Forbidden Desires

by Roberts, Jaimie

  "You are quite beautiful."

  My hand on Katrina's neck stops, and I glance up to find Terry's eyes traveling my face. "Thank you.” His declaration surprises me. Maybe he's not such an asshole after all.

  The emerging grin reminds me of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland after he tells Alice he's not quite there in the head. Then he looks down at my cleavage again before licking his thin lips.

  Yep, my first instinct is correct. Creep.

  With a slight nudge, Terry pushes himself away from the stable door and walks around to where I'm standing. He’s intimately close, forcing me to look up. "Did your mom tell you I recently made partner at my dad's law firm?" His arched eyebrow forces a slight chuckle to escape my lips. He really does think he's something else.

  Perplexed by my reaction, he asks, “Did I say something funny?"

  "No, sorry. I think the champagne is getting to my head." I clear my throat. "Yes, my mom told me. That's quite an achievement. You must be proud."

  Terry stands tall, forcing air into his lungs, a smug look on his face. This is what makes me laugh—extremely rich people like Terry who have never done a day’s work in his life and thinks he has achieved something just because Daddy dearest made him partner. Everyone is aware he didn't obtain it on his own merits. Owen divulged that much to me. There's a lawyer, Graham, who worked there up until recently. He pulled eighteen-hour days non-stop for over ten years and never got so much as a recognition for his efforts. He should have been named partner. Once he realized it was going to Terry, Graham resigned and moved out of state to join another law firm, where he's finally getting the recognition he deserves.

  "I am proud," Terry answers, interrupting my musings. "As a present to celebrate, I bought a Lamborghini Aventador from Owen." My eyebrow arches in surprise. At least he has good taste in cars. Terry’s eyes scan my face before smiling. "You seem impressed."

  I manage to stop the eye-roll in time. "I am. I think they're beautiful cars. What color is it?"

  "Silver."

  I bet it's more gray—much like his personality.

  "Not a fan of that color?"

  I scrunch my nose a little before shaking my head. "I think I would have gone for yellow, or even orange."

  "A girl who likes to be seen. I like that."

  It's not about that at all, but I don't correct him.

  "Hey, maybe you and I could take a spin in it one day. I would definitely like to take you out." Terry steps forward, until we're so close, an uncomfortable air surrounds me, settling deep in my stomach. "Would you like me to take you on a date?"

  I step back to gain some space, but I'm met with resistance. Claustrophobia claims me now that's he's penned me in, and by the look on Terry’s smirking, pompous face, he's enjoying my discomfort. I round my shoulders a little to try to relax. I need this asshole away from my personal space. "To be honest, I'm not looking—"

  "Savannah, can I talk with you for a moment?"

  The sound of his voice makes me jump. The scraping of Terry's shoe against the concrete floor grinds so much it hurts my ears. He jumps back, startled by the intrusion too. Finally, I can breathe again. My gaze immediately sweeps to Owen. His fiery eyes hone in on me before darting to Terry. Owen’s body is stiff, but he keeps his cool despite his simmering rage.

  "Owen, how nice to see you. Great party, by the way. Savannah was showing me the stables."

  Owen remains aloof, but the slight tick in his jaw and pursing of his lips makes me believe otherwise. "I'm glad Savannah is being a hospitable host."

  Terry turns to me momentarily with a smile. "Oh, that she is. I was in the middle of trying to persuade her to go for a ride in my new car."

  Owen's right hand forms into a fist for a fraction of a second, and my body hums with desire. I lean on the wooden stable door and thread one of my hands through Katrina's mane, hoping it would give me comfort from the throbbing between my legs. Owen's dark eyes narrow, focusing only on me. His stare is so intense, for a moment, I forget Terry is standing right beside me. Ever the pristinely dressed Owen doesn't disappoint this evening, but I'm glad to see he's not wearing a full suit. Tonight, the crisp blue shirt finely rests on his perfect abs.

  Before our first time, I used to secretly torture myself by watching Owen in the gym, then sprint to my room to masturbate. The quick glides of his long legs and flexing of his pecks were always enough to send me running for relief. To this day, I keep waiting to see when my longing for him will wane, but it never does. I'm now convincing myself it's the sneaking around—the forbidden realms of our relationship. My mother has always been a piece of work, but I have to admit, I became her the moment I decided I was going to bed Owen, no matter the cost. I made it my mission in the end. I bagged myself a rich man after all.

  I'm sure she would be proud.

  Owen awkwardly clears his throat. "Well, I'm sorry I interrupted, I need to speak with Savannah about a rather pressing matter." Owen extends his hand out for Terry to move. "I hope you don't mind."

  Terry glances my way a moment before looking back at Owen. "Of course not." He steps forward, then turns to face me. "I will be waiting inside. Come find me when you're ready."

  All I do is nod, and Terry strolls off toward the house, leaving Owen and I alone.

  For a brief moment, we stare. It's almost like a match to see who will cave first. I hold all the cards here. I'm not the one who just witnessed Owen getting cozy by the stables with another woman. The thought makes me euphoric. Sometimes it's nice for him to have a taste of his own medicine. He doesn't love my mom, but it doesn't stop the deep-seated jealousy that she’s the one who gets to hang on his arm when they go to events—she’s the one interviewed by the press, telling in vomit-inducing detail how in love they are—she’s the one who gets to sleep next to him at night.

  "In the barn. Now."

  The curve of my lip seems to anger him more, but I comply with his demands, gently nuzzling Katrina before making my way to the barn door. He won't do anything with guests here, but I'm sure I will still enjoy whatever he has to offer inside.

  Once I walk into the expanse of the barn, I find a stack of hay and spin around before leaning on it. Owen shuts the door, then stalks toward me like the prowling lion he is.

  "What the fuck was that out there?" he seethes, pointing a finger toward outside.

  "I believe that was Terry asking me out."

  He steps forward again, until we're inches apart. "Over my dead body."

  "Owen, stop being so melodramatic."

  I have no time to say anything else. Owen closes the distance between us, grabbing my arm. Pulling me up, he forcibly drags me into one of the stables before pushing me over one of the stacks of hay inside.

  "Owen, what are you doing?"

  I attempt to push myself up, but Owen pushes me back down, unzips his pants, and lifts my skirt.

  "We can't do this here. Someone might catch us."

  "Shut the fuck up!"

  Shocked by his anger, I don't move. I lay my head to one side, realizing my breathing is as harsh as Owen's.

  "Stay right there. Don't fucking move."

  I note the sound of the ripping package, then a moment of silence before his hand pulls my panties aside. His fingers delve between my folds, checking if I'm wet. Of course I am. I always am whenever he's near me.

  With no time for another thought, he slams into me with one big thrust, his fingers digging into my hips so forcefully, I swear he draws blood.

  "Fuuuccckkk," he screams out, his body rigid behind me. The pressure of his frame leans over my back. He then grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head until I yelp. "This is what you're made for," he whispers into my ear. "This is exactly where you're supposed to be. Got it?" He pulls out, slamming into me once again. I yelp, the pain so bad, it's good. "Got it, Savannah?"

  "Yes!" I scream, loving and hating the pain. Loving and hating his cruelty. Owen's doing this because he's jealous. He once told me his po
ssessions were never acquired for other people to touch and admire. His fierce protectiveness over everything he owns—in his own admission—has made him a monster.

  And now, I am one of his possessions.

  With his hand still fisted in my hair, he pushes me forward, until my front is fully laying on the hay. He keeps his fist tight as he starts to thrust himself inside me over and over again. This is not an act of two lovers coming together in the heat of the moment. This is Owen stamping his authority over me. This is Owen showing me I am his.

  And despite knowing I should hate every second, I don't. It only fuels my desire. I always thought my mom made me into the monster I am now, but I was wrong.

  It was Owen.

  "Fuck, Savannah, you’re so fucking tight." The slapping of his skin against mine slows a little. He's close, so he's deliberately slowing to make this last longer. He grips my hips, moaning as he thrusts his cock deep inside me. Heat fills my body, and my legs wobble slightly at the intensity. If he carries on like this, I'm going to come.

  A soft moan escapes my lips, and Owen digs his fingernails into my hip in response. His movements quicken, his pleasure is becoming my own.

  "I want to come inside you so badly, Savannah. I want to know you have some of me in you, no matter how small." I moan, and he mimics my response. "You. Are. Fucking. Mine," he growls. His breathing quickens, and his moans turn into one last final grunt as he stills inside me. "Fucking bitch. You're going to be the death of me, woman."

  He always calls me a bitch after he comes. It's almost like it's my fault…like I somehow made him.

  His cock slowly slides out of me before he graciously pulls my panties back in place and smooths my dress down. I stand up in time to see Owen lift one of the bales of hay and plant the condom underneath. When he turns to look at my questioning stare, he says, "I'll discard of that once all my guests leave." I nod, looking down, but startle a little when his finger pulls my chin up. Cool green eyes meet mine as he roams my face, my body still humming with a missed orgasm.

  "I mean what I said. Nobody touches you but me." He doesn't wait for my reply before turning around and adjusting his shirt back into his slacks.

  However, when he starts to walk away, I don't give him the satisfaction of thinking he's had the last say. "And what about you, Dad?" His stride stops, his whole body turning rigid. "Shouldn't the same apply to you? Oh, but wait—no, you have my mother to warm your bed at night, don't you?"

  He turns, facing me, his green eyes darkening as he stares me down. "This is not the time or the fucking place. We'll discuss this tomorrow."

  He starts to walk toward the door. "What did you ever see in her?" I’ve wondered for as long as I can remember, but it’s the first time I’ve asked aloud. Why I choose now is anyone's guess. Maybe it's the hypocrisy of this situation.

  "Savannah," he groans.

  I round him, facing him straight on. "Why her?"

  Owen's anger depletes as he searches the eagerness in my eyes. He lifts his hand up, brushing his finger along my cheek. "Ask me anything in the world, and it's yours, but not this." This moment of tenderness makes my heart beat faster. I close my eyes, caught in this moment. When I open them back up, Owen's hard expression is back.

  "Once I leave this barn, you are to compose yourself before walking back into the house. You will kindly refuse Terry's offer, and if he so much as glances in your direction ever again, I will ruin him."

  He swiftly pulls his hand away and stalks out the door like nothing happened. Without him here, I can finally breathe. With my hand placed gently over my heart, I take a couple deep breaths before straightening myself. How Owen can keep so cool after our exchange is beyond my comprehension. I take one last look around the dimly lit barn and gear myself to act normal once I leave the door.

  I tell myself over and over again he and I are just great sex, but there's no denying our chemistry. There's no denying the unmistakable pulse that vibrates between us when we're alone.

  Leaving the barn, I'm halfway on my journey toward the house and the laughing crowd when rustling toward my left startles me. My head instinctively turns toward it, seeking out its source. Darker than ever now, and even more so amongst the trees, I squint, trying to see. A figure emerges, and it takes a second to realize who it is.

  "Oh, Terry. You startled me."

  I thought he was going back to the house.

  Smirking, he walks toward me, his hands in his pockets, easily striding as he closes the distance between us. Something’s not right. The twinkling mischief in his eyes causes my body to flinch in reaction, and the sneer forming at the side of his mouth has me quivering with trepidation. My mouth dries, and I lick my lips, trying to mask the frantic beating of my heart. My hands clasp into fists, and I suck in a breath. Why isn't he saying anything?

  He stops, his smirk still in place, making my nerves gear up a notch.

  "I think you and I need to have a little chat."

  Crush

  Yuna ft. Usher

  Six months earlier

  A beautiful June day, temperatures in the high eighties. I lay back on my blue pool float in the pool, equipped with a cup holder and space to place a book or sunglasses. I close my eyes, letting the heat warm my skin. I’m in high spirits, thinking how lucky I am. Mom and Owen are on their honeymoon—maybe Paris, though I don’t really care where—and with the exception of Frank and other staff, I’m on my own. Since I've been here, my attraction toward my stepfather has grown. It doesn't help that he's so kind to me. Maybe it's all in my head, but I'm sure he speaks to me differently than he does with my mom, which should be the case, but it’s more in a way where he prefers to be in my company and converse with me. Over the last couple weeks of living under the same roof, it's getting harder and harder not to fall for him. I don't mean love—far from it. I mean his charm. He has it in spades. I've heard so many stories of girls falling for older men, and I never really got it.

  Now, I do.

  "Would you like a cocktail, Ms. Williams?"

  Opening my eyes, I squint from the blaring sun, shielding my eyes with my hand as I look up at Frank. He's all geared up, as per usual, in a three-piece.

  "Aren't you hot in that?"

  He glances down at his suit. "It's my uniform, Ms. Williams."

  "Yes, but the boss man isn't here, is he? I won't tell if you don't. And, please, call me Savannah."

  "Would you like a cocktail?"

  Okay, he's ignoring the suit jacket question.

  I check my watch. It's just turned one. "I think it's a little early for cocktails."

  "It's never too early for cocktails, Ms. Savannah."

  At least we've moved away from Williams. I instantly warmed to Frank. There’s something about him that makes me feel safe. I think he's far more astute than he leads people to believe.

  I offer him the courtesy of a smile before I answer. "If it's never too early for cocktails, then why not? Besides, it will fit nicely inside my little cup holder here," I say, poking my finger inside it.

  "What would you like?"

  "Hmm, I don't know. I've never really tried a cocktail. Surprise me."

  Frank smirks before nodding. "Very well."

  He walks off, and I swiftly return to my sunbathing duties. This pearly white body will be brown by the end of the summer. I’m determined.

  I close my eyes for a few seconds and stretch out, allowing my right hand to glide back and forth inside the cool water of the pool. I could seriously get used to this.

  A few moments later, a dark shadow appears behind my eyelids. "Thank you, Frank. I'll come get it."

  When I open my eyes, I jump. It's not Frank standing there watching me. It's Owen.

  "Shit, Owen! Sorry." I jolt upright—inelegantly, I might add. "I didn't realize you'd be here." I frown. "What are you doing here?"

  His eyes sweep over my body, and heat like no other courses through me. When they land on a certain area, I look down to find my nipples
are rock solid.

  How much more embarrassing can this get?

  He quickly averts his gaze on me, clearing his throat. "My honeymoon has been cut short because of a shipment failure in Jacksonville. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to come back. Your mother has decided to stay and continue the honeymoon without me. Considering I have business to attend to, there really isn't much point in us both returning."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. But…wouldn't it have been easier to fly straight to Jacksonville from Paris?"

  Owen takes off his aviator sunglasses and chuckles slightly. "It would have been, yes."

  "So, why are you here?"

  "To collect you, of course." He winks, and butterflies flutter in my stomach.

  "You…you want me to come with you?"

  He chuckles again before putting his sunglasses back on. "Well, I can't very well go and leave my assistant behind, can I? What kind of boss would that make me?" My mouth gapes open, and he laughs before looking down at his watch. "Can you be ready in thirty minutes?"

  "I can be ready in twenty."

  "Perfect," he answers before strolling off, leaving me in a panic to get out of the pool and into the house to get dressed.

  I can't believe I'm going to Jacksonville. I've never been outside of New York, so I'm thrilled at the idea of going somewhere new.

  Getting to my room, I shower and dress in a blue pantsuit with a matching cream blouse. I have no time to blow dry my hair, so I tie it up in a bun, then grab a pair of teardrop gold earrings. I put on some makeup, and once I'm ready, I take a look in the mirror—from bathing suit to business woman in a matter of minutes. My slacks are long and straight, hanging perfectly from my waist. My jacket rests on my hips, accentuating my curves. I’m not sure who bought my new wardrobe, or how they knew my size, but I have yet to find something that doesn’t feel or look less than great on me.

  Grabbing a bag, I fill it with a few days’ worth of essentials, then descend the grand, wrought-iron staircase. As soon as I reach the bottom, Owen is waiting for me, and takes the bag from my hand.