Sinful Desires: Vol. IV

by M. S. Parker

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Acknowledgement

  Sinful Desires

  Vol. 4

  By M.S. Parker

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.

  Book Description

  How could I have been so stupid? Anastascia had told me that Brock was bad news but I'd never dreamed what he was capable of. First Reed, then Brock. Was my taste in men really that awful?

  When Piper Black finds out the truth about her first encounter with her boyfriend Brock Michaels, she's devastated, but things only get worse when a familiar face shows up at the wrong moment.

  With her life in shambles, Piper is given the opportunity for a new start... back in Philadelphia. Will her luck change if she moves back? And what will it mean being in the same city as the one man who's never left her mind?

  In this penultimate installment of M.S. Parker's sizzling Sinful series, the intrigue is hot, but the passion is even hotter.

  Chapter 1

  “She wasn't like the other one, willing to fuck for some extra cash, so I gave her some incentive by way of a roofie in her water.” He paused, then added, “Bitch never knew what hit her.”

  I couldn't breathe. My chest was tight, the pressure on it nearly unbearable, but there wasn't anything I could do. I wanted to move, but I was frozen to the spot, forced to listen as my boyfriend continued.

  “Still has no clue that the guy she's been fucking drugged her. Dumb cunt actually believed the story that she was pass-out drunk.”

  The memory swirled back to me… waking in Reed’s room the next morning, him claiming I’d been drunk and had passed out. At the time, I knew it couldn’t be true, but hadn’t questioned it. I'd been too flustered from being in Reed's bed.

  Anger flared inside me, hot and bright. It burned away my paralysis and I stormed from the bathroom, crossing into to the main room but froze as I watched Julien land a solid right hook to Brock's jaw. Brock dropped to his knees.

  “You fucking bastard!” I heard Julien say, but barely registered the words.

  Still on his knees, Brock looked straight at me as he rubbed his jaw. I noticed a drop of blood from the side of his mouth but all I could think about was his words: “Bitch never knew what hit her.” I felt tears in my eyes and pushed them back, blinking furiously. I didn't want Brock to think I was crying over him. I wasn’t. These were tears of rage; I’d never been more furious.

  I took a step toward him. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I knew I wanted to hurt him, wanted to tear him apart. It didn't matter that he was bigger than me and probably didn't have any qualms about hitting a woman. He'd been prepared to rape me. Who knew what else he was capable of? He probably didn't see it that way. I was just a stripper after all. Nothing more than a whore who sometimes didn't put out.

  A hand closed around my wrist and I struggled against it for a moment before I realized it was Julien.

  “He's not worth it,” Julien spat the words out. His bright blue eyes were shining with something I hadn't seen in them before. Indignation. Not annoyance or even just the disgust he'd had the other nights Brock had done something stupid. Julien was beyond pissed and it transformed his normally easygoing features into something sharp and fierce. If he hadn't been on my side, I'd have been a little frightened.

  “You're seriously going to ruin years of friendship over her?” Brock's hand was still at his jaw as he struggled to his feet. “You don't even know her.”

  “But I know you,” Julien countered. He was still holding my wrist, but now I was the one holding him back. He was pulsing with anger and I could feel his muscles contract with the need to hit Brock again. “I know about the girls in college who claimed you got a little too friendly. Never quite crossed that line with them, did you?”

  Brock didn't even look at me. “Come on, Julien. She's a good lay, but she's not worth breaking ties with me.”

  I ground my teeth together, too furious to even speak.

  “Get out, Brock,” Julien said. “And I don't just mean out of the apartment. Get out of Vegas. I don't want you to be in the hotel when I get back.”

  “You can't–”

  Julien took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. Brock stumbled backwards. “Remember what you said about my dad always having the biggest yacht? Well, it's still true. You might be a big-shot in Philly too, but my family's got ties everywhere. You don't want to cross me.”

  Brock sneered. “Never thought I'd see you start throwing around the family weight.”

  Julien didn't answer, but I supposed the stony silence was enough. Brock just looked at him for a few seconds longer, then left, slamming the door so hard that the faulty latch didn't catch and it banged open again.

  I didn't care about that though. The enormity of what just happened hit me full force, and I felt my knees start to buckle beneath me. Julien caught me before I could fall and held me up, wrapping his arms around me. I stiffened for a moment, but relaxed as soon as I realized he wasn't using this as an excuse to feel me up. I couldn't take another fight.

  “I am so sorry.” There was no pity in Julien's words, only sympathy.

  I pressed my face against his chest and tried not to cry. How stupid was I? I'd not only slept with a nearly-married man – twice – but I'd fallen for someone who'd tried to rape me. Not only fallen for him… but fucked him. Made love with him. Cared for him. I was even planning to move closer, had allowed myself to dream of a future.

  I swallowed hard, imagining how he must have been laughing at me the entire time. Trying to see how gullible I was? How far I’d go?

  My stomach heaved and I was pretty sure I was going to be sick. If I was, I didn't want to do it in front of Julien.

  “You can go to the cops about what he did,” Julien said, his voice soft. “I'll come with you and say how he confessed in front of me.”

  I shook my head but didn't look up. I didn't want to see if the pity that wasn't in his voice was in his eyes. “Doesn't matter what you say. No one cares about an almost-assault on a stripper. I wasn't hurt. Don't even remember it.”

  “He shouldn't be able to do something like that and get away with it.” There was heat to Julien's voice now.

  “He got a sore jaw out of it.” I tried to make the words light. If I didn't, I was going to crack and, as nice as Julien was being, he didn't deserve that. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “Should've castrated the bastard,” Julien muttered darkly. “Maybe that would've taught him a lesson.”

  Now there was a pleasing image. I pressed my lips together tightly. Julien's comfort was welcome, but I needed to regain my composure enough to see him out before I could let go of everything I was holding in. I was just getting ready to take a step back when I heard a voice speak.

  “Well, looks like you're really working your way through the Who's Who of Philadelphia society.”

  For the second time in just a few minutes, my mind and body were frozen in place by the sound of a male voice. Only, this one wasn't Brock. This was the one voice I didn't want to hear again, but also the only one I secretly longed for.

  Reed.


  What was he doing here? That question was immediately followed by one prompted by my recent discover. Had he been in on it the whole time?

  That thought gave me what I needed to move. I took a step back, breaking free of Julien's embrace. He let me go and stepped off to the side. I wasn't sure if it was because of what Reed had said or if he was able to tell I had someone else to be angry at. I didn’t care. All I knew was that now I could see Reed standing in the doorway.

  His expression was tight and his eyes guarded. I thought I could see a hint of hurt in them, and rather than feeling sorry for him; it just made me angrier.

  “Did you see your buddy in the hallway?” I spat at him before remembering. “Oh, sorry, your brother-in-law. Did he tell you the game was over? I know.”

  “Oh, so Brock was here too?” Reed snapped. “Were you having a threesome, or did Brock go first?”

  I felt Julien take a step forward and knew he was going to come to my defense. I put a hand out. “Could you give us a minute?”

  Julien hesitated and I could see him pulled by indecision. Warmed by his need to protect me, I touched him arm and said, “Please.”

  I waited until Julien closed the apartment door behind him and then turned on Reed again.

  “Listen to me, you arrogant bastard.” I crossed the space between us until I could've reached out and touched him. I didn't though. I didn't want to touch him ever again. “I'm not sleeping with Julien. He was comforting me. Besides, you have no right to act all holier-than-thou considering what you've done.” My hands were shaking and I curled them into fists. “Was it all part of some kind of game? Fuck me, hire me, then see how far Brock was willing to take things? Play the hero and step in so I'd trust you? Or were you just waiting to take your turn?”

  Genuine confusion crossed his face. “What are you talking about?”

  The fact that he so obviously didn't know what Brock had done should've softened me, but I didn't let it. Besides, I told myself, I knew he was a good actor. Maybe he was faking this, too.

  “I'm talking about Brock putting something in my water at your bachelor party,” I said. “I hadn't been drinking. Since you kept watching me, I figured you must've known that.”

  “I didn't know where you were all the time,” he countered. “For all I knew, you were out on the balcony doing shots before I came out there.”

  “Yeah, because that's my thing,” I snapped. “Get wasted and hook up with some random guy.”

  “Wasn't like you hadn't done that before,” Reed retorted, his almost-black eyes flashing. “For all I knew, I'd just been a warm-up to see if you could fuck someone else like me.”

  My stomach twisted again and I had a feeling, at some point very soon, I was going to lose my dinner. I was determined to get my say in before that happened. “Someone like you? You mean an arrogant prick? It's not that hard. Guys like you don't exactly have any sort of integrity to begin with.”

  He took a step back, a shocked expression on his face.

  I kept going, advancing on him, backing him up another step. “You're all the same. Guys like you and Brock. You don't mind slumming it when it means you're getting laid, but that's all girls like me are. Mistresses, whores, not really much of a difference.”

  Reed held up a hand. “What the fuck are you talking about? I had no idea Brock put anything in your water,” Reed insisted. “Had I known, or even suspected it, I would have killed him.”

  “Yeah, right. My hero.”

  Reed’s eyes narrowed at my sarcasm but I continued, “Don't bother.” I crossed my arms. “Wouldn't want you to do something that might jeopardize knocking up the wife you don't love.”

  “Who told you...” he started to ask, then answered his own question. “Brock.” His hands became fists. “Now I'm really going to kill him.”

  “Oh, was that supposed to be a secret?” I asked. “Were you thinking I'd be a nice piece of ass while Britni was pregnant, but I wasn't supposed to know the reason?”

  “It's not like that.”

  I hugged out a breath, not believing he thought me so gullible. “I know about the heir clause, Reed. Did you think that was going to be your out? Your way to excuse the fact that you say you want to be with me, but you're still sleeping with your wife?” I could feel the little bit of control I had slipping away. “If that's what you came here to say, don't bother.”

  “That's not why I came here.” He tossed an envelope at me and I caught it reflexively. “I came to apologize for my behavior.”

  I stared at him, then looked down at the envelope, rage building inside me again. “What’s this?” I held it up. “Money? Surprise, surprise. That's how men like you 'apologize' to girls like me, isn't it? Buy us off with cash or jewelry.” I walked over to the table and grabbed the roses from their vase. It tipped over, spilling water across the dishes I hadn't yet cleaned up. I didn't care. “Or flowers. That's always a good one. I should be so grateful that someone like you would buy me flowers that I should just forgive you.” I shoved the flowers into the trashcan, keeping my back to Reed so he couldn't see the tears that had finally managed to escape.

  “No,” he snapped. “It's not money. It's a place at Madam Emilana's Dance School in Philadelphia.”

  Shock broke through my anger enough to make me turn, but he was gone. I took a step toward the door. My mind was spinning. This was too much. I was still reeling from Brock's confession and Reed's accusations, and now I had a hundred questions about the envelope I'd tossed onto the table when I'd grabbed the roses.

  The first one was the most obvious. Why? Why had Reed pulled strings to get me a place at one of the elite private studios in Philadelphia? There had to be some ulterior motive. Some reason beyond wanting to apologize.

  The door opened and my heart gave a wild leap. An unwanted flash of disappointment poured through me. It was Julien.

  “Are you okay?” he asked immediately. He glanced at the trashcan where broken stalks stuck up. The scent from the crushed petals was nearly overwhelming.

  I started to nod, but it quickly became a shake as my composure cracked. I put my face in my hands and pressed my lips together, desperately trying not to completely break in front of Julien. He placed his hand on my shoulder and the kind touch undid me. I let out a strangled sob and he pulled me against his chest.

  All of the frustration of the past couple months, combined with everything that had happened tonight was too much. I could barely breathe as I cried, taking gulping, gasping breaths before letting them out again in choking sobs. I didn't try to explain what I was feeling and Julien didn't ask. He didn't say anything, in fact. He just held me and let me cry.

  At some point, we moved to the couch, but his hands stayed on my back the entire time. Not once did they venture anywhere they shouldn't be and I realized I felt safe. I trusted him, and though I knew that might've been the emotional vulnerability talking, I didn't have the energy for anything more introspective.

  Finally, I pulled back, brushing my hands across my cheeks. I felt hollow and empty inside, but it was better than everything else I'd been feeling. And I didn't think I was going to throw up now, which was a definite plus.

  “Do you want to be alone?” Julien broke the silence with his softly-spoken question. “Or do you want me to stay on the couch?”

  I appreciated the way he worded it so there was no doubt as to his intentions. I looked up at him, promising myself that if I saw the least bit of interest, I'd ask him to leave. All I saw was compassion and a hint of anger.

  “I'll get some sheets.” I sniffled as I stood.

  “Don't go to any trouble,” Julien got to his feet as well. “This is better than half the places I slept in Europe.”

  “It's no trouble,” I said. “It's the least I could do.”

  When I came back from the bathroom closet, Julien was clearing the table. I didn't protest because I knew it wouldn't do any good. Instead, I put the sheets on the couch and then went to help him.
>
  After we finished, I showered and finally climbed into bed. I was so emotionally and physically exhausted that I didn't have any problem falling straight to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  When I woke up, it took a minute to remember why my eyes were swollen and dry, and why I had that hollowed out feeling in my chest. Everything came rushing back all at once and I pressed my face into my pillow to stifle my pained cry. The betrayal, the anger at myself for being so stupid, all of it was still there, though just a bit less fresh than it had been the day before.

  I laid there for several minutes, letting the pain wash through me and over me. I knew the only way to deal with it was to let it have its way and learn to breathe around it. This wasn't the worst pain I'd ever felt, and since I'd survived before, I knew this ache would be bearable. It wasn't pleasant, but it wouldn't drive me over the edge. I was stronger than this.

  I sat up, my eyes still dry. I wasn't going to let this stop me from living my life. And that meant I had a decision to make.

  I'd picked up the envelope from the table last night while Julien and I had been cleaning up, and I'd brought it into my room to dry. I hadn't opened it since it hadn't looked like the water from the vase had soaked through. Now, I reached over to the table next to my bed and picked it up. It was one of those manila envelopes, so I didn't have to unfold the papers inside before I could see what they said.

  The one on top was a welcome letter stating that I'd received a grant from an anonymous donor to attend classes at the studio. The grant was renewing, so as long as I maintained attendance and met the qualifying guidelines, I would be able to continue attending. My place was probationary, based on my performance at my formal interview as well as my progress for the first ninety days.

  That actually made me feel better. Reed hadn't just bought them off. I still had to earn my way in. That meant I wouldn't be accepted if I weren’t good enough. Most people would've thought that would put more pressure on me, but it was that requirement that made me consider accepting the place. Sure, his money had opened the door, but it hadn't guaranteed me anything more than a shot. I hated the idea of owing him something, but it wouldn't be as big a debt as I'd first thought. And, realistically, I had to consider that it might be worth it in the end.