“We can deal with how juvenile it is that anyone would choose not to speak to a daughter who is devoted to her family while simply living her life later,” I grit out. “But I won’t let my outrage with that behavior keep me from doing everything in my power to ensure Tessa doesn’t hurt. Something happening to any of you would devastate her, and I can’t live with that.”
“I just don’t see—”
“It’s not a request,” I warn, licking the seam of Tessa’s lips, goading her to chase me. “This is happening, Mr. Lockhart. We can drug them if necessary.”
That earns me a slack-jawed eye roll from my naughty nymph. So, I pump my fingers harder and swirl her clit, to which her back arches of its own accord and a puff of air blasts out of her.
“Son,” he barks, and I internally applaud his gumption, “I’m trying to remain in your corner, but if you make another suggestion like that, I won’t be able to. Have you drugged my daughter?”
“No, sir. But in full transparency”—I wink at Tessa so she knows I’m about to charm her dear ol’ dad—“I’ve loaded her up with stiff drinks in the hopes of getting her sloppy drunk. Unfortunately, she’s got the tolerance of a sailor and the filthy mouth of one too.”
He chuckles, but after a few beats, he comes to his senses. “What do you need from me?”
“Pack everything necessary for a week away. Be ready in an hour.”
“And we’ll get to see Tessa?”
I knew that was coming. My lungs constrict because I see the hope and hurt staining her beautiful face. She’s so strong. They are her only weakness. And I’m her shield.
“Only with me present.” I clear my throat and brush my lips to Tessa’s with a silent promise that everything I’m doing is for her. “You are all welcome to stay here, to enjoy the amenities, the safety, the getaway. We’ll take care of everything and gladly make you feel at home. But there will be consequences if any of them bring pain to my future wife.”
“I will not be dragging my family into a confrontation,” he starts, but I don’t allow him to finish.
“That’s exactly it. No goddamn confrontation. Tessa has been nothing but gracious and kind. My family will be the same. I will keep you and your loved ones alive and well. And you will all treat my girl with the respect a queen deserves, or the grace will expire. One hour.”
I kill the call, flip on my Make Tessa Scream playlist, free my leaking cock, and adopt that title as my mission while she seethes. So fucking sexy.
“Pussy Control” by Prince kicks things off on the perfect note.
As soon as I push her panties aside and thrust inside her, she moans, struggling to grip whatever anger she was harboring, her nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt. Stars mar my vision. Every time I sink inside her, it’s like the first time. Dizzy and euphoric and all-consuming.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All you needed was my cock buried in your greedy cunt, huh? Well, that, and the adrenaline rush of possibly being caught.”
She doesn’t answer, but she locks her heels behind me and grinds into me, amplifying our rhythm. Still, she’s pissed, grappling with what appears to be a deluge of conflicting emotions.
I halt my movements, denying her what she needs to gain her attention. “If you’re feeling guilty, mad, or embarrassed about me finger-fucking you with your dad on the phone, it could’ve been worse. Last year, there was a rumor that one of our members was fucking his girl in a sauna with her father on the phone. Apparently, he told the guy he was doing hot yoga before he informed him that he’d be taking his daughter.”
Tessa cackles, but it’s not the melodious one that sounds like a song. It’s incredulous … and kind of evil. “Sick fucks. When you greet my family, don’t lead with stories like that.”
Not quite the relief I was aiming for. I piston my hips and switch gears.
“You like being my filthy slut though, don’t you?” I fist her hair, forcing her to look at me with her glossy blues. “You need to be pissed? Be pissed. Give it to me. I can shoulder your wrath and make you see stars.”
“You are the worst.” Her eyes turn flinty before she whimpers and rolls her hips with a shuddering breath. “And the best.”
I nip at the sensitive flesh behind her ear as I pound into her the way she craves. “I know.”
She groans and purrs and practically wrestles me, scratching and pinching and biting. There’s a part of her that still hates that she can’t resist this. I’m not wounded by that. The fabric of what her life was has been shredded. It will take time to sew it back together and accept that there’s no stitching without me.
Anger is how Tessa processes things, mainly because she’s never been free to be who she is, which is stifling.
I tweak her nipples, maintain my fervid pace, and capture her lips, pouring everything I am into her as we both climb to our peak. And as our tongues stroke and battle and tango, she surrenders and liquefies in my embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispers, tugging me tighter and deeper, “for always fighting for me.”
One sentence that heals all the anguish I felt from her hating me these past couple of years. We’re entangled in yet another impossible situation, but this time, she sees beyond the contentious measures I’ve taken and grasps my intent.
“I’ll always fight for you, Tess. This is it, baby girl. You and me.”
