What did it say about me that watching her talk to the sky got my dick hard?
What did it say that, despite the frigid temperature, it stayed as hard as the forecasted hail?
Emery peeled off her jeans and dove into the pool. When she resurfaced, she swam to its brink. Beneath her shirt, two hard nipples greeted me. My jaw ticked.
Off-limits. Off-limits. Off-fucking-limits.
If she expected me to cave, she wasn’t getting it. But I could imagine it, and I did. In my bed, in my shower, in my office. A fucking teenager, jerking off because he couldn’t get the girl. Except I had her, close enough to touch her, and I chose to preserve the lie over her. For her.
Fuck you, Gideon. Putting me in this position is Grade-A revenge. Now, I know where your daughter gets her fixation for silent revenge from.
Emery quirked a brow. “Are you coming in, or what?”
Loosening my tie, I discarded it with my suit jacket on the deck. I yanked my shirt off, popping every button. Her lips separated at the sight of my scars. It occurred to me that she hadn’t seen me fully naked in almost five years, so I removed my boxer briefs, too.
I locked my jaw, Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement of her eyes. She took her time sweeping the length of me. My dick saluted her for every second of it.
Rainwater blurred my vision. I dove into the warmed water and emerged in front of Emery. Her ankle trailed my legs. It traced something indecipherable and stopped at my abs. She used them to push off into a backstroke.
The pool extended into the ocean with a negative edge. If I looked hard enough, I could see where the pool ended and the ocean began. In the rain, all I saw was Emery, arms spread, kicking lazy circles with the backdrop of crashing ocean waves.
So fucking wild, I had no idea how Virginia ever intended on taming her.
She startled when I swam beside her. My fingertips teased the edge of her tee. Her arm wrapped around my neck and clung to me.
“Tiger?”
“Yes?”
“What do you want for your birthday?”
“You.”
No hesitation.
Just pure need.
I was definitely going to hell, because looking at her in the rain, determination painted on her face, I couldn’t say no.
She skated her lips along my neck, not kissing me. Just feeling me. Breathing me. Consuming me. I dragged her shirt up her body, devouring her nipples.
My fingers gripped her hair.
I brought my lips to the curve of her ear and licked the skin. “What are you asking from me?”
What’s eating you, Emery Winthrop?
“Break me.” She stared at me like she wasn’t completely whole and didn’t entirely care. “Then put me back together, mismatched, scarred, and chaotic as this storm.”
My mouth slammed on those soft lips, body stapling her to the rim of the pool. Behind her, the waves drowned her moans. I tore her panties off. They fell to the porcelain tiles.
Her body quivered, bare and pressed against mine.
“Beautiful,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t understand the compliment.
“I know.” She threw her head back and stared at the moon. “I love starless skies.”
“I'm not talking about the fucking sky. I'm talking about you.”
If she heard me, she didn’t show it. Simply granted me access to her neck, attention above us. My teeth grazed her skin, tongue lapping at the goosebumps.
“Give me a word, Emery.”
“Redamancy.”
“What does it mean?”
“The act of loving the one who loves you. A love returned in full.” She drew her bottom lip between her front teeth and turned away.
I know what you are, and it’s not the storm or the clouds.
I lifted her, locked her legs around my waist, and positioned myself at her core. “I’m going to fuck the last asshole out of your system. And I’ll ruin every other asshole for you. Nothing will compare.”
Her nails dented my shoulders, and she laughed. Goddamn laughed. “You. You are the last asshole inside me.”
Fuck.
“Good.”
I sunk into her, fucking mind-blown over how different she felt.
Her pussy hugged my cock, quaking around me with each thrust.
I fucked her like it was the last time I’d ever do it.
And it probably was.
The second she discovered the lie, she'd never forgive me. If this was the last time, I’d make it feel like forever. I didn't want the before or even the after. I wanted the during, the part of us I chased each second.
I thrust again, faster this time.
She begged me for more, her fingers leaving grooves in my skin. The heat of the pool warmed us, but the storm above cascaded in unforgivable tides. It was messy, and savage, and too fucking good.
Thrust.
“Nash.” The rain drowned her cries, but I heard how much she needed me, felt it as her walls shook around me. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
Something built in my throat when she licked my scar and ran her fingertips along the others.
I thrust harder, creating our own waves to battle the ocean’s.
She moaned into my ear, but the storm above us and between us swallowed the symphony. I should have slowed down, savored this, created a memory of it, but my body had different ideas. It hunted an elusive feeling I couldn't name.
Thrust.
I barely made out her words, “Do I feel as perfect as you feel?”
I realized how monumental it was for the girl who never used the word perfect to use it to describe me.
“Better.” Thrust. “Lagom.” She clenched at the word. Curses flew out of my mouth. I grazed her jaw. “Just fucking right.”
My fingers dug into her ass. I reached between us and rubbed her clit, loving the way I heard her scream above the storm. My hands gripped her waist, and I slammed her down on me.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And a-fucking-gain.
I was ready to explode inside her, but I whispered words against her temple, doubting she heard them above the storm and her ecstasy, “Moira.”
Thrust.
She scraped her fingers down my arms, so hard I bled. “Again.”
“Nepenthe.”
I buried my cock inside her, erratic thrusts that should have been too hard, but she kept fucking begging me for more.
“Again.”
My arms burned from her marks, yet it was art. A scourge of red mixed with rain, something that looked awful, but made me feel like a goddamned king. I wanted her to scratch away my scars and replace them with whatever the hell this was.
Instead, I grunted, “Duende.”
Thrust.
“Again.”
“Lacuna.”
Emery shattered around me, unable to hold herself upright. I barreled into her, creating a tsunami in the pool. The waves lapped at my back and fought my hold of her. Her sigh was so opposite to the situation, it was almost comical.
The serene face she wore deserved my mercy, but I didn't give it. I reached between us and pinched her clit, compelling another orgasm just to feel how tight she was around me. Just to prolong this.
She believed in words, and magic, and storms. In fighting back, going down hard, never giving up. In blind loyalty, jumping first, dealing with consequences later. She was awful. She infuriated me. She drove me fucking crazy.
And, I realized, I love her.
“Ask me the question, Tiger.”
Her eyes fluttered open, not staring at me but into me. “Is this just lust?”
“It's everything.”
Flash!
I blinked away the sting of the light. Every time he took a picture, the photographer smiled with sadistic glee. Able Small Dick Cartwright wrapped his arm around me. Cordelia perched on the throne-style chair at my hip. Two bridesmaids and three groomsmen bracketed us.
A prom ph
oto out of a horror movie.
The poster you stare at and take bets on who will die first.
Probably me, and it’d be of my own volition. Another second of this, and I’d snap.
“One more picture, y’all!” the photographer promised for the ninth time and proceeded to snap five more. “Emery, hun? Smile! It’s an engagement dinner party! Love is in the air. Be happy!”
Stabbing you with the stiletto heel of my mandatory Louboutins would make me very happy.
My fake smile compared to the Joker’s, but I found it hard to even put in the effort. Last night came to me in floods each time I tried.
“Give me a word, Emery.”
“Redamancy.”
I’d wanted to riot, because it looked like he thought he was fucking me out of his system instead of into it. I’d fixated on the memory all morning, and no, I would not fucking smile unless it involved descending vampire teeth and sucking the blood out of every asshole in here.
“C’mon, Emery!” Click. Click. “Give me that beautiful smile!”
“No.”
Cordelia turned to me, her face nearly identical to Small Dick’s, it made me want to barf, too. She soothed a palm to her collarbone. “Excuse me?!”
Her cheeks matched the color of my roses. The only indicator of her irritation. Seriously, her forehead didn’t budge. Not one bit.
I shoved the bouquet into her chest. “Here. These match your face. You’re welcome.”
Gathering the lavender monstrosity Virginia had squeezed her bridesmaids into, I left the alcove of the Eastridge Country Club and entered the ballroom. My eyes sought and failed to find Nash.
Virginia spent the entire opening ceremony seeking a way to separate us, including sending me off to take pictures I scowled in. Meanwhile, Sir Balty creeped me out with his beady eyes and weird fixation with me. First golf, then brunch, and now the engagement dinner.
Enough already.
Pulling out my phone, I called Nash and remembered his had powered down earlier. I messaged him through the Eastridge United app, knowing he wouldn’t see it until he got home and charged his phone.
Durga: Tell me your favorite thing in the world.
I’d have to find him the old-fashioned way—gossip by socialites.
Pocketing the phone, I latched onto the arm of a random rail-thin brunette. “Have you seen Nash Prescott?”
She shook her arm away and sipped her Cosmo, a version of me my mother would have preferred. “He left down that hall with Virginia a minute ago.”
“Thanks.” I flashed her a fake smile and complimented her dress, because I knew she expected it—and would spiral if I didn’t.
Shoot me now. I hate these things.
Balthazar cued a waiter to him. I used it as a distraction and slipped past them. Déjà vu shotgunned into me once I hit the hallway leading to the office. My last time here, I’d barreled into Nash, exactly where he stood now.
He glanced at his watch, brought a whiskey glass to his lips, and entered Virginia’s office without shutting the door behind him. My heels rapped against the floor. I slipped them off and crept down the corridor. I didn’t want to be dramatic, but I’d sensed something off the whole night.
Nash seemed irritated with Eastridge, beyond his normal threshold. The silent car ride negated our honeymoon phase. It set me on edge, encouraging me to spy, even if I knew, morally, I shouldn’t.
Pressing my back to the wall, I inched as close to the door as possible without being seen. Virginia muttered something indecipherable, luring me dangerously near the open frame. I honed in on the scraps I could glean.
“Whatever you're doing with my daughter, I want you gone.”
If she expected him to cower like the spineless Eastridgers she’d grown accustomed to, she’d be sorely disappointed. Nash fought. For instinct. For sport. For survival. Anything else equated to giving up.
I anticipated Nash’s brash response with a smile on my face. Without seeing her, I knew Virginia’s impatience fed her fury. She was a furnace doused in Butane.
Ice cubes clinked together.
He took his time sipping. “Careful with the threats, Virginia. You may look good in white, but you sure as shit look awful in orange.”
She sucked in a breath, stilettos dragging on the floor a bit. “You know about it…” Know about what? “How—”
That tone. I recognized it. It came before a tantrum.
That neck-and-neck election for the chairwoman of the Junior Society? A Jimmy Choo thrown at the crystal chandeliers.
Gaining two-and-a-half pounds during our Italy holiday? Fat-shaming her debutantes.
After the deliveryman mistook her for my grandmother? A fire poker to the wall.
I leaned forward a tad. Just to see.
Neither of them noticed me.
Nash sat at the desk, back pressed against the leather executive chair, legs propped on the mahogany. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is, I know everything.”
Virginia’s face paled, body shivering despite the warmth. She fingered her pearls, close to dropping her drink with the other hand. “You won’t say a thing. I see how you look at Emery.”
“How I look at Emery is none of your concern, considering if you continue to test my patience, the only thing you’ll be able to look at is the other side of prison bars.” His fingertips met, forming a steeple. He could have been talking about the weather with that tone. “In the interest of time, let’s cut to the chase. You’ll leave Eastridge. No one will see you again.”
Why? Why would she do that? What did he have on her? And my biggest question: why didn't he tell me anything?
A lie of omission still counted as a lie.
Betrayal sliced a path up my throat with the finesse of a machete hacking through a jungle. None of this made any sense. I wanted to interrupt with questions, but I feared nothing would be as candid as this moment here.
Without me.
Lies.
Four letters caused so much damage.
Virginia clenched her champagne glass until her knuckles turned white. “You have nothing but wild accusations. A thug with empty threats. So, why would I listen to anything you have to say?”
Ah.
The thug card. My favorite. Mostly, because I’d identified Virginia as a hypocrite from day one. I just never realized how accurate I'd been in my assessment.
“Because you’re scared.” My eyes scratched a path down her body. I sneered at her balled fist. Unnerved by the help’s son. I fucking thrived on karmic justice. “Look at you. You’re shaking at the very thought of being someone’s prison bitch.”
“No one will believe you.” Her head shook, but so did her whole body. “You are nothing but the son of my help—”
“Whom will people believe?” My hand made a sweeping gesture at her. “A washed-up has-been, no one in the history of Eastridge has ever liked, or me”—I pointed to myself, flashing her a charming-as-fuck smile that could win every woman over—“the self-made billionaire, who frequently gives back to the community and is referred to as the Patron Saint of Eastridge?”
I almost wished Emery could see the downfall of her mother. This hadn’t been my intention tonight. Gideon wanted me to keep quiet. As in, no feathers ruffled. A waiting game he'd endured for four years, suffering without his daughter.
Not your secret to tell, Nash.
True.
Didn't mean I had to sustain a healthy relationship with Virginia. It wouldn’t do anyone any favors, and she needed out of Emery’s life like I needed to seal the Singapore deal, quit this soul-sucking job, and confess everything to Emery.
At least, that’s what I told myself to justify skirting the boundaries of the promise I’d made Gideon.
Virginia resembled a toddler post-tantrum, the moment she realized she wouldn’t get her way.
I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket, wiped it across the bottom of my shoe, and tossed it at her face. “You okay there, Virginia? You look li
ke someone who just learned she got knocked up by her high school health teacher. Sounds like the plot to a D-grade flick I’ve seen before. Spoiler alert: both the student and the teacher are fucked.”
Virginia clutched the cotton. “I—You—” She tossed it to the ground and stomped on it, determination so fierce, I actually appreciated it for reminding me of Emery. “You can't do this to me. Literally speaking, you cannot. Gideon wasn’t able to and neither are you.”
“Here’s what's going to happen.” I leaned up in my seat, knowing I appeared more formidable than any predator in the animal kingdom. “You’ll take your gaudy ass away from Emery, remove yourself as the settlor of her trust fund, round up your clown car of corrupt friends, and leave this town.”
“I will do no such thing!” The point of her toe scuffed the hardwood flooring. “You can’t talk to me like this!”
“I can talk to you however I’d like. Unless you do exactly as I say, you’ll experience worse in prison.” In fact, I looked forward to it. I toyed with a pen, nonchalant with my ruthlessness. “Wave goodbye to your chilled fennel soups that taste like armpits, your shitty orange spray tans, and your uneven haircuts, Virginia. Your life in Eastridge is over. Your life as you know it is over.”
“I'll tell Emery.”
That gave me pause.
The only thing she could have possibly said to give me hesitation.
“You won’t.” I considered the ledger, more than willing to turn it—and myself—in if it came to that. “I have something Gideon doesn’t. Proof.”
A smile curved up Virginia’s lips. She could’ve been pretty. Beautiful, even. Too bad she conducted herself with the moral compass of the wicked stepmothers in every Brothers Grimm fairy tale. “You’re bluffing, otherwise it wouldn't have taken four years for this conversation to transpire.”
The switch flipped. Her shoulders pulled back. So dumb for thinking I would ever relent. If she thought this was over, she’d never met persistence like mine before. Especially when it came to protecting people I cared about.
Virginia turned. I would have parted with the final threat, but when we both shifted our attention to the doorframe, we encountered my blue-gray storm.
Devious Lies: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Cruel Crown Book 1) Page 41