Page 58 of Suspicion

After everything she’d been through, he couldn’t force himself on her as well.

But what if I’m not… His temple ached at the revolving argument in his head. What if she wants me as well?

He’d seen the way her body had responded to him. How her pupils had dilated, and her breathing accelerated. Secretly, she longed for him, too, didn’t she?

His gaze scanned her face again.

She does want me.

He bet Bennett had never seen this outcome coming when he’d put his only child forward as surety. Or maybe he just didn’t care, Certainly, his actions suggested so. Dodging a low-hanging branch, his thoughts darted back to the cretin who’d fathered the woman in his arms.

Alexander Bennett.

He’d known the man for decades, and with each passing year, he liked him less. Bennett had always been a blight. A weak-willed guy with no backbone and little endearing characteristics, he’d been sitting on the periphery of Tucker’s social arena for as long as he could recall. If he could call the collection of mono-syllabic assholes, he’d once known a social life.

Tucker remembered when they’d first met, the places they’d gone, the women they’d screwed, and the money they’d spent. Ironically, that was when Bennett had been wealthier than him. Or at least Bennett, Senior was.

He’d flashed his dad’s cash around, too, mainly, Tucker believed, to show off in front of the others, although he wasn’t blind to the benefits it had brought to the group. Bennett’s cash had paid for luxury vacations, for penthouses where the champagne flowed for free and the staff never asked questions, and as much pussy as their cocks could handle. In those days, Tucker’s sexual appetite had been voracious, but even his desire hadn’t rivaled Bennett’s…

“Mate.” Bennett’s tone oozed enthusiasm as he pushed the blonde’s mouth further down his cock. Naturally, with her mouth full, her hands bound behind her back, and her ankles shackled, there was little she could do to complain. “You should try this one when I’m done. The back of her throat is magnificent.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Tucker’s focus barely flitted in Bennett’s direction.

The brunette, who’d he’d only recently deposited two rounds of cum inside, had passed out at his side. Stretching out beside her, he nudged her further down the couch. He guessed the combination of his ravenous need and champagne, coupled with whatever white powder Bennett’s other goons had brought with them, had been too much for her.

He didn’t blame the naked woman. Tucker had made it a personal mission to never touch any of the stuff the other’s smuggled in clear bags. He trusted the other men about as far as he could throw them.

“What about yours?” Bennett was talking again, bleating on in that same grating tone that seemed to suck the joy from any situation.

“What?” Tucker shot him a look, briefly taking in the blonde’s struggle around his dick.

Poor her. On some level, he might have felt pity for her fate. He sensed he should. But then, she and her other friends had come here knowing what they would get—the dick, the powder, and the fizz—that was all that was on offer.

She should have known better.

“What was the brunette like?” Bennett gestured to the woman sprawled at Tucker’s side, though why he was worried mid-blowjob was anyone’s guess.

That was Tucker—a shallow and vacant specimen even compared to the rest of them. Glancing at the whirling ceiling fan, Tucker couldn’t say why he spent time with him, or any of them for that matter.

“Fine.” Tucker shrugged, unsure what else Bennett wanted to hear.

Sex was sex as far as he was concerned, a physical act he enjoyed that was as natural as pulling in his next breath. He needed it, sure, but he didn’t think twice about the deed. The partner he chose and the quality of the act scarcely entered his radar. So long as he came and she never ended up pregnant, that was all he cared about.

“Do you recommend?” Bennett pushed the blonde away, her tits swinging as she grappled not to lose her balance and topple to the mink rug.

“She looks out for the count.” Tucker signaled to the motionless woman at his side.

“And?” Rising from his seat, Bennett zipped up his fly as he turned to look at the brunette. “What difference does that make?”

Tucker noticed the way he didn’t offer the blonde the same option to cover up. Hell, he hadn’t even offered to release her. Stuck on her knees and out of breath, she looked understandably shell-shocked, but then Tucker supposed he hadn’t exactly offered his previous partner much modesty. They were all as bad as each other.

“I like my partners to be awake.” Tucker rolled his eyes. Even by Bennett’s low standards, that was a base question to ask.

“What fucking difference does it make?” Bennett chuckled, reaching for a nearby glass of champagne and draining the contents.

“None, I suppose.” Tucker’s brows knitted. For a man who only cared about ejaculating, he realized his was a strange answer. If he didn’t worry about his partner’s pleasure, why take such umbrage with Bennett’s proposal? “I just prefer them to be conscious.”

“Let me look at her.” Dismissing Tucker’s defense, Bennett tugged at the brunette and rolled her onto her back. “She has a decent rack.”

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