Tales of Darkness & Sin: An Anthology

by Pepper Winters

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask softly, careful not to disturb the moment.

  “Perhaps. Are we talking lemonade or something stronger?”

  I smile, reaching down and twining our fingers together. His whole body tenses when I do. My heart swells at my boldness, then begins to race. I don’t say anything. I simply lead him down the hall to Daddy’s study.

  He lets me.

  Emboldened by his cooperation, my mind searches for what to do or say next, but I must admit, I’m feeling a bit flustered. I felt like I had a handle on things when we were still outside, but here in my house… it’s different.

  Memories flood back to me of years past. Foster only spoke to me at the party two summers ago because I looked like a woman that time, but I’d noticed him long before that. He was a friend of my dad’s, so occasionally he would stop by our house to visit with him. I remember one year close to Christmas he came over. I was twelve and awkward, he was grown and gorgeous. To him, I was nothing more than his friend’s kid, but to me, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. The year I turned fourteen he came over again. I was so eager to greet him when Daddy said he was coming… only to learn when I answered the door, Foster had forgotten my name.

  I didn’t care, and I certainly hadn’t forgotten his.

  My mom picked up on my little ill-fated crush and teased me about it, but since he didn’t come around often, by the time I saw him in the Hamptons, Foster was little more to me than a childish crush I was mildly embarrassed to remember… until he smiled at me.

  He does it again now, knocking me off kilter.

  When Foster smiles—a real smile—he doesn’t start with his mouth. It starts with his eyes. A warm glint of fondness in his gaze seems to transform his whole face, softening granite slopes and giving him the hooded look of a lover. That alone weakens my knees, but then when his perfect lips tug up and every bit of his attention is focused on me… God, I can scarcely stay on my feet.

  Foster is comfortable in Daddy’s office, so he makes himself at home. With Daddy gone, Foster takes his seat behind the gleaming mahogany desk. I see him behind a big, impressive desk all the time at work, but it’s different here. There’s no office noise in the background, no glass walls… no one but us.

  I fetch him a drink from Daddy’s beverage cart and walk it over to him, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight way my hand trembles. There’s something about serving him like this…

  Without looking away from my face, he takes the drink. “Thank you.”

  I flash him a little smile, taking the opportunity to look away as he takes a sip. My whole body feels so hot, I’m tempted to flee the room and check the thermostat. Surely it’s been cranked up by mistake.

  His voice, sharp and searing as the crack of the whip, brings me back. “Sit.”

  My eyes widen slightly at the bite of command in his tone. He’s a guest in my home, but with a single word uttered by him I am somehow so scattered, I can’t even think where to sit. I feel like I’m in his domain instead of the other way around. “Where?”

  He pins me with his gaze, inciting a swarm of butterflies to break loose in my belly as he sits his drink down atop my father’s desk. Then, with a firm pat of his hand against his thigh, he says simply, “Here.”

  My heart is thumping so loudly I can hear it in my ears. My skin is on fire. I want to rip my dress off and lie down in a pool of ice.

  Instead, I look down at his lap.

  Big mistake. Huge.

  And my mistake is not the only huge thing in the room.

  There, between Foster’s spread thighs, the impressive bulge of his cock strains against the expensive fabric of his trousers. Liquid desire pours through my veins at the unexpected sight and it puts to bed any doubts I may have had about his interest earlier tonight.

  Yes, Mr. Foster most certainly wants me.

  I can scarcely breathe as I take the few steps between us. Even though my steps are soft, the room is so silent that each clack of my heels against the hardwood can be heard, and each one makes my heart beat faster.

  Despite him being the one to start this, I almost expect him to stop me.

  He doesn’t.

  I sit gingerly, keeping my heels firmly on the ground as I look over at him, not even trying to hide my curiosity.

  As if this is normal, as if I’m his, he bestows a wicked little smile on me and casually rests his hand on my bare thigh. “Did you have a nice time tonight, Miss Parker?”

  The way he calls me that—Miss Parker—puts me even more off-kilter. It’s so at odds with his private smile, with me sitting on his lap, his fingers lightly caressing my smooth skin.

  It feels wrong, but I’m still dreadfully hopeful.

  I’m not sure I can speak without making a fool of myself, so I’m relieved when I manage to answer evenly, “I did. Thank you for taking me along.”

  His fingers move along the inside of my thigh, drifting an inch higher and robbing some of the breath from my lungs. As if unfazed, he says, “No thanks required. You were magnificent.” He waits a beat, but not long enough for me to think of anything to say with him touching me the way he is. “Is your position at my company everything you expected it to be?”

  I want to answer him, I really do, but then he slides his hand so high up my thigh, the tip of his fingers brush my panties.

  My heart skitters to a stop. The breath freezes in my lungs. The whole world seems to stop moving for the span of a single missed heartbeat.

  This is what I wanted, so why doesn’t it feel right?

  It’s his demeanor. He’s still completely in control of himself—I haven’t awakened some ravenous beast inside him, he’s not passionately giving in to some fierce desire for me…

  Then it hits me, and it’s horrible.

  He’s toying with me.

  Maybe he isn’t. Maybe I’m reading it wrong. I’ve never been in an intimate situation with him before, so maybe my fantasy of what it would be like between us is totally wrong.

  I hope I’m wrong.

  I couldn’t bear to be toyed with, not by him.

  Instinctively, I reach down and cover his hand with mine, stilling it against my thigh so it doesn’t go any farther. It’s not as effective as I want it to be, though. He doesn’t resist, he allows me to stop him, but I want so badly to be wrong that my gesture is half-hearted. “What are you doing?” I ask softly.

  “Giving you what you want,” he says simply, leaving one hand trapped beneath mine, but drawing the other up to play with my hair. First he caresses a chunk of silky gold hair between his thumb and forefinger and it’s almost tender, but then he suddenly wraps my pony tail around his fist and tugs.

  I gasp as he pulls me backward, but I notice his grip on my thigh tightens as if he knew he would startle me and wanted to ensure I didn’t fall.

  He brings his lips so close, I feel them brush the shell of my ear. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You reached into your pretty little bag of debutante tricks to coax me into the house—you want me to fuck you, right? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you always get what you want, so let’s get on with it.”

  His words are like little knives being thrust in my heart. It’s not just what he says, but how he says it—like he still views me as some spoiled little rich girl and he thinks wanting him is just my latest whim.

  Prying his hand off my thigh and reaching back to free my hair from his tight grip, I murmur, “No, Foster, this isn’t what I wanted.”

  He cocks an eyebrow as I launch myself off his lap and turn to glare at him. “No? Could have fooled me.”

  “No,” I repeat, more heated with each passing second. Gesturing wildly between us, I repeat myself with more emphasis. “This is not what I wanted. Yes, I tricked you to get you in the house—but you knew I was tricking you; you were hardly defenseless against my wiles. I wanted to spend some time together just the two of us. I wanted to spend time with you. I don’t see what’s so
wrong with that.”

  Foster stands, his dark gaze narrowing on mine as he takes a step in my direction. “And why is that, hm? None of my other employees feel the need to spend alone time with me outside of the office.”

  I take a step back as he advances, but I’m still angry so I fling back, “Maybe that’s because they all think you’re an asshole and you’d say no.”

  His lips curve up faintly as he takes another step toward me. His reluctant amusement always gets to me, but paired with the way he’s backing me toward the wall… it feels deliciously dark and dangerous.

  “I think it’s because the rest of my employees know I’ll never fuck them—but not you. Why do you think that is, Miss Parker? Because you don’t think the same rules apply to you?”

  I’ve backed myself against a wall—literally. I stiffen as I feel the hard surface pressed against my back, but I can’t help noticing that Foster is right on top of me. He could have made his point without getting close to me.

  He’s close to me because he wants to be. Because no matter how much of a bastard he’s being right now, he wants me.

  I bet he hates that.

  He says I’m the one who always gets what she wants, but what has he ever wanted that he couldn’t take?

  Maybe just me.

  With my confidence renewed, I look him straight in the eye, far from intimidated as he brings his body so close to mine I can feel the heat rolling off him.

  “Why is it Miss Parker again all of a sudden? I was Chelsea just an hour or so ago, wasn’t I?”

  His stormy blue eyes seem to darken, but he doesn’t say a word.

  “I think I know why,” I tell him smoothly, affecting a tiny, knowing smile. “You’re afraid. I spooked you. You wanted to come inside tonight, Foster. You called it a date when you could have called it a work function, you picked me up when we could have met there, you couldn’t keep your eyes off me to save your life—you want me, but you can’t really have me… and you must hate that.”

  Reaching out and grabbing a fistful of my necklace, Foster pulls me close. “You think I want you?”

  He startled me grabbing me like that, but I don’t show it and I don’t even try to break free. “I know you do.”

  His grip on my necklace tightens. I tilt my chin up to let him see his scare tactics aren’t working. Actually, all it’s doing is turning me on, and if that’s not all kinds of fucked up, I don’t know what is.

  Rather than try to break away and flee like the fickle little debutante he accuses me of being, I double down. I push my back against the wall to make room for my hand between our bodies, then I reach down and caress the bulge in his pants.

  “I have proof,” I purr as I curve my fingers around him, lightly scoring the fabric so he can feel my nails.

  Foster goes completely rigid. He drops my necklace to brace a hand against the wall behind me, closing his eyes and taking a couple of slow, deep breaths.

  Despite my bold gesture, my heart is fixing to beat its way out of my chest. My hand is still on his cock and he didn’t move it or tell me to stop, so maybe… maybe he doesn’t want me to.

  I swallow down my uncertainty and start to caress him through his pants. He reacts immediately, grabbing my wrist to stop me.

  “Don’t,” he practically growls.

  I lick my lips and swallow again. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can he cuts me off.

  “Don’t,” he says more forcefully.

  I close my mouth and look up at him. His harsh features tell me he isn’t playing with me right now, that the warning is real.

  “Don’t… what?” I ask softly, my gaze trained on his handsome face.

  He was looking down while he carefully got himself under control. Now he looks me dead in the eye as he releases my wrist and takes a cool step back.

  “Don’t play a game you’re not ready for, little girl.”

  I don’t know if it’s his words or the way he suddenly retreated from me after being so close, but as hot as I was only moments ago, a chill sweeps over me now. I wrap my arms around myself protectively, not looking away from him, maybe waiting for him to say more.

  But he doesn’t.

  He doesn’t say another word.

  I want to tell him I am ready, I do want this, but the words are trapped in my throat.

  It doesn’t matter, though. He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Foster has already made up his mind about how tonight will end.

  With me standing here alone, feeling like an idiot, in my father’s study.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Foster

  She’s pissed.

  Really pissed.

  But at least she’s a professional.

  Last week, after my serious lapse in judgment where I nearly fucked Mason’s daughter on his own goddamn desk, I expected some sort of workplace drama. Monday morning, I worried myself to death over it, nearly giving myself an ulcer. But Chelsea Parker once again proved herself to be the adult in this situation.

  Fuck, what was I thinking?

  I wasn’t thinking with my head, that’s for damn sure. No, after a night at the show and then dancing, I was drunk off her scent and thirsty for her taste. When she invited me in, I wanted it. So. Fucking. Badly.

  She has a sense of self-preservation, though, and backed off the moment shit got real.

  I was such an asshole to her. Hence her frostiness all week. It’s better this way.

  “Mr. Foster,” Chelsea says from my office doorway. “A word?”

  My brain may have decided she was a bad idea, but my eyes are traitorous as they roam down her classy office attire that somehow looks sexy as fuck in a demure way, cataloging every detail about her. Her blonde hair has been straightened, giving it a smooth, silkiness I’d love to run my fingers through. Plump lips are pursed together, glossy and utterly lickable. Though her high-waisted black pencil skirt is long, hitting just below her knees, it’s still hot as hell, especially with her too-tall pointed toe pumps. She could wear a muumuu and still look ravishing.

  “Yes, Miss Parker,” I clip out, careful to keep the husky desire out of my voice.

  She bristles slightly at my tone. “I need to leave early.”

  “It’s only two. Hot Friday night date you need to get ready for?”

  Not your business, dumbass.

  “Something like that.” Her cheeks redden. “May I go?”

  If it were anyone else, I’d let them go without question.

  She’s not anyone else.

  She’s Chelsea Parker. The girl holding my thoughts hostage. Sweet and sexy and so fucking capable. Intelligent and charismatic. Everything a man like me could ever want in a woman.

  Which is why I can’t erase her from my mind and keep her safely in the untouchable box. Because, goddamn, I want to touch her. Every single damn part of her. With my fingers and my dick and my tongue.

  “You may if you tell me where it is you need to run off to,” I state as I rise from my office chair.

  I get a dark thrill that she’s just as affected as I am. Her sea green eyes skim down my front before she casts her gaze out the window behind me.

  “I have important things to do.” She bites on her bottom lip, eyes unable to meet mine.

  I walk over to her, frowning. “What sort of things?”

  “Fine, it’s a date,” she mutters, finally meeting my stare, unable to hide the sketchy look in her eyes. “Are you happy?”

  Yes, because I know she’s lying. If it really were a date, my jealous ass wouldn’t be happy at all which makes no sense.

  Either you want her or you don’t, Foster, but you can’t have it both ways.

  “I’ll walk you out,” I tell her, gesturing for the door.

  Her eyes roll, giving me a brief glimpse at her sassy personality behind the glossy businesswoman she’s become. “I can walk myself out, Foster.”

  “Nonsense,” I grit out.

  I stride through the office, nodding my head to the occasio
nal person passing by, pleased at the clacking of Chelsea’s heels behind me. When we’re in the elevator and the doors close, she shoots me an icy glare that has me smirking.

  We stop at another floor where six people crowd inside. Chelsea is forced into my corner, her shoulder brushing against my chest. This close, I’m reminded of the way I inhaled her last weekend. Of how she felt rubbing against me on the dance floor. The way she boldly grabbed my dick in her daddy’s office as though she’d even know what to do with the thing.

  “Leaving early can’t be a common occurrence, Miss Parker,” I murmur, my breath near her ear making her shiver. “You have a job to do and you can’t do it while doing other things during work hours.”

  “It’s just something I have to do. Now. It won’t happen again, though.” She turns her head up, searching my eyes and licking her lips. “I promise.”

  I’ve never wanted to kiss someone as much as I do her in this moment. Her juicy lips fucking call to me. Beg and plead for me to taste them. Unable to stop myself, I lift a finger and stroke it along her jaw. Green eyes widen and her mouth parts.

  She’s shocked I’d touch her in an elevator full of people.

  They’re all distracted by their phones. No one cares that I want to kiss the pretty girl in the elevator. No one but she and I.

  “Good,” I rumble, tearing my gaze from her mouth. “I need you…to work.”

  More people squeeze into the elevator with us. On instinct, I wrap an arm around her, pulling her against me to make room. Her breath hitches when my palm settles just above her ass.

  “Foster…” She tilts her head up again, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  Touching you.

  Craving you.

  Wanting you.

  I study her up close. The barely visible freckles hidden beneath her makeup. Tiny slivers of navy cutting through the sea of green in her eyes. A cute nose that suits her. And those lips. Goddamn those lips. Full and glistening pink.

  “Nothing.” Fucking liar. “Just being a gentleman and walking you out as promised.”

  The elevator doors open at the ground floor, spilling people out into the lobby, leaving the two of us with her trapped in my grasp. I reluctantly release her.