by L. J. Woods
“No one fucks me like you do,” she pants. “No one makes me feel like you do. Now please, just—”
“Fuck, I love it when you beg.”
She reaches for my belt and I’m raging hard when she pulls it out, my cock throbbing in her hold. It feels like heaven in her grip and those flushed cheeks tell me she’s ready. Spreading her legs wider, I line up my shaft with her entrance before I push inside her. She lets out a cry, her eyes widening.
“Beg,” I groan, the feeling of her warm pussy around my cock taking all my pain away. All my fears. “Beg for what’s yours. Beg for what you know no one can take away.” The sofa scratches against the wood below us with every hard thrust. Leaning over her, my chest presses into her tits while I find her ear again. “I love you, Joelle. And this pussy? It’s mine and mine only. You understand?”
“Yes!” she cries, her walls tightening around me but I want to break her before she breaks me. I want to make her see the stars. “Yes! Yes! Fuck!” Another back arch tells me she’s reaching her peak and with my hand rubbing her clit in those swirls that drive her wild, she does. “God, yes!” She cries with one last hard thrust.
Jo’s out of breath when I turn her over, grabbing her by her soft ass. If she ever thinks about seeing him again or lying to me again, she’ll think about this.
“King,” she sighs. “Let me take a br—oooh my god!”
With a pull towards me, my cock plunges inside her again. So wet. So warm. Mine. “You telling me what to do again, Rowland?”
I go to town on Jo until she’s begging for me to make her come again, my thumb in her little tight ass while my cock fills her pussy. She screams when she comes again, my arm under her stomach supporting her while she shivers and shakes in my hold.
“Holy fuck,” she pants, voice hoarse before I let her collapse onto the sofa. Pulling out, her body writhes against the cushion. “I think I literally saw stars.”
Buckling my belt, I’ve made my point. If Craig Carson wants her he’s gonna have to try harder than that.
Would Carson’s deal save my company? My legacy? Everything my family has worked for?
Maybe.
But not at that price. It’s not worth it.
Is it?
The questions come flooding through my mind while I straighten my clothes. Jo sprawls out on the couch, arm slung off the cushion. As for me? I’m gonna need something stronger than this bottle. Jo’s heavy breaths are the only sound in the room when I make my way to the entrance.
“Wait,” she calls, pushing herself up, hair hanging over her shoulder. “You didn’t—”
“I got some shit to think about.” It’s the last thing I say before I retreat to my office for the evening. If I don’t play my cards right, in a matter of weeks, I won’t need it.
Nineteen
Jo
Damien’s downsizing.
If you call selling the mansion and moving to the lake house downsizing.
He’s been “thinking” for the last couple of weeks and while I’m distracted by our looming finals, I’m like an addict without her drug. He’s taking this harder than he took the death of his aunt and dad combined.
Moving in with someone should make you feel closer. So why do I feel so far away from him again? I want Damien back. My King. The ruler of this entire fucking town.
Nothing changes the fact that I ruined the future at King Financial because of a girl.
His voice is still loud in my head and I can’t help but think this is because of me. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be getting sued.
I’m zoning out on calculus again, my teacher sounding more like he belongs in Charlie Brown than in this class. My phone buzzes, a welcome distraction. Tugging it under my desk, my throat dries when I see who’s lighting up my phone.
Craig: Last chance to save King
Craig: Take it or lv it sweetheart that lawsuit looks hefty from where im sitting
The way he calls me sweetheart doesn’t help but I’m starting to reconsider.
One night with Craig could be worth the King regaining his kingdom. Saving The Grove. He wouldn’t have given Craig my number if he hadn’t thought about it.
Damien doesn’t own me. I can make my own choices and now, I’m making one for both of us. Just like he does.
Jo: You can have my body but you can’t have me.
Craig: lol wat
Rolling my eyes, I text him again. Wanting to get this over with. I’m going to need a visit to Isaac before I do.
Jo: Your parents home tonight?
Craig: No y? :)
Jo: One time only. Not a night. Not a date. Meet me at your house after class. Don’t tell ANYONE.
He doesn’t respond.
The minutes that go by are excruciating, the numbers on the board blurring together while I think through my plan. Shifting in my seat, I glance at the clock.
Fuck, this is crazy. I’m about to text Craig to tell him I’m joking when he texts first.
Craig: See you soon sweetheart
* * *
“Are you getting out?”
The Uber driver looks back at me as we sit in the Carson driveway, the car still running.
“One more minute.” Reaching into my bag, I open another mini of whiskey I got from Isaac. When I asked if he wanted to smoke a few back-to-back joints after class, he asked if anything was wrong. But I couldn’t let him know what I’m about to do.
This is exactly what everyone in Eden thinks I am.
A whore.
After downing the bottle, I thank the driver and approach the door. I’m still in my uniform, not caring to change and I don’t even remember what underwear I’m wearing. I just want this over. I didn’t even text Damien. The quicker I get this done, the sooner we can go back to being us.
My finger hardly touches the bell before the door opens. Craig stands at the door with a goddamn pipe in his mouth. Raising an eyebrow, I notice no smoke and I hope he knows whatever happens between us today is as fake as he is. Crossing my arms, I take a glance behind me, my Uber already out of sight. No going back now.
“Gonna let me in?” I ask, looking behind him into the sparkling white foyer. Another grand staircase, another chandelier. “Or are you gonna stand there pretending to smoke a pipe like an old perv?”
He smiles, taking a step to the side. “Don’t you think it makes me look suave?”
While he brings the pipe back to his lips, I scoff and look around before answering, “No.” The foyer is as basic as he is. Mismatched art on beige walls, fake flowers in vases scattered around the shiny beige floor.
“Didn’t think you’d actually show.” When his hand comes to my back, my fists clench as I take a step forward.
Turning around I get another good look at him. He’s in a blue silk blouse with the buttons opened, revealing sparse hair on his pale chest. Black slacks with a shiny silver belt buckle.
“You and me both,” I say. “If you’re ready to get this over with, I am too.”
“You and King are both straight shooters, huh?” Moving behind me, he pulls my backpack off my shoulders, dropping it to the floor. My heartbeat races more than I’d like when he turns me around to face him, his lips dangerously close to mine. “But not yet.” He smiles before turning around, heading between the stairs. “Call me old-fashioned but I like to wine and dine my conquests.”
Conquests? Gross.
“I told you this wasn’t a date!” I call after him, not wanting to stay here a second longer than I have to. Following him down a hall with white columns and more shitty art, I emerge in a large kitchen. Walnut cupboards, massive stainless steel appliances.
“Drink?” Craig leans against the large wooden island, a glass of red wine held out in his hand. “Don’t be in such a rush, that doesn’t make me feel very good, sweetheart.”
“Stop calling me that!” There’s a melody playing in the background and I twist my nose, a heavy floral scent taking over. “Is that Marvin Gaye?” It
’s a lull over the speakers in the kitchen but I hear the crooning voice of the late R&B singer.
He winks. “Are you this feisty with King?”
Wine’s not my thing but I snatch it from his hand, gulping down a sip. “You and I will never have what King and I have,” I reassure him.
I reassure myself.
He chuckles, staring at me with those blues. “Does he know you’re here?”
“Does it matter?”
“Shouldn’t it? If you guys are a strong power couple and all.”
“Is that what people are saying?” He takes another sip as if he’s thinking about his next words, peering at me over his glass. Okay, enough with this rich boy bullshit. “Listen, are we gonna—”
“I wanna be real with you, Jo.” He refills my almost empty glass. “I don’t wanna start this on lies.” How fucking ironic. “King knows you’re here.”
“I didn’t tell him.” I’m glaring at Craig but he gives me that smug look. “What? You worried he’ll show up and kick your ass again?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, sweetheart and if you listened as well as you mouthed off you’d hear what I’m saying.” He pauses, taking another sip. “King knows you’re here and he knows what you’re here to do.”
“What? How? Did you tell him?”
“I did and you know what he said when I told him? When I told him you’d fuck me to save his company that is.” There’s a lump in my throat, a ringing in my ear. “Nothing.” He laughs, shaking his head, and my stomach wrenches.
Damien knew I’d do this? Damien knew I was about to whore it out for his business and he was gonna let me?
No, he wouldn’t. Not after all this.
“You’re full of shit,” I spit before downing the rest of my glass with two big gulps. I’m reaching for the bottle as Craig leans against the counter.
“You know, when I texted you I thought this would be fun but it looks like you’re just a pawn to King like everyone else.”
“Fuck you, Craig! You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He has no idea what we’ve been through. How we got to this. There’s no way Damien would use me after telling me loves me.
“Believe me, sweetheart. I thought this would be worth it because everyone in this town and Eden thinks you’re some untouchable hot shit but, turns out, there is a price to you.” He keeps talking but I want him to shut the fuck up, my grip tightening around the glass. “Too bad you’re already tainted.”
His lip arches towards his nose like he’s disgusted with the idea when this was his fucking plan. The bottle is out of my hand and smashing to pieces before I realize it.
Craig laughs. “I don’t know why you’re surprised,” he calls as I’m rushing towards the door. My feet are moving way too fast to slow down, my heart booming in my chest.
Damien just tried to whore me out and I almost fell for it.
“You’re better off without him, Jo!” he calls again.
On the way out, I pull a painting off the wall, smashing it against the ground because it’s the only thing I can do when his words tear me apart. Craig Carson is another pitfall in the hell that is Damien’s world.
I’ve been his fucking pawn for way too long and it ends here.
* * *
“Damien!”
Those three extra mini Jamesons in my backpack were no match for me on my Uber ride back. Craig’s words echo in my head like a bad dream and Damien is the only one who can make it stop.
“You have five seconds to explain to me why you let me go to Craig Carson’s house to whore myself out for your company!”
I don’t even realize I’m in the living room until I’ve stopped yelling. Candles and blankets lay out on the floor, the aroma of delicious spices filling my nose.
But let’s be real, I’m too angry to eat. “And the fuck is all this?”
“You said you wanted a picnic,” Damien replies, eyes narrow like I’ve thrown him off. Well same here, bud. “But let’s circle back to the part about Craig Carson.”
“Did you know?” I ask. “Did you know where I was? You track my phone right?” I pull it out of my jacket, wiggling it like he doesn’t know what a phone is. “Even if Craig didn’t tell you, you’d know where I was today.”
“And where was that, Jo?” He’s reaching behind his ear, pulling out a fat blunt. “Where’d you go? To be a whore for me?”
“So you do know!” Finding the nearest thing to me, a black porcelain skull, I throw it at him but it falls short, bouncing off the floor next to him. “God! You’re such a fucking asshole!”
He’s up from the floor in a flash, quick to get in my face, his chest pressed to mine, his nostrils flaring.
“I tried to make things better but you wanna talk about it? Let’s talk, Rowland,” he growls. “You’re the one who just came back from fucking the corniest dickcheese on this side of the tracks and I’m the asshole?”
“I didn’t fuck him, stupid!” I yell, ignoring the twists in my gut.
He stalls, stopping our walk to the wall. “You didn’t?”
“No, looks like I’m not the whore you think I am.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Rowland?”
“Let me piece it together for you since you’re too much of an idiot to understand.” My back hits the wall, a blur in my eye.
“Careful with that mouth, Medusa,” he warns, my cheeks coming between his palms but I keep going, a tear rolling down my face. There’s nothing to lose now.
“You used me like a whore to get your stupid business back, and now, you have neither,” I say, a tightness in my chest. Everything in my heart tells me not to say what’s coming to my mouth next but it’s like bile, poison coming up from within. “You’re still sad and lonely like you were when I met you, except now, you don’t even have your daddy to take it out on. You’re pathetic, Damien. I want nothing more to do with you. Now, let me go, so I can leave for good.”
His grip tightens. “Stop being so goddamn dramatic, Medusa.” Using all my force, my hands against his chest, I manage to squeeze around him, freeing myself from his hold. He reaches for my hand, his fingers grazing mine with that spark when I head for the foyer but I slip through. “Where are you going? You didn’t even sleep with him.”
“That’s not the point, Damien. I would’ve and that’s fucked up.” Stopping at the living room entrance, I keep my back to him. If I look at his face this will be harder than it is. “What’s more fucked up? You would’ve let me.”
Moving to the bottom of the steps, I yell, “Willow!”
I don’t know where I’m going yet but I’m not staying here. Damien’s right, he is a monster and I’m not turning into one with him.
“The darkest thought? The shittiest thing? What happened to that Rowland?” he asks, following me into the foyer.
“Willow!”
“She’s not here!” he yells, appearing behind me, his chest to my back. “It’s me and you, Medusa.” Good. That makes this easier. I start making my way towards the door, Damien yelling his words. “We killed someone together. You don’t get to walk away from that. Think about what you’re doing, Rowland. We’re literally bonded by blood. We—”
“If you report me to the cops, you’re more of a monster than I ever thought you were.” And with that, I slam the door, a ball forming in my throat.
Time to do one of the things King and I do best. Get fucked up and feel nothing.
* * *
“Weed and whiskey are all I need in my life.”
“And King’s cock.” Isaac laughs, joint hanging off his lip while he plays the same melody over and over. “Right?”
His hand is on a knob on a board with a gazillion buttons in front of us, a glass room with mics and instruments behind it. My eyes fall on the golden guitar on the wall but my mind is elsewhere. While stoned and drunk in Lionel Johnson’s home studio sounds like a dream, it’s hard to appreciate it.
“Shut up, Johnson,” I groan, grabbing t
he joint from his lips, swivelling side to side in a desk chair.
“I’m telling the truth.” Isaac leans back in his chair sporting a green velvet shirt, hands interlaced on his stomach. “I’m also way too drunk to be cooking up music.”
“Didn’t know you’re a musician.” Bringing the bourbon bottle to my lips, I take another swig. It does nothing to wash away the memory of the hurt in Damien’s eyes when I left. Does nothing for the pain in my chest, the hard glob in my throat.
“I’m more of a producer,” he says with a shrug. “You know, more Dr. Dre, less Eazy-E. Musicians get dicked around way too much.”
“Like your dad?” I ask, head dropping against the backrest, mirror in the ceiling showing off my sunken, red eyes. The studio looks like an accurate representation of the Johnsons. Zebra print and colourful furniture.
Isaac rolls up another joint, a bass-heavy beat playing in the background. I can’t count how much pot we’ve had but I’ll have as much as it takes to get Damien out of my head. Exorcism by cannabis.
“Nah that’s his excuse. If he wanted to be here, he would.” A stoned laugh leaves his lips. “Shit, look at that. The kids in Eden are as fucked as the ones in The Grove.”
“If not more.” Hopping up from my seat, I’m headed for another slice of pizza on the coffee table behind us. “Grove kids aren’t as delusional as Eden kids.”
My phone vibrates against the coffee table again and I don’t have to look at it to know it’s Damien. With a lazy arm, I pick it up and throw it across the room. It doesn’t make it very far, tumbling and sliding before it comes to a stop.
“How long are you gonna ignore him?” Isaac asks with a thick, cocked brow. “I don’t want him to come Rambo-ing at my door in an hour looking for you.”
“He doesn’t fucking own me!” I spit through clenched teeth.
Isaac raises his hands in the air in surrender before swivelling back around. “On that note, I’ll roll a fatty. Just for you.”