Page 92 of Saved By My Buyers

My pussy contracts hard around him, and his hand tightens until I can’t breathe. There’s no time to panic, nor do I ever think to, as I come apart on his dick. Jack roars as he empties his cock deep inside of me, saying things that make me preen with pride.

I did this. He’s losing his mind because of me.

The release of my limbs comes slowly, and I can hardly keep my eyes open as I cuddle in his arms.

“You’re going to be so much fun to play with, explore different things with,” he whispers in the shell of my ear as he carefully lays down with me. I remain sprawled over his body with his cock inside of me, because I don’t want to move.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“I love you, Jack,” I whisper, my voice feeling thick as he rubs my hair and my back. “Is that crazy? We just?—”

“We just what, sweetness?” he asks softly, wrapping a blanket around us. My body is twitching involuntarily, and I feel cold as I snuggle into the blanket.

“We can’t pretend that I haven’t been present for most of the important moments in your life. The good, the bad, and the ones where I wish I could have burned the world down for you. Somehow, you’ve been my best friend, and I’ve been your confidant for the first sixteen years of your life, Dahlia. The circumstances may have been different, but I’m not a stranger. The history adds up. I think I’ve loved you most of my adult life, it just became a different kind of love in your absence.”

“Bronwyn kept your memory alive, we talked about you so much while we missed you,” he continues. “You have been a constant presence even while you weren’t here. I love you so much, and I can’t believe we get another chance. It’s just that simple.”

I’m a leaky faucet as the tears drip down my face. Sobbing, I wrap my arms tighter around his neck, and he whispers sweet things that I never thought I’d want to hear from a man.

This isn’t just anyone though, it’s fucking Jack Katz, one of the best people I know.

I fall asleep in his arms, drifting off on the waves of emotional highs and the memory of intense orgasms. When I wake up, Jack takes care of me, pampering me, drawing me a bath, and letting me soak while he showers.

Together, we pick up Bronwyn, who squeals and begs for details.

Jack simply barks out a laugh, grinning like a mad man as he shakes his head.

Chapter Eighteen

Bronwyn

“Why is the store so empty?” Dahlia asks tentatively as she glances around. There’s an upscale, beautiful boutique store in Detroit near the house that doesn’t have any floral or pastel clothing. It’s almost five in the afternoon, and they agreed to close the store for us so we could shop.

I’m not blind to how uncomfortable Dahlia is around large crowds in Detroit. The fear of being found is real and cloying. I want to untether her from the possibility of being found or recognized, even though she’s been declared dead as of today on all socials and in the news.

Gareth is a dark stain on her soul, and it’ll take some time to scrub him away.

I know all of this, even though the idea of him touching any part of her still haunts me and makes me want to stab him. Dahlia Moore has always been mine, as is Deidra Demarco.

Whatever she calls herself, her soul calls to mine.

“Jack knows the owner. He asked them to close for us so it wouldn’t be busy when we came in,” I say, looking for the woman he told me to find. They left the store mostly staffed for us.

“I think that’s Liona. She’s going to be helping us today.”

“Wait, he did what?” Dahlia asks in shock as I grab her hand and walk over to a woman with skin the color of cocoa.

Her dark hair is styled with natural curls, in a way that’s intentional, instead of when I or Dahlia don’t properly care for our curls. She’s wearing navy trousers, a long-sleeved cream shirt tucked in, with a brown funky belt to tie it all together.

Her high heeled sandals are high enough to get her noticed without being uncomfortable, and she smiles brightly when she sees us, motioning for someone to lock the doors behind us.

“Hello, ladies,” Liona says. “Jack called and said he had you all coming by. Mondays aren’t too busy, but it’s better to simply close for a few hours so we can give you our full attention.”

“I can’t believe him,” Dahlia sighs, her cheeks heating.

“It’s no problem,” Liona says, shrugging. “That man could ask us to do anything and we would. The owner, Georgia, worked with one of his other partners when her sister was kidnapped six years ago. That was a fucking nightmare. I hate crowds and people too, so you’re in the right place!”

My eyes widen as she breezily gives us information at rapid speed, following her as she walks.

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