Page 10 of Power Struggle

When his cock finally relents in my mouth, I slip off. He immediately drops back, leaving us, and I crawl across the concrete floor to Addy. I reach her just as she tosses the vibrator aside, still shaking. Her eyes are dazed and happy as she looks up at me.

Beautiful.

Mine.

Knee to knee, I arch over her, gripping her throat with one hand making her eyes widen. I squeeze and then slide up, palming her face. Applying pressure to her cheeks, I force her mouth open. She sucks in a breath, and I waste no time spitting the stranger’s load onto her tongue. I can tell she’s shocked and angry. But I can also hear the heady whimper she tries to hide. I watch, entranced, as her mouth fills with foamy, white liquid.

Me. Him. Her.

“Swallow,” I rasp, releasing her. Glaring, she does as I’ve commanded. “My perfect girl,” I murmur, undeniably obsessed with Addison Hughes. Lowell has a nice ring to it.

Her face pinches as she slides her legs closed and fixes her dress. “I’m not your anything.” My jaw flexes, and I get ready to call her out, but she shakes her head, climbs to her feet, and steps away. “Unless you have short-term memory loss, you can’t possibly have forgotten the terms of our deal.” She shows me her bracelets with a shaky arm. “I still have men to meet.” Her eyes flick to my single bracelet, and she chuckles. “Shouldn’t have been so cocky.”

“Lose them, Addison,” I snap, jumping up. “Take them off. You already know who you belong to.”

She wavers but shakes it off. “I belong to no one, Jackson. Especially not you.” And with that, she turns away, immediately seeking out one of her other matches.

Another man.

Another opportunity with someone who isn’t me.

Shit.

Chapter Ten

What is this voodoo magic? Holy shit. I feel like I’m only seconds from passing out due to blood loss. Blood loss because it’s all currently residing in my clit like it’s trying to make a tiny little boner for everyone to see.

I exhale a shaky breath, trying desperately to shake myself from whatever the hell that was. My eyes scan the party, finding nearly half of the original attendees missing. I check the tiny gold watch on my wrist and almost choke when I realize I’ve already been here for an hour and a half. My gaze catches the bracelets stacked up around my watch, and a pang hits me right in the gut at the sight of them. Every part of me wants to look over my shoulder and seek out Jackson. My mouth still tastes like cum mixed with a flavor that I’m assuming is all Jack. Assuming because despite what we just did, the man still hasn’t kissed me.

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest as I head deeper into the room. Like I’d even want him to kiss me. You big fucking liar. I bite my lip, knowing that, for once, the self-deprecating, ugly voice in my head is completely right.

A sudden realization hits me so hard that I stumble over my heels. From the moment Jack showed up tonight, wrapped around me like he had a right to be there, and everything that transpired after that…my mind has been remarkably empty. I shudder as I replay what just happened with the glory hole, the random dick, Jack…and me. Everything he said. Everything he did. His aggressive words and touch. His forcefulness. The degradation. The praise. The exhibitionist act. The way he so easily accepted sharing me.

The kindness. The care.

The way I loved every single second of it.

Fuck. It was incredible. I’ve done a lot, but that—that was a first for me. My mind was blissfully empty. Like he begged me to do, I let go. Right, wrong or indifferent, I trust Jack implicitly to keep me safe. To know how much I can take. To know what I want. What I need.

He really does know me.

My spine pricks and my hands grow clammy as the truth of it barrels into me. Somehow, over the last six years, despite my best effort to keep him and others at a distance, he saw me. Through work functions, late-night meetings, team events, the stress of court, disasters, and casual luncheons…he saw me. He paid attention, and without my permission, he found his way in.

To my world.

My mind.

My stupid, idiotic heart.

Shit.

Desperate to ignore all of that—I force my spine to straighten and enjoy what’s left of my night. I’ve only managed a few steps toward the St. Andrews Cross, where two women are still deep in their erotic, tantalizing scene when someone steps into my path. I blink rapidly at the towering figure who’s somehow managed to block out the light surrounding me. My eyes lock on deep brown pits that, for some reason, give me immediate chills. Not the same kind that Jackson gave me, either.

His face is masculine and strong. His skin is tan. His hair black, matching his thick beard. His eyes are brown.

That’s it. Those are all the facts I have. All the details I can take in. Everything beyond that escapes me as his hand reaches out and wraps around my thin wrist, dwarfing it. I panic, jerking back as my heart thunders. His eyes widen, and he throws his hands up, taking a step back. “Woah,” he rumbles, his voice a deep baritone. “I’m sorry to scare you, beautiful. I just wanted to check.”

I swallow rocks, still dazed over everything that happened with Jack, including my recent revelation. “Check?” I mumble. Fuck, Addy. Get it together. Grow up. You can speak to a man. He nods, grinning, and points to my arm. I follow his gaze and instantly deflate when I realize what he’s referring to. “My bracelets,” I state.