Page 77 of Bared Betrayal
“No one’s ever had the balls to.”
“I do. I have balls.”
“What do you want, Davian?”
“The shipment is coming in less than a week. You need to handle that agent bitch. If you don’t, I have orders.”
Fuck.
“Okay, give me a second to think.” If I let Davian handle it, she dies. Which would be convenient for this shipment, but her going missing while investigating my warehouses is suspicious and potentially problematic. The last thing I need is FBI crawling all over the place.
“I’ll deal with her.”
“I don’t get why you don’t just nail and bail. In my experience, that usually gets a girl to hate you enough to never talk to you. Or you could just fuck her and be really bad at it.”
“I don’t hand out mediocre fucks, Davian.”
“I heard your pussy-licking skills need a little tune-up.”
“And yet it’s still better than yours.”
“Ooh. Ouch.”
“Give me time until tomorrow.”
“Tick tock.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Nah. Oh, wait. My finger’s itching, so if you ever change your mind about that low-life father and want him dead, it will only take a few clicks to find him.”
“Okay, thanks. I owe you one.”
“I’ll add it to your tab,” he says as I hang up the phone. Going after Kallie’s father for being a terrible parent seems a bit hypocritical right now, since I’m definitely not winning the dad of the year award. But I like the idea that the option is open for later. Maybe, when I convince her to call off the wedding, and stay as my little pet, I’ll give her his head as an anniversary gift or something. She doesn’t really strike me as a flowers and jewelry kind of girl.
I walk into the bedroom. Kallie is fast asleep, the silk sheet draped over her, hugging the curve of her waist. I am so fucked. This broken doll is going to cost me the last chance I’ll ever have at having a relationship with my son. I love Sebastian. I do. But God knows I can’t stop myself from wanting Kallie—the one woman I can’t fucking have.
I have never pretended to be a good man. I have lied, stolen, threatened, and killed to make my living. My entire life, I did what I thought I had to, telling myself it’s for him, so when I die I would leave something for my son. Now I am claiming the woman he loves as my own. What kind of man does that make me?
She isn’t mine.I keep repeating those words over and over in my head.She isn’t mine.
I almost have myself convinced when she rolls over to her back and kicks the sheet off, and I’m left standing there staring at her firm tits. The right thing to do is to look away. To go sit in the living room and wait for her to wake up. Then we can talk. I can order her some room service and tell her Sebastian is on his way home and he will take care of her in the way she needs. Am I known as a man who likes to do the right thing? No, I sure as fuck ain’t. But maybe…maybe I should try, just once.
I’m about to turn around when she lets out a soft moan, and I swear my cock almost tears off my fucking body.
My gaze drops to her breasts, her nipples forming little pink peaks, and my mouth waters.
It’s not an invitation.
She’s asleep. I need to leave her alone.
She’s not mine.
As if the universe can smell my bullshit, Kallie moves and kicks off the last of the sheet, and her bare pussy might as well have my name tattooed on it.
My cock is painfully hard. Palming it doesn’t help relieve the pressure at all. I don’t make the conscious decision to walk over to the bed. It’s just where I end up, towering over her, allowing my fingertips to trace down between her breasts. I lean down and take one perfect nipple into my mouth, gently licking and sucking. She doesn’t wake, but her back arches, pushing her breast into my mouth, her legs spread for me, and I wonder how close I can get her to coming for me before she wakes up.
I keep my touch light, ghosting over her other nipple while I lick. I let my hand trail down her soft flat stomach to her perfect bare mound. I have to suppress a groan when I feel how wet she is. Even in her sleep, my broken doll is ready to be ravaged.
