Brazen. Shameless…!
She’s the one who betrayed me and trampled all over my dignity,pride and feelings. Did she honestly believe I ruined her wedding with Jude just to be able to return to playing her lap dog?
My biggest mistake back then was letting her soften me into being the kind of boyfriend the world considers “good.” Well, the time of my being that kind of idiot is over. Forever.
The problem is my dick. It’s incredible how a penis can have its own logic and stubbornness that have nothing to do with my brain’s decree.
I shake my head. I honestly thought I was beyond such nonsense.
Still. It was bitterly satisfying to watch her struggle to maintain her superior attitude. She tried to pin me to a number, then spread her legs and touched herself to provoke me.
Did she expect tenderness or something else more meaningful out of sex? Before, we had sweetness, laughter, joy and trust—at least, I did. Now, I won’t spare her any. She said I didn’t deserve to kiss her. It’s she who doesn’t deserve anything.
I put on a shirt and shorts then walk out of the bedroom and head downstairs. I pause when I see Fiona standing in front of the coffee table. She’s covered herself with the wedding dress. Guess she wasn’t brazen enough to stay in just the garter belt and stockings. Or maybe she’s realized they won’t get her what she wants.
When she took off the dress and showed what was underneath, my blood shot to the boiling point instantly. A toxic combination of bitterness and victory sizzled in my veins as I took her in. Her softly rounded breasts rose and fell, their tips rosy and pointed, begging to be sucked. Her waist was still nicely taut, her hips flared just enough to fill my palms if I wanted to grip them as I screwed her brains out. The sight of her hairless pussy was more erotic than any porn. I’d never seen her waxed there before, and I loved it that nothing was hidden from my view. The silken stockings encased her long, shapely legs, their snowy color giving her an air of innocence despite her state of wanton undress.
She wore those for Jude—for their wedding night. But it was me who got to enjoy the view, not him. The realization is still gratifying. Bet he’s still fuming—maybe in his wedding bed,alone.
She’s staring at the floor as though studying the pattern in the marble. But I was in the bathroom for half an hour or so. There’s no way she just stood there all this time, doing nothing.
“You can go,” I say, my tone more curt than I intend. But it’s best I don’t give her any sort of opening.
She starts. “I don’t have a ride.”
“I’ll call you an Uber—”
“Actually, I don’thaveanywhere to go.”
I fold my arms and squint at her. “What happened to your place?”
She licks her lips, shifting a bit. “I didn’t get a rental. I’ve been staying at the family estate, but it’s…not a good idea for me to go there right now.”
“Like I care?” If the mansion’s about to be foreclosed, that’s her problem, not mine.
“Jude and Aaron are likely to be there.”
That shuts me up. Those two don’t deserve to give her a hard time. If anybody’s going to make her suffer, it’s gonna be me.
And although she didn’t mention it, her mother is probably going to be at the Obermans’ mansion. After all, where can a widow without any job skills go? She might blame Fiona for not marrying Jude and jeopardizing the two million dollars.
But I don’t want Fiona in my house. It’s my sanctuary. As a matter of fact, I regret bringing her here. I never bring women here, preferring to go to their place or to a hotel nearby. I should’ve done the same with her, but I wasn’t thinking clearly as I drove away from the wedding. I was riding too high on triumph and elation.
“How about a friend?” I say.
She looks away with an awkward shrug. “Don’t have any.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you never made any friends all these years?”
“Not anyone close enough for me to crash with in L.A.”
Again, hard to believe.Don’t girls have sleepovers with friends all the time?Even I had one or two with some boys, although my dad and stepmom were paranoid about my and my brothers’ safety. As far as I know, Fiona doesn’t have a sociopathic mom trying to kidnap her and leave her to die in a fire. “Are you proposing that you stay here? You’re that eager to pay off your debt to me?”
She flushes. “I don’t break my word.”
I snort. “That remains to be seen.” Cheaters cheat because theyfundamentallydon’tvalue their word or the trust people place in them. That sort of attitude doesn’t change just because they’re dealing with somebody who isn’t a significant other.
I pour myself whiskey. This time I don’t offer her any. In my peripheral vision, I sense her shift again.
