Redeemed: Ruined and Redeemed Duet - Book 2

by Johnston, Marie

  She leaves.

  He has all this and he still went after you.

  I shiver. She tried to scare me but it has the exact opposite effect.

  When he realizes I’m nothing more than a pampered daddy’s girl, will he lose interest? Will he be more bitter that his family’s money went to nothing more than my private school education and sedate lifestyle? Will he realize that I’m not much further beyond where he is? No lasting relationships because I smother the guys until they want far away from me. My work is my life, and Penni and Holland are basically my only friends.

  Jacobi wanted me to know. How can he stand me?

  I rise but don’t go inside. I don’t trust myself to face him without sobbing. I’m so sorry for everything my father did to him, and I understand why he only wants to use me.

  The water twinkles blue and only a few clouds dot the sky. To hell with my clothes. I kick off my sandals and walk out of the courtyard, the pavers warm under my feet. Rough round landscaping stones make a path to where the beach starts.

  My feet sink into the gritty sand and I keep going, straight for the water. I want to forget, but I also want to remember. Will all the good times I remember from my childhood and early adult years be tainted now that I know what my dad was really like?

  Chapter 8

  Jacobi

  I hear Diana leave and then nothing. London’s supposed to come find me. But she doesn’t.

  I peer out the windows. She isn’t down in the courtyard. Leaving my office, I stop to listen.

  The house is its normal stone-silent self. I go to her bedroom and knock. Nothing.

  “London?”

  No answer.

  “London,” I call louder.

  Still nothing.

  Did she leave with Diana? A spear of panic pierces my heart. She didn’t leave me, did she? Even worse, did she hear the truth from Diana’s lips and still decide to leave me? I didn’t think a chest could physically ache, but if I wasn’t so young with a healthy diet and exercise routine, I’d worry I’m having a heart attack.

  Back in my office, I pace like a caged tiger, hands on my hips. Where could she be? If she’s with Diana, I can find her. I stop to stare out the window again, willing my wife to appear. There’s a flicker in the water.

  She’s floating on the surface, each wave lifting and lowering her body.

  I break into a sprint, banging out my French doors, my heart in my throat. I sprint down the stairs. No words come out of my mouth. I’m too terrified.

  I whip my shirt off and shove my shorts down, practically running right out of them, then crash into the water, knees high until I get in deep enough to dive.

  A gasp rips out of London and she pops her head up, but the movement tenses her body. The water swallows her up, cutting her shout off.

  “London!” I dive under, using strong strokes to close the distance between us. Her long legs churn underwater. I wrap my arms around her torso and surface.

  “What are you doing?” she shrieks.

  “What are you doing?” I clamp an arm harder around her and side-stroke us to shore.

  She half-heartedly tries to swim with me. “I was floating.”

  “What the hell for? You could get carried out to sea.”

  “Some asshole in Mexico taught me how to swim.”

  I grit my teeth. “It sounds like you should thank him or you could’ve drowned.” We reach a point where I can set my feet down. I haul her into my arms and stomp out of the water. At some point, her shorts came off. She’s soggy in a tank top and underwear. “Don’t fuck with the ocean, London.”

  She’s eerily quiet. I glance down at her. Her lower lip’s quivering.

  Aw, fuck. I set her down in the sand, but she keeps going down, her legs folding. “You thought I was drowning and ran to save me?”

  I drop with her, setting her on my lap, both to catch my breath and because I can’t let her go. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Yes,” she cries. Her shoulders shake and she sobs. “My dad was a horrible person. He cheated on my mom and she didn’t want me anymore and then he cheated on your parents and you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I say softly.

  “You should.” She buries her face in her hands. I fold her into my arms. “How bad was it?”

  “How bad was what?” I murmur, stroking her drying shoulder.

  “Your life.”

  “Jesus, London. You don’t need to hear about that.” I set out for revenge, not torture, and I’m not feeling so hot about any of it right now. Each sob tears me in two.

  She leans into me and I hold her.

  “I’m a horrible person,” she moans.

  “How can you even say that?” I tilt her chin up until her tear-stained gaze meets mine. “Don’t ever say that. You know what really fucked me up when I first saw your picture?” Her tears are gathering again and I rush on. “That sweet smile. That fucking sweet smile and those bright innocent eyes. I got so damn mad that you have a smile that can bring men to their knees, that can make people like my dad sign over their life’s savings when you already have everything. Then in Mexico, I tasted you and you taste like sugar inside and out and I knew I’d do whatever I had to, to keep you.”

  My confession stuns me into silence. I laid it all out. I wait for her reaction, my blood pumping between my ears, louder than the ocean.

  Her gaze drifts over my face, then she touches her fingers to my cheeks. I dip my head, not to intentionally kiss her, but I can’t help myself. She surges up, planting her mouth on mine, pushing me back.

  I go with it, helpless to stop her, my pent up desire raging to life. She stretches over me, her nipples scraping my bare chest through her damp shirt and she straddles me with her knees.

  I’m hard in an instant. The soggy material of my boxers do nothing to keep my erection from prodding her.

  She grinds herself into me while she dominates my mouth. I should stop her. She didn’t want this last night and I haven’t given her the company back.

  I cup her face in my hands and hold her head as I pull back. Her eyes are hazy with passion. Her lips are puffy, and damn, if she keeps rocking her hips, I’m going to come.

  “Nothing has changed,” I say, my voice guttural. “I still haven’t destroyed the contract.”

  “Do you want me? Forgetting the rest, do you want just me?”

  “You can feel how bad I want you.” I grip her hips and buck into her so she knows exactly how hard I am.

  “I’m so confused about everything, but not this.” She lifts herself and yanks my underwear down. It wedges under me and sand bites into my ass, but I don’t care.

  “Do you really want it, London?”

  She looks me in the eye, my cock firmly in her hand. “Yes.”

  I rip her underwear off. Heat blows her pupils open and she licks her lips as she slicks my dick through her hot folds to coat it.

  “Fuuuck.” It feels like forever since I’ve been inside of her. Too fucking long.

  She doesn’t hesitate but seats me deep inside her tight body in one hard move. We both cry out. She hangs her head back, the sun kissing her face, and moans. “You feel so good.”

  “Ride me, London. Fucking use me.”

  She does. Languid and slow, like she’s enjoying an expensive meal she doesn’t want to end. “I’m not using you, Jacobi.”

  My real name. We’re skin-to-skin and she knows exactly who I am. I don’t think I can get harder, but I fill her out even more.

  She groans and rocks up, then down. “I like you. I like you a lot. And you shouldn’t like me.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” I can’t take my eyes off where we’re connected. My cock glistens with her juices and she rides me slow and steady. Her tank top is almost dry but remains plastered to her chest. Her tits are jutted out and I want to touch them, but then I’d miss the show.

  “Oh God, this feels good.” She lets her eyelids drift shut and raises her hand
s to bury her fingers in her damp hair, the move making her breasts clearly visible through her shirt. “You always make me feel so good.”

  She’s going through some shit, but all of me hopes she doesn’t regret this.

  Her eyes open. Through the pleasure, I see a glimpse of her pain. “You lost everything because of me.”

  I rear up and wrap one hand around the nape of her neck, my other around her waist. “But I got you, and right now that’s all that fucking matters.”

  She lets out a yell and rides me, rides me until I think I’ll lose my mind trying to hold back my climax until she comes. Our skin slaps together and our grunts and moans mingle with the waves of the ocean.

  “Jacobi,” she gasps. “Please, please.”

  I don’t know what she’s begging for and I don’t think she knows, either. She slams down over and over, crying my name. Heat floods my dick and her walls fist me so tight I don’t know how I’m able to pump in and out of her.

  My arms tighten as I orgasm. I bury my head in her shoulder and roar as I release inside her hot, willing body.

  We stay like that for a while, with her draped over me and me hugging her. I’m going to regret the severe sand exfoliation this round of beach sex gave my ass, but it was worth it.

  I loosen my grip around her. She can’t meet my eyes. Her body’s sated, but her mind’s in turmoil. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  She looks to her left, then to her right. “Do you think your neighbors saw?”

  You can hardly see their houses from where we are and their beaches are empty. “They’re usually gone during the day.”

  I lift her enough to slide out, hating the loss of her surrounding me. Helping her to her feet, I manage to keep her mostly sand-free. My underwear’s covered in grit, but I yank it in place and find my shirt and hand it to her. `

  “Thank you,” she says woodenly, staring at it in her hands.

  I gently take the shirt and draw it over her head.

  “Why are you so nice to me?” Her words are nearly lost in the breeze.

  “I forced you to marry me and I still control your company. Are you sure you want to ask me that?”

  As her gaze finally jerks to hook on mine, anger flickers in their depths. But if it coaxes her out of her melancholy, I’ll keep reminding her until my last breath.

  * * *

  London

  Jacobi rinses us both off at the outside shower spigot and wraps a towel around me. When he leads me upstairs, he doesn’t stop at my room.

  We go right through his room into the bathroom.

  I can’t make sense of this. He made me marry him. He owns my company, but he’s treating me like I’m precious and important. And I don’t care about anything else.

  He peels off his underwear and tosses it in the corner. Then he removes my towel. Next, he lifts my shirt over my head. I don’t miss the desire flaring in his eyes. It’s become an eternal flame.

  When we’re both naked, he turns on the shower. Water sprays from six wide heads. He draws me inside and warm drops rain down on me from all different directions.

  With the ocean and the rest of the sand washed off me, I start to feel a little more human. And it’s impossible to be naked in a shower with Jacobi and not start aching for him again.

  He catches me staring at his chest and leans in close, water sluicing down his body, and whispers in my ear. “You need more, don’t you, belle?”

  I nod. I don’t know when events in our lives tied us irrevocably together, but we’re entwined. No matter what happened in the past and what will happen in the future, I’m his.

  His erection juts out. Somehow, he managed to keep it down until he saw that I wanted more. He seats me on the shower bench and I feel nervous and exposed.

  He kneels in front of me, puts his hands on my knees, and spreads my legs. With one final hot glance, he lowers his mouth to my clit. There’s nothing tame or slow like when I first started riding him on the beach. He senses that I need fast and hard.

  He sucks on my clit until I’m squirming. My hands are braced on the shower walls and I have a leg draped over his shoulder. I shamelessly buck against his face as my climax crashes into me.

  His name echoes off the walls of the shower, but he keeps at it, not releasing me. My orgasm doesn’t stop. I writhe against him, afraid I’ll slide off the bench, but his strong body anchors me in place.

  “Oh God, Jacobi. I can’t keep going.” My heart’s going to stop or I’ll get a charley horse. Either way, the pleasure’s so intense it borders on exquisite pain.

  He lifts his head, his eyes filled with possession. It’s the use of his name—his real name—that does it.

  “Stand up.” I stare at his cock. So strong and hard, like the man.

  He does as I ask. I close my hand around his cock and work him like he did me.

  “Shit, London. Fuck.”

  I’ve never blown him this hard before, and I’m relentless. It’s a powerful feeling. He makes me feel powerful when I have nothing to use against him.

  His wet, salty flavor is just like before, and somehow that clears up some of my confusion. He wasn’t pretending in Mexico. The man with the sound sensitivity, who hates crowds, is standing in front of me. The guy I’d spent days fucking in my hotel room in Mexico is the same one who had sex with me on the Malibu beach. The asshole in the suit who made me say I do is the same one I’m blowing in the shower, who is the same one I gave blow jobs to in Cabo.

  I suck him hard, give the base of his shaft a little twist, then flick my tongue up his length.

  “You’re going to kill me,” he growls. He braces himself on the shower walls like I did.

  I take him as deep as I can and then push it farther, deep throating him like I’ve done it a million times before.

  He barks my name and goes rigid. A roar bounces off the tiled walls, his hot release shooting down my throat. I swallow and keep going until he jerks his hips free and sinks to his knees.

  Neither one of us says anything. Water drips down his shaggy hair and off his scruff as he kisses me on the mouth, then the corner of my lips, and hugs me into him.

  “London. It’ll be okay.”

  That’s what I needed to hear. I bury myself in his embrace and let him hold me with one arm as he shuts the shower off. Then he carries me out, dries us off, and tucks us both into his bed.

  I drift off in his arms, holding onto his promise.

  Chapter 9

  Jacobi

  I slip back into bed. London remained asleep while I ran to my office earlier.

  She shifts and a little moan escapes. “I thought you’d gone back to work.”

  I curl around her. “No. I got these.” I brandish the contracts she signed after we were married. “Go ahead. Rip them up.”

  She flips to her back and snatches the papers. Her eyes move as she scans each and every one. “These are the originals.”

  “I never got around to sending them,” I say gruffly. The reason why is obvious, but I’m not ready to admit it.

  Her eyes go wide. “The company was always mine?”

  I nod, tensing for the onslaught of her anger. But she tosses her head back and laughs. “I could’ve enjoyed the hot tub more.” She grins and rips the contracts in two. Then again. And again. She flings them up and they rain down like confetti.

  “I thought you’d be mad.”

  She sighs, but her smile stays in place. “There’s so much to be mad about, but I’m relieved.” Her expression turns serious. “I really am dedicated to the company. It’s not just because I got it for free.”

  “I know. I might’ve been able to go through with the sale otherwise.” There’s something else hanging over us and I have to clear the air. “About our marriage.” She meets my gaze, her bright irises spilling over with emotion. Light glints off the gold band on her finger. “I can give you a divorce or an annulment, whatever you want, but I won’t until I know you’re safe.”

 
“What’s going on?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can tell her… almost everything, and what I can share is enough. It’ll have to be.

  “It got bad, after my parents lost their savings. My dad used what money he made to delve further into the seedy underbelly of LA. He washed up on shore of a public beach one Monday morning. The police couldn’t give us an answer about what happened.”

  “Jacobi, I’m so sorry.”

  I can’t look at her. I’m lost in the past. “I was at school. Mom pulled me out, sobbing. She was packing bags and I was asking questions when this guy showed up. Sully.” I swallow hard, hating how London’ll feel responsible for all of it. When it comes down to it, I ultimately blamed two people. Her father and Sully. “You see, I think I came down so hard on Diana because I was jealous of her. She entered sex work willingly. She got to choose and everything ended well for her. My mom had to work for Sully until she decided she couldn’t do it anymore.”

  Her arms drape over my shoulders and she lays her head on my chest. “It must’ve been awful.”

  It was. “After her funeral, he tried to get to me, but I was ready for him and strong enough to prove it. I feel like…” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I feel like she held on until I was big enough to take care of myself.”

  Warm drops hit my chest. No one has cried for me since Mom was alive. “What’d you do?”

  “I destroyed him.”

  She lifts her head, but I avoid her gaze.

  “I tracked him online, I cyberstalked the shit out of him. Then I drained his accounts and sent the police information on his enemies, with his name on it.”

  “He went to jail?”

  I clench my fists. “He lost everything and then went to jail. I was confident that someone would get to him in jail and kill him.” I relax my hands. “But I think he’s back.”

  “You said he knows about me. How?”

  I faintly recalled telling her that when my last migraine set in. “Parole. I don’t know how, but he sent me a picture from when you went back to your place with the movers.”