by Skye Darrel
“Why’d you get rid of the windowsills?” I ask.
“No place for Lady to sit on,” he says. “I’d rather not have that cat watch us when we make love.”
I stifle a laugh. My husband has overcome his fear of cats, but Lady still makes him uneasy. Though I think they have a truce. We didn’t bring her on this visit anyway, so she’s reigning supreme at his condo. I hope she doesn’t shred his slippers again.
Laying me on the bed, Dalton kisses over my pregnant belly, his hands molding my breasts, swollen and achingly tender, until a few droplets seep out of my nipples. He licks his lips, that hungry, ravenous look in his eye, and I have to hold up my hands.
“Be gentle, alright?”
He growls in that way I love. “The baby’s not here yet, Lily, and until that day, your milk is mine.” He leans in, stooping like a caveman, a musclebound caveman chiseled to the bone. “Mine.”
I roll my eyes, blushing and so embarrassed. “It’s not milk yet! You heard what the doctor said—”
“Hush. I don’t care what it is. It tastes so sweet like the rest of you.” He strokes his huge cock leaking cum, and I can barely see him over my bump.
I toss my head back and give in to his demands. His ceaseless demands that always make me hot inside, and even after a year together, he makes love to me like it’s our first time. And when he fucks—like tonight—I feel like a virgin again.
It’s my birthday, and this time we told everyone, his friends and my new ones, that we’d be spending it at Willowbrook, to celebrate our new family.
Dalton had other ideas too. It’s been a goal of his to claim me again in the renovated house. He said it’d be a night deliciously dirty, and I’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.
I’m not his ward anymore. I’m his wife, his partner, his best friend and everything in between, and not a day goes by when he doesn’t remind me. But still, when we’re in bed, we still call each other dirty names.
He still keeps our toys in the closet of his condo. After all, when I’ve been naughty, he likes to be filthy.
I feel his cock throbbing on my skin, and I grab his head and turn his eyes my way. “Do that thing with your tongue please.”
He wastes no time scooting back, lifting me by the hips and plunging his tongue into my pussy. My pleasure spikes as he whirls his tongue back and forth, slurping obscenely.
“Oh God!”
He snarls and climbs up next to me. Rolling me on my side, he spoons my body from behind and plunges his thick cock into my drenched pussy.
I arch against his heaving abs and scream out my pleasure as his body slaps against mine, pounding hard and deep until I explode on his pulsing cock. I feel his seed shoot into me, coating my walls as he grunts out his release.
“Good girl,” he growls. He turns me around gently and sees the milk leaking from my nipples. “That’s my angel.”
Wrapping his mouth on my nipple, he laps up the creamy liquid like a man dying of thirst. “I can’t wait until these tits fill up. You’ll be feeding me every night.”
“You’d better save it for the baby,” I moan, shuddering as my body ripples.
Rubbing my clit, he finds my mouth and kisses me, filling me with my own taste and his hot breath. “You can feed both of us.”
“You’re so dirty.”
“You make me this way, Lily. I can’t get enough of you.”
Blushing, I reach down and stroke his cock slowly. With my hormones all crazy in the second trimester, my own needs are running wild too, and Dalton never leaves his woman in need.
Face to face, he pushes his cock forward until the tip slides into me. He’s so big that even with my belly in the way, he still reaches halfway into my pussy, and it’s enough to make me cum as he rubs my clit.
“Are you ever going to leave me?” I ask.
The dirty look falls from his face, and he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll never leave you.”
The love in his eyes makes my chest ache. “I-I know. I was teasing.”
“What we have is forever,” he says. “Don’t tease.”
I kiss his fingers and smile. “I know, my love.”
The End
Guardian My Love
By Skye Darrel
Vincent takes pride in being heartless. Attorney by day, ruthless enforcer of a billionaire’s empire by night. Hard on the outside, inside he hides past scars. He has power. He has wealth. He fears nothing and needs no one until he falls for the girl he was supposed to snatch for his boss.
Briony is left penniless and alone after her mother dies. Hunted and desperate, she meets the one man who can make her whole. Or break her to pieces.
Chapter 1
Briony
I get off the train at Union Station with everything I own stuffed in my backpack. The terminal is packed with people, but I feel invisible. A chill makes me shiver even though it’s summer. My head hurts. I must’ve caught a cold in New Jersey.
I could’ve booked a flight to D.C., but I didn’t have the money.
Until last month, I didn’t know how much it cost to live. My whole world had been a boarding school in Princeton, not far from the university. I never felt like I belonged, but I could say that about every place I’ve lived in. Mom paid my bills, and now she’s gone. She died of a stroke while I was studying for my finals.
College is out of the question. Maybe I can get a loan, but I don’t know where to start. Four years at a fancy private school meant to groom me for the Ivy League didn’t prepare me for survival on my own. I can speak French, solve equations, and recite Shakespeare, but I don’t know how to balance a checkbook or find a job.
C’est la vie. I can’t think about that now. Get home first. Then everything will be okay.
Outside the train station, I spot a line of taxis waiting for customers. I doubt I could afford the ride. Getting a rideshare driver would be even more expensive. There’s a bus sign not far off. Baby steps, I tell myself.
“Briony Rowan?”
I turn to the voice and almost topple on my butt before he catches me. The man holds my waist until I nudge him off, though nothing about him makes me want to nudge. Tall, dark, and handsome comes to mind. Faintly exotic somehow. He’s gorgeous, black-haired, wearing a sleek gray suit with collar unbuttoned and no tie. A white pocket square adorns his chest. Trim and sharp, he looks like he walked out of a magazine.
But good girls don’t let complete strangers grab them by the waist. I step back. “How do you know my name?”
He’s still standing too close. Then he offers a hand. I shake it, blushing at how he stares at me, like he can’t decide if I’m trouble or not.
“I’m Vincent. Mr. Baxter sent me.”
“Garnet Baxter?” My uncle.
“I work for him,” Vincent says. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Um, thanks, but I can get a ride on my own.”
“No you can’t. You have forty-seven dollars in your bank account. Your credit card is maxed out. You have no friends here, no other relatives. You don’t know the city. You turned eighteen two weeks ago, but you don’t have a driver’s license. Even that credit card was co-signed by your late mother. You can’t do anything.”
He announces my problems like he’s reading a shopping list. The attraction I felt goes up in smoke—most of it.
“H-How do you know?”
“Your uncle gave me the basics.” Vincent narrows his eyes. “You don’t look well. Are you sick?”
“A cold.” I get more annoyed by the second. He’s talking like he’s my daddy or something. Vincent looks around thirty if I had to guess. Fine lines mark the hard angles of his face, but he’s not that old. It’s his stern voice that has me on edge. I check out his eyes and can’t tell their color, but they’re light. Smoldering. Or maybe it’s only the afternoon sun. God why am I checking out his eyes?
“Come with me,” Vincent says.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll carry you,” he says without the hint of a smile. The way he glares brings back my blush.
“I can take the bus.”
“You’re not taking the bus. I drove an hour here to drive you home. You’re coming with me.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?” The guy could be anyone. He could want anything. And he’s so very tall.
Vincent hands me a business card. I’m no expert, but it feels expensive. Then I read it. Vincent Reed, Attorney at Law. He’s a lawyer at my uncle’s firm.
I put the card in my pocket and frown. Vincent looks like no lawyer I’ve ever seen. More like a boxer, or maybe a movie lawyer. I can tell his physique is lean and hard even with the suit on. Stop thinking about his physique.
“How do I know you’re not trying to take advantage of me?”
Vincent makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl. “You’re not my type.”
“Excuse me?”
“Little girl, I have no desire to take advantage of you. None whatsoever.”
My face lights on fire. I won’t tell him off for calling me a little girl because maybe I am little next to him, considering he’s frigging huge, but does he really need to imply I’m hideous? I cross my arms, running on injured pride. “What’s your type?”
“Taller, for starters. Shall we leave or do you wish to call the police?”
I smell mint and coffee on his breath. “F-Fine.”
Vincent takes me to a parking garage and pulls out car keys. A shiny BMW, black as his hair, blinks its headlights. He opens the back door and stands aside. I walk past and open the passenger door instead. Getting in, I put on the seatbelt while Vincent takes the driver’s seat. I stare straight ahead.
Soon we’re on the road leaving D.C.
By the time we hit the Beltway, it’s bumper-to-bumper rush hour. I feel way colder than I should, and a headache throbs behind my eyes. Pain squeezes my lower back. I’m definitely coming down with something, but the worst part isn’t physical at all. It’s the hollow, empty feeling that twists through my body.
Loneliness.
I can’t shake it off, and it’s suffocating. A longing for comfort and affection. Things I’ll never have, things money can’t buy. Not that I deserve them. I’m a broke, useless little girl who can’t even get home without help.
The man sitting beside me stares at the traffic like it’s the most fascinating thing on earth. Fine. Whatever. Don’t talk to me. And I’m not that short, jerk.
Maybe I’m just homesick. I missed Mom’s last moments, I missed the funeral, and I missed half her life while she missed all of mine. It was one nanny after another.
Enough. I force myself to look out the window, counting the passing trees and the houses in the distance.
“Are you okay?”
His voice startles me. “What do you care?”
“Look, I’m sorry if I was rough back there. I’m not good with people.”
I huff. “You’re a lawyer and you’re not good with people?”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he sounds sincere.
“It’s fine. I’m used to people not good with people.” I steal a glance at him. The beauty of his face is almost unnatural. If it weren’t for his rugged jaw and coarse stubble, he’d be too pretty. I turn away. “Do you know Diane Frankel? She was my mother’s lawyer. She told me there was a problem with . . . ” I trail off.
“With what?”
“My inheritance,” I murmur, cursing myself for thinking about money now. “She said something about assets frozen in a trust account.”
“I don’t know anything about that. I’m here on behalf of your uncle.”
“Well, what’s he like?”
A moment passes before Vincent answers. “Don’t you know him?”
“Not really. I haven’t seen Uncle Garnet since I was fourteen. I’m not supposed to go near him. I mean, my mother always said I shouldn’t. She never told me why.”
“Your father?”
I feel a hard lump rising in my throat. My eyes water, and I wipe them quickly. “He passed away when I was ten.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I didn’t know him well. Come to think of it, I didn’t know anyone well.” A laugh chokes out of me. “You must think I’m pathetic.”
“I don’t.”
Silence settles. He’s probably saying that to make me feel better, but I can pretend he means it. The pain in my head softens as I lean against the window.
An hour later, we get off the highway and enter the suburbs. Vincent follows a GPS mounted in his car. The closer we get to Mom’s place, the bigger the houses get and the more apart they stand. I drift in and out of bad dreams until Vincent slows down at last.
“Your stop.”
He parks beside the curb. Home sweet home. Except nobody’s home, the driveway is empty, and the lights are dark. I get out and hug my elbows, staring at the house I grew up in. There’s a blur of movement under a nearby shrub.
“Anything wrong?” Vincent asks. He hands me my backpack.
“Nothing. A squirrel.” I feel light-headed suddenly, and I sway on my heels.
Vincent grabs my waist before I fall, holding me up. Then he touches my forehead. “You have a fever, Briony. Why didn’t you say something?”
His words reach me slowly as if I’m underwater. All I can focus on are Vincent’s eyes, the movement of his mouth, and the feel of his fingers on my skin. He shouldn’t touch me like this. I hardly know him, yet he pulls me in, and I feel another heat between my thighs.
A passing car breaks the spell.
“I’m fine,” I snap, embarrassed and flustered. I have to push him off. “Thanks for the ride, I can take care of myself.”
“Call me,” Vincent says. “If you need help. The number’s on my card.” He gets back in his BMW and frowns at me. “Your uncle wants to see you. Thought you should know.”
“Okay.”
He speeds off.
I’m dazed. No man has ever looked at me like he just did. I must be imagining it. The fever’s messing with my head.
I can’t be having silly daydreams. I need to sort my life out.
Diane Frankel, Mom’s lawyer, called me last week. Diane said there was an issue with my inheritance, and I won’t be getting a cent until I come home. If I have any questions, I should contact my uncle. My mother’s will made Uncle Garnet my legal guardian, which makes no sense.
Mom had warned me, right before she sent me to boarding school, to stay away from Uncle Garnet no matter what. I was only fourteen, but I remember that night like it was yesterday because that’s all she said to me. No I love you or I’ll miss you. Just a warning. She said he was dangerous. She made it sound like my uncle was a serial killer or something.
I’ve been around him a few times when I was younger, and I admit, Uncle Garnet always made me feel uneasy. But dangerous?
Diane Frankel wasn’t much help and told me she was sorry before she hung up. Since then, whenever I call her, a secretary answers to tell me she’s in a meeting.
I don’t know what to do.
This fever isn’t getting any better.
My hand shakes as I unlock the front door, and a wave of nausea rocks my stomach. Then I hear rustling in the shrubs. A tiny cat with huge eyes and pointy ears pokes out of the leaves, scaring me half to death. The key slips from my hand.
When I kneel to pick it up, the cat scurries up the porch and rubs against my arm. Under the fur, it feels bony.
“Where’d you come from?”
The cat wears a collar with Mia written on it. Okay, I guess it’s a she, and she’s barely more than a kitten. Mia paws at the door and stares at me. Mom never mentioned she got a cat. She always said pets are a bother. I used to wonder if she felt the same about me.
“Locked out?”
Mia licks my fingers. I’ll take that as a yes. Opening the door, I step into the gloom. Mia scurries in like she owns the place. At least I’ll have
company.
Also by Skye Darrel
Royce
Avalon
Guardian My Love
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Skye Darrel is a normal suburban girl with a dirty imagination that makes her friends embarrassed to know her.
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