This man’s sobs reach a hand inside me, squeezing my heart and crushing my lungs until it feels like I’m the one in pain.
I inch toward the door softly, pressing my ear up close. More sobs ring out, and even though I probably should pretend I haven’t heard, I can’t ignore the fact I have. I don’t know Charlie Barron, and he’ll probably die of embarrassment if he discovers I’ve heard him crying, but I can’t turn my back on anyone in need, no matter how undeserving they might seem, so I push the door open and step into the room without any further hesitation.
The room is bathed in a dim glow from the desktop lamp, the only illumination lighting up the space. The shadowy figure on the couch, at the other side of the room, stills at my sudden presence. His broad shoulders heave as he fights to compose himself. After a few beats, he lifts his head, staring in my direction.
With tentative steps, I walk toward him. The closer I get, the sharper his features become. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of him one time when he visited his father, and even though Charlie Barron is young, he’s definitely all man and one of the hottest guys I’ve seen in a long time.
Sorry, Isaac.
I force those thoughts aside as I approach him. His red-rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks confirm the sobs were coming from him. His suit jacket is thrown over the arm of the couch, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his tie hanging loose around his neck. His hair is in disarray, as if he was repeatedly dragging his fingers through the dark strands.
I come to a halt in front of him, my heart beating so loud I’m sure he must hear it. He tips his chin up, staring at me with a frown, and I’m cursing my bleeding heart. Why didn’t I just tell Danny a firm no? Or why didn’t I bail the instant I heard Charlie’s cries? But I didn’t do either. I’m here now, and I need to say something. I clear my throat. “Are you… Is everything okay?”
He stares at me, and even though the lighting is low, I can detect the growing curiosity in his piercing green eyes as he drinks in my features. His gaze roams my face, and the longer my question remains unanswered, the more tense the situation seems.
“Who are you?” he asks, in a hoarse voice, after what feels like eternity.
“I’m Demi Alexander. Your father’s new personal assistant,” I confirm.
Pain slashes across his face, and a muscle clenches in his jaw as he visibly struggles to hold it together.
What the hell is going on?
Taking a chance, I sit down beside him, angling my body so we’re facing one another. “What’s happened? And where is your father? What are you doing in his office after ten on Christmas night?” And why are you crying? That’s what I really want to ask, but I can’t ever forget my place. Charlie Barron, a.k.a. Charles Barron the Third is the heir apparent, and he will one day be my boss.
My breath stutters in my throat when he lifts his hand, brushing his fingers across my cheek, leaving a wake of fiery tremors zipping along my skin. He stares into my eyes, and I see a world of pain reflected in his gaze. “Dead,” he whispers, his warm, earthy breath feathering across my face. “My father is dead.”
My eyes pop wide, and my heart beats frantically behind my rib cage. “What?” I splutter, staring at him to see if this is some twisted joke. I mean, I loathe the man and everything he stands for, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, and even though I never knew my mom, I still feel the pain of her loss acutely. And even thinking of losing Dad splinters my heart into pieces. I spent hours thinking he might be gone, and the pain was unimaginable, so I have an inkling of what this man is feeling. It’s no wonder he was in tears. “How did it happen?”
He shakes his head, biting down hard on his lip. “He’s gone. The specifics don’t matter.” His fingers drop lower, skimming my jawline, and his eyes latch onto my mouth. He trails his fingers along my jaw and then down onto my neck, and each sweeping touch awakens something dormant inside me.
Heat courses through me from his touch and the intense way he’s looking at me, and raw need surges to the surface. It’s been years since I’ve felt such potent yearning, and the guy is barely touching me. “I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it even if I hated his father. I can see how upset he is over it.
“You look…” He trails off, exhaling heavily, shaking his head, and dropping his hands from my face as he reaches for the half-empty bottle of bourbon on the coffee table.
His lips suction around the neck of the bottle, and he drinks heartily before passing it to me. I’m not much of a drinker, but it’d seem rude to decline, and it’s already a freaking strange night. So, I take the bottle, and we pass it back and forth without speaking. He leans back in the couch, spreading his legs and lounging more comfortably, as I kick off my boots and tuck my knees into my chest, grateful I chose to wear leggings under my dress.
He watches my every move like a skillful hunter eyeing his prey. With every mouthful of bourbon I swallow, my limbs grow more relaxed, and I find myself silently encouraging him to move in for the kill.
Like I said, it’s a strange night.
“Why did you come here?” I ask after a while, sucking in a gasp as our fingers brush when I pass the bottle back to him.
“I had nowhere else to go,” he admits before bringing the bottle to his mouth. I watch his plump lips wrap around the bottle, and the way his throat works as he drinks is hella sexy.
I totally understand how this guy has earned his rep. I don’t sleep around, and I can count on one hand the number of guys I’ve been with, yet I’d spread my legs for him in a heartbeat. Charlie exudes this sexy energy that draws me in, and I just know a night with him would be a night I’d never forget.
But I’m sensing there’s a lot more to him than that. I barely know the guy; we haven’t spoken more than a few sentences to one another, and yet I feel his vulnerability and his loneliness as potently as a slap to the face.
This guy is in a world of pain.
And maybe, it’s my bleeding heart or the alcohol sloshing through my veins, or maybe, it’s just this guy, but I want to eviscerate his pain. Even if it’s only temporary.
I scoot closer to him, reaching out to cup his cheek. His skin is smooth and warm to the touch. “How can I help?”
His fingers wrap around my wrist, holding my hand to his face. He stares at me for an inordinate amount of time, and my chest heaves with anticipation. A crackle of electricity connects the space between us, and the more he stares at me, the more I want to throw caution to the wind.
“You can let me pretend,” he croaks, as his eyes plead with me.
I quirk a brow, but he doesn’t elaborate, skimming his gaze all over my body in a way that confirms his mind has gone to the same place mine has.
This is a bad idea.
A really, really bad idea.
Because if his dad is dead, that makes him my new boss, and he’s grieving. He’s not in his right mind. And I’m not in mine because this isn’t who I am. Yet, in his presence, it’s who I want to become.
“Okay.” I’m pleased my voice comes out confident despite the way I’m trembling inside.
“You don’t know what I’m asking,” he adds, angling his head so he can suck my pinkie into his mouth.
I gasp as pleasurable warmth filters through my body, igniting every cell and nerve ending. “Show me,” I beg, no longer able to keep the craving from my tone or my face.
Forcing my hand aside, he grips my face in his large palms and slams his mouth down on mine. Stars explode in vibrant bursts of color behind my eyelids as his lips devour me like he’s been waiting years to taste me.
His lips glide with skill and precision against mine while he hauls me into his lap. His fingers dig into my hips as he pulls me against his erection, ensuring I feel how much he needs this. I run my fingers through his hair, pressing my chest against his, letting him know I’m right there with him.
His kisses grow more aggressive, and he punishes my mouth with a slew of d
rugging, bruising kisses. It’s in direct contrast to the loving, gentle way Isaac used to kiss me, and as I cling to Charlie, biting and nipping at his lips, I know I’ve been in denial for far longer than I realized.
I’m on fire. Every part of me hums with expectation and need, so when he lifts my dress off me and unclips my bra, I offer no resistance. I moan into his hair as his hot mouth worships my bare breasts, his teeth grazing my nipples as he grinds his hips into mine. I rock against him, needing the friction against my achy core to sate my growing need.
In between hot kisses, we rip at our clothes until we’re both naked, and he wastes no time rolling a condom on and yanking me roughly down on top of him. He’s sitting up with his back against the arm of the couch as I straddle him.
I moan as his long, thick, hard length fills me up, and I’m immediately consumed in him. I bounce up and down on him, writhing and whimpering, as he moves his hips in sync with my movements. I place my hands on his shoulders as I fuck him, closing my eyes and tossing my hair back as he worships my breasts with his slick mouth while his cock slams inside me over and over again.
His fingers dig into my hips and he thrusts into me in savage strokes, gritting his teeth as he flexes his hips, driving harder and harder, as if he can’t get deep enough. My climax is already building, surprising me, because I rarely orgasmed from sex with Isaac.
My head falls forward onto Charlie’s shoulder as his arms wrap tightly around me and his wicked lips leave my breasts, trailing a line of firm kisses along my collarbone and up my neck. He nips at my skin with his teeth, and jolts of pleasurable pain ripple over my heightened flesh. My skin is a live wire, and his fingers are like volts of electricity as they glide across my body, singeing in every place they touch.
Without warning, he lowers me to my back and lifts my left leg up over his shoulder. His cock sinks even deeper at this angle, and I cry out as the pressure in my core builds to a crescendo. He fucks me raw, pounding into me like he’s exorcising his demons, and perhaps, he is. He exudes aggression and frustration with every pivot of his hips, every bruising thrust, as he ruins me for all other men.
Charlie may be young, but he’s clearly very experienced in all things sexual, and I’m riding the crest of that experience as he continues fucking me like a madman, inciting a flurry of new sensations inside me.
He buries his face in my neck, sucking on my skin in a way I know will leave a mark, but I couldn’t care less at this moment. I grab hold of his firm ass cheeks, pulling him in closer, needing more. My hands roam the muscled planes of his back and his broad shoulders, and I scrape my nails along his sweat-slickened skin, delighting in the fact I’m leaving my mark on him too.
There is something so primal, so intimate, about the way we’re fucking that is entirely new to me, and it could easily become an addiction.
I drag my lips in a line across his chest, nipping at his skin, and he growls out his encouragement. I inhale his scent like it’s the oxygen I need to breathe while I continue my assault on his impressive chest, caving to my inner beast as I’m rough with him too. I can’t get enough of him, and I need to come, yet I long to prolong this moment too. I can’t marry those conflicting thoughts, but I don’t have to, because my body takes control, barreling toward the most orgasmic explosion of my life. I scream his name as I come, my inner walls gripping his cock tight as I shatter, drowning in exquisite waves of intense pleasure, coming apart and being remade at the same time.
Charlie lifts my other leg over his shoulder and picks up his pace, thrusting inside me like he’ll die if he doesn’t come. His face is still cradled in my neck as he slams inside me at this punishing angle, and I know the moment he reaches his peak because his entire body locks up tight and he emits an animalistic roar birthed from someplace deep. Then he’s jerking and pulsing inside me, his body trembling and shaking over me as he comes.
“I love you, Abby,” he whispers in my ear, and I stop breathing. Blood rushes to my head, and a heavy weight presses down on my chest at his words.
You can let me pretend.
His earlier words reverberate in my mind as I curse my stupidity. I thought he meant he wanted to pretend everything was okay, that his father hadn’t died, but I got it completely wrong, and now I feel sick. Nausea twists and turns in my gut as I crash back to Earth with a bang.
He hasn’t been with me in this.
The intimacy and pleasure I felt between us as we made love was a lie. No wonder he’s barely kissed me. Barely looked at me.
He hasn’t been present.
He’s been with her.
This Abby woman.
Whoever she may be.
He’s stopped moving, and the only sounds in the room are our joint heavy breaths. I was under no illusion. I knew this was only a one-time thing. We’re from two different worlds, and we both needed this for various reasons. But it still meant something to me. And now, I’m hurt. I feel cheap. Used. As irreplaceable as a worthless whore.
I shouldn’t be surprised. His father is a cruel prick with little regard for other people’s feelings too. It stands to reason his son would be the same. I shove at his shoulders as tears prick my eyes. I’m such a gullible fool. “Get off me.”
He lifts his head from my shoulder, staring at my face with a puckered brow.
I glare at him as I push his shoulders again. I need to put as much distance between us as I can, and I can’t get away from him fast enough.
He climbs off me like an elegant gazelle, standing over me with a frown, watching as I grab my clothes and hastily pull them on.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks as I yank my leggings up my legs.
I snort, purposely not looking at him. He’s standing there in all his naked glory, and I know one look will have my ovaries purring like a kitten in heat. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to look beyond the exterior and find real attraction buried underneath, but tonight, I threw all my beliefs in the toilet for a tryst with a hot guy who was in pain. Only, the joke’s on me, because I could have been any warm body. I bet he doesn’t even remember my name.
I slip my feet into my boots and look up at his handsome face, finding him ugly now. “Who is Abby?”
He visibly pales, and his Adam’s apple jumps in his throat. A few seconds tick by, and it’s obvious he’s not going to answer.
Asshole.
I prod my finger into his chest. “You fucked me imagining I was her. I at least deserve to know who she is.”
Air whooshes out of his mouth as he claws his hands through his hair. Torment is etched across his face, but I’m not falling for it this time. I’ve no idea what is going on here, but I want no part of it.
“She’s my wife,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from my face.
“I…” I falter, unable to form words to convey my horror at what’s just happened. Bile travels up my throat. I abhor cheating. It’s a major no-no in my book. And this asshole—my new boss—has just made me an accomplice to adultery. I struggle to breathe over the pain settling on my chest. “You make me sick,” I say, fighting angry tears. “I would never have had sex with you if I’d known you were married.” Like, the guy’s only eighteen or nineteen, and none of my colleagues told me he was married. In fact, if the rumors are to be believed, he’s the quintessential playboy bachelor. I don’t understand.
“We only got married today,” he says, adding to my horror.
I slap a hand over my mouth, staring at him in shock. A few tears sneak out of my eyes, dripping down my face, but I angrily swipe at them as rage overtakes every other emotion I’ve been feeling.
I’ve just been fucked in more ways than one. This is a clusterfuck of life-altering possibilities, but I can’t lose this job. Dad is relying on me, and I’m not letting him down.
“This never happened!” I blurt when I remove my hand from my mouth. “And if you attempt to terminate my employment, I will slap you with a sexual harassment lawsuit quicker than you can frog-march
me out the door.”
“I would never do that,” he says, quick to reassure me.
But I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, and I’m not buying it.
He pulls on his pants as I storm toward the door. I clutch the door handle, talking to him over my shoulder. “See that you don’t, or I’ll make your life hell,” I promise, hoping he can’t see through my bravado.
“It’s in my interests to keep this secret,” he adds, and my disgust elevates another notch.
I nod tersely as I turn my head to face him. “From now on, it’s strictly professional, and we breathe a word to no one.” A fleeting thought crosses my mind.
I could blackmail him for my silence.
God knows we need the money.
But I dismiss the idea as quickly as it came to me. That’s not who I am. And no good comes from taking dirty money.
“Agreed.” He stares through me as if I don’t exist. And, I guess, to him, I don’t.
“Go home to your wife, Charlie,” I hiss as I whip the door open and stalk outside, wishing I could rewind time and erase the last couple hours from my life.
Chapter 1
CHARLIE
Nine Months Later
I KEEP MY head down, jotting notes as the professor’s grating tone projects around the packed auditorium. With all these people here, you’d think it’d be easy to avoid my former friends, but every time I look sideways, I spot Abby or Drew or that asshole Anderson. Doesn’t help that Drew, Shandra, and Anderson’s buddy Lauder are all business majors, like me, and we share a bunch of the same classes. Thank fuck I’m only here part-time. If I was forced to confront them all the time, I’d probably drop out.
My cell pings just as the professor uploads our new assignment on the board and draws the lecture to a close. I glance at the text with a scowl, knowing I’ll be heading into a shitstorm when I step into the office in an hour.
As much as I dread arriving at Rydeville University every morning for classes, I feel physically ill arriving at the high-rise glass building in downtown Boston every lunchtime, because I know her face is one of the first I’ll see.
Bully Me: Class of 2020 Page 2