by Ruby Vincent
“Don’t make me beg, Belle.” What Nathan was thinking was all over his face.
His accusations about Carter rang loud in my head. “Faster,” I ordered.
He complied, jerking and roughing his cock until my lower belly tightened to the point of no return. I arched my back, ass coming off the seat, and—
Nathan exploded. Hot spurts covered my face and chin, pulling a gasp out of me. I just blinked at him—too stunned at his cum running between my breasts to think.
He ran a track through his gift, smearing it on my mouth. “Your plan to keep me from enjoying this is backfiring, B. ’Cause I’m liking this immensely.”
My response was to hook my legs around his neck and force him down. “You interrupted. Finish the job.”
“With pleasure.”
Nathan secured me under the legs, lifting me free of the chair, and descended like a starving man does a plate of biscuits. My head fell back, moans flowing free. I could say a lot about the time Nathan and I were together, but none of it would be against the sex. We had that down.
He rolled my clit around his tongue, playing with me till I thought I would scream.
“N-Nathan, do it.”
He felt around, landed on my hand, and peeled it off the seat. It was sunk into his curls and I hung on tight, pulling him closer as I moved against him, using his lips, tongue, and face as my playthings.
“Do it!” I cried.
Two fingers pushed past my folds, filling me to the depths, and then scissoring open for Nathan to dart inside. Nathan Prince looking me in the eyes as he tongue-fucked me was tied with Preston and Mirror Belle’s adventures for the most erotic events in the history of human sexuality.
I was powerless against that. Against him.
My muscles tensed, nails digging into his scalp, toes curling, and Nathan grinned in the midst of his ministrations. I wasn’t in control of this afternoon blip. I was his the moment I stepped outside.
My orgasm wracked my body. I spasmed, foot coming down hard on my bowl of risotto and tipping onto us. I went down and took him with me. We collapsed in a mess on the floor.
“Damn,” he breathed. “If I say I got nothing from that, will you make me do it again?”
I was coming down, so I couldn’t smack or kiss him. I was still deciding which.
A better thing to ponder is how we went from fighting to covered in our cum and dinner.
“We’re not doing anything like this again.” I pushed myself up on shaky legs and rescued the remains of my clothes. “Kindly exit the same way you came.”
“That’s it?” Nathan watched me scramble around, looking more and more amused. “I could finish the job properly. Spread those tasty lips and ram you until you come so hard, you black out.”
My lower belly clenched so fiercely, I tripped.
“Mouth, pussy, or both. Your choice.”
“No, thank you.” My voice was as prim as the dame’s. Marching inside, I grabbed the door handles. “This never happened.”
“At least let me use the door,” he said.
“No.”
I slammed the doors on his laugh, and then fled to the bathroom to escape it. I lay on the cast-iron surface, surrendering to the boiling rain shower. Just to torture myself, I tallied my score for the day.
Carter: 1. Belle: 0.
Nathan: 1. Belle: 0. (Unless one screaming hot orgasm counted.)
Preston: 1. Belle: ½ point.
My senses returned after Delilah busted in on us, but the fact remained when those twenty minutes were up, I was going to tear Preston apart.
A week ago, I was secure in my ability to resist guys like them, and in one day, they proved me wrong, wrong, and wrong.
I lazed about in the shower for a little longer. My growling stomach eventually roused me. Most of my dinner ended up everywhere but in my mouth. Time to scrounge the kitchen for leftovers.
Padding into the room, I pulled on a simple T-shirt and sweatpants. My hair I twisted into a bun. I reached for my room key and phone. It went off as I pulled on my shoes.
Mom.
I answered, sticking the phone in the crook of my neck. “Hey, Cecilia. I was just about to call you. We need to discuss what you may have heard from Mrs. Desai. Although I’m hoping once she said the name Knight, you knew—”
“Arabella.”
I lurched back, throwing the phone away like it burned.
“Arabella?” A deep, masculine bass echoed through the speaker. A bass that was distinctly not my mother’s or father’s.
“Mom?” I croaked. “Mom!” I dove for the phone. “Why are you calling from her cell?! What did you do to her?!”
“Calm down. That woman is fine for now.” His sickly, syrupy voice poured out, spreading into my mind like miasma. Months since I had heard this voice, and every day of them spent praying I’d never hear it again.
Fear dropped me to my knees. “What did you do? If you’ve hurt her—”
“I haven’t touched her,” he broke in. “And if you don’t want that to change, you’ll tell me where you are. You haven’t been home for days.”
My stomach twisted, pushing bile up my throat. He found me. He was watching me. For how long?
“Where are you, Arabella?”
“I’m... staying at a friend’s house.”
“Which one?”
Which one.
Invisible eyes raked over me, crawling over my skin.
“Which one, Arabella?” He was louder. More insistent.
“P-put my mom on the phone.”
“Tell me!” he roared.
“I’m not telling you shit, Mal!” I burst out. “Not until I hear her voice!”
A thick, weighty silence bore down the other end.
“I will find you, Arabella,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter where you go. You can change your number a thousand times. You can hide behind as many walls. I will always find you.”
Click.
I dialed as I ran, calling for my father, and hearing his surprised hello as I stuck my head in the toilet and vomited.
Chapter Seven
“He spoofed my number, darling. Pretended he was calling from my phone. He’s done this to us before. I’m just so thankful you didn’t give him any information.”
I paced the length of the room, wearing in the tread I’d been working on all night. Sleep wasn’t happening after that phone call.
“Your new sim card is on the way,” Dad chimed in. “It’s scheduled to arrive this afternoon.”
“Changing numbers doesn’t stop him.”
“Belle, listen to me,” Mom said. “Everything is going to be okay. From now on, before I call, I’ll send you a text so that you know it’s me. We’ll come up with a word only we know.”
My lack of sleep was aided by Mom and Dad on the phone with me all night, cycling between raging and reassuring me.
“He said I haven’t been home in days. He was watching me. He could be watching you right now.”
“No one is watching us,” Mom said soothingly. “We have security doing a sweep of the neighborhood as we speak. They’ll interview the neighbors to find out who they’ve seen hanging around or if they hired someone new. In the meantime, I’m more thankful than ever that you’re away, dear. You’re safe there, so just relax and try to have a good time.”
“How can I relax?” I tucked my shaking hands under my arms. “This isn’t an NSA safe house. I’m part of a well-known community event, surrounded by kids snapping selfies and hashtagging Citrine Cove like they get a thousand dollars per Instagram pic. How long is it going to be before he stumbles on the right photobomb?”
“Then you just don’t do whatever that means,” my father replied. “You are safe, Belle, and we will go to any lengths to keep it so.”
“I know you will,” I said. “At least I know that much.”
“He wants to get in your head and you won’t give him the satisfaction,” Mom spoke up. “You have a full day ahead of
you. Focus only on what you’re there to do. What are you wearing, darling? Are you dressing in the nice clothes I packed for you?”
I bit back a sigh. Can’t keep a good dame down for long.
“Put on your pearls. They look gorgeous with your green dress.”
“I have to get going. Mrs. Desai invited the girls to a private breakfast on the terrace.”
“All right. Call us if you need anything.”
We said our goodbyes.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself, mentally running through everything my parents said to reassure me.
I was getting a new number. Mal didn’t know where I was. Security was hunting for him. Mom and Dad were safe.
The list repeated on a loop as I headed downstairs and veered left instead of right.
The Desai’s private terrace doubled as an oasis. Palm trees planted strategically about lent cool shade to the breakfasters. A stone path led to a small garden with a babbling fountain. Preston, Carter, and Nathan stood next to it, chatting about whatever handsome, rich boys talked about.
Carter spotted me first. His shifted attention alerted the other boys and they looked at me... and smirked.
Each in different ways and for different reasons, but the shit-eating smugness shone like neon lights—the color of my heated cheeks.
“Good morning, Belle.” Rosalie stepped in the path of her son. “I saved you a seat right by my side. Will you join me?”
“Sure. What’s on the menu?” I asked as we weaved through the tables.
“Espresso waffles with a hazelnut chocolate drizzle and a side of eggs and bacon cooked how you like.”
“Goodness, you spoil us.”
She laughed. “I do my best to make your stay comfortable.” Rosalie pulled out my chair. “I’d like to say how happy I am that you’ve embraced what we’re doing here. Carter reiterates that he’s thrilled to marry you. Although, I am confused by the panicked phone call I shared with his mother. She wasn’t aware of his diagnosis.”
My butt popped up without hitting the seat. “On that note, I should make an announcement.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everyone?” I whistled. “Ladies, I have a confession to make and you know the best stuff comes after that sentence.”
The girls quieted. Everyone turned on me.
“Heavens, not again,” Rosalie said. “Belle, I insist—”
“It’s not what you think. I’m staying off the soapbox this morning. Actually, I’m setting the record straight and everyone does need to hear this.”
She studied me. “Fine. But make it quick.”
“All right,” I said, allowing my voice to carry. “About me and Carter. First, there is no me and Carter. We’re not getting married and he’s not dying. He doesn’t have Huntington’s disease.”
Noise broke out around me.
Ivy got to her feet. “But you said that he did. Carter did too.”
“I lied.” I turned on the watching boys. “I also lied about having a son with Nathan and catching chlamydia from Preston.”
“Catching what?” Rosalie sputtered.
“Nor am I carrying the future Desai heir.”
Mrs. Desai sat down hard.
“What the hell?” Ivy shouted.
“It was a test,” I said. “The guys and I cooked up those lies to see out of the gate who was after an easy inheritance or who wanted us—illegitimate children and all. Right, guys?”
The boys shared a look.
Preston was first to say, “Right. Just a little joke.” He winked at me. “Frankly, I’m hurt by how many of you believed it.”
“Test?” Rosalie repeated. I think she was still trying to catch up.
“Before you get too mad,” I said, “remember that this means Carter Knight is healthy and back on the market. And let me tell you, ladies, he’s not discriminating. He’s willing to put a ring on just about anyone. Desperate to in fact.” I mirrored his vanishing smirk. “Grab him while you can.”
Carter stepped back like they were about to stampede. The look on a few girls’ faces said he wasn’t far off.
A cleared throat pulled me up. “Thank you, Belle. We get the gist.” She got to her feet. “Boys, it’s time for you to go, but before you do, let me make it clear that there is no need to test anyone here. No one has been given an invitation that hasn’t been screened. I’m sure I won’t hear of these antics again.”
“Of course not, Mom.”
The guys continued down the path leading around the house.
“Belle, if you’d like to sit,” she prompted.
I sat. My knife and fork were soon in my hands, cutting up the sweet-smelling creation.
“Welcome, ladies, and thank you for joining me this morning. I’ve drawn you aside to discuss some of what you’ll be doing this summer. My aim is to prepare you for the next stage. No matter what the outcome following the end of our time here, all of you will walk away with new skills.
“Of course, you know there is more to being a wife than slipping on a ring. Just as there is more to being a mother than popping out a baby. New parents educate and prepare themselves for the arrival of their child,” she said. “In the same way, you’ll use this summer to prepare for marriage.”
Nora raised her hand. “You mean like the counseling sessions couples do at church?”
“Yes and no. That’s keeping with what we’re doing, but in this case, it’s about you the individual. Not the couple.”
“What will we be doing?”
“You’ll learn event planning, hosting, and etiquette among other things. We’ll also discuss some of the common stumbling blocks in a marriage and how to navigate them.”
“Question,” I piped up. “Will the boys be learning how to shake hands and throw parties, or is that just for us?”
“The boys have their own tasks to complete,” she said simply. “Many of you have watched your mothers, aunts, or grandmothers do it and this summer I’ll teach you to effortlessly fill their shoes. We start right away.”
“Start what?” I asked.
“The first task: event planning.” She waved her hand. “Every formal event we hold this summer will be planned by you all. I’ll put you in groups and you’ll decide on the theme, hire the staff, choose the entertainment, and deal with the fires that inevitably pop up. Any questions?”
No one had any.
“Great. Let’s finish our breakfast first and then we’ll get down to it.”
We wrapped up the meal, and as promised, Mrs. Desai sorted us into groups and ordered us to work.
Between my lapse with Nathan, Mal getting to me, and my being placed in a group with Ivy and Delilah, I knew for sure that someone up there didn’t like me.
“Let’s do something classic, but fun,” said Ivy. “A masquerade.”
The five of us snagged a table nearest the fountain. Mrs. Desai set us up with notepads, pens, markers, a tablet, and then let us loose.
“The masquerade theme is a little played out, don’t you think?” I asked. “What is it with us rich folk crushing on poofy dresses and Venetian masks? Besides, I’m not a big fan of being surrounded by people and not knowing who they are.”
“I agree with Belle,” Hazel said. “Remember the homecoming dance? Henry got the same mask as my boyfriend and stole a kiss before I noticed. Sorry, but I’m off masquerades for life.”
“Don’t just shoot down my ideas,” Ivy said. “Come up with some of your own.”
“That’s fair.” I slid the tablet to me and messed around in Google. “How about Great Gatsby?”
Kelli tipped her thumb down. “Overdone.”
“Mythical creatures.”
“This is a formal event, not a third grader’s birthday party,” said Ivy.
“Moulin Rouge?”
The girls hummed, trading looks.
“That’s not bad,” said Kelli. “I’ll write it down as an option. What else?”
“We could play up the whole be
ach, sea, and sand surroundings and have an ‘under the sea’ theme.” I’m not saying I was into this task, but my mind was running through the wardrobe ideas faster than I could spit out suggestions.
“The other groups will have the same idea,” Delilah replied. “We could do enchanted forest or— Oooh. Let’s do happily ever after.”
“What’s that?” asked Hazel.
“Fairy-tale theme. We’ll choose one and model everything in that style. We can do sand and sea after Ariel or castles and fairy lights for Cinderella.”
I squinted at her, searching for an ulterior reason for that particular suggestion. “Didn’t we say no third-grade birthday parties?” I reminded. “I choose Moulin Rouge.”
“I like Moulin Rouge too,” Kelli threw in.
“Let’s vote,” said Delilah. “Raise your hand for Moulin Rouge.”
Kelli’s and my hand shot up and that settled it.
“Raise them for happily ever after.”
Three against one.
“WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL? A fairy-tale party sounds like fun.”
I heaved a sigh. “They’ve gotten to you too.”
“Who has?”
“Disney.”
Zion laughed. “Am I a victim of a conspiracy?”
“Majorly. At this stage, deprogramming is a lost cause.”
The two of us stretched out on the beach, soaking in an hour of free time. My party planning group spent the entire morning breaking down tasks and assigning them. I was on top of music. Kelli had the decorations. Delilah was researching vendors. Ivy was staying on top of our budget. And Hazel was taking care of the menu and food.
We had to do everything on our own. The villa staff’s only job was to take the night off during our events.
After wrangling with Ivy and Delilah, a rest on the beach was exactly what the doctor ordered, and the others felt the same.
The boys started up another football game, running around tackling each other in their trunks. The girls either swam, gathered by the pool, or joined us in some sunbathing. Afterward, we’d all wash off our sandy butts and head to the next activity.
“What do you have against happily ever afters?”