The Prodigal's Desire

by Valerie Lynne

  “That’s the plan,” she groaned as her fingers skimmed lower to rub up and down between her folds. “I’m just a little busy right now.”

  Henry released a deep chuckle. “I thought you said you’ve never done this before.”

  “I...I haven’t.” Victoria’s breathing shallowed as she gyrated her hips.

  Henry licked his lips. “You’re a natural,” he said, nearly salivating as one of Victoria’s hands cupped her breast, her fingertips rolling over a puckered nipple while with her other hand, she stroked up and down her pussy. Throbbing and uncomfortably swollen, Henry watched mesmerizingly as his goddess pleasured herself. “You’re the fucking sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Her arousal soaked his crotch. “So greedy,” he said, moving to capture her hand.

  A small whimper of protest came from Victoria’s lips.

  “It’s not nice not to share.” Henry sucked her finger into his mouth, licking every drop of the sticky residue from its tip. “You taste divine.”

  Passion flickered in her eyes, a coy smile curving her lips. “I think it’s time for my lesson, Mr. Santana,” she said.

  “My pleasure,” Henry answered and attempted to unbutton his pants.

  She pushed his hand out of the away, her small fingers moving to the bulge in his crotch. Fumbling with the button of his pants, she breathed a sigh of relief as it gave way. Urgently, she tugged the zipper down. Lifting slightly, Henry helped her shove his pants and underwear to his ankles. Cupping his shaft between her fingers, Victoria started to stroke him up and down.

  A guttural sound emitted from deep within his chest. “I can’t wait any longer.” He started to reach down for his pants to retrieve a condom.

  “Have you been tested?” Victoria flushed, her words coming out in a rush.

  Holy shit!

  Reclining back against the couch, he studied her, the frenzy of the previous moment lost as he felt her shiver. “Yes, right before I left Miami,” he finally answered, his voice lowering when he added, “You’ve nothing to worry about. I’m clean.”

  “Me, too. I was tested right after David and I broke up.”

  Henry’s heart seized. Victoria was opening up, lowering her guard to be vulnerable. Don’t fuck this up, he kept thinking as she continued to say, “I’m not the kind of woman who sleeps around,” Victoria said, a slight tremor in her voice. “I’m not easy.”

  Henry cupped her chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing Victoria to look at him. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, trying to rein in his anger that she’d even consider for a moment that he’d think so little of her.

  Flushing, her hazel eyes bore into his. “David was the only one,” she admitted softly. “I saved myself for the man I was going to marry, and I thought—”

  “Shh,” Henry murmured. “I don’t take a minute I’m with you for granted.” Lowering his mouth to hers, he gently brushed his lips over hers and then pulled back to cup her face between his palms. “I want you, Victoria Hathaway. Anyway I can have you. With or without a condom—you call the shots.”

  Henry heard her intake of breath and watched as she closed her eyes as if looking at him would hinder the weight of his words. “I want you—all of you,” she said softly as her eyes fluttered open. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. A deep moan escaped from her as Henry clutched her to him, his tongue delving into her mouth. “No condom,” she panted, breaking the kiss.

  “You’re sure?” Henry asked.

  “Yes,” she said and pushed down harder, her wet folds sliding over the head of his cock.

  “Fuck, Goldilocks,” Henry rasped. “I can’t wait much longer.”

  “I don’t want you to.” Victoria reached down, grasping his cock with her hands, and guided him to the opening of her channel.

  “Go on,” Henry said deeply.

  “Help me,” Victoria whispered.

  Without another word, his fingers clamped over hers as his other hand secured her hip. He thrust into her, a high-pitched cry coming from Victoria as he pushed her down to take him to the hilt. “So fucking tight,” Henry growled as her vaginal walls clenched around him.

  Eyes hooded, Victoria rode astride him, meeting him thrust for thrust as Henry bucked beneath her. Heavy and swollen, her breasts bounced up and down. Henry reached up, cupping each of the round globes in his hand as she tossed her head back, her hair cascading down the length of her back.

  Legs trembling, she violently quaked around him, screaming as her warm juices gushed over him. She collapsed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as Henry galloped toward bliss. His teeth clenched and he shuddered, flooding Victoria with his release.

  Victoria

  The grandfather clock chimed as if to mock her. It was the witching hour—the time of night where the supernatural had been rumored to come to life. Naked, Victoria lay within its snare, Henry’s arm draped lazily over her shoulder. Lips slightly parted, his breaths were shallow and deep. How content—peaceful—he looked as he slept. Victoria smoothed her palm over his sculpted pecs, stroking the sparse, dark hairs that shadowed his nipples. Soft to the touch, the hairs glided smoothly between her thumb and forefinger. Resting her chin atop her hand, she watched as he slept, transfixed by his otherworldliness. Henrique Santana was truly magnificent.

  Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. Lost in her thoughts of admiration, she’d not been prepared for Henry’s sinfully long, dark lashes to flutter open. “Hi,” she whispered.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” he said groggily.

  “We both did.”

  “Just a few more minutes. Then I promise to get up,” Henry said, closing his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  An eyelid cracked open. “You don’t?”

  “No,” Victoria brushed her lips over his chest, sucking his taut nipple into her mouth.

  Henry moaned. “I like the way you touch me,” he breathed. His arm tightened around her shoulder, pulling her tighter against him. “Did I die and go to heaven?”

  She giggled softly. “Oh, you’re very much alive,” she said, a sly smile forming over her lips. Proving her point, she cupped his swollen shaft, stroking up and down the velvety smooth member.

  Henry stretched his arms above his head. Groaning low and deep, he lolled his head onto his forearms, his eyes remaining closed, and smiled. Inhaling deeply, he expelled a ragged breath. “Ms. Hathaway, you’re one wickedly wonderful woman.”

  Chapter 21

  Henry

  Henry lay staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what Helen Carrington could possibly feel was important enough to wake him at the ungodly hour of 4:00 a.m. She’d been reluctant to divulge the details in her impromptu text, leaving him no other choice than to grudgingly concede to her request. Luckily, his assistant was an early riser and agreed to report to work an hour earlier than regularly scheduled. There was no way Henry would meet with the cougar alone.

  Nestled at his side, the woman of his dreams slept peacefully. Her long, blonde hair was tousled from their lovemaking, splayed thick across his chest. Ever so gently, he stroked his hand down Victoria’s soft, smooth back, his brows furrowing at the coolness of her skin. Carefully, Henry pulled the blanket below her chin to keep her warm.

  There was something so very right about spending the night in Victoria’s bed. Waking up with her sleeping in his arms was a luxury he yearned to grow used to. Damn fool! What had he been thinking to agree to Helen’s unexpected summons? What could possibly have transpired in the few hours since last night’s dinner meeting with Helen and Senator Murdoch?

  He peered at the bedside table, noting the time on the digital clock. The idea of leaving did little for his disposition, but if he ever expected a future with Victoria Hathaway, it had to be done. Helen Carrington wasn’t the only one who needed to talk. Henry had a few things to discuss as well. Mainly, his increasing desire to halt the construction pr
oject.

  Quietly, he padded toward the attached bathroom and took a quick shower. A few minutes later, he stood at the foot of the bed. Victoria breathed shallowly, her fingers curled delicately against the vacant indentation where he once slept. I promise, Goldilocks. I’m going to make things right, Henry silently vowed before exiting the room.

  Victoria

  Victoria stretched, sighing contently. She clutched the blanket beneath her chin and twisted onto her side. Her eyes flew open as her fingers met with the cold, rumpled sheet. Scrambling into a seated position, Victoria squinted into the dimly lit room, her heart skipping a beat. “Henry?”

  A torrent of emotions roared within her, crashing into an internal cyclone. How could she have been such a fool? Shame...rage...pain each took its turn to chastise her when Henry didn’t answer. Bile rose in her throat as she recalled their vigorous lovemaking on her couch. Shamelessly, it hadn’t been enough to sate her. She’d lured him lasciviously into her bed, only thinking of her own carnal pleasure. The toxicity of her desire for Henry had clouded her judgment, taking over her sense of reason. This was all her fault. She deserved whatever happened to her. She’d pay an ultimate price for her sordid lust—for her enemy! Victoria deserved to lose her home, but Jennifer...

  A wounded sob escaped from her throat. Her actions impacted Jennifer as well. If they lost the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café—the business they’d painstakingly built together—it would be all her fault. Victoria would have to learn to live with the consequences of her own recklessness. But Jennifer—she was an innocent victim caught in the crossfire. It would tear Victoria’s heart out to know she was the reason her best friend suffered.

  Tears streaked down her face. Wiping the back of her hand across her cheek, Victoria leaned over the mattress and reached to get a tissue from the bedside table. Her name had been scribbled on a folded sheet propped against a rectangular box. Bewildered, she picked it up and positioned it onto her lap, a fingertip stroking over the baby blue and pink branded box. She unfolded the paper and sucked in a breath, overwhelmed as she read the note.

  Dearest Victoria,

  Reluctantly, I must tear myself away. You looked so peaceful that I couldn’t bear to wake you. Please forgive me for leaving you as though I were a thief in the night. I have an urgent matter that I must deal with, one that may fix everything. It will absorb most of my waking hours between now and the town council meeting. But believe me, you’ll always be in the forefront of my mind.

  Already missing you,

  Henry

  P.S. Open the box, my love.

  My love? Victoria’s eyes traveled over the cryptic message again. What was Henry trying to tell her? He said he was going to fix everything. How? Her breathing shallowed. Had he meant to abandon the construction project? No. He wouldn’t, would he? If he did, he’d have come to Newport for naught.

  Back ramrod straight, Victoria sat in the middle of her bed, the box still closed on her lap. Carefully, she lifted the lid and pushed the pink tissue paper aside. A hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening as she stared down. Inside the box was a Madame Alexander doll. Dressed as an angel, the pink satin gown was adorned with white lace and white roses around the neckline and multi-layers of matching white lace underskirts. The doll’s long, blonde hair had been swept to the side and styled into ringlets that cascaded over her shoulder.

  In all the years she’d spent with David, he’d never given her such a thoughtful gift. He’d thought her fondness for dolls silly and frivolous, neglecting the intimacy of sharing in one of her passions. The corners of her lips quirked up forming a smile as she recalled the day Henry strode, soaking wet with an equally drenched golden retriever by his side, into the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café. Livid as the pair dripped water onto the newly installed carpeting, she’d been annoyed by his interest in her Madame Alexander dolls, thinking his curiosity was merely a ploy to gain her trust.

  Now, she realized she’d been wrong. This doll was more than a present; it was a gift from Henry’s heart.

  Chapter 22

  Henry

  “Good Morning, Mr. Santana,” Janice said as Henry strode into the office.

  “Thank you for being so accommodating, Janice. I promise I won’t make a habit of calling you in early.”

  Her hands folded on the desktop, she smiled broadly. “The coffee is brewing. I’ll bring you a cup as soon as it’s done.”

  “You’re a godsend, Janice,” Henry said just as Helen swept into the reception area.

  “Henrique,” Helen purred. “So happy you agreed to meet with me on such short notice.”

  “Good Morning, Ms. Carrington.” Janice rose from her seat and walked to the coffee pot. “I hope you’ll enjoy a cup of freshly brewed coffee.”

  “How kind of you, darling. That sounds lovely,” Helen said as she removed her coat.

  Ever the efficient assistant, Janice provided Henry and Helen with two perfectly prepared cups of coffee and had the foresight to leave the office door ajar when she left the room. The woman was most definitely worthy of a substantial raise.

  “You’ve done well for yourself, Henrique. This office is quite remarkable, and your assistant is polished. I’m sure your father is proud of your keen business sense,” Helen said, taking a sip of the steaming brew.

  His eyes fixed on hers, Henry spoke firmly. “I owe you an apology,” he said.

  “Whatever for?” Dressed in a red turtleneck sweater that hugged every inch of her well-toned torso, Helen crossed one shapely leg over her knee.

  “I believe you may have mistaken my intentions when we first met, and I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression,” Henry said, shifting uncomfortably in his desk chair.

  “Darling, I haven’t mistaken anything.” Helen smiled coyly. “I’m a woman well in her prime; I know when a man is truly interested in me. I also know when a man is desperate to gain my favor.”

  Henry swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. “It’s true. I do need your influence to obtain the building permit. However, my tactics to gain it were underhanded. I made a terrible error in judgment, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

  “I wonder if Victoria Hathaway knows what an upstanding man she has in her life,” Helen said before taking another sip of coffee. “She’s a lucky woman to have captured your affections.”

  “I believe it’s the other way around, but thank you just the same,” Henry said, surprised by Helen’s keen understanding.

  “Do tell me something.” She put her cup on the desk and leaned forward. “Why are you wasting your talent, your reputation, and your respectability working for that bastard of a father of yours? You are a handsome, ethical man. Don’t lower yourself to that snake’s level,” Helen said. “I’ve met many hustlers like Diego Santana before. Cutthroat and greedy, they’ll sell their first-born child if it benefits them.”

  Fuck! Helen Carrington has balls.

  Several minutes passed as Henry contemplated Helen’s words. There were no flies on her. “Honestly...” Henry cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I’ve lived in my father’s shadow my entire life, never living up to his expectations for me.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time that changed?” Helen asked. “I like you, Henrique. You’ve got potential, and you deserve to be in the spotlight.”

  His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I will not back your construction project.” Reaching into her large handbag, she pulled out an oversized manila envelope. “To do so would do a disservice to this city. It would crush the businesses of the multi-generational families who reside here. Furthermore, the destruction of historical landmarks is prohibited by the Newport Ladies’ Refurbishment Society.”

  Henry nodded. “I see.”

  “Take a look at this,” Helen said, dropping the envelope onto Henry’s desk. “I believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” She picked up her purse, her hips swaying seductively
as she walked to the door. “Call me before the town council meeting,” she said and turned away.

  HENRY SQUARED HIS SHOULDERS and entered the spacious library. Row upon row of first editions lined the shelves. His father’s keen interest in literature was one of the few similarities they shared. Like a king on his throne, his father was seated at an oversized walnut desk. “Good morning, Father,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Sit.” Diego pointed toward one of the empty leather chairs positioned before him. He waited until Henry had accepted the proffered seat before he continued to speak. “You’ve failed me, Henrique.”

  Henry bit his tongue, his eyes narrowing on the corpulent body stuffed into the oversized desk chair. “I don’t care for your tone nor did I answer your summons to be insulted,” Henry answered with deadly calm.

  “When you accepted the real-estate developer position, I thought you’d finally grown some balls.” A smirk formed on his father’s ruddy face. “Made me think I raised a prodigal son.”

  “Raised me?” Henry’s jaw clenched. “To raise a child, you need to be around.”

  Diego waved a hand in dismissal. “You always were a stickler for particulars.”

  “I simply call it as I see it.” Rigid, Henry sat in the chair directly across from his father. He’d known before he’d arrived at the mansion that he’d been notified of Helen’s decision not to back the land deal. What his father didn’t know was that, instead, she’d offered Henry the opportunity of a lifetime.

  Diego steepled his fingers under his double chin, his blue eyes—their only physical similarity—pierced into Henry. “I’ve supported your worthless ass for years, even financed an obscenely expensive education. I asked one thing of you—and you fucked it up. One brainless task and you couldn’t even do that right.”

  “This is bullshit!” Henry jolted up from the chair. Palms flattened onto the desktop, he straightened his arms to brace his weight. “I don’t need to listen to your fucked-up insults.”