Kingston (Four Fathers Book 2)

by Dani René

  Her heat was intoxicating. There’s always been sexual tension between us, but what happened in the restroom confirms she wants me. Even if she did have a boyfriend, I’d fuck her so hard, until my dick was the only one she craved.

  I don’t give a shit if there’s anyone else in her life.

  Tonight, she’s mine.

  Chapter Four

  Kristyn

  The house I share with my dad isn’t huge, but it’s comfortable. I grew up in this home, and when he got sick, leaving wasn’t an option. He’s been here for me all my life, supporting me, giving me a chance at the career of my dreams, so I stayed to be his support.

  I learned early on, though, all those hopes you hold onto and work toward don’t always happen. And slowly, I’ve come to terms with that. My heart sinks as I think about things I’ve had to let go of, dropping my bag on the living room table, I head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge.

  “Krissy, what are you doing home so early?” Dad’s voice comes from behind me. My gaze lands on him, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice he looks better than he has in a long while.

  “I wasn’t feeling well,” I tell him, noticing the immediate concern on his face. “I’m okay now, Dad. I promise.” I lean in and place a soft peck on his cheek. My father isn’t overly affectionate, but I know he loves me in his own way.

  “Good. I’m heading to bed,” he tells me. “Don’t stay up too late.” Every night since I was thirteen and needed to be up for school the next morning, he’s told me the same thing. And each time, I respond the same way.

  “I won’t, Dad. Love you.” He waves away my words and I smile. He’s fragile. As he ages, my heart aches knowing our time is running out. The doctors said it could be six months, or might be a year, but each day, he will wither. Watching someone you love—someone who was so strong for so long—lose a fight with their health is painful.

  The click of his bedroom door tells me I’m alone with my thoughts of what happened at the club. Seeing Levi there was a shock to my system. I reveled in his concern, but having him recognize me was scarier. I thought for sure he was going to fire me. When he told me to go home, I figured it would be the end of my career at Four Fathers’ Freight, but he only did it to get me away from Eric Pearson.

  Mr. Pearson is somewhat of an asshole. Rude. Arrogant. And utterly disgusting at times. Like when he leers at my chest, or I feel him staring at my ass, burning a hole through the material of my skirt. If he knew I was a dancer, I’m certain he’d have done much worse than spank me.

  Eric probably would have fucked me right there in the toilet stall and wouldn’t have been satisfied until I screamed his name. I’ve overheard him and Levi talking in the office about their conquests. And as much as I am horrified by some of the things I’ve overheard, I’ve also been turned on more than ever by Levi Kingston.

  The two men are predators.

  Rich, powerful, and so handsome, it’s almost illegal.

  They both dress impeccably, but it’s always Levi who catches my eye. He causes my heart to race erratically. And most times, my panties are wet when he pins me with those dark, hungry eyes.

  Curling up on the sofa, I pick up my latest romance novel and open it to the next chapter. The story has me hooked, and I can’t wait to find out what happens next. My eyes are roaming the pages eagerly when a knock on the door startles me.

  Frowning, I glance at the wall clock, noticing it’s well past eleven. Quickly, I rise and head toward the door as another few raps sound. Twisting the handle, I tug open the door an inch to peer out the crack.

  My lips part on a shocked gasp when I’m met with familiar dark eyes. They eat me up, from my head down to my toes, then back up.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask quietly. My eyes are glued to Levi and his feral expression.

  “I’m here to talk.” Even though he says those words, I don’t believe them. The glint in his gaze is mischievous. Wolfish. As if he can get me to do anything he wants, and he possibly can with just a snap of his fingers.

  “But—”

  “Open the damn door, Kristyn, or should I call you Kismet?” he quips, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing smirk.

  Sighing, I close the door, unlatch the metal chain, and pull it open for him to step inside. “You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, hoping my father has already fallen asleep. I don’t need to be answering to two men tonight.

  “Why are you whispering?” Levi glances around, taking in my comfortable living room, which I’m sure is far smaller than his. The men who own Four Fathers are all wealthy and live in the most beautiful homes in Florida.

  Mansions I’ve only ever seen on TV or in magazines with gardens that could fit my whole house and more.

  “My father is asleep,” I tell him. My attempt at getting away from him is hindered when his hand shoots out, grasping my wrist. “Levi,” I utter his name, lifting my blue eyes to meet his dark ones. There’s a storm brewing in them, and I wonder if he’s going to wreck me as much as I’m certain he can.

  “I need to talk to you. Eric was asking questions about you,” he tells me in a hushed whisper. “Well…the dancer. I managed to sway him off the interrogation, but I know he won’t let it go.” He releases me.

  The urgency in his tone is clear. I could have gotten into trouble. I could’ve lost my job, and that would’ve been detrimental. I need the job. I need them both. It’s the only way I can afford to live. That’s none of Levi’s business, though. My private life is just that: mine.

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I have a proposition for you,” he utters, and I snap my gaze to his in shock. “You said you needed the money.” I nod. “And I guess you’re not going to tell me why?” I shake my head no. I would respond, but I can’t find the words. My tongue feels thick, heavy, and the lump in my throat doesn’t allow me to swallow. Anxiety weighs on my chest along with fear.

  He watches me for a moment before stepping closer. The heat of his body envelops me, holding me hostage under his intense gaze. I can’t stop my eyes from inching up his chest to his neck and the slightest dusting of stubble on his face.

  My palms tingle to touch it. I wonder what it would feel like if his face was between my thighs. My cheeks heat in embarrassment as the images flit through my mind. He’s my boss. Off limits. But it doesn’t stop my thighs from squeezing together.

  “Spend the month with me. As a…” he tips his head to the side, as if thinking about the right word to use, “companion. I need someone to accompany me to functions, as well as someone to come home to after a long, hard day,” he utters in a husky tone which sends a shiver down my spine. The closeness of his body causes my body to react once more. His hands find purchase on my hips, tugging me closer, and my palms land on his chest.

  “No.” The word is a gasp falling in the space between us. “There’s no way I can do that.” Once again, I feel the heat of him under my touch. His body is solid, and I can’t help reveling in the warmth. My attempt to push him away is fruitless. He doesn’t budge. Something tells me it won’t be so easy to rid myself of him.

  “You can, and you will. You’ll quit your job at the club, there’ll be no more dancing for men. I’ll transfer twenty-five-thousand dollars into your bank account in the morning,” he says, no hint of jest in his tone. He’s serious. Deathly so.

  “I’m not a whore,” I bite out angrily. Shaking my head, I meet his stare with a confident one of my own. “You cannot just walk into my house and offer me money to fuck you.”

  My words cause him to lean in close. “Listen to me, and listen very fucking carefully,” he hisses, his mouth on the shell of my ear. “I’ll do anything I want to you, Kismet.” There’s no anger in his tone as he bites out my stage name, but jealousy drips from the word like a poison.

  “And what makes you think you can just order me around like I’m your slave?”

  “This.” He reaches between my thighs and cups
my pussy. When his fingers press against my clit, I whimper. “That little mewl from your plump lips is all the evidence I need. You enjoy me ordering you around, and I do recall you being wet as fuck when I spanked your sweet ass in that restroom, so don’t stand there telling me I don’t affect you.”

  He’s right. I can’t deny it. I want this man. I ache for him to touch me, to make me moan his name as I unravel on his fingers and tongue and cock.

  His teasing touch circles my clit. My body is ready, needy, and slick for him to dip into me. But he doesn’t. He continues to torture me through my panties. There’s no denying he’s an expert at this. I’m fighting a losing battle.

  “Now, tomorrow, you’ll call your boss at that shit-show of a club and tell her you got another job.” His voice is a demanding whisper. “Then, you’ll get dressed and come to work. You’ll bring me my coffee, schedule my meetings, and when you’re done at the office…” he leans in farther, suckling my earlobe into his hot mouth, allowing his teeth to graze the flesh, “you’ll come to my house where I will fuck you as punishment for turning me on so much.”

  He trails his mouth to my neck, biting down harshly, and I find myself wanting him to leave a mark there. I want him to hurt me.

  “I’m not a nice man, little Kismet,” he taunts with words and fingers. “I’m going to abuse your pretty little body until you can’t move. Until the only thing you’ll need, crave, and hunger for is my cock in your tight holes.”

  “You’re right,” I tell him, and he moves back, his eyes burning with desire. “You are an asshole,” I bite out, tugging myself free of his hold. Stalking into the kitchen, I open the fridge and grab another bottle of chilled water. My body trembles with need for him. As filthy as his promises are, I find myself wanting them.

  He follows me; I feel him before I hear him. He doesn’t touch me, but it’s as if his hands are all over me. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of my skin at his nearness. Nothing has ever prepared me for the overbearing Levi Kingston. In the office, we’re nothing more than boss and employee, but here, in the privacy of my home, he’s a man I want inside me. I want his mouth on me, his lips suckling my flesh, marking me.

  “Do you mean to tell me, if I fucked my fingers into you right now, you wouldn’t drip all over my hand with those sweet juices currently coating your panties?” He tips his head to the side and scrutinizes me, and it feels as if I’m a mystery to him. The soft curve of his lips forms a smirk so sinful, it’s as if the devil is standing before me. Perhaps he is. Leading me into temptation.

  “You need to leave,” I tell him, setting the bottle on the counter. That was my mistake. He moves swiftly, his body pressing me against the edge of the counter, the thickness of his erection firm against my ass, nestling between the cheeks, perfectly taunting.

  “Do you want me to leave, Kismet?” he asks, cooing the name along the sensitive skin behind my ear. One hand fists my long chestnut waves and tugs my head to the side, exposing my neck to his rabid mouth.

  The wetness of his tongue trails along the flesh, tasting me from my collarbone to my ear, where he once again suckles, then bites down harder than earlier. His free hand tracks its way up to my nipple, tweaking it through the material of my tee. When he yanks it harshly, another whimper laced with desire echoes around us, breaking the silence.

  “I thought so,” he grits out through clenched teeth. His jaw ticks wildly and I wonder if he’s angry or turned on or is it a bit of both. Releasing me, he leaves me cold, shaky, and beyond turned on. I’m fucked. I’m in so deep right now, my mind is fogged with lust for the man I work for—the man who’s standing in my kitchen with the biggest bulge I’ve ever felt—and I don’t want him to leave.

  I shake my head, attempting to clear the thoughts of what he can do to me—of what I want him to do to me. “You really do need to leave,” I utter noncommittally, glancing down the hallway toward my father’s bedroom door.

  “I’ll go. But I want you to remember one thing, baby girl. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll only force the issue. I want you. I will get you. And once you’re mine, I’ll make you come on my fingers anywhere I please.”

  He turns on his heel and stalks from the kitchen, leaving me whirling from the demanding force of Levi Kingston. The click of the front door sounds like a foghorn in the darkness and silence. I don’t for one second doubt this man will not give up until I submit to his demands. The memory of him offering me twenty-five-thousand dollars filters into my thoughts. It’s a lot of money. But what do I really have to lose? I want to refuse, but when I think of my father, my decision is easy.

  Chapter Five

  Levi

  What the fuck am I doing?

  That’s the question that plagued me while I was standing in her kitchen, needing to be closer to her, to touch and taste her. And goddamn, if her father hadn’t been in the same house, I would’ve made her come all over the kitchen table.

  Reigning in my restraint was near impossible. My cock throbs painfully. My balls are heavy with my seed. Wanting to empty myself in her tight little holes is at the forefront of my mind as I drive home.

  The late-night air is humid, stifling. Thankfully, the roads are empty, because I’m not focused. I can’t think straight. All I see is Kristyn. Pulling into the garage, I exit the car, still hard from my encounter with the brunette beauty. Her blue eyes shimmered with shock and innocence at my proposition, only serving to confirm I want her.

  Entering the house, I find it quiet, empty. Ethan is probably asleep. He leaves tomorrow on a month-long tour of colleges. The gap year he’s planning is still up for discussion. Once he’s done figuring out which school he wants to attend, we’ll relook his decision not to study once he’s graduated.

  Since he decided to move out of the house and study away from home, I find myself at odds. I wish he’d stay, but I can’t force him. I recall my own parents who shoved me into the life they wanted for me, instead of asking me what I wanted, and vowed I’d never do that to him.

  Since Abi’s death, I became relaxed with him, so much so, one night I got home late from work and found him and his girlfriend at the time fucking on my sofa. His seventeen-year-old ass got grounded. I didn’t want to see him doing that shit.

  Although, I had to give it to him. He has great taste in women. The girl he was plowing was cute. Her pert little tits were delicious, and her cunt was shaven. I got an eyeful before she ran off to his bedroom to hide away.

  That brings my thoughts back to Kristyn. Her body is petite in every way. She’d be perfect to fuck like a doll. Throwing her on my bed, watching her bounce on the soft mattress while her pert tits jiggled…

  I need to calm the fuck down.

  I’m not one for jerking off in the shower—or anywhere else, for that matter. If I need a fuck, I find it, but tonight, all I want to do is fist my dick with thoughts of her riding me.

  Stalking down the hall toward my wing of the house, I shove open my bedroom door and step inside. The black and white furnishing fits perfectly with the modern design of the house. The clean lines and sleek silver with glass was elegantly done. I couldn’t live in the house where Abi died, so when I bought this place, I ensured there wasn’t an ounce of her left behind.

  Memories are all I have, and they’re enough to haunt me at every turn.

  Unbuttoning my shirt, I shrug it off and toss it on the armchair near the window. The leather belt is next, along with my black slacks. Once I’m only in a pair of tight boxers, I settle back on the bed and close my eyes. My palm finds itself on my hard-on, gripping it through the material as I recall images of Kismet.

  My sweet, delicious little girl.

  She’s so fucking innocent, I want to violate her in every way possible. The image of her on her knees swallowing my dick has me shoving my briefs down and fisting my dick.

  Arousal from the tip of my cock trails its way down my shaft as I jerk off. My movements are fast and erratic, as if I can’t get enough. Imagining her t
ight hole, slick and needy for me…my body shudders as my balls draw up, ready to empty themselves.

  Spurts of hot seed shoot onto my bare stomach, drenching me while thoughts of her drift through my mind on a loop. There’s something about this girl that’s found its way into my head, taunting me at every turn.

  I’m not sure what I’m going to do tomorrow when she walks into my home, but one thing is for damn sure: she’ll be bent over taking my dick before the night is over. Grabbing tissues, I wipe up the mess I made and roll over onto my side. The red numbers on the clock beside my bed glare at me, telling me it’s after midnight.

  I shut my eyes, calling on sleep to allow me a reprieve from my pain. Guilt stirs over what I just did, and the need to do it again.

  “Dad.” Ethan’s voice drags me from my slumber of blue eyes and chestnut waves. When I finally crack my eyes, I find my eighteen-year-old son staring at me from the bedroom door. “It’s almost time for me to leave,” he tells me, then turns to leave.

  A quick glance at the clock informs me it’s just after seven. I groan as I push off the bed, finding morning wood trying to escape my boxers. It’s way too early for anything other than a strong cup of coffee, but I need to be supportive and show him I’ll be here for him no matter what he decides.

  I pull on gray sweats and a T-shirt, and head out to the living room where Ethan is finishing off his coffee. His dark hair is messy, standing in all directions, and his eyes, a deep brown matching his mother’s, glance up when I enter.

  “Are you looking forward to it?” I ask, making my way into the kitchen. The open plan space allows him to respond while I busy myself with filling the mug with some java.