Page 4 of Claiming Candy

I wrap my arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly. My climax builds in me, expanding like a balloon. It’s only a matter of seconds before I pop, and Ethan seems determined to make me burst.

“Go on, baby,” he coos, his mouth right next to my ear, filling me up even further. “Come for me. I know you want to.”

His encouragement is all I need. Pleasure crashes over me. My lungs constrict, and my breath stutters. I squeeze him harder, holding onto him as I ride out wave after wave. He doesn’t stop his motions, coaxing more out of me than I thought possible.

Eventually, my orgasm starts to subside. My grip on Ethan starts to loosen, but he still holds me close. I shiver when his hand moves away from my sex and replaces the fabric.

I feel boneless and happier than I have in a long time. Actually, the last time I felt this happy, I was nothing more than a child, experiencing the first Christmas I can remember. I can’t believe how this night has turned around.

Then, it all comes crashing down.

“You know, I came to find you earlier,” Ethan tells me, pushing me back so he can look me in the eye. “But then my men threw you out for stealing.”

My blood runs cold. The relaxation I felt just seconds ago fizzles out. Now, he’s going to accuse me of theft just like those security guys did. I push myself off of his lap so quickly that he doesn’t have a chance to grab onto me and keep me there.

“Wait, Candy,” he says as he rises from the bed.

I don’t give him the chance to catch up to me. Suddenly, the walk back to the shelter in the cold doesn’t seem all that bad. In fact, it’ll be a great way to process everything that just happened and clear my head.

Chapter Three

Ethan

Candy’s fast. Even though I follow her as soon as she’s up, by the time I enter the banquet hall, I’ve lost sight of her.

I curse under my breath, weaving through the throngs of people milling around and carrying on with this party, completely unaware of the great loss I’ve just suffered. It takes all of my strength to keep from yelling at them to move. The only thing that stops me is knowing what a waste of money this party would be if I blew it by being rude. I’m supposed to be improving my public image, not ruining it.

Although, does my public image even matter if I don’t have Candy by my side? If I can’t win her back, the whole damn world could burn and I wouldn’t care. Without a doubt in my mind, that girl is the meaning of my life. I feel it in my gut.

I nearly topple over a Christmas tree, narrowly avoiding it by throwing myself into a guest. With a rushed apology, I clap my hand on their shoulder. I don’t stick around to wait for their response, continuing on my journey to the front doors.

When I throw them open, an icy gust of wind cuts into my face. A light flurry of snow swirls in the wind, catching in the lights lining my long driveway. Candy’s nowhere to be seen.

“God dammit,” I say to myself, taking off toward the street. The air permeates my suit jacket, but I don’t care. “Candy!”

I don’t get a response. So, I call her name again. And again. Still, the only answer I receive is the wind blowing savagely. It’s like she disappeared into thin air.

“Fuck,” I curse, crouching down and resting my head in my hands.

I wish I hadn’t said anything about her supposed theft. She was obviously upset about being kicked out, then instead of reassuring her, I made it worse. I wish I were a better man, a more emotionally in-touch man. Then, I wouldn’t have upset her or scared her off.

After taking another minute to gather myself, I straighten up, smoothing the wrinkles out of my suit. Then, I head back inside. Someone there has to know something about Candy. And, if no one inside can tell me anything about her, someone somewhere can get me some information about her.

When I get back inside, I decide that the party needs to be over. I’m not in the mood to have anyone in my house. I need to find my team and tell them to get this wrapped up.

Erin is standing next to the table of hors d’oeuvres, so I head straight for her. She doesn’t notice that I’m approaching, too focused on whatever she’s doing on her iPad. It’s admirable how focused she is on work. I’ll miss her when I eventually promote her.

“Erin,” I say, stopping in front of her and waiting for her to finish whatever it is she’s working on. “I think it’s about time that we wrap this party up, don’t you think?”

“It’s scheduled to go on for another hour and a half,” she states, clearly unbothered by the request. “But I wouldn’t complain. It’s loud in here.”

“Make it happen,” I say, glancing around the room to find the man in charge of the guest list. “Do you know where Ron is?”

“Who knows,” she shrugs as she tucks her tablet under her arm and pulls out her phone. “Follow the waiters with the champagne and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

I nod, deciding not to interrupt her task. Instead, I zero in on a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes. Sure enough, after a few minutes of following him, I see Ron. His face is a little flushed, and it’s obvious that he’s been enjoying this party.

“Ron,” I say, clapping my hand over his shoulder and leading him away from the alcohol before he can pluck another glass for himself. “I gotta talk to you.”

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