I give Rachel a confused stare.
Bek translates. "You distract everyone by being here. You don't want to be here and you don't care about this, but you distract everyone and no one—not even me and Rachel—know what the fuck we should be doing because our president is floundering."
“Look, I’m here!” I yell at them. “I’m doing the fucking job! What the hell more do you want from me!”
“It’d be fantastic if you gave a damn about the company,” Bek growls. “But you need to decide what the hell you’re doing. Don’t do this back and forth shit.”
Rachel, always a little gentler than her twin, nods and gives me a slightly sad look. “In or out, brother. You gotta decide.”
Chapter 17.
The apartment complex is a highrise. It’s as far from the quiet comfort of Wolf’s house as you can achieve and still be in the same city.
I buzz the intercom and a low throaty voice comes out immediately. “What?”
“I need to talk to Beast, Beauty.”
She makes a disgruntled noise in her throat, and I smile, knowing damn well she can see me on some hidden monitor. “There’s nothing in that damn contract that says you get to isolate him. He’s still allowed to work.”
“And this is work?” she says, dryly.
“This is me saying I need to talk to my best friend and business partner.”
There’s a heavy silence and then, “He’ll be done in three minutes.”
I stare at the little box for a moment, and then shrug it off.
Everyone knows Beauty. She’s as mysterious as she is infamous in the Kingdom, a tiny Domme with a wicked mean streak and the inability to keep a sub for more than a week or two. She showed up at the Kingdom a year ago in a delicate masque where she squared off with Wolf and Beastie and earned her reputation as one of the hardest dominants in the Kingdom.
Right now, she has Beast locked into an iron-tight contract.
Wolf poured over it. It was entirely legal. There was no sex exchanged—it was above board, and he was paid.
We just weren’t sure what he was paid or why.
Beast hadn’t worked as a sub for hire since we were in our first year of college, but whatever was going on between them, Beast wasn’t talking, or at least he hadn’t yet.
The elevator dings, and he steps out, looking a little anxious in low slung sweatpants and bare feet. He pulls up short when he sees me, which tells me all I need to know about Beauty.
She didn’t send him down here with any knowledge about what he was walking into.
He frowns and mutters, softly, “I’m gonna fucking kill her.”
I blink, and that tells me something else.
“What do you want, Charm?”
The thing I love about Beast—that I’ve always loved about him—is he asks me that.
Maybe it’s a sub thing. Celeste was good about asking what I wanted, too.
“I want her, and I want the Kingdom. I don’t want Charming Pharm, not any more than I need to be there.” I look at him, find, and maintain eye contact. “I want to know why you brought Cinderella to me and why you helped her leave.”
He stares at me. “Would it change anything? If you knew who she was, what would it change, Charm? You wanted Celeste.”
“I still want Celeste,” I say, “But I can’t have her, and this girl—Beast, she was perfect. She was the most natural sub I’ve ever had. She was as good as Celeste was.” I pause and shrug. “I want Celeste but I can’t always have what I want. Cinderella could have made me happy.”
He’s staring even harder at me, and then, “You mean that, don’t you?”
I nod and he laughs, then rubs a hand over his face.
“Celeste wanted you. She was convinced you’d never want her, couldn’t be with her because she wasn’t good enough for you, but God, Charm, the Audition was killing her. Watching the preparations for it, and knowing she was going to lose you. It was killing her.” His lips twist, a parody of a smile, and then, “I’ve always wanted to help the pretty broken ones, Charm, you know that.”
The intercom crackles to life, and Beauty’s low blank voice comes out. “James. Are you well?”
He rolls his eyes, but his voice is almost affectionate when he says, “I’m good, Beauty. Stop watching the damn camera and go back to work.”
There’s a pause, and then a slight huff, and the intercom clicks off.
I stare at him, a little bewildered. “What the hell is going on there?”
Beast shakes his head. “Nope. Not gonna talk about that. We’re focusing on you today, and I’m under an NDA.”
Yeah. I remember that from the contact.
“If you could have one of them, who would you pick?” Beast asks, gently.
Celeste. Of course, always. Cinderella had been a wonderful night, but she’s not what I want.
“I want Celeste. Fuck all the reasons why that’s a bad idea.”
He smiles, then, a bright thing, and I hesitate, looking at him. “What?”
“That was the right answer, brother. Go home, ok? I’ll text you.”
“Beast,” I say, reaching for him and he jerks away, before I can touch him, his gaze darting to the camera above us. I feel a pang of worry and I let my hand drop.
“Beast, are you ok?”
His eyes barely meet mine, and he smiles, quick and bright and so damn fake my teeth clench. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to—“
“Stop. I do. I did this and I’ll finish it. I’m fine, brother. Just—go get your girl, ok? Be happy. And fucking quit dicking around at Charming Pharm if it doesn’t make you happy. No one gives a shit if you want to be a figurehead or if you give it to your sisters. You don’t have to be miserable just because your family expects shit from you, man.”
“You don’t have to be miserable because you felt self-destructive one night,” I say, glancing pointedly around the lobby.
He laughs.
“Is Wolf this worried, too?” he grins.
I nod. “Mal is, too.”
“I’m a submissive, but I don’t need you idiots taking care of me, Charm. Go home and tell them that.” He steps past to stab the button to call the elevator. “And find your damn phone. I’ll be texting you later today.”
He’s still grinning the elevator door closes, and then he’s gone.
Chapter 18.
My hands aren't shaking.
They aren't. I repeat that as I clench it into a fist, and then stab the doorbell.
I’ve had enough waiting.
I've had her address, texted to me from Beast, for three days.
I’ve had enough waiting.
I take a deep breath, and from inside the house, I hear a high voice calling to someone, shushing a barking dog, and then the door swings open, and my chest aches, my breath catching in my throat.
She's here—barefoot, messy curls, big blue eyes, and a frown that fades as she takes me in.
Celeste licks her lips, something like nerves flashing in her bright eyes and says, "What are you doing here?"
"Beast sent me," I say, "I think he was waiting for me to get my head out of my ass."
"And that took a month?" she says, dryly.
I almost flinch at that, but the thing is, I deserve it. I take a half step forward, and she stiffens. I ask, "Can I come in? I'd like to talk."
She eyes me for a long minute and then shrugs and pushes the door open, turning on her heel.
I'm left to follow her, a position that's always been hers. It's strangely disconcerting to find our roles so thoroughly switched. A English mastiff is grumbling at me and she swats at it lightly as she passes him. "Stop that, Gus."
He flicks an adoring look at her, and then he's staring at me again, big brown eyes bright with mistrust.
"So, you're here. What do you want, Charm?"
"You," I say, simply.
She snorts. "What the hell happened to your pretty little thing from the Audition?"
&
nbsp; "The Audition was never my idea, Celeste. You and I both know that. It took me awhile to get my head out of my ass, but I'm here. I want you."
"You've got no idea what that means," she murmurs, picking at the couch.
"You mean the drugs? Or the years when you were stripping to pay your rent? Or are you talking about the fact that you've been in therapy since you watched your mother get murdered? Because I know about all of that, and I don't care. I want to be here for you."
"I think it's a little disturbing how much you know," she mutters, giving me a disgruntled sort of look. "But I think I'm more disturbed that you are idiotic enough to still want me. I mean, come on, Charm, I'm not that good of a fuck."
"Don't you dare," I snap, and my voice cracks into the realm of a Dom. Her whole body stiffens. "You don't get to insult yourself, not to me, Celeste. You are perfect, and exactly what I want. All your flaws and imperfections, all the things about you that I can't forget and how fucking perfectly you fit into my life—I want all of that."
"I don't fit into the life of a CEO, Charm. I'm just a pretty face."
"You were born for my world, and we both fucking know it," I shoot back.
"Not anymore," she whispers.
I move closer, and she watches me with big eyes, her entire body tight with tension.
"If you could have me, despite all the shit, would you?" I ask, and she makes this noise that I will hear until I die. It’s a choked little thing, almost a whimper, something that sounds almost like a plea.
"Just... Can we try? Forget the Audition and the company, and try to just be us," I ask, "just for a little while? See if it works. And if it doesn't—"
"Yeah," she murmurs, her fingers twisting in my shirt. "Yeah, we can try. God knows I can't fucking stay away from you."
I cock my head at her, and she nods at the table behind her. “I might have been at the Audition.”
I follow her line of sight and feel my jaw go slack with surprise.
The mask is simple, elegant, and immediately recognizable as it sits on the table. I stare at it, and it all clicks into place. “You’re Cinderella.”
She shrugs, looking a little pink.
Wide eyed, I turn back to her. “Beast knows, doesn’t he? That you—he helped you.”
“Yeah, well.. He knew that stupid Audition was just as ridiculous as I thought it was. You have a sub,” she snaps the last, fierce and angry.
I grin. “So what, you thought you’d stake your claim, is that it?”
She meets my gaze. “Yes.”
Fuck. God, she’s perfect, and she’s mine.
“Maybe,” I murmur, leaning into her, “you shouldn’t make a statement like that if you’re going to run off, pet.”
“Just because I wanted you to know I was your sub doesn’t mean it changed anything.”
Silly, sweet idiot. “It changes everything,” I whisper, and then I kiss her.
Celeste makes a low noise against my lips, her body tight and stiff beneath mine, before she bites my lip and goes limp under me, her mouth opening, so I lick into it.
It’s better than I remember. It’s sweet and tart and so her that I can barely breathe. She shudders into the kiss that is everything that I am—dominating and rough and desperate—as I pull her in, onto my lap, and run my hands up her sides. She whines, shifting when I don’t move her, don’t do anything but press kisses into her lips and the soft skin of her throat, my fingers digging in and releasing, a gentle knead.
“Charm,” she moans, and I squeeze her, too tight.
“Pet?”
“Sir,” she sobs, “Please, I need—More, please—”
She begs so prettily.
“What do you need, pet?” I murmur, kissing her pulse point where it beats hot and frantic under my lips, and she moans when I suck on that spot, hard, until it’s a bright bruise. I pull back to admire my handiwork, and she tilts her head back.
“More. I need more.”
I tug her closer, and grind her down into my groin, thrusting up against her and swallowing the whine she makes.
She’s right, though. I want more.
I need more, need her, naked and stretched out under me.
“Trust me?” I ask her, leaning back a little.
She smiles and kisses me gently. “Always.”
I return the smile and move her up, pulling her wrists behind her and pressing a kiss into the curve of her shoulder before I murmur, "Bedroom?"
She takes a step away and I follow, keeping her secure in my arms. We stumble and she's laughing, sounding so full of relief and happiness that it makes my heart ache to hear, and then we're in her room. I'm pretty sure I didn't see a damn bit of her apartment, and I’m just as sure I don't give a fuck.
In her room, though, I step away and study her with blank eyes. I don't have any toys, but there is so much I can do with nothing but my hands. "Strip," I order, turning away and she scrambles to obey, slipping her yoga pants down and tugging the t-shirt she was wearing off, until she's standing there, shifting on her feet, naked and just a tiny bit flushed, and fucking beautiful.
I smile and step forward, running a finger over her cheek. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"
She flushes a bright pink and bites her lip. I slap her lightly, just hard enough that she gasps for me and sways forward a little. I arch an eyebrow and wait for it.
She complies. "Yes, sir."
"Good girl," I murmur.
Then I take a moment to study her. Aside from the kisses and bites I've left on her flesh since I came here, her skin is smooth and unmarked. I frown and step a little closer.
"I don't like this," I murmur.
"What?" she gasps, leaning into my touch.
"You without my marks," I say, distracted, and she makes a low whine in her throat as I bend and catch her nipple between my lips, sucking softly until she's panting.
When her voice is a quiet plea in my ears, I bite down, hard and sharp and she shouts, her hips bucking up against me. As I pull away, her nipple is wet, red, and pebbled, and she's staring down at me like she's never seen me before.
"Lay down, pet," I murmur, nudging her toward the bed. She stumbles and I reach for her, helping as she slides down, into the plush mattress. I strip out of my clothes quickly under her bright eyes, and then prop myself next to her.
"Do you remember your safe word?" I murmur.
"Midnight."
"Good girl," I praise, kissing her quickly.
"I want to mark you," I say, when I pull away. "I want you to remember when I leave here, and when you’re in the Kingdom, that you belong to me, that you are my sub. I want that written into your skin."
She stares up at me with wide wide eyes and then she nods, once. "Ok."
For a second I'm sure I didn't hear her right, because that's never the answer. “Ok” is never the response someone gives when their boyfriend says he wants to own them.
But then again, maybe it is when it’s me and Celeste.
I kiss her, hard and wet and desperate, and she lays there and takes it, all pliant sweetness, and I smile.
"Ok."
I roll off the bed and dart into the bathroom. I dig just a little, and file away the paraphernalia for later, and almost shout in glee when I find what I’m looking for—a cheap disposable razor.
I break it open carefully and then almost sprint back to her.
She’s just fucking perfect, lying on her back with her arms exactly where I put them above her head, a tiny smile on her lips as she waits for me.
I set the blade carefully aside and crawl up the bed.
“I’ve wanted to do this for months,” I whisper, and then I lower my head between her thighs. She goes tense under my touch, her hips lifting up to my lips as I lick her slow and careful and try very hard not to groan at the salt sweet taste.
I pin her down with a hand on her hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and she relaxes, sighing softly as I explore her with tongue and lips and tee
th, until she’s moaning and shaking, her pretty pussy glistening wet.
“Do you want me to fuck you, pet?” I murmur, licking around her clit, teasing lightly, and she sobs a response that doesn’t sound even a little bit like actual words.
I slide two fingers in her and she groans a deep, broken noise that hits me in the balls and strings them tight. Gritting my teeth, I reach for blade.
She whimpers when I press it into her skin, the soft curve of her hip, a quick sharp line of red. I do another pass to cross it while I thrust my fingers in her. Tears stand in those big blue eyes.
“Almost done,” I murmur and she nods. I cut the lines quick and neat, just enough pressure to bring up blood but not deep enough to scar—not deep enough to leave lasting damage.
She’s gasping and I stare at them, at my initials carved into her skin.
The night of the Audition, that had been a hard limit. She wouldn’t allow marking. I press a kiss to her skin and she gasps my name.
“Please,” she begs and I shift, lifting her leg to wrap around my waist as I thrust into her.
She shudders and I laugh, because I’m here. I’m here and she’s here, and it’s going to work out.
We’re going to work out.
I catch her by the jaw and lift her face, kissing her hard and desperate as I move in her and she gasps, writhing against me. Already, I can feel the tight tremors of her body, the shaking legs that tells me she’s so fucking close.
I kiss her and fuck her until she’s screaming, her body shaking around me and I laugh as I come inside her.
“You’re mine, Cinderella,” I murmur.
Epilogue.
The club is alive with noise. It's a Saturday night. In one corner, Hunter is sitting with Scarlet in his lap, scowling at the world while Wolf gets a blowjob from a submissive that looks like his brother.
I think I saw Beast here, somewhere, but I'm not in the mood to find him.
Instead, I sit in my chair, in the center of it all, up on the ridiculous dais that Mal has always used to separate us adequately from the rest, and I glare.
It's Saturday night, I'm surrounded by more beauty and sensual deviance than I actually know what to do with, and I'm in fucking bored.
Wicked Charming (Wicked Ever After Book 1) Page 9