Lured In (Dark Paradise, #1)

by Avent, V. R.

  “I’ll see you later?” I asked.

  “Of course. Dinner at your place at seven?”

  “I was thinking later. After Gabrielle goes to bed.”

  “Are you using me for sex, Ms. Winterfield?” he asked, smirking.

  “No. I don’t feel comfortable bringing anyone around my daughter. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I understand. But at some point, I would like to meet her to get her final approval on things.”

  “Approval on things like what?” I asked, frowning.

  He smiled, kissed me good-bye again, and said, “See you later.”

  Chapter Ten

  Zach called my cell around 10:12 p.m. to ask if Gabrielle was asleep. He was three minutes away, and I checked myself in the mirror one final time before going downstairs to let him in. Sure enough, he was there waiting with all smiles and looking mighty fine. He had on the infamous cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. I look down at the shorts and smiled.

  “Who let you up?” I asked him when he came in.

  “I let myself up,” he said, pulling me into his embrace.

  “Damn, you smell so good,” I blurted out. It was the first thing that came to my mind. And it was the truth. He smelled so good. “Um, I mean how did you let yourself up?”

  He blushed and thanked me for the comment.

  “And how did you let yourself up?” I asked him again as we walked to the sofa.

  “Abi, I live in P3,” he said, contorting his face. He must have been waiting for me to call him a stalker or flip out.

  I was surprised, but I waved it off and acted as if it didn’t bother me.

  “Since when? This past Thursday?” I joked, flopping down on the sofa.

  “No,” he replied, laughing, as he wasn’t offended by the joke.

  “How long?” I asked again. He kissed me and started heading for my neck. I pushed him away. “Quit stalling and stop pacifying me. How long, Zach?”

  “Since I bought the building seven years ago, when I was twenty-two.”

  “Oh. So you own this building, huh? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I don’t know, Abi, but I hope I don’t have to regret not telling you sooner.”

  “Do you own the building or does your family?”

  “I personally own this building and eight more. I also own a few others residential buildings with my family, but they mainly own government and commercial office buildings.”

  “Any chance the other building you own is where my other property is?”

  Surprised, he asked, “Do you own another penthouse?”

  “Not a penthouse, just a two-bedroom condo near Chinatown, on Massachusetts Avenue, near the office.”

  He admitted that he and his family own most of the luxury apartments and condos in that area, as well as some of the commercial buildings. “So why two residences?” he asked.

  “My grandparents bought the condo for me when I was sixteen—it was a baby shower gift.”

  “I had no idea, Abi.”

  “I guess you should fire Stan for not getting the real goods on me,” I said jokingly.

  “I think I should. And I’m not laughing.”

  “Ah, come on, Zach. Don’t be like that. He did what you told him to do.”

  “No, he didn’t, otherwise I would know these things.”

  “You told him to give you everything on Abigail Winterfield. Not Abigail MacArthur. Therefore, he did what you told him to do.”

  “MacArthur?”

  “Yes, my mother’s maiden name. My original last name, before my mom and dad got married. Abigail MacArthur is only used when associated with my grandparents.”

  Zach looked at me, confused, and I explained to him that my grandfather had refused to let my mom and dad give me the Winterfield moniker unless they were married. And since they married a year after I was born, I was originally given my mother’s maiden name, MacArthur, which was changed to Winterfield when I was nearly two. Zach pulled me closer and kissed me.

  “Abigail Marie MacArthur,” he said, looking at me with a clever smile.

  “And don’t you go investigating Abigail MacArthur, either,” I said, pointing my left index finger at him, which he took a bite at.

  “I wouldn’t dare do such. Only stalkers do things like that,” he said before pulling me on top of him.

  He looked up at me as I straddled him and complimented me on how well I wore ZAM’s lingerie. He said, “I should fire ZAM’s models for not doing my brand any justice like you have.”

  I jokingly said, “I will model your lingerie.” His face turned into a grimace at the thought.

  “No one is allowed to see how beautiful and sexy you are in lingerie. It’s for me and me only. Got it?

  “Got it. And for the record, I was only joking. I wouldn’t dare show my body off to anyone.”

  “Good.”

  He gently and patiently caressed my face and studied my mouth with his tongue. I felt his body warming beneath me as my own blood began to rush. He asked if it was safe to go upstairs to my bedroom. I got off of him and walked up the stairs. He was fast behind me, grabbing at my backside, and I locked the door behind us. He pulled me into him by my waist and removed my yellow lace camisole, followed by my matching cheeky panties. I removed his shirt, kissed his neck, and then worked my way down to his chest. We kissed again as I unbuttoned his cargo shorts, releasing his erection from its confinement. He stepped out of the shorts, bent down to take some condoms from his pocket, and touched between my thighs. I was wet and ready. I gyrated my hips to further relay how ready I was. He got on his knees, wrapped his hands around my waist, and began to lick, kiss, and nibble at my stomach. He inserted his warm tongue inside my belly button as he reached down to my rear and inserted one of his fingers in my wet folds. He looked up at me, I looked down at him, and he began to taste my wet sweetness. He worked his tongue just as superbly as he did his finger inside of me.

  My knees began to tremble, and he stopped. He got up and led me to the bed. He handed me one of the condoms and asked me to open it. I opened the packet gently and handed it back to him, leaving the condom inside, as he lay on the bed. He ordered me to straddle his face and put the condom on him while he continued feasting on my sweetness. I complied. I straddled his face and leaned forward to put the condom on his erection. But instead of putting the condom on I used my lips. We began to pleasure each other orally. I enjoyed very much the amazing feeling he gave me when he pulled my outer lips apart and sucked my swollen clit, softly and then with escalating force. He licked, sucked, and bit my clit with the right variation and friction. I was sure he enjoyed how I mirrored his actions with my long, sensual strokes and sucking and licking. The closer I got to releasing my pleasure, the more I engulfed his erection down my throat to entice him to continue. He let me know he enjoyed what I was doing and was close to his own release when he bit down and sucked on my clit, making circles with his neck and head with great friction. When he was as close to releasing his pleasure as I was, he grasped my ass cheeks and embedded his nails deep into them. We moaned over each other’s sex and gyrated our hips against each other’s mouths as we intensely climaxed together.

  I lay down beside him afterward, and he pulled me to him close and tight. I grabbed his right hand, raised it to my mouth, and kissed it softly. We lay there panting and eyeing each other.

  “Oh Abi, baby. Only you. Only you, baby.”

  “Only me what?”

  “You’re the only one who knows how to satisfy me fully,” he said, kissing my lips.

  I smiled and asked, “Do I really please you?”

  He reiterated, “Only you, baby. You are the only one who satisfies me completely and makes me hungry for more of you at the same time.”

  “I never knew pleasure until I met you,” I said, interlocking my soft, manicured hand with his big, strong hand.

  “I promised you pleasure and satisfaction, and I am a man of my word, Abi.”

 
“And that you are!” I agreed.

  He got quiet for a while and stared at me, and I saw that he wanted to ask me something.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He propped himself up onto his elbows, placed his strong yet gentle hands on either side of my face, and asked, “Who raped you, Abigail?”

  All the air left my lungs, and I tried to pull away from him, but he pulled me closer.

  Oh fuck. Oh God, no. Not now. I can’t do this now. Not like this. Not after this. What…why would he ask this right now? Oh God, I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

  “Breathe, Abigail, breathe. Baby, calm down and breathe. Look…Abi, look at me, baby.”

  I finally exhaled, surrendering and sobbing into his chest. He whispered and kissed my hair. After some time, I pulled my face away from his chest, though tears still flowed from my eyes. He kissed and wiped away every tear I shed.

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Abigail. I need to know who. I want to kill him.”

  I felt his grip tighten, and he sighed deeply. He kissed the side of my head and kept his lips there.

  “Did Henry do this to you?” he asked in a low, calm voice. That name was like an electric wire to my body. I gasped and sat up on my legs to stare at him in shock. My breathing was labored again.

  Why would he say that name? How does he know? What does he know? Who told him?

  “Oh, God, Abi. I’ll kill him!” He jumped from the bed. Although I hadn’t said anything, my labored breathing and the look on my face were enough confirmation that Henry—Dr. Epps—had indeed violated me.

  Dr. Henry Epps, aka Dr. “Rape” Epps, had been my psychiatrist. He was of average height and weight and had kind of a triangular-looking face with pale skin. He had long black hair, brown eyes, and a well-groomed goatee. His appearance and initial encounter didn’t look like or say “predator” at all. My parents had sent me to Dr. Epps, DC’s most highly respected and well known psychiatrist, when I was fifteen. Dr. Epps had a remarkable reputation in the area and throughout the country for helping lost, confused, and misguided people. Dr. Rape Epps was a monster. Over the course of my sessions with him, he had falsely diagnosed me with Histrionic Personality Disorder (HPD), Dissociative Disorder, Delusional Disorder, and a slew of Cluster A, B, and C diagnoses to mask the fact that he had violated me. The end result of all of his torture was excessive weight gain, lack of self-esteem, self-consciousness issues, lack of trust in relationships, and eventually depression.

  Zach grabbed his phone from his shorts pocket and called a number from his contact list. He sat down beside me, pulled me to his side, and began to rub my right arm and kiss my hair.

  “Do you have the rest of the info on Henry? No? What the hell is taking you so damn long?” he yelled in the phone. He continued before the recipient of his fury could answer. “You have until tomorrow morning to get me every goddamn thing on that bastard. I want every file from his office computers, his home computers, his tablet, his mistresses’ computers and tablets, and whatever else you can think of. I want to know when he sneezed and when he even wiped his ass. You got that?”

  The male voice on the other end told Zach that he needed more time.

  “How much more fucking time do you need? You’ve been working on this long enough.”

  Zach continued to rub my arm and place tender kisses in my hair while the voice pleaded for at least a week to gather and confirm his findings.

  “A fucking week? Are you kidding me? Ah, come on. You’re killing me, Stan. Just send me the new stuff you got on him, and hurry with this. I want this son of a bitch gutted like the pig he is.”

  Ending the call, he pulled the bedding back and ushered me under. He curled up behind me, pulled the bedding over our naked bodies, and held me tight. He kissed the back and side of my head and whispered in my right ear, “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I promise you that I will take care of Dr. Henry Epps if it’s the last thing I do.”

  I took a deep breath, pulled his right arm closer around me, and pushed my body closer to his for security and comfort. “The first session I had with him went really well. I had—”

  “No, Abigail. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to tell me what happened. Not now. Just get some rest, and we can talk about it another day.”

  I ignored him and continued, “The first session I had with him went really well. I had told Dr. Epps about the rape and how my parents didn’t believe—”

  “Oh God, Abigail, no!” He tightened his grip around me once more. “Abi, you don’t have to talk about this tonight. Let’s go to bed and finish this conversation later.”

  “I need to tell you, Zach. Please. Let me tell you.”

  He turned me to face him, softly kissed my lips, put his forehead to mine, and said, “Baby, it’s killing me knowing that someone else raped you also. I…I…I can’t. It’s…It’s too much, Abi. It’s too much for one night, baby.”

  We lay there face-to-face, silent and still. Everything had synchronized. His heartbeats became mine, and my breaths his. Our souls became one.

  Zach kissed me good morning at 5:36 a.m. I reached out and grabbed his face with my left hand, and he drew that hand to his mouth and kissed it. I smiled and looked at him, and he smiled back and said, “You will be forever safe with me.”

  I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. I leaned my upper body close to his and began kissing him gently behind his left ear. I used my teeth to tease his skin before licking and sucking his neck. Feeling playful, I kept my kisses languid until his blood began rushing. He flushed and started moaning and roaming his hands up and down my back. His dick was instantly erect beneath me. I reached over and grabbed one of the condoms from the nightstand, seductively tearing away at the corner of the wrapping with my teeth while burning my gaze into his eyes.

  I whispered, “I want you,” in his right ear while I enclosed his erection in the condom.

  Slowly inserting him inside of me, we both sighed at the welcome sensation. I seized his tongue with my mouth as I began to move my hips back and forth. I held nothing back when I had control of the moment. I kissed, licked, and sucked his ears, mouth, neck, throat, and chest. I moved my hips in a figure eight and the numbers of my birth date and even spelled our names. I listened to every utter that left his mouth and felt his needs and desires. I learned what moves made him moan loudly and which made him moan softly. I discovered what made him pant, grasp my hips with force, pull my body completely onto his, and dig his nails deep in my flesh as his eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy. With a slight change in position, I squatted over him, crouching on my feet that were planted firmly on either side of him. He grabbed my ankles while I squeezed my love muscle tightly and moved up and down, gyrating my hips in many variations of movements and speed. He pulled me forward and grabbed my shoulders to thrust up into me until we both released in a fervid climax.

  I got to work at 8:45 a.m., and Timmie was already there with my favorite, a large cup of hot chocolate and a warm croissant with cream cheese from Chinatown Coffee Co. We went into the break room, where several staff had gathered. Most of them were staff from Health Choice and began whispering when we entered.

  “Is there something I can enlighten you with?” I asked them with raised eyebrows.

  They got quiet while Timmie and I continued on, until one of the guys broke the silence with, “Did you really silence Mr. McConnallay yesterday morning?”

  I turned around, amused, and asked, “Silenced? What compelled you to choose that term?”

  “Well, rumor has it he was unlike any Zach McConnallay we know when you stood up in his face and held nothing back. We heard you gave him a piece of your mind, threw your ID badge at him, and left.”

  I looked at them and shrugged my shoulders.

  “Ms. Winterfield? Did you really call him a douche bag and a hogwash-spewing jerk?”

  I smiled and replied, “If rumor really has it, and that rumor fails cease, then it was never a r
umor.”

  Timmie and I took a seat and swallowed our breakfasts before we went about our day.

  Over the next few days, Zach and I spent more time together and grew closer. We had yet to establish a relationship status, though he constantly reminded me that I was his. Timmie had asked me multiple times about the mystery man who kept sending me flowers, but I told him nothing. Zach and his sexiness had been the topic of choice during a few coffee and lunch breaks at the office. Whenever I overheard someone talk about how sexy the CEO was with his nice set of lips and beautiful bedroom eyes, or how they admired his amazing smell and charm, I would smile inside while drinking my hot chocolate or tea. Zach and I agreed that on Friday night, we would continue our conversation from Monday night. And when that night came, we did just that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zach came over to my place around ten that night, after his business dinner. We sat out on the terrace by the pool. We faced each other and dipped our feet into the water. He pulled me closer to him by my waist and said, “If at any time it becomes too much for you, I want you to stop.”

  I said, “OK,” closed my eyes, and took a big, deep breath.

  Zach held me tight and reiterated, “Stop if you feel uncomfortable. Understand?”

  I looked at him and went back more than ten years into my dark, hellish past.

  “Nobody, not even my parents, believed me when I told them he did it. My stepbrother, Connor, raped me first. He told them I was drunk and made an immoral attempt. He lied. By that point in my life I had never drank a day in my life. He took complete control of me. He was a freshman at PSU and had come home early from college for spring break. He had some friends with him: Kevin, Dustin, and Pete. My mother and Richard had left earlier that day for their vacation to the Poconos Resort, and Lauren was supposed to check in on me from time to time to make sure I was fine.”

  Zach cut me off. “Lauren knew? That bitch. I’m firing her ass right now.” He pulled his phone from his belt clip.

  I snatched it from him and told him, “No, she didn’t know.” I decided to hold on to it in case he got trigger-happy and dialed Joan or Stan to do something stupid.