang like old times?”
“Sure,” I say. “Just let me put on some PJs.”
“Okay, awesome. I’ll make us some cocoa?”
“Sounds great.”
I go to the dresser drawers at the far end of the room and find my PJs. I stay over here quite often, so I’ve got hanging-out clothes and pajamas here, but nothing professional enough for the office tomorrow.
As I open the drawer, I have to fight hard to ignore the compelling urge that tears its way through me, roaring deafeningly in my mind, telling me to get back to bed and bring myself to a soul-searing orgasm as I think of Solomon.
I get changed just as Caitlin returns with the cocoa and some blankets and pillows. She grins as she carries them across the room, placing them on the small table in the corner.
“We haven’t had a sleepover for ages,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Should we watch a movie?”
“If you want,” I tell her.
She tilts her head at me, her dark hair framing her face. She looks younger than normal without any makeup on. Unlike me, she usually applies a liberal shield of it.
That’s her word. Shield. Protecting herself from the harsh glare of the world.
“Why are you being so weird?” she says.
“Huh?” I reply, turning away from her as I collect my cocoa from the table.
But I can feel her gaze on my back, her question hanging in the air for a moment.
I turn back to find her with her eyebrow cocked in that knowing way of hers. Ever since we were kids, she’s been able to tell when I’m not being completely upfront with her.
It’s one of her most endearing and, right now, annoying traits.
“Soph,” she says. “Don’t bullshit me. Did something happen at work?”
I’d laugh at that statement if it wasn’t so terrifying.
I imagine how her face would change from playful and inquisitive to unchecked hate if I told her the truth.
Did something happen at work, Cait?
Everything happened at work.
“Because if somebody was mean to my bestie, you know I’ll slit his throat, right?”
“His throat?” I say, trying for a joking tone as I join her on the bed. “Who’s to say it’s a man?”
“So there is someone, then? What did they do?”
I shake my head, taking a sip of my cocoa as a distraction.
That’s a mistake.
It’s still boiling hot, scalding my tongue.
I gasp and quickly place it on the bedside table.
“See,” Caitlin says. “That’s proof right there. You’d rather burn your tongue than tell me the truth.”
“It’s … nothing. I met a man, sort of. Nothing’s going to come of it, but—”
“But nothing,” Caitlin cuts in, grinning broadly. “This is amazing news. What’s he like?”
I suppress a groan. I don’t know why I even mentioned anything. Maybe I think I can partly absolve myself if I share this half-truth with her. But now it’s just making me feel sick, my belly swirling.
“He’s pretty cool, I guess,” I murmur.
She narrows her eyes at me.
“No, not pretty cool,” she says. “You’re forgetting how long we’ve known each other. Whoever this is, my very mysterious friend, I think he may have made you smitten.”
“I am not smitten,” I giggle as if for a moment I can make myself believe we’re not talking about her dad.
She laughs, leaning over and shoving me playfully.
“You are very clearly smitten,” she says. “Well, if you don’t want to tell me any more about it, that’s fine. But I’m happy you’ve got your eye on someone. I was starting to worry you’d end up like Dad.”
She cradles her cocoa and brings it to her face, inhaling the steam.
Worry spikes jaggedly through me.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Alone,” she sighs. “Not even looking for love. After Mom left, Dad sort of just stayed still. Don’t get me wrong. He works his butt off to m
ake his company something he can be proud of. He’s great with his employees. But I’ve always felt like there’s something missing.”
“I guess he loved your mom a lot, then,” I murmur.
She rarely talks about her mom walking out. It’s one of the only things about her I don’t know intimately.
“You know,” she says, “I don’t think he did.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know.” She pauses, blowing on her cocoa. “It’s just when she left, I never saw him upset, or angry, or anything like that. He was just concerned for me, for how she betrayed me. He never spoke about how much it had hurt him.”
“Maybe he just keeps it to himself?”
“Maybe,” she says. “But I don’t think so. I don’t know if Dad has ever been in love, really.”
I repress a shiver, half fear, and half delight.
Could I be the one to break down Solomon Sky’s emotional barricades?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Solomon
I try to focus on my work the next morning, smiling in all the right places in conference calls, writing all the correct things in reports.
But everything I do is clouded by her, my woman, my obsession.
I pace over to the giant windows and look down upon the city.
The midday sun hangs brightly in the sky, the first hint that summer is truly on the way, that winter is finally behind us. It’s been bitter cold in the winter this year, icy and jagged.
It’s almost as if the weather knows the change happening within me, bathing the city in yellow heavenly light as a sign of the transformation Sophia is triggering inside of me.
Goddamn, that sounds like some second-rate poetry bullshit.
And yet I can’t smirk it away how I normally would.
The idea lingers and expands in my mind, ringing with the tenor of truth, telling me that I’m always going to be bound to this woman no matter what I do.
“Why does she have to be Caitlin’s best friend?” I sigh, shaking my head and turning back to my desk.
I rest my fists against it, my jaw pulsating.
It’s twelve-thirty. Surely that proves I’m not a complete animal, that I’ve at least tried to resist the urge to call my woman up here.
I just need to see her, to drink in her curvaceous beauty with my eyes.
I laugh drily at the thought.
As if just taking a look at Sophia will ever be enough.
I’m just telling myself convenient lies so I don’t feel like the worst dad in the world for what I’m going to do with Sophia—what I have to do with her.
All last night, sleep danced away from me as thoughts of her thick, gorgeous legs invaded my mind, as I remembered the way she shivered and moaned and then finally screamed, gyrating on the hood of my car.
Deep inside of me, a primal need grows and expands, pulsing like a dance song, frenetic energy consuming every inch of my body.
I didn’t even get a chance to tell her what she really means to me.
What if she’s down there right now, flirting with one of her colleagues because she doesn’t understand who she belongs to?
It wouldn’t be a good look, the CEO marching down there and tooling up one of his employees for the crime of hitting on his lady.
I walk around my desk and drop into the chair, interlocking my fingers, squeezing tight so I can feel the tension in my knuckles. I want to roar as my need for her spirals through me, endlessly, my seed rioting and making my balls tight and heavy.
She’s a virgin, untouched, innocent, naive, young, and mine, only mine.
Forever.
I reach over to my intercom and press the button.
“Peter,” I say, “please send up Sophia Clarkson.”
My little virgin must have some idea of what she’s doing to me. She must know wearing a skirt that hugs her hips so closely is going to cause feral thoughts to rise and flare inside of me.
My eyes are drawn to the way she moves those thick tempting hips from side to side. She’s wearing a white shirt, buttoned up almost all the way to the top. But there’s one button that shows the barest slice of her chest, just a hint, a promise, and it makes me want to tear it open and send the buttons flying.
I need to taste those breasts, to suck on them until her nipples are pert and achy and hungry for more.
She stops at the edge of the desk. She’s wearing her hair around her shoulders today, cascading waves of it begging to be touched and caressed.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” she says, a subtle smile playing at her lips.
Her shyness tries to make her features submissive, but the fiery goddess in her won’t allow it. I wonder if she’s driven by the same primal forces as me if her womb is screaming as loudly as my seed roars.
“Wanted?” I snarl, rising to my feet.
I walk around the desk slowly, perhaps to give myself time to stop, to do the right thing, and remember Caitlin.
Sophia twitches with my every footstep, causing her beautiful thick body to undulate alluringly. Her breasts are large and round and perfect in that tight shirt, bulging, making the base of my cock flood with tension.
“Wanted,” I say again, walking up behind her, “doesn’t even come fucking close.”
She turns her face to me but keeps her body aimed toward the desk. It makes me think of how she’ll look when I fuck her from behind, driving up between those big ass cheeks, making them bounce and shimmer with her release.
“Solomon,” she murmurs.
“Don’t Solomon me,” I snap. “Don’t come in here looking like sex on legs, wearing that tight-as-fuck shirt and that mind-fucking skirt, don’t call me sir, knowing how crazy it makes me … Don’t do all of that, my sweet Sophia, and expect me to do nothing in return.”
She gasps when I bring my hand to her ass, squeezing hard. My cock gives another compulsive surge at how much of her there is to grab, the full bounty of her body.
I lean forward and bring my face close to her cheek, my lips brushing against her skin.
“I could make you cream like a good obedient virgin right now,” I snarl. “And then you’d be forced to spend the rest of your workday sticky with lust.”
She moans, shifting against my hand, as though she can’t stop the lust from directing her movements.
“That wouldn’t be very professional,” she purrs, grinding against my hand.
“Look at you,” I snarl. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“No,” she sighs. “Oh, God. No, it feels so good.”
I force myself to step away from her, removing my hand. It takes all the effort I have to give.
A piece of me shatters and roars at the break in contact, demanding to know just what the hell I’m doing.
She’s right there, the primal part of me roars. Put a baby in her right now. That’s what she was made for. That’s what she needs.
“Look at me, Sophia,” I demand.
She turns, presenting her flushed cheeks, the deep red spreading over her neck and disappearing into the collar of her shirt. I suppress a groan when I think about her breasts turning that same color after I palm them, massage them, tease and please them.
“You need to know the full extent of us,” I tell her. “You need to know just exactly what you mean to me.”
She bites her lip, causing another surge of instinct to whelm up inside of me.
Every moment with her is like fighting a battle—a battle not to grab her, tackle her, handle her roughly and bend her over and fuck her until she’s gasping and shivering.
“I don’t understand,” she says.
I stalk forward until I’m looming over her until she seems small and fragile.
“I own you,” I growl. “You belong to me. That’s what I meant when I said I’m the only man you’re ever going to sleep with. For the rest of our lives, you’re my property. I own your cunt, your tits, your ass, your talent. If there’s such a thing as a soul, I own that, too.
“You’re never going to flirt with another man. You’re never going to look at another man in a way I don’t like. Everything you are, Sophia, is mine. I could throw you on this desk and take your needy virgin slit for the rest of the day if I wanted to. The only reason I’m not is because I want your first time to mean something. I want you to be ready.”
Her eyes widen and she tilts her head at me.
“Is this a trick?” she murmurs.
“A trick?” I snap. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“It’s a simple question,” she shoots back, admirable fierceness shimmering in her voice. “You know how crazy that all sounds, right? We only met yesterday. Well, sure, you’ve known me since I was a little girl. But I’m assuming you never looked at me like that back then.”
I shake my head quickly.
“Of course not,” I say. “No offense, my little dreamer, but you were invisible to me until yesterday. But that doesn’t matter. I know it. I feel it in my damn bones. You’re going to give me children, Sophia. You’re going to give me a family. You’re going to do any damn thing I want. And I’m going to make all your dreams come true. So get used to it.”
CHAPTER NINE
Sophia
He’s getting that look again, his eyes brimming with fire, his lips twisted into a savage smirk. His muscles seem to throb against the steel-colored fabric of his suit, his open shirt collar revealing the ridged surface of the top of his pecs.
Every part of him is tense and ready to erupt.
“Children?” I murmur.
An ember of hope flickers to life inside of me, smoldering, begging to be coaxed and awakened to a deeper burning.
I want to believe, and yet all of this is spinning me around and around like a mad fever dream, and any second I just know I’m going to wake up.
Solomon Sky, the man I’ve crushed on since I was a kid – the man I used to dream about having babies with – wants to fulfill my wildest fantasies?
“Did I stutter?” he grins wolfishly, moving even closer so I can smell his cologne and his primal just-Solomon scent. “When I saw you yesterday, I knew I had to put a baby in you. Your body is perfect for it. You’re perfect for it. I can’t explain it, not with reason. All I know is it feels—”
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