High

by LP Lovell

  “Okay.”

  He smirks. “Okay?”

  I nod my head once and he slams his icy lips over mine. I wind my arms tightly around his neck, trying to get as close to him as possible. Wanting to crawl inside him.

  His hands cup my arse, squeezing as he yanks me against his hard dick. “And there was me thinking the cold would have scared him off.”

  His lips kick up. “Him?”

  I point down between us. “Your peen.”

  He shakes his head. “Never.”

  We swim back to the boat and Rhett waits for me to climb the ladder, helping me as my numb fingers grip the rungs. Okay, so maybe the whole water situation wasn’t the smartest idea, but it seemed like a good one at the time.

  He climbs up behind me. “You just want to perve.” I shout back at him.

  “Duchess, it doesn’t take a lot to get you naked. I don’t need to perve.”

  I glance down at him. “Are you saying I’m easy?” I ask, incredulously.

  He climbs up behind me and slaps my arse, making me yelp. “We both know you are.”

  When I climb up onto the deck, Milly is waiting with her hands on her hips. I laugh when I see the scowl on her face.

  “Oh, Blake Ivy McQueen, I am going to kill you!”

  I dive out of her way and into Felix. He shakes his head and holds out a towel, wrapping it around me, because yes, I’m standing in front of a party full of people who are all crowded around, and I’m in just my underwear. I shiver violently, my teeth chattering together.

  “Just when I think you might actually be settling down, you throw yourself off a boat.” Felix says, humour lacing his voice.

  “I have to keep him on his toes.” I nod towards Rhett.

  “Yeah.” Felix laughs. “Have fun with that, dude.”

  Rhett grabs my hand, leading me away from the gathered people. “We’ll be back.” I follow him down the side of the boat, and damn, Rhett in just a pair of boxers is a view I will never get bored of, and I’ll never have to.

  I’m going to marry Rhett, and it seems completely insane, but so right at the same time. Sometimes in life, you have to take a good thing when it comes, don’t fight it and don’t question it. Rhett Torres is one of those things. He may not be everyone’s version of perfect, but he’s my perfect.

  He pulls me to a cordoned off set of stairs and down a level into a lavish living area. “Oh, this is fancy.” The music upstairs starts up again, vibrating the flooring beneath my feet.

  He keeps walking through the living room and into a bedroom. He yanks the towel away from me and I scowl as a violent shiver wracks my body.

  “You’re the one that wanted to ‘feel alive’.” He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Feeling it right now?”

  “Fuck off.”

  He laughs as he slides a hand up my back, releasing my bra, next he pushes my underwear down my legs, helping me step out of the wet lace.

  “Told you, doesn’t take much.” He smiles as he shoves his boxers off and opens a door on the far side of the room, leading to a bathroom. He starts the shower, and the instant steam promises warmth and Rhett, naked, with water running all over those muscles. Pretty much, everything good right now. He slides the glass back and steps in, beckoning me with a crook of his finger. I follow him into the shower and he wraps an arm around my waist, yanking me against him so hard I gasp. The hot water stings my skin, making me hiss out a breath.

  His fingers wind into my hair, forcing my head back until my eyes lock with his. “You jump into freezing water like that again and I’m leaving you to drown.”

  I smirk. “Lies.” I lean in and kiss him, gently sucking on his bottom lip. “You love me.”

  He bites my lip. “I do.” His tongue slides into my mouth and I moan against his lips.

  “You want me.” I breathe unevenly against his mouth, running my hand down his body and fisting his dick.

  “Always.” He groans as I work my hand over him. I trace my tongue up the side of his throat, lapping the hot water from his skin. I work my way down the broad muscles of his chest, skimming his nipple with my teeth, pumping his cock the entire time. He spins us, positioning me beneath the flow of water and bracing a hand against the tile as he throws his head back.

  I go lower, dragging my tongue over every chiselled groove between each ab, his muscles flex and contract under my lips as his breaths fall ragged.

  I drop to a crouch in front of him, gripping the backs of his thighs for support. I trace my tongue along his guideline until his cock is brushing my cheek. I glance up at him and his expression is twisted in desperation, his teeth gritted. I gently kiss the spot just to the right of his dick and it twitches.

  His eyes narrow. “Damn it, Blake. If you don’t suck my dick in the next two seconds, I’m going to fuck your face until you gag.”

  I laugh. “Patience is a virtue.”

  He fists a hand in my hair. “Blake.” He growls in warning.

  I smile and open my mouth, slowly sliding his dick inside. His breath hitches on a moan and he slaps his hand against the tile.

  “Your fucking mouth!” He curses. I slide my hands up the backs of his thighs, cupping his arse. I dig my nails in, pulling him towards me, forcing him to fuck my face. I like him desperate, needy, and unhinged. I like to be the only one who can break Rhett Torres, even if I am on my knees while I do it.

  He thrusts forward until his dick touches the back of my throat. I swallow to stop myself from gagging which makes him groan. His pace quickens, his movements becoming more desperate, more forceful. I feel his dick twitch, his muscles tense, and then he rips away from me, panting heavily.

  He roughly pulls me to my feet and grips my thigh, lifting it up over his hip. His lips hit my neck as he slams two fingers inside my pussy. I choke on a silent moan, my brain short circuiting completely as I clamp down around his fingers.

  He bites my neck hard. “I’m going to come in this sweet pussy, Duchess.”

  I can’t respond, I can’t think. I roll my hips, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of him.

  He rips his hand away and spins me, pressing his hand between my shoulder blades, forcing me to bend over. I feel his cock pressing against me, sliding through the juncture of my thighs. I throw my palm against the tile, bracing against him as his big body folds over mine. I feel his tongue trace my spine, and then his fingers are gripping my hip, holding me hard enough that I feel his short nails bite into my skin.

  There’s no warning, no tenderness as he slams into me so hard I struggle to stay upright. My pussy quivers around him as he stills inside me, breathing heavily. He moves his hand from my back and traces the length of my neck. He wraps my hair around his hand, yanking me upright until my back bows and he slides even deeper inside of me. A broken moan escapes my throat and he pulls my head to the side slightly, kissing the side of my neck before biting down on the delicate skin.

  “You’re mine, Blake.” He growls, pulling out and thrusting back in. My hand slides down the tile a fraction as I struggle to brace against him. “Say it.”

  Now? He wants me to talk now? Fucking hell, I can barely breathe.

  His grip on my hair tightens and I wince as he pulls me upright. He laps at the water running down the side of my throat. The gentleness combined with the brutal hold he has on my hair has me panting wildly.

  He suddenly pulls out of me, and my body feels cold without him. He spins me, slamming my back against the tile and grabbing both my thighs, lifting me and pulling them apart at the same time. He throws me around like I’m a rag doll and I love it. He slides back inside me, pausing when he hits home. His eyes lock with mine and he says nothing as we both breathe heavily.

  “Say it.” He whispers.

  What is he on about?

  His lips brush against mine so tenderly I feel like I’m getting whiplash from his emotions. “Tell me you’re mine, Duchess.” He breathes against my mouth.

  He pulls back a little and slams back in,
making me moan. Again he stills and waits.

  “I’m yours.”

  His hand leaves my thigh and I tighten my grip around his waist, clinging to him. He cups my cheek and drags one finger across my bottom lip, a small smile on his lips. For a second, I think that this is strange, and there must be something wrong, but then he starts moving, fucking me like a man possessed, and I forget everything that isn’t Rhett and what his cock is doing to me.

  I lie on the bed, basking in the high that can only come from epic sex—epic Rhett sex. He glances down at my naked body, that cocky smile on his lips. You know, the one where they feel all manly because they made you scream, yeah, that smile.

  “I have something for you.” He says as he moves to the chair where someone has laid his jacket and trousers and my dress. He searches in the pocket and pulls out a box. Now, I’ve never been a romantic person, I wasn’t that girl who ever particularly wanted to get married, much to my mother’s dismay. I’ve never seen it as a life goal, however, even I know what that little black velvet box means, and my heart skips a beat.

  I sit up and lift my eyes to his as he approaches the bed, crouching down in front of me.

  “Don’t you dare get on one knee.” I tell him.

  He grins and thankfully stays off his knees. He holds out the box and pops it open to show me a serious rock. My mother would be proud. She always said never settle for anything less than four carats. This has to be five.

  It’s not a diamond though, it’s a ruby, such a deep red it’s almost the colour of blood. Two smaller diamonds sit to either side of it on what I assume is a white gold or platinum band.

  “Holy. Shit.”

  His grin widens. “A lady as ever.”

  I look up at him again. “Yeah, you’re asking the wrong girl if you wanted class.”

  “You’re a class of your own, Duchess.”

  “Oh, that one was good.”

  He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a bottomless pit of this shit.”

  I slide to the edge of the bed and wrap my arms around his neck. “I always was a sucker for a man with charm.”

  He takes the ring out of the box and I disentangle my arms from around him. He slides the ring onto my left ring finger and for the first time in my life, I feel like I belong, as though everything has suddenly fallen into place. I never wanted marriage because in the world I grew up in it represented an exchange of power, an arrangement made to benefit one or perhaps both parties. Marriage was never about love, but this, with Rhett, this is love. This is different. This is …right.

  “It looks good on you.” He stares at the ring on my finger and swallows heavily before looking away, but not before I catch something flash in his eyes, something that definitely shouldn’t be there. He stands and turns his back on me, refusing to look at me as he puts his shirt and trousers on. Something settles in the pit of my stomach and I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like it. “We should go back to the party.” He says.

  “Okay.”

  I barely see Rhett for the rest of the night. People congratulate us, girls want to look at the ring, guys slap him on the back.

  At one point our gazes meet across the crowded deck of the boat, and I can’t explain why, but the look in his eyes haunt me. I rip my gaze from his and leave the party.

  I lie on that bed tossing and turning for what feels like hours until eventually the music stops and I can see the pale grey light of dawn creeping through the little porthole window.

  The door to the bedroom creaks open and I slam my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. I hear the rustle of clothing hitting the floor and then the bed drops on one side. A thick arm wraps around my waist, holding me against a hot, solid chest. His scent engulfs me, pulling me into the impenetrable bubble that is Rhett and me when we are together. I never thought I would feel so consumed by someone that I would feel bereft without their presence, but that’s how I feel with him. When I’m in his arms, it’s as though I can finally breathe properly.

  He nuzzles his nose into my hair and presses his lips into the back of my head. “I love you, Duchess.” He whispers. “More than anyone or anything, remember that.”

  And at that moment, all my earlier fears are nowhere to be seen.

  I stand at the end of the bed and watch Blake sleeping. Her hair is sprawled everywhere and her make up is all over her face, but god, she’s fucking beautiful.

  Her hand is on her stomach, the ruby rock glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window. It looks so good on her, so right, and I wish my life weren't as fucked up as it is. I wish more than anything that I didn’t have to do this, but sometimes we have to make choices and we have to stand by people we made promises to. No matter how much it might hurt.

  I lean over and place a feather light kiss on her forehead before turning around and walking out of the room without a backward glance.

  I climb the stairs to the deck and head for the ramp that leads to the jetty.

  “You’re up early.” I whip around in the direction of the voice and find Milly leaning against the rail on the top deck. “Two hours’ sleep. Hard core. I like it.”

  “Yeah, I have a meeting.”

  “Jesus, Torres, you need to get better business acquaintances. You tell them that I said Sundays are for sleeping.”

  I cock a brow at her. “And shouldn’t you be doing that?”

  She shrugs and lifts the bottle of tequila up to show me. “Haven’t been to bed yet. But don’t worry. Blake and I will do girl stuff and hang out, and we’ll be back this evening.” She slurs slightly. “And if you have any friends like you, you know, with the big rock and the willy nilly use of their credit card, you know who you’re going to introduce them to, right?”

  I smile. “You’ll be first on my list. I promise.”

  She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and takes a swig from the bottle. “Have fun.” She waves at me before sinking back down into a sun lounger.

  I get off the boat and find my car. Now to drive back to London and finish this.

  God, this office needs updating. The dark wood panelled walls, the green Chesterfield, the leather topped desk, it’s all so fucking pretentious it’s painful.

  The door clicks open and Miles McQueen walks into the room, closing the door behind him. His ever present scowl is firmly in place.

  He holds up a paper with an image of Blake and me from last night, the brief moment that I actually spent any time with her after I proposed. It’s a cell phone picture, but the paper has zoomed in on the ring on her finger. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” He snaps, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red.

  “I came to you with an offer, and you turned me down. I believe your words were ‘Blake is just going through a phase’. Well does it look like a phase now?”

  “You’re an animal.” He hisses.

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  He takes a few steps closer to me. “I’ll simply tell Blake what you really are. A con artist, a criminal, a liar.”

  I laugh. “And you really think she’ll believe you? You shunned her, shamed her, sent her away when she needed you most. You pushed your own daughter to drug addiction, and all because she wouldn’t fit in with your regime. I told you before, she hates you.” I growl, trying hard to rein in my temper because this is the man who was supposed to love her unconditionally. “She loves me.” I breathe through my tightening throat. Those words shouldn’t be so hard, after all, that was always the plan, but my loving her back wasn’t.

  He sighs and pulls at the knot of his tie, loosening it. “It’s impossible.” He shakes his head.

  “Nothing is impossible, Minister. Get it done or I marry your daughter. You have two hours to give me something concrete. I catch a plane to New York tonight, whether Blake comes with me…that’s up to you.”

  I have sent Rhett five texts and called him three times with no answer, and now his phone is going straight to voicemail.

  �
�I’m sure he just left his phone in the car or something and now it’s dead.” Milly says, turning the radio back up.

  That would be rational and plausible, but something is making me uneasy.

  We pull into the parking garage and I don’t see his car, even though he said he would be here at seven and it’s now seven thirty. Rhett is never late. God, maybe I’m just paranoid. I fucking hate those clingy, needy women, and yet the second he puts a ring on my finger I’m obsessing over half an hour.

  “Let’s order pizza.”

  “Yes! Pizza and a joint?” Milly claps her hand together.

  Right now, a joint sounds awesome. I need to relax a bit. “You get the weed—I’ll get the pizza?” I offer.

  “Done. I’ll be back in twenty.” She veers off out of the parking garage through the door that leads to the street. I head up to the flat.

  I get in and start dialling the pizza joint when my phone starts ringing in my hand.

  I frown as my dad’s name lights the screen. What the hell does he want?

  “Unexpected.” I say when I pick it up. Silence. “Hello?”

  “Blake, I need to tell you something.” I have heard my father pissed, I’ve heard him indifferent, but I’ve never heard him sound sad, and it has me worried.

  “What is it?” I’m expecting him to say my mother has died, the house got burned down, something terrible.

  “Rhett Torres is gone and he’s not coming back. I just thought you should know before you go looking for him.” My stomach bottoms out. That is not at all what I was expecting.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He sighs. “He was never interested in you, Blake. I warned you he was dangerous. He only ever wanted to use you to get to me. You agreed to marry him. I had no choice…”

  “What did you do?” I demand.