We step out of the elevator and she starts forward before she glances over her shoulder at me, disappointment gleaming in her eyes.
“Goodbye, Foster.”
“Enjoy your things, Miss Parker.”
Unbelievable.
She told the truth…just not all of it.
Chelsea really was going on a date. It’s the who with that has my blood boiling with fury.
Ryan.
She knows he’s screwing me over and yet here she fucking is, looking ready to screw him instead.
Calm down, asshole, they’re just talking.
I attempt to quell my anger as I sip on a glass of Sullivan’s Cove single malt whiskey, watching Chelsea laugh from afar at whatever it is Ryan’s saying to her. The whiskey only acts like an accelerant on my flames of rage.
Earlier, after she’d left, I did what any good employer would do when his employee left. I accessed her Outlook calendar to find out where she really was going. Imagine my fucking surprise to see tonight was blocked out with “drinks with Ryan.”
What she failed to add in were…
Laughs with Ryan.
Flirty smiles with Ryan.
Frequent touches with Ryan.
A goddamn date with Ryan.
“Sir?” the bartender asks, interrupting my fiery thoughts. “Another?”
I grunt and nod. When he returns, he lingers, pity on his face.
“What?” I growl, pinning him with a glare.
“Want to talk about it?”
Is he fucking kidding me right now? Does this look like a therapy session?
A laugh tumbles out of him, clearly sensing the vehemence rolling off me. “Chill, man, I’m only trying to help. Is she your daughter? Trust me. Mine is only thirteen, but sometimes you gotta let them make their own decision or they’ll end up hating you for it.”
My daughter?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I clip out, tossing back the contents of my glass. “She’s not my daughter.”
Unshaken by my surly attitude, he continues on with a wide grin on his face. “Ex-lover? In that case, go rip that guy’s balls off for kissing your girl.”
I snap my gaze Chelsea’s way, ready to explode. She’s not kissing him, though. They’re hugging. After a wave of her fingers at him, she walks away from the booth they were sharing. The motherfucker checks out her ass long enough I have the urge to ram my fist through his lying face.
I toss down a wad of bills, mutter out a thanks to the bartender, and then slip through the crowd on a mission to find Chelsea.
We need to talk.
I’m dying to know why in the hell she would go out with that asshole knowing everything he’s done to me.
Is this all to get back at me for dicking her around?
My brain can’t wrap its head around that thought. She’s smart and sassy and sweet—certainly not the vindictive type. Yes, I’ve been an asshole, but she wouldn’t stick it to me with Ryan just to piss me off.
Why then?
I need to know.
Once outside, I catch a glimpse of her hurrying down the sidewalk. Men of all ages stop to gawk at my pretty girl. Tonight, she’s more than pretty, though, she’s a fucking goddess. She really did do things after work and before drinks with Ryan because her hair is in soft golden waves, unlike the sleek tresses earlier at work. She exchanged her business attire for a sexy, fitted black dress that shows off every damn curve on her young, tight body. The black pumps she’s wearing make her tower over most average-height men and make her legs seem a mile long.
Fuck, I want this girl.
I need her, goddammit.
Would I still want and need her if I discovered she betrayed me by telling Ryan I’m on to his duplicitous ways?
Yes.
I’m such a fucking chump. I’d want to smack her bare ass until it was good and red for punishment. Bend her over the closest car and fuck her brains out. But, yes, I would still want her, even if she told him what I know.
She wouldn’t tell him.
My heart is screaming at me—pleading its case.
I want to believe it, but it’s at war with my mind. I didn’t get this far into my career and become this successful for being a dumbass.
As soon as she hails a cab, I hunt for my own. One whips up to the curb next to me.
“Where to?” he asks, eyeing me in the mirror.
“Follow that cab,” I bark out, pointing as the one she’s in passes by us. “Go.”
He guns it, cutting off a car, earning a honk. I’ll tip extra for that move. When her cab gets lost in a sea of cars, I tell the driver her home address. I’m hoping like hell she’s going home and not meeting Ryan at his place.
The familiar rage is burning hot like an inferno. I can’t get the imagined vision of him on top of her, rutting like a fucking barnyard animal. I’ve never been a violent man, but right now, I could beat that twerp’s ass until he stopped breathing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m obsessed.
And, apparently a fucking stalker too.
The normal, smart me would tell the cabbie to take me home so I could sleep off all the whiskey I drank. To think rationally once more.
She ruined the normal me.
Long ago with a tempting, forbidden smile that lured me over, I was enraptured by a girl too young to be fooling with. Back then, my moral compass worked. I flirted with Chelsea Parker, but never made a move. Now that she’s no longer forbidden as far as the law goes, I’m tangled up for other reasons.
Mason’s daughter. Barely legal. My employee.
Those reasons seem like a stupid hurdle I jumped the moment she stepped into my office on her first day. I didn’t look at her as my friend’s daughter or someone too fucking young for me or an employee. I devoured her in one glance. Staked a claim on her in an instant. Inhaled her scent, knowing good and damn well I’d become addicted to it.
I’m going to find out what she was doing with Ryan.
And then I’m going to…
“This is it,” I grunt out, pointing out the window. “Thanks.”
He chokes out his thanks when I hand him a few hundreds. I step out of the cab, making a beeline for her front door. She better fucking be here and not at Ryan’s. Pounding on the door, I wait impatiently as my blood burns through me, a mixture of anger and lust.
“Who is it?” she asks through the door.
“Foster,” I bark out. “Now, open the fucking door.”
The locks begin unengaging and then the door wings open. Chelsea Parker stands there, no longer wearing her tall shoes, a frown of confusion on her gorgeous face.
I step into her personal space, gripping her jaw and tilting her head up. Her green eyes are wild as she searches my face for answers. My thumb strokes along her jaw line, making her lashes flutter and her lips part.
I’m here to demand answers.
To confront her.
Soon enough.
For now, I crash my lips to hers for a searing kiss. All plans to interrogate Chelsea and make her tell me the truth take a back seat to the need to claim her. Seeing Ryan’s paws on her bred a feral, animalistic need to mark her as mine.
She is mine.
She was since that first smile…I just didn’t realize it yet.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Chelsea
I don’t know if it’s the brutality of his kiss or the feral look in his stormy blue eyes that knocks the breath from my lungs, but whatever it is… this kiss is lethal.
I grab onto him thoughtlessly, like he’s the life raft that will keep me afloat instead of the storm that shredded my sails. I stumble as he walks me backward, slamming the front door shut behind him without tearing his lips from mine.
I don’t know what I expected to find on the other side of that door, but not this.
Not that I’m complaining.
It takes a moment for my shock to dissipate. He’s still walking me backward like he
knows where he’s going, but he stops just outside Daddy’s office and pushes me up against the wall.
My heart pounds, my tummy twisted up with a mix of nerves and excitement. I only got here a minute or so before he did, so I turned on the light in the foyer, but it’s pretty dark where we stopped.
His gorgeous blue eyes gleam, even in barely any light. “Where were you tonight?”
“I… at a bar.”
“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”
I swallow and look away from him. I didn’t want to tell him what I was up to earlier because he’d been a dick to me last time we were alone together and I didn’t feel like playing spies with him anymore.
I still had to crack the case, though.
“I met Ryan for drinks.”
His jaw locks. I note the way it ticks, his irritation growing. “Why?” he clips out.
Instead of telling him, I fire back, “Why do you care? It wasn’t during work hours, so it’s none of your business.”
“I disagree,” he returns, leaning close and angling his head like he’s going to bury his face in my neck. He doesn’t, though. He merely lingers, his voice low. “I think everything you do is my business, especially drinks with fucking Ryan.”
“Well, I disagree,” I say, mimicking him.
“Dunbar Foster has a strict no-fraternization policy,” he reminds me huskily.
I tilt my neck just a little to give him better access as his lips hover close to my skin. “Ah, right. Of course. You’re just enforcing company policy.”
“Exactly,” he murmurs, his lips finally touching the shell of my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. “I wouldn’t want to have to fire you.”
My lips curve up faintly as I wind an arm around his neck to tug him closer. His lips find the curve of my neck and a thrill shoots straight through me.
I almost forget what we’re talking about, but I force myself to focus and murmur back, “You’re not going to fire me.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because that would be stupid, and you’re not stupid.”
He pulls back to look down at me, his gaze probing. “I don’t know,” he says more seriously than I expect. “I felt pretty fucking stupid tonight.”
I don’t know why, but hearing that makes my heart hurt. “Why?”
Putting his hands on my hips and creating a little more distance between our bodies, he demands, “Why did you go out with him?”
My gaze softening, I reach up to caress his granite jawline. “To gather intel—why else?”
His dark brow furrows. “Intel?”
I nod, giving him a look of exaggerated patience. “That’s spy-speak for intelligence. It means I was collecting useful information—”
Cutting me off before I can finish, he grabs me around the waist and pulls me snugly against him. “I know what intel means, you infuriating little temptress. If that’s all you were doing, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to loop you in tomorrow. I wasn’t positive my plan would work, but I don’t know why I doubted myself. Ryan thinks I’m a moron. All I had to do was wear a boob dress and giggle at him a few times and that numbskull was ready to tell me anything I wanted to know. I was duly impressed,” I assure him, batting my eyelashes and placing a hand against my chest with all the cartoonish drama of a southern belle. “Why, he must be a genius to come up with such a clever plan.” Dropping the act, I flash him a smile. “I know where he’s going, who gave him the idea, and who else he’s planning to talk to but hasn’t made it to yet. I figure we should obviously reach out to those clients right away. If he’s confident enough to try to flip them, they must not be one hundred percent happy—”
“Chelsea.”
I pause and look up at him. “Yes, Foster?”
“Stop talking.”
“But you—”
He grabs my jaw, tilting my face up to look at him again. “Stop. Talking.”
I open my mouth to toss back a saucy retort, but before I can get it out, the distance between us vanishes and his face inches closer to mine.
My lips have barely parted when his brush mine. He cradles my face in his hand to get a better hold on me, tugging me closer so our bodies are pressed together. My heart swells in response to the tenderness. It’s the best feeling in the world.
Or I think it is until the intensity of his kiss escalates. I felt the rough passionate kiss when he barged through the door and kissed me, I felt the tenderness just a moment ago, but when they both combine… it’s indescribable.
I’m plastered against the wall with Foster pressed firmly against my front—the most pleasurable prison I can imagine. His hands are rough, his mouth greedy and demanding. He grabs my thigh and lifts it, pushing himself between my legs as his lips devour mine. The material of my tight black dress has slid all the way up so it’s barely even covering my panties.
He’s too busy kissing me to look, but when Foster slides a hand between my thighs and his fingers reach the barrier of fabric, he tears his lips from mine long enough to ask, “What kind of panties are you wearing?”
A little breathlessly, I answer, “Black. Lace.”
His dark gaze locks onto mine. “When I peel them off you, they’d better be soaked.”
I reach down to guide his hand between my legs, pressing it a little harder against my pussy so he can feel how wet I am. “They already are.”
“Jesus Christ, Chelsea.”
I smile, nipping lightly at his jawline as I leave a few little kisses there. “Maybe you should take them off me now and check.”
Curving his hand and gripping my pussy more firmly, he says, “Maybe you should get them so wet I don’t have to.”
His firm grip between my legs makes me throb with need, but to my disappointment he releases me a moment later. I’m not disappointed for long, though.
His mouth claims mine again as he wedges his thigh between my spread legs. “Ride it,” he murmurs against my lips, pressing his thigh against my pussy. “Grind that sweet pussy against me. Show me how much you want me.”
Christ.
I couldn’t refuse him if I wanted to. I’m aching with need and even though it’s not the friction I’m craving, the moment I rub myself against his strong thigh, an intense shudder moves through my whole body. I have to grab onto his broad shoulders to keep myself upright.
“That’s it,” he murmurs coaxingly, kissing the side of my face with so much tenderness I could explode. “Rub that needy pussy against me, Miss Parker.”
Oh, God.
The way that sexy voice of his caresses the name he calls me at work. He makes it sound so dirty in the most delicious way.
My voice is breathy and needy, but I want to play along so I purr back, “Yes, Mr. Foster.”
His grip on me tightens, like my words have the same effect on him.
I never thought dry-humping could make me so hot, but as I rub myself against him over and over, my need ramps up and I need to get out of my clothes. I need him out of his. I need what’s inside those Armani pants of his.
I stop grinding on him, but his thigh is still pressed against my pussy, dampening his pant leg. I reach for the bulge between his thighs and rub as he tilts his head and starts kissing his way down the sensitive column of my neck.
“Tell me to leave, Chelsea,” he says between kisses, making my heart skip a beat. “Tell me to leave or I’m going to drag you into this study, bend you over your father’s desk, and fuck you on top of it.”
His naughty words send a delightful shiver of anticipation dancing down my spine. My heart beats a little harder with excitement as I loop my arm around his neck and sway back just enough so I can look at him, a gleam of mischief in my eyes. “Promise?”
He shakes his head, a gleam of fondness in his as his lips tug up in a tiny little smile.
I give him a soft kiss as I reach down to twine our fingers together, much more confident this time as I take his hand and lead him into Da
ddy’s study.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chelsea
The sight of Daddy’s desk makes my tummy flutter. We shouldn’t even be in here, let alone doing this in here.
I want to be bad with him, though. Just to make sure he doesn’t change his mind, I let go of his hand and reach behind my back, drawing down the zipper.
Foster’s gaze follows, drinking in the glimpse of my bare skin. I pull the zipper down slowly, watching his eyes darken when it finally reaches the small of my back.
“Let me help you with that,” he murmurs, moving up behind me.
He spreads the fabric all the way open and slides the straps down my arms, bending to place a soft kiss to my shoulder once it’s bare. Then he tugs the fabric down past my hips. The dress falls to the ground, leaving me standing here in nothing but a black strapless bra and my lace panties.
Foster’s gaze roams over my body as he moves to stand in front of me, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. “Stunning.”
His praise makes me flush with pleasure. I can’t quite stifle a small smile. “I’m glad you approve,” I say, a note of playfulness in my tone.
His gaze meets mine as he advances on me, reaching for my face. He caresses my jaw, then pushes his fingers into my hair and pulls me close. I wrap my arms around him as his free arm loops around my waist. He kicks my dress out of the way, then slowly begins walking me backward, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Chelsea?”
I lick my lips, holding his gaze as I shake my head no.
“I’m going to make you forget every boy, every man you’ve ever let touch you.”
I take a shuddering breath, biting down on my plump lower lip.
“And do you know what you’re going to do to me?”
I shake my head again.
“You’re going to blow up my fucking world.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck. “Every last fucking corner of it,” he says, his kisses punctuated with light little bites that make my toes curl.
He doesn’t stop devouring my neck and driving me absolutely crazy until we’re behind Daddy’s desk, then he tears his lips from my flesh and reaches around my back. He easily unsnaps my bra and tosses it off to the side, his gaze dropping to my now bare breasts.
Tales of Darkness & Sin: An Anthology Page 33