Because of the Dark: A Dark Standalone Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 4)

by Danah Logan

  She doesn't respond. Instead, she moves to all fours and crawls to the edge of the mattress. She throws one daring glance at me before her small hand wraps around my length, and her tongue licks off the precum on the tip. My eyes roll back inside my head. My knees threaten to buckle, and at this rate, I won't be inside of her before I come.

  She closes her mouth around me, and a shudder of pleasure runs down my spine. I grip her hair, and she moans as I guide her to take me as far as she can. With her free hand, she starts massaging my balls, and when she presses her tongue to the underside of my dick and sucks harder, I pull away before I reach the point of no return.

  Sitting back on her haunches, she pouts. "What's the matter, Sheats?"

  Her eyes peer at me innocently, and I smirk. "You'll see in a second, MOAB Girl."

  Clasping the hem of her sleep shirt, I slip it over her head and throw it on the pile with my clothes. I watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest while pumping my cock with one hand. I step closer, letting my free hand caress her breast. "They've gotten so big." I grip myself as I lean down and suck her pebbled nipple in my mouth.

  "Wes!" she shouts. "So sensi—oh, fuck." She breaks off when I roll it between my tongue and teeth.

  Releasing it after another tug, I tease, "You like that?" before switching to her other side.

  "Yesss." She fists my hair that's tied back and its usual bun. "More."

  As much as I want to bring her to the brink of orgasm—several times over—my own desire for her does not allow for it. Not tonight. I let go of her tits and shift on the mattress to be beside her. King watches my every move with hooded lids as I lie down on my back and pick her up, maneuvering her on top of me. Even pregnant, she's a featherweight.

  "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?" I let my gaze roam her body while my fingertips grip the smooth skin of her thighs.

  She snorts, crossing her arms in front of her like a shield. I immediately let go of her lower half and circle her wrists, forcing her to bare herself to me. "I'm serious."

  A soft blush tints her cheeks, and I let go. I grab her by the back of the neck and pull her down to me. She hovers on hands and knees as I draw her mouth close to mine. Her warm breath fans over my lips, and my hard-on twitches between us. I'm burning up, and the need to feel her everywhere overwhelms me. I breach the distance, nipping at the corner of her mouth. With the sexiest moan, she opens up, her tongue tangling with mine, and I groan. "I've missed you so much."

  "Not as much as me," she confesses between kisses.

  My dick throbs, and I pull her closer so my mouth aligns with her ear. "Now sit on my cock and ride me, Princess."

  Her sharp intake of breath makes me think I've said something wrong. Then, King straightens, straddling my hips. "My pleasure, Mr. Sheats," she says with a gleam in her eyes that makes my length jerk in anticipation.

  "That's a good girl." I wink at her, and she laughs.

  Positioning herself above me, I help her by guiding myself to her entrance. The heat of her pussy radiates against my head. I'm about to tell her to take it slow—there is a tiny human growing inside of her—when she sinks down, and I'm buried to the hilt.

  "FUUUUCK." My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips. God, she's so wet—so perfect.

  "Ahh," King moans as she starts moving.

  Her tits bounce as she grinds herself against me, creating the friction she needs—or wants. I let go of her sides and reach up to cup both breasts with my palms. Pinching her nipples between my fingers, she increases her speed, and I squeeze my eyes shut. It takes every ounce of concentration not to blow my load early; I want her to come with me.

  "Wes," she breathes as I switch between massaging and squeezing her breasts.

  "Yes?" I thrust my hips, meeting her halfway as she glides up and down on my shaft.

  "Bite me."

  "Jesus Christ." Those two words alone could make me come by themselves. This woman is going to kill me—but who am I to deny my girl what she wants?

  We both halt our motion, and I lift her off of me, my dick glistening with her arousal.

  "Lie on your side." I'm totally improvising, but I am pretty sure I've seen something similar in a movie once.

  She follows my instructions, and I align myself behind her. I nudge my thigh between hers and she parts her legs farther. Entering from a whole different angle, both of us groan. Every nerve ending in my body is alive. My front is burning against her back. I can't get close enough. Resting my head on my arm, I wrap the other around her, trailing my fingertips up her belly until I reach her perfect tits. I begin to thrust harder, rolling her hard bud between my forefinger and thumb.

  "Yes, just like that." Her praise is followed by a loud moan, and I'm on the brink of exploding. She brings one of her hands to her clit, and as soon as she begins to rub circles, I can feel her pussy clamping down on me.

  "You feel so fucking good." I nuzzle my nose against her neck before I do what she asked me to. I trail kisses from her neck to her shoulder while thrusting into her from behind. Then, I bite down.

  King instantly begins to shudder, and the hand that previously pleasured herself lands on my thigh, digging her nails in. "Oh, God, yes!" She's not holding back, and I follow her over the edge.

  I groan and hold on to her as I ride out a new high.

  We're both breathing erratically as we come out of our orgasm bliss, and goose bumps erupt on my body as the cool air settles on my flushed skin.

  We're still lying there when there is a hard knock. "Hey, guys? Now that you're done, I wanted to let you know I'm heading to work." Mags's chuckle filters through the door.

  King stiffens and bursts out laughing, covering her face with her hand. I turn toward the intruder. "Have a good shift, Mags."

  King swats at me, and I shrug. "What? I'm simply polite." I pull the covers over both of us as King giggles, and I hug her to me.

  "Are you staying?" she inquires sleepily, interlacing her fingers with mine on top of Nugget, as she's dubbed our baby.

  "I can't leave my girls now, can I?" Sleep pulls me in, and I close my eyes.

  Not having planned the sleepover, I had to hightail it home in the morning to get ready. Rhys would have my ass if I was late.

  King drove with Lilly, Elle, and D. They would do all the girly stuff girls do before a wedding—whatever that was—and get dressed together at the venue. Lilly texted King the plan before I came over last night, and as much as I liked them including her, I was a little worried about how that would go. I was hoping for the best.

  My best-man duties would keep me from seeing her until after the ceremony, but I made sure to text her once Rhys and I arrived. She promised that everything was great, and I told myself that Den would keep BK under lock and key—especially after King consoled her the other day. That had surprised all of us, and my best friend texted me that night that I better get my shit together because King was special. Elle had no mean bone in her body, so she was the least of my worries. The only unknown variable was Lilly's soon-to-be official mother-in-law, Heather. What had happened to Lilly hit her hard, and once she found out who King was… I hoped Lilly would stand up for King, as she had so many times before.

  Lilly and Rhys ended up choosing a private property outside of town, set in the mountains. It was regularly used for weddings, and the view was breathtaking. A small banquet hall was attached to the main building and decorated minimally, but tastefully. Lilly never liked fluff, and it represented her and Rhys perfectly. We got fresh snow as well, and the whole scene was a winter wonderland—in April. The guest list was small, but that didn't keep the paps away. If there was something to report about Lilly, they found out about it—especially our all-time favorite stalker: Lancaster.

  The guy was relentless. After he lost his life's purpose when Lilly's case was solved, one would think he would move on. He did the opposite. Lancaster became obsessed with everyone involved in the case. He even followed me for a month and a half
after starting at MPU.

  The good thing about this venue was that it was reduced to one access road leading up to it, and George had complete control. His men were everywhere. I had no clue he commanded this many scary-looking dudes in cargo gear. It also helped that the narrow access road was about three miles long and required all-wheel drive.

  "If one of these vultures wants to track through the snow, they deserve to get a picture," Rhys had joked as we drove up. I didn't know how he could see it so lightly, but I guessed he'd also been living with this for years. It wasn't my wedding, yet I was the one with the twitchiness in every muscle at the chance of anyone crashing the event.

  I was in my designated spot in the front when King walked in with Elle, arms linked together. Heat flooded my veins and went straight to body parts that had no business being awake right then. She was breathtaking. Her black gown emphasized every curve, and my mind was back in her bedroom the instant our eyes met. Her cheeks turned pink, and I smirked—guess she went there as well.

  "Bro, if you have a boner while I'm getting married, I'm replacing you with Marcus," Rhys whisper-shouted in my direction.

  Thankfully, only George and Rhys's father, Tristen, were in earshot. Both men barely glanced in our direction; they were used to worse.

  Directing my focus back to my…girlfriend? Was she my girlfriend? The term didn't seem enough—she was carrying our baby—but I also couldn't come up with an alternative. We didn't get to have the relationship talk, other than we were trying. There was so much to figure out. Would we live together and where? Would I continue school? Would she work at The Grizz? How the fuck would I tell my parents? My mother was open minded, but making her a grandmother before fifty…she was going to have my balls. Shit.

  My momentary panic attack of my mother whipping my ass got interrupted when King took her seat in the front. She and Elle were on the bride's side, with Elle's twin siblings next to them. Elle's brother, Hudson, leaned over his sister and said something to King, making me clench my jaw. She laughed and—

  "Jesus, did you just growl?"

  My head jerked to Rhys, who stared at me incredulously.

  I narrowed my eyes. "Fuck off."

  He smirked and shook his head. At that moment, a piano version of Canon in D started up, and I was no longer important.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The wedding was a dream. I'd never attended an event this beautiful or fancy. From what I was told by Denielle and Elle—both coming from money—this was nothing. Lilly didn't care about any of it. All she wanted was to marry her soul mate.

  Wes meets me at the entrance of the reception hall and immediately pulls me to the side and away from the other guests. He wraps his arms around me, and at his touch, my heart flips. Spending the day apart was torture. I kept envisioning his hands on me on more than one occasion, blushing ferociously when Elle checked if I was okay.

  I'm about to ask why he's not with Rhys when his mouth comes down on mine. My knees weaken, and I hold on to the lapel of his dark suit. I've never been attracted to men in formal attire, but Wes has changed that. The way his broad frame fills out the dress shirt and jacket, my mouth waters at the sight.

  He grudgingly breaks the kiss. "You look stunning, Princess." He places his hand on my belly. "Did she kick at all?"

  I shake my head. "She knew you weren't around." Nugget moves, but she only stretches her limbs when Wes is with me. To say he's proud of that would be an understatement. Seeing him this excited makes me feel light headed and giddy. A massive weight has been lifted off me, though, even after falling asleep in his arms last night, I'm still not letting myself dream big—long term. But I have hope again. Hope that maybe we can be a family—in our own dysfunctional way.

  "You're doing it again." Wes frowns, and I smooth out the wrinkle between his brows with my thumb.

  "What?" How does he read me so well?

  He rolls his eyes and interlaces our fingers together. "Come on. You're sitting with me."

  I let him pull me forward and stop abruptly. "What do you mean?" I was supposed to sit with Elle and her family.

  "Lilly changed the seating arrangement. Marcus took your seat, and you are with me."

  I let my eyes wander and find Marcus at the far side of the room, next to one of the other security guards. They've been everywhere all day, and I should be scared—they're the enemy—but I feel oddly safe. Marcus's posture is stiff, arms crossed. The other guy talks, and it appears Marcus is listening, but his gaze bores into Denielle's back. She's at the head table, downing a glass of champagne. It seems almost purposeful how she's positioned herself to him.

  I let go of Wes and touch his forearm. "I'll be right back."

  His features harden as I dip my head in Marcus's direction. Then he nods. I can't explain the odd friendship developing between Marcus and me. There's nothing romantic on either side. It's as if we recognize something in each other, which Wes understands without me having to go into lengthy explanations I don't have. Plus, in its twisted way, Wes's possessive side is a huge turn-on.

  I make my way over and position myself next to Marcus. He glances down at me. "Monroe." The strain on his face makes my jaw hurt.

  "Baxter." I fold my hands in front of me, interlacing my fingers under my belly.

  "You look beautiful." I'm about to thank him when he adds, "For someone with a soccer ball under her dress."

  Without taking my eyes off the crowd, I whack him on the back of the head and then bring my hand back to its original position.

  Marcus barks out a laugh. "That's why I like you, Monroe."

  I shift my attention, and he arches his brows at me.

  "Why do you dislike Denielle?"

  "Don't go there, King." King, not Monroe. His tone is icy, and it's clear this is neither the time nor place.

  I nod and turn toward my table when he stops me. "It's a long story. One I'm not ready to talk about."

  "Okay." I give him a small smile. "I won't push. But I'm here if you need someone."

  "Thank you." His expression softens.

  Wes didn't leave my side for the rest of the evening. We danced, laughed, and even Rhys's parents welcomed me as if I was not the daughter of the man who almost destroyed their family. It was surreal.

  With Mags off on Thursdays, she ordered me to spend the night at Wes's. She would take care of Echo. In the follow-up text, she added that she couldn't find her earplugs and was still scarred from last night. I should have been embarrassed. I wasn't. I'd never been happier.

  On the way down the mountain, Wes told me that Rhys and Lilly would stay a few more days. They had no plans to go on a honeymoon and no reason to return to LA. They could do everything from here. Hearing the news made me bounce in my seat. I'd never had a girlfriend until Mags. I liked Lilly a lot, and she quickly became my second female friend. How messed up was all that?

  The night ended with us cuddled in bed. I was dead on my feet, and being curled up in Wes's arms was the perfect way to end the day. He put on a movie on his laptop, but I didn't make it past the opening credits.

  Obnoxious buzzing seeps into the blissful void of sleep. What the hell is that? Every time it stops, it starts right back up.

  "Weeees?" I whine. I'm on my side, with him at my back, his heavy-as-hell arm draped over my belly and keeping me in place.

  He grumbles something incoherently. The buzzing starts back up once more, and I've finally had enough.

  "Wes!"

  That gets me a reaction—a sleepy one, but we're getting somewhere. "What, Princess?"

  "Your phone," I snap.

  "Huh?"

  Oh, for fuck's sake.

  I elbow him in the ribs, and he lets himself fall on his back, draping an arm over his eyes. I shift and climb over him to reach the bedside table. I may have pushed my knee into his abdomen in the process, which wakes him all the way.

  "Owww, fuck."

  Ha!

  I grab the annoying device and peer at the s
creen. Thirteen missed calls from Rhys and one text. My stomach plummets, and a sour taste forms on my tongue. I don't have to read the message to know this is bad, and somehow, I know it has to do with me.

  I shove the phone at Wes, who catches it before it impacts his face. He scans it without reading the text, immediately calling his friend back. It cannot have rung more than once because as soon as Wes has it at his ear, I can already hear Rhys's voice coming from the speaker.

  "Finally, asshole. We're on our way over. Don't do anything stupid." The line disconnects, and Wes holds my gaze. In slow motion—or so it feels—he peels the device from his ear and clicks on the one message. He taps again and then curses. His eyes scan something on the screen, and the more he reads, the redder he gets. An endless void opens in my belly.

  "Wes?" My voice is tiny, and my nails dig into my palms.

  His eyes jerk to mine, and he slashes his mouth. He drops the phone onto his chest and rakes his hands through his messy hair. He stares at the ceiling. "Fuck!" Then, he glances back at me, his eyes appearing darker than usual. "I'm so sorry, Princess."

  "What?" I study his features but come up blank. He's unreadable. I grab the phone and scan the screen. I'm looking at a screenshot from a…blog? It's a personal website.

  Kingsley Turner attends McGuire Wedding.

  You may ask yourself why this warrants a headline. I'll tell you why: Kingsley Monroe Turner is the daughter of Francis Garrison Turner. Ring a bell? I know. It's been a while since we got some news on this front.

  The daughter of the man who almost killed Lilly McGuire—she finally carries the last name legally—was part of the very exclusive guest list. But not only that, she attended the event on the arm of the one and only Weston Sheats—previously estranged, but, as it seems, once again best friend of Rhys McGuire, as he was the best man. McGuire and Sheats had a falling out when he lost his scholarship over his friendship and involvement with the case.