Page 108 of Worth Loving You

Without looking at the secretary I had when in New York, I grumbled, “Call Frank. Tell him to pull up outside.”

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked, letting me know she was still crying.

Strolling out the office and down the hallway to the elevators, I was incapable of ignoring that nagging voice in my head, warning I was going to lose the love of my life if I didn’t quit fucking other women.

I stabbed the button and pocketed a hand, rubbing at the spot between my eyes. Could I? Could I really be monogamous? I’d never been with just one woman, ever. Chastity was worth it, I knew she was, I just was afraid I was unable to give what she needed.

I didn’t deserve her, that was for sure. I knew it…it was just a matter of time before she realized it, as well. Then I could lose her forever.

And that sent me into an internal panic that had my mind spilling more blood than all my kills combined. If Chastity ever left me, I knew I would not be able to control my rage and people would die.

For her sake, her friends, and anyone else who had the misfortune of crossing me until I had appeased the rage, she better never decide to end our relationship. If she walked away from me, I would lose my mind and innocent people would lose their lives.

Chapter 40

Chastity Monroe

The last week had been a rollercoaster of emotions. My business was officially opened, and the first few days had been successful. All happy customers with most making appointments to return. A few of my old clients with Sunkissed Spa had learned of me opening my own company and had tracked me down, adding their names to the books in permanent positions like when I worked for Sanchell.

On the chaotic side of the spectrum, I had been getting a lot of obscene phone calls from some of Milo’s mistresses, cursing me out and even threatening to kill me because they had been cut loose.

As delighted as I was about that, for it meant he was keeping his promise, breaking up with his lovers while he was out of town, I was a bit frightened. Were any of these women capable of following through with their threats? Was I in any real danger?

I must be, for Wyatt had locked me down, never letting more than five feet separate us. I even had to run my client list by him nightly so he could check to make sure none of them were connected to the exes.

Was this the kind of life I had to look forward to? How much worse was it going to be when Milo and I were married? Right now, it was scorned lovers, soon it would be straight up enemies, other members of the mafia. And weren’t there different kinds of mafias? Like the branches of the military?

I knew so little of the life I was diving headfirst into. Since confronting Milo and him answering me bluntly that night, nothing had been spoken about it since. In fact, until now, I hadn’t even thought about it, I’d buried that tidbit of information in the back of my head.

Now that I had pissed off jealous women wanting to harm me, it was making me realize they were insignificant compared to Milo’s connections. What if a business deal went bad and they came after me to get to him? After all, since he started showing me off around his people, he had made it more than obvious how important I was to him. What better way to bring a man to his knees than through his woman?

Maybe I just watched too much television. I had no real knowledge of that lifestyle, I needn’t jump to worst case scenarios brought on by something I saw in The Goodfellas.

I guess it was time I start educating myself. The last thing I wanted was to say or do something wrong and make myself or Milo look stupid. I didn’t need to inadvertently step on someone’s toes and rock boats. If I was going to be married to him one day, I needed to learn how to be the wife he was expecting.

Wyatt’s large hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked backward, his tongue dragging across my cheek.

Instantly, my muscles went weak, the spoon I was holding clattering to the counter. Pressing my palms to the surface for support, my lids fluttered, and I moaned.

“My bed. Now.”

Shoving off me, he turned and strutted down the hallway without looking back.

My heart crashing on my ribs, I tossed the bagel to the sink, chasing him breathlessly, shedding my clothes along the way. Another thing that had been tormenting me the last week and a half was my obsession with this man.

One look, one touch, and I was bursting into flames, flustered and turned on. I was literally changing my underwear several times a day because even when he wasn’t meaning to, he was turning me on.

Pawing at one another daily, our passion and zest was something neither one of us seemed capable of containing. In the last twelve days, the two of us had probably already gotten close to triple digits of how many times we made one another cum.

We were literally going at it from the moment we woke up until we were crashing from exhaustion at night, other than when I had to be at Wanderlust. I thought Milo and I fucked like rabbits, but it was nothing compared to Wyatt. More than once, I had woken up to him climbing on top and shoving himself deep inside me, instantly dominating without any buildup.

And when we couldn’t make time for actual intercourse, fingers and mouths were pushing us over the cliffs time and again, anywhere we could get it. The truck on the way to work, the bathroom at the grocery store, under the table when we were having dinner. One orgasm after another, repeatedly, yet my body craved more, shuddering and quivering at the slightest glance from that man. Innocent or mischief, it didn’t matter, my pussy was addicted and creaming every time our eyes met.

Yesterday, when we were closing up the spa, he snapped his fingers and pointed at something I had forgotten to pick up, ordering me to put it away. Just the sound of his voice telling me what to do immediately sent me into a frenzy, hearing him barking orders at me to suck his dick, bounce my ass, get on the floor, ride him harder.

I was helpless around him! In just a few days, the man had dominated me into utter compliance. I was a mere puppet, and he controlled the strings, making me dance for him whenever, however, he wanted.

A good thing was spinning from this secret affair. Wyatt preferred to have sex with all the lights on, no coverings, and sometimes, like now, he made me stand in the center of the room while he circled me like a shark, inspecting every inch. The more he did this, the more comfortable I became in my own skin. If someone like Wyatt Shaw could examine my body and still want me, when he never was attracted to big women before, I had to have something going for me. I was starting to shed more of my stepfather’s words, realizing beauty was in confidence and acceptance more than aesthetics.