Jennie
..
..
It's been three days since she left me to go fetch her dad, but this time, things are different. She left me and went alone because I was actually ill with a twenty-four hour stomach virus the morning she left and couldn't travel with her despite my begging. But, unlike when she left for London, she's called the house about ten times a day to check on me. Several of those times, especially late at night, I would curl up in her bed and talk to her about my college days or when I worked at the busy law firm. She'd spill little tidbits of her own past and how she came to find her employees. It's been nice getting to know her in such an intimate way.
Neither of us really dove into our pasts. I mentioned my brother a couple of times in passing as I'd recall a memory but nothing detrimental. And now, I've allowed myself to believe that Lisa and I can be more. That perhaps she'll want to keep me and together we'll find a way to keep Mark from ruining both of our lives.
The thought of Mark sucks the air from my chest. Even though I've revealed a lot to Lisa, she still doesn't know much about my past. With Mark having been her client, I'm worried she'll act irrationally—not on her behalf but on mine. Just like she defended me from Mark's berating back in Vegas, I fear she'll go after him in an attempt to avenge me.
Just like Kai.
Just like Corgy.
I'm still unsure what she and Dubois did when they went to London but I have a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Corgy considering she asked about him before she left. Knowing that Lisa attacks first and asks questions later, I feel like she went on a mission to destroy the man. And as it was when Kai poorly attempted to have his way with me, Lisa nearly killed him. I have no doubt Corgy met the same fate.
"Why do I feel like I'm going to get killed for this?" Bambam complains as he peels the last of the tape from the door trim, dragging me from my thoughts.
I tuck the beige sheet into the bottom of the bed and turn to look at him. His dark, chocolate curls are speckled with a khaki color and his mouth is pursed together in a pout. He took off his shirt somewhere along the way and dazzles me with his sculpted perfection. It truly is a shame he bats for the other team.
"You're not going to get killed. You and I both know that the purple was terrible. Plus, her father isn't going to want to stay in the Princess Room. And there aren't any other rooms available for him."
He saunters over to me and helps me make the bed. We spent the first couple of days painting and all day yesterday shopping for decorations. Despite Bambam doing something that wasn't a direct order, I knew he had fun helping me pick out everything. Plus, someone had to pay for it all.
"Yeah, but why couldn't we have asked permission first?" he whines.
I toss a pillow at him. "Because, goofball, then it wouldn't be a surprise!"
His anxiety is infectious and my heart starts thumping around in worry. What if she hates the surprise? What if I misjudged the progression of our relationship and was too forward in moving all my things to her bedroom? I swallow down fear that oddly reminds me of how I'd worry when I'd make a change back at my Georgian home with Mark. It was always hit or miss with him. If he loved it, I was rewarded with peace. If he hated it, I learned my lesson.
"Oh my!" Christine gasps from the doorway. "Jennie, you've simply outdone yourself. This room is absolutely stunning. Ms. Manoban will be so proud of all your hard work."
I toss Bambam a smug I told you so grin. "Good. Bams here was trying to give me a heart attack about it."
She tsks at him but waves me to her. "Come on, sugar. I need your help in the kitchen. This meal is your show, I'm merely an assistant. But, Lisa called a while ago and told me she'd be here by six. If we want to feed those three hungry guys when they arrive, we'd better hop to it."
"Bams, you can help too," I tell the pouting angel.
He follows as we head for the elevators, tugging his shirt back on along the way. "If Ms. Manoban gets pissed, I was coerced and threatened. Just to be clear. Oh, and you stole my credit card."
I laugh when Christine swats at him. "Grow some cahones you big loon. She'd be a fool not to recognize Jennie's efforts to make her father feel welcome. If she has a fit, she'll meet my rolling pin."
We all chuckle at the older woman's threats. Lisa would take all three of us down in a second but something tells me despite her gritty exterior, she'd never want to hurt any of us.
The cooking becomes a flurry of chatter and easy banter. It's the closest familial moment I've had in a long time and fills me with emotions I haven't felt since before I met Mark. I'm happily frying the chicken strips while the whir of the mixer that Christine is mashing the potatoes with thunders from beside me, when I feel her presence.
Her heat envelops me from behind and I sag in relief.
If I weren't afraid I'd burn the chicken, I'd throw myself into her arms. She wraps her arms around my middle and inhales my hair. My knees wobble and thankfully, she holds me to her so I don't collapse.
"Jennie's Famous Fried Chicken?" She questions, babyish amusement lacing her voice. Her voice is soft and echoes off the long-since turned off mixer that still rattles in my head.
I turn my head so I can see her handsome face. Eyes so blue stare back at me, all traces of grey as gone as yesterday's rainstorm. Her smile is sweet and I sigh like a lovesick girl.
"One taste and you'll be mine," I assure her with a southern drawl that now feels as forced as the British dialect I use daily.
She chuckles and gives me a kiss. "I was yours the moment I first tasted you, Bunny."
My skin heats even as she pulls away to leave me cooking. I scoop the last piece and put it on the plate before turning off the stove and turning to see where she went. I'm surprised to see two of them wearing matching suits chatting in the doorway. Christine bosses Bambam around in the kitchen to finish up the side dishes while I make my way over to her.
"Dad, this is, Jennie," Lisa says, introducing me by my name.
I flash her a pleased grin and I swear she seems embarrassed. Turning to her father, I turn on my southern charm, accent and all.
"So good to meet you, Mr. Manoban."
The man is tall and built for an older fellow. His dark hair is mostly grey but the youth in his eyes is ever present. He's truly a good-looking guy but he looks nothing like Lisa.
"A true southern belle. I can see why my girl is smitten with you. You're every bit the darling she assured me," he says with a smooth, velvety voice and takes my hand in greeting. "Please call me Rich."
"Dad, she's British. Don't let her fool you with her acting skills," Lisa tattles.
I swat at her. "Spoilsport," I huff, this time without the accent. "Go sit your butt down and let me dazzle you with my southern cooking. We'll see who's acting then."
"Little lady, you are quite a delight," Rich says with a chuckle and pats his belly. "I could get used to this cooking."
Lisa shakes her head and pins him with a firm glare. "I wouldn't get used to it if I were you. Consider this your last meal, Dad. After tonight, I want Christine to cook you low cholesterol meals. There won't be any more heart attacks on my watch."
Richard grumbles but doesn't seem terribly hurt by Lisa's words. In fact, he seems happy. His daughter cares about him and it's written all over his handsome face.
"I want you to work out too," Lisa says. "I could use a gym partner upstairs."
"You have a gym?" I blurt out.
Richard looks over at me quizzically and Lisa's eyes widen. I still haven't seen the second floor.
"Yes," she says, clearing her throat. "I haven't gotten to show it to you yet because you distract me from working out in it," she groans playfully to save the fact that her father doesn't know about our arrangement and the parameters of my stay. Despite her easy manner, anxiety darkens her blue eyes to their stormy grey. "I'm tired, guys. I need to sort out where Dad is going to sleep and—"
"About that." I interrupt her, my stomach flopping in anxiety now that her mood has changed. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes are on mine. Swallowing, I quickly stand. "I took it upon myself to, um, redecorate."
Lisa narrows her eyes at me and everyone else disappears but her. I try to smile at her but she isn't amused. She looks apprehensive about my little surprise. Clearly, Lisa isn't one you simply "surprise."
"On that note, I'm turning in early," Bambam murmurs and makes a hasty retreat from the dinner table. Chicken shit.
Christine, clearly sensing the mood, excuses herself from the table to clean the kitchen. Dubois, apparently doesn't need to say anything and escapes the pending storm. They're scattering like cats. At least Rich hasn't fled the scene. I flash him an appreciative smile. The old man may not know all of Lisa's secrets but he'd be a fool to miss the sudden shift in the air.
Lisa stands and holds a hand out to me. "Which room did you redecorate?"
I swallow and point upward. "The ugly-arse purple one."
Her lips quirk up on one side and her eyes lighten a few shades. It gives me hope. Rich snorts, clearly amused by my behavior.
"I also, um, locked the 'storage' room next to it. It's a mess in there and Christine didn't have time to spruce it up for your dad," I tell her in a rush as I take her hand.
Cold fingers tighten around mine and I grow dizzy with worry. As we make our way upstairs, Lisa and Rich discuss the family business and I distract myself with listening. Rich, even though he's technically retired, gushes about Manoban Toys with a pride that makes my heart swell. Lisa may not look like her father, but they are both so similar—in the way they dress, their love and dedication to their business, and an undeniable love for each other. It makes me think of my own father and once again, my stomach churns.
"This home is beautiful," Rich compliments. "Your mother would have loved it."
Lisa's gasp is inaudible to the old man but I hear it. Rich speaks of her in a fond tone and it makes me wonder what happened to the two of them—why they're no longer together.
"Are you two divorced?" The question slips out of my curious little mouth before I have the sense to stop it.
We reach the doorway to the former Princess Room and they stop. Lisa's gaze falls to her feet shadowing her features. I want to reach out to her but Rich's broken face stops me.
"Jennie, she passed away," Rich tells me, his eyes fixated on Lisa. "Drugs stole away my girl's mother. She's in a better place."
Tears well in my eyes and the tightness in my chest is physically painful. "I'm so sorry for the both of you. I didn't know—I thought that—"
"Enough, Jennie," Lisa snaps, startling both myself and her dad. "Just show us the damn room."
Her words sting and now I can't stand that I'm about to show her the room. She'll hate it. Reaching past them, I turn the knob and push the door open.
"I don't know what it looked like before, but this is really nice, sweetheart," Rich says in a soft tone.
I shrug my shoulders and survey the room. The furniture is no longer white but instead mahogany. Every single element in the room is masculine aside from the white carpet but I couldn't really do anything about that on such short notice. I've decorated it well and it would easily grace any magazine cover.
Lisa thunders past us and into the closet. She rattles some empty hangers and curses. Now, I'm barely holding it together. All I wanted to do was help and surprise her. But it's like I've done something terrible. I have royally pissed her off.
"Um, Rich, it was so good to meet you but I'm feeling unwell. I think I'm going to retire for the evening. I'll see you at breakfast. I will abstain from the bacon and eggs as well—we can suffer the no cholesterol thing together," I tell him with a shaky voice that was meant to be light and playful.
He frowns and holds his arms open. Such a simple gesture—one a father would do for his daughter—and yet it means so much. I all but run to him and let the old man, who smells almost identical to Lisa, collect me into his arms.
He squeezes me and kisses the top of my head. He's everything my father should have been—warm, accepting, loving.
"Sweetheart, Lili needs more love than most. It takes a special person to love all the rigid parts of her. On the outside she is rough around the edges but I can assure you her heart is pure gold. Hang in there with her," he says in a whisper. "She needs a woman like you by her side."
I nod my promise to him before pulling away. Scrambling from the room, I barely make it into the elevators before a foot stops it from closing. Anxiety blooms in my chest as I remember the last time an elevator was stopped by a foot. That time, Mark invaded my world. He hurt me. And I worry about what it is Lalisa will do now.
Because she's pissed.
It ripples from her.
There's no escaping her fury.
"Where exactly do you think you'll be retiring to?" Her voice has a sharp edge and I dare a glance at her as she stands on the opposite side. I follow her gaze to the control panel. My finger hovers over the numbers that I know will gain me access to the third floor—her floor.
"I guess the couch," I say and drop my hand.
"Look at me."
Lifting my gaze, I stare at the predator before me. In one evening we went from equals to me being her prey. It makes me sick just thinking about how easily it all got turned upside down.
"Don't you think," she asks me with a growl, "that little whores should sleep in the Hole?" She punches the numbers on the keypad and I fidget.
"Lisa—"
"Don't!" she thunders. I wince when she stalks over to me and snatches my hand. Her grip is firm but not brutal. The doors open to the third floor and she drags me along behind her. I'm emotional today and she's making it worse with her shitty mood. By the time we reach her room, I decide the Hole is preferable in comparison to being near her.
"Punch it in."
I swallow and risk a glance at her. Her eyes are grey and they hold a fierce glint to them. "Punch what in?"
We both know I'm stalling.
We both know I know.
"Punch it in, toy, before I whip your ass."
I don't mind the name. Normally. Today though, it's as if she's trying to cut me with it. Harnessing my inner fire, I meet her gaze with a blazing one.
"Sure thing, master. Always bowing down to you, master," I seethe. With exaggerated movements, I punch in 1982 as if I want to hurt the keypad.
She curses but storms inside. I've already placed my belongings in the closet on one side and now I wonder if she'll rip them all from the hangers.
"Did you forget your goddamned place here?" she snarls.
Despite her anger, she's hiding something. Pain. Hurt. Sadness. I let it infect my heart and I can't find my own anger because of it. Instead, I want to hold her. Run my fingers through her soft, dark hair. Murmur reassurances to her.
"Why are you so mad at me?" I challenge back, letting my tears spill over.
She yanks off her jacket and works at the knot in her tie. I stare stupidly at the woman who looks like a sexy demon standing in front of the flames of her fireplace. My mind becomes a daze as she undresses, each garment getting heaved to the floor as if she has the power to split the ground with the force at which she throws them.
When she's finally naked in all of her beautiful glory, I stare at her.
"What now, Barbie Doll?"
The vein pulsates.
And she becomes enraged.
..
..
Lisa
..
It's not her fault.
It's not her fault.
It's not her fault.
But it is.
"Undress." My demand is cold and unyielding.
She meets my glare with defiance. "No."
Rage rushes through my veins and it takes everything in me not to pounce. Even with my sudden change of attitude, my toy stays strong. She's resilient. A chameleon. Ever changing to adapt to the storms of life.
"Bunny, you have five seconds to get naked and bend over that bed. I think your ass needs a good whipping so you can remember you're just a paid whore," I sneer. "Nothing more."
Her face falls and my chest squeezes. Jennie rattles the ground I stand on. She fucks with my head. And tonight with her and Dad together, I started losing it. My mind decided to unravel—this woman is holding the thread and running with it. I need to get this shit into a form I can manage. Her as my toy is something I can control. It leaves me with an outcome I can understand.
"Five," I bellow and she jumps.
Her fingers find the bottom of her shirt and she tugs it off. Underneath is a pink bra that houses her gorgeous tits. This bra is a fucking winner as it makes her breasts seem at least a cup larger. Dragging my eyes from them, I cross my arms over my chest and raise an expectant brow.
"Four."
She flips me off and then reaches behind her to undo the bra. It falls to the floor in front of her. I want to mark up her swollen tits with my teeth. Jesus, I've missed her body. My rock hard façade of anger begins to crack as desire seeps in.
"Three." This time, a hungry growl.
She shimmies out of her jeans, dragging her panties down with them. As she bares herself to me, I momentarily forget what it is I want to do to her.
All I can think about is her.
Her.
Her.
"Two," she taunts.
I stalk over to her and my hand clutches around her throat. "One."
I'd wanted to spank her but now I just want inside of her. She yelps when I push her against the wall. Our heated eyes meet briefly before I smash my lips to hers. I slip my hands to her ass and lift her. She moans into my mouth and wraps her legs around my hips. The second I push into her tight heat, she screams.
The scream isn't from pain.
Or pleasure.
Her scream is at me.
For putting her through this. All of it.
I'm losing the battle with her. She owns me no matter how hard I try to reverse the roles and put her in her place. I am every bit as addicted to her as she was to the heroin not that long ago. Her nails dig into my shoulders and it draws me out of my trance.
My eyes find her teary ones and I expect to see the hate I deserve.
"Don't stop, Lisa," she begs as my mouth hovers over hers. "Don't ever stop."
Heat rushes down my body and my cock feels as if it might explode at any second with my release.
"I'll never stop, Jen."
My words cause her body to shudder and for a moment I think she's crying. But I soon realize she's coming without abandon. The moment her pussy constricts around me, I lose it and my seed rushes into her.
I pound and pound into her until she grows heavy in my arms. When I slide out of her and set her to her feet, her features crumble and her head falls in her hands. Out of nowhere she slaps me across the fucking face.
"You stupid, stupid bastard!"
I'm too damn astounded to do anything but gape at her. But as she starts snatching up her clothes, I break free from my mental hold and leap into action.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I roar and snatch her bicep.
She tries to wriggle free but I clutch her tighter. "I'm leaving."
I blink at her in confusion. "But we just had sex."
The laugh that rips from her is dark and sinister. "That's exactly why I'm leaving."
"This makes no fucking sense, Jennie!"
She pokes me in my chest. Her glare is furious and her chest heaves with each breath she takes. "We make no sense, Lalisa."
I snatch her wrist and yank her to me. She starts to fight me but I hold her against my body. My heart is pounding out of my chest and I begin to freak the fuck out. If she leaves me, I won't be able to deal with it. I've already let her inside my head and I don't ever want her out.
"Talk to me, baby," I murmur against her hair.
"I don't need your money."
I groan. "I don't give a damn about the money. I care about you."
She lifts her head and stares up at me, the fire long since gone. All that remains are her tears. "Do you?"
I was a fucking coward to react the way I did tonight. When she asked Dad about my mother, I snapped. All progress we'd made took a flying leap out the window and I craved to hurt her. To remind her of her place. To fucking punish her for being a drug addicted whore like Mama. But as soon as the rage exploded, it'd just as soon died. Truth is, I don't want to hurt her. I just want her.
I know she needs an explanation but I don't fucking have one. The reason is that she twists the threads of my already fucked up head into a complicated tangle where she tugs the strings and controls the mess that is my heart.
"Lisa?" The lift of her chin in the air is a sign of bravery on her part. She's not letting me off the hook so easily.
Releasing her, I slip my fingers into her hair and kiss her sweet mouth hoping to distract her from words that I can't seem to find the strength to voice. When I break free of her, tears swim in her eyes and her bottom lip quivers wildly. I grab hold of her hand and tug her with me toward the fireplace, snatching our blanket along the way. As if we've done it a thousand times before, we sit on the edge of the rug and I wrap us in the blanket.
"Lisa, please."
I wrap her up in my arms, and hold her to me. "I'm sorry, Bunny. So fucking sorry."
She nods but doesn't speak.
"It's just . . ." I trail off. "It's just hard talking about her, okay? I found her cold, dead body. She'd died of a drug overdose and I was alone at fourteen. If it weren't for my dad, I would be nothing. Fucking nothing."
I squeeze her to me and inhale her clean scent. This is one of those moments I want to pause. One of our moments that only make sense right here on this rug.
"I'm a mess, clearly. I mean, I buy women to use as my toys for Christ's sake. My head is fucked up, baby. And you only seem to fuck it up more. But the thought of giving you up soon—it guts me."
She sniffles. "Lisa, stop shutting me out. Every time we make progress as a real couple, you get lost inside of your damn head. Part of me wants to work on this—to fight for something tangible—something that will outlast my stay here. The other part of me wants to run for the hills and never look back. I'm okay with you humiliating me, degrading me even, if it's what gets you off. If it's what you need. You know I enjoy it too. But I demand your respect and your honesty. And that," she says motioning upstairs, "that was neither of those things."
My mind reels. She wants answers I don't have to give. I bury my nose into her hair and inhale her—all sweet and vanilla. Her scent works to soothe the inner aching parts of me. Pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, I attempt to harness the strength in her and give her some sort of explanation.
"Ever since Mama died, I like control. Having grown up in a world where I starved and never felt warm enough, I need it. I need to be able to know that every single aspect of my life yields to my demand. That I can mold it to my liking. It soothes an ache that never truly goes away."
She remains quiet for a moment but lifts a hand and strokes my cheek as if to thank me for my words. Then, she turns in my arms and straddles my lap. Our blanket falls to a heap around us. "Let me see your hand," she whispers.
My brows pinch together in confusion but I offer it to her. With shaking fingers, she guides it down her belly and for a moment I think she wants me to get her off. Instead, she veers off to the right near her hip bone and makes me touch the flesh there.
"Do you feel that?" Her voice quivers.
A small ridge under my fingertip.
"Yeah. A scar?"
She drops her forehead to mine and gives it a sad shake. "A stretchmark."
My fingers continue to feel her skin and I probe both hips with each hand. I can feel them. Small, insignificant. Unnoticeable.
"Her name was Grace."
A chill washes over me and my chest feels as though it's being split open. The doctor back in London had mentioned a possible pregnancy and now it has been confirmed.
"She was my baby. I loved her, Lisa, even though I never got to know her."
"What happened?"
A cry chokes out of her and I hug her to me. Her face presses against the side of my cheek and her lips find my ears. "T-The stairs. The b-b-blood," she stammers with a whisper.
"Jesus, Jen, I'm so fucking sorry."
A haunted howl rips from her as she lets loose the agony buried deep inside of her. It's raw and dark and unfiltered, as if it's the only time it's ever been released. She begins slapping at me, anger exploding from her. Her hits are nothing to me but everything to her.
Over and over and over again.
I let her expel the rage at having lost her child. It seems like only yesterday that Richard bore the brunt of my own explosive anger. And he endured every single hit just as I am now.
That's what you do for love.
Love.
Shit.
When her hits weaken, I flip her over onto her back. In front of the fire, I cover her with my warmth and kisses. Soon, her cries become pleas and I tend to her needs. My cock slides into her as if it knows its own way and I make love to her. One thrust at a time.
"I love you, Jennie Manoban."
The last of her broken heart shatters and she stammers out words that heal a part of my soul I never knew was wounded.
"I love you too. But don't you dare treat me like that again."
She cries out in ecstasy and I throb out my release into her. My healing soul once again bleeds at her words. I don't even bother replying because we both know I can't keep that promise.
..
..
"Ma'am," Dubois says from my office doorway, "may I have a word?"
I stretch back in my chair and nod. It distracts me from how I professed my love to Jennie last night. What the fuck was I thinking? "Of course."
He strolls in wearing a frown and sits across from me. "We have a problem."
Jerking back upright, I glare at him. "Kai?"
"Most likely," he says with a sigh. "I'm sorry but . . . someone hurt Irene."
I frown at him in confusion. "What?"
"They found her body—an apparent overdose on prescription meds, but Jackson found a note in her office. Instead of notifying the police, he called me last night while you were in your quarters with the toy."
Snatching up my stapler, I growl and then sling it across the room. It hits a frame which then crashes to the floor. "Her name is Jennie."
He seems startled by my outburst but quickly continues. "Anyway, the note said: One bitch down and two bitches to go. Hit her where it hurts. The bitches make her weak."
What in the ever loving fuck?
"You're kidding me!" I roar. "You've got to be fucking shitting me!"
I'm already out of my chair and am pacing the office, dragging my fingertips through my hair.
"We have options."
I snap my gaze over to him. "Is that so? What sort of fucking options besides killing that fucker do we have?"
Dubois seems unfazed. Another reason why I hired him long ago. Where I let my emotions rule me, he uses logic.
"We could go to the police," he says, his voice unaffected, "but I don't really think you want them peeling off the lid of your personal affairs."
Not a fucking option.
"Or?"
"We could call his bluff. But that may not be the smartest option considering he's already been through Irene."
I scrub my cheeks with my palms in frustration. Two to go. Does that mean Christine and Jennie are at risk? The thought causes my belly to drop. "Option three?"
He shrugs. "Let me take care of things."
Nodding, I stand. "I'll pack a bag and we can leave by—"
Dubois stops me with a raised hand. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I believe it is in your best interest to not get involved. It was an entirely different story with Corgy because we weren't in our country. However, Kai knows people, including the workings of your company. I fear he'll be waiting for this and will only succeed if you land in his lap."
I start to pace the room. "What am I supposed to do? Sit here and hope he doesn't fuck any more shit up?"
He folds his hands together and pins me with a serious stare. "Ma'am, you're supposed to protect Christine and Jennie."
When it rounds noon and I haven't seen Jennie, my stomach grows uneasy. What sort of asshole tells a woman who makes her insane that she loves her the night before and then hides like a fucking pussy the next morning?
This asshole.
I stand and stretch before stalking out of my office. She's nowhere to be found but I can hear Christine rooting around in the kitchen. My mind reels with all that's evolved in the past twelve hours. I'd told Jennie I loved her. Irene "overdosed" on pills. And Dad now lives with me. A few months ago, I was alone aside from my three household employees. It was quiet and normal.
Now, it's chaotic and stressful.
If I'm being honest, it's also happy. So fucking happy.
I punch in the numbers for my suite and immediately leave when I don't see her. My heartrate picks up as I go to the top floor. But neither she nor Dad are up there.
Where the fuck are they?
Kai.
A sick feeling washes over me. If he really wanted to hurt me, all it would take was doing something to the only two people on this earth I love.
I do love her.
Despite my natural desire to deny it, I know I can't fool myself. I belong to her and she belongs to me. The moment is as clear as day, just like the moment my dad came and fetched me from New York. There was no question. Only answers. I was his—end of story.
The second floor yields nothing and I'm about three seconds from having a goddamned panic attack. When the doors open to the basement, laughter fills my ears—her laughter—and I sigh in relief.
"Oh, stop whining you grumpy old man," Jennie chides and splashes water at my dad. They're both in the pool and for a moment I watch them.
"We've been swimming for an hour, little lady. I think I've had enough exercise for the day," he pouts.
I bite on my bottom lip to keep from laughing. She's wearing a sexy turquoise bathing suit and her dark hair is twisted into a neat bun on her head making her look like a water fairy or a goddess.
"It's been thirty minutes and you said the doctor's advice was to exercise. I know Lisa doesn't want to lose you to a heart attack anytime soon."
He groans and starts swimming again. Her face lights up, shining with smug pride at having won. When Dad reaches the end of the pool, he looks up and sees me.
"Lili, help. Your woman is crazy," he gripes, but I don't miss the humor in his voice.
I walk over to the edge and squat. "Tell me something I don't know."
"Hey!" she scoffs as she makes her way over to us until she's waist deep in the shallower end by the ledge. "You look stressed. Can I have a kiss?"
Her face is scrubbed free of makeup and her green eyes are blinking innocently at me. She's so damn beautiful. Of course I'll give her a fucking kiss. I'll give her the whole goddamned world.
She reaches for me, once she's close, and presses a wet kiss on my lips. Her fingers thread behind my neck and as I deepen my kiss, she pulls me hard. I lose my footing and splash into the water on top of her. The little vixen tugs me under and I can hear my dad laughing above the surface. We both emerge and I run both palms over my eyes to wipe the droplets away.
"You're so going down, woman," I gripe as I start to shed my now heavy-ass jacket.
She squeals and swims to the other end of the pool where it's deep to escape me. She'll never escape me.
"Perfect timing, girl. I'm going to go hustle Christine for something to eat," Dad says with a mischievous grin as he climbs out. "Maybe I can sweet talk some bacon out of her."
I chuckle and shake my head at him before turning my attention back to her.
"It was an accident," Jennie calls out, her palms up in a defensive move.
I narrow my gaze at her as I toss my soaked jacket over to the edge. The tie and shirt get peeled off next. My shoes have fallen off already—Italian leather ruined in an instant. I never take my eyes from her as I fumble out of my pants, socks, and boxers. Dad is long since escaped—understanding the inevitable.
"My turn for a kiss." My voice is low and gravelly as I inch my way toward her.
She's grinning but has a healthy fear of what I'll do next. "Maybe I don't want to kiss you. You left me all alone all morning."
"I had work to do. Plus, you were sleeping." I watch her swim out into the deeper water away from the edge as I slowly make my way over to her. My mind craves to stay lost down here with Jennie in our secret wet world where psychos aren't threatening the people I care about or murdering my employees. If I can silence my mind even for a few minutes to the stresses that have recently shattered my world, then I'm going to snatch that opportunity. Because the moment I go back upstairs, the hits that don't seem to quit coming will once again continue their battery.
"Still, you could have—"
Her words are cut off as I dive under the water. I open my eyes, ignoring the burn of the chlorine and dart toward her dangling legs that are now swimming back toward the edge. I'm quicker than her though and grab an ankle. Her scream can be heard above the water as I drag her under. My fingers tug at the strings of the swimsuit bottoms as I pull her body to mine. Bubbles flutter from her nose as she stares at me. I splay my fingertips over her ass and she's no longer fighting as she attaches herself to me. My cock's not fully hard yet but having this half naked minx wrapped around me under water is definitely exciting me.
My chest burns for air, so I graze my lips over hers as I thrust us up toward the surface. As soon as we take that first breath, our mouths connect in a greedy way. I dive my tongue into her mouth and kiss her with a fury I can't explain. I just fucking need her. Now.
"Mmm," she moans as I swim us toward the edge with her in my arms.
I'm fully erect now. The moment I push her against the tiled wall of the pool, I'm able to drive my thickness into her pussy. Grabbing onto the ledge, I let her hold on to me so I can focus on fucking her.
And boy do we fuck.
Her fingers rip at my hair and scratch at my flesh as I take her. I manage to yank on the strings of her top and soon she's fully nude.
"Oh, God," I grunt into her mouth as her tits press against my chest. "I fucking missed you."
She whimpers and her body begins to shudder in pleasure. "I missed you too."
My name becomes a chant on her lips as she climaxes. A few more thrusts and I'm coming with her, with an intensity I can't explain.
Of all the toys I've had, sex has never been like it is with Jennie.
With her, my mind and heart orgasm too. It's euphoric and unexplainable. And it's ruined me for any other woman.
It will always be her.
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