The Rake, page 24
“I know nothing,” my mother gasped, trying to sound offended. “I just said it because you told me she was a stripper. They tend to get into hot water. Your life choices say a lot about you. Why, what are you insinuating?”
“What are you hiding?” I countered.
“I’m not hiding anything. But I know you, and you are a caregiver by nature. I don’t want you to give up on things because of her.”
“I’m starting to think you know more than you let on.”
This made her blow out a sharp breath.
“You’re becoming extremely paranoid. I’m worried about you. You’re losing it. Coming back home would do you good. Please think about it.”
Dinner was, as expected, perfect.
The setting, the room, the meal, and the woman. All five stars.
Louisa sat across from me in the grand suite she was housed in, clad in a black evening dress, flawless for the occasion.
We dined on roasted lobster with red potatoes.
The french doors of her balcony were open, the spring breeze wafting inside carrying with it the scent of blossom.
It reminded me of Europe. Of lazy summer breaks on the shore in the South of France.
Of unprocessed meats and cheese so smelly it would make our eyes water, and bronzed skin, and chateaus I’d get lost in.
And I realized I missed home.
To a point where it started to hurt.
“You know, I tried to move on from you. I even succeeded, for a little while,” Louisa admitted, running the pad of her finger over the rim of her wine glass. “Frederick was an incredible man. He taught me how to believe, a power I didn’t think I had anymore. I used to walk around with this godawful sense of failure. After all, my entire purpose in this life was to marry you, and I’d managed to somehow scare you away.”
“Lou,” I groaned, feeling terrible, because in a sense, she was still doing just that. Trying to win me.
“No, wait. I want to finish.” She shook her head. “When I met him, he spent an entire year just peeling away my insecurities, layer after layer, to try and find out who I was. It was hard … and it was a long process. He had no idea what made me the way I was. Why my wounds had refused to close. But he was patient and sweet.”
I fractured the lobster with the cracker, feeling kinship to the dead animal. And for Frederick, who sounded like a good man, who deserved better.
And also a weird sense of revelation. Frederick had the ability and endurance to stick around for Lou when she was impenetrable to him—why couldn’t I do so with Emmabelle?
“At first, when I was with him, I had dreams about you coming back and me flaunting my new relationship. My perfect man. But after a while, I stopped thinking about you. He was enough. Actually …” she hesitated. “He wasn’t just enough. He was everything. And it hurt so bad to lose him. At that point, I realized I might be cursed.” Louisa smiled, propping her chin on her knuckles.
I looked into her eyes and saw sorrow. So much sorrow. Here we were, about to become engaged to be married, and we were still pining for other people.
The only difference was, the person I wanted was still alive.
And Louisa saw me as a replacement. A consolation prize.
“You’re not the only one who’d been scarred by this experience, sweets. I felt terrible about what I did to you. How I left you high and dry. I vowed to never marry anyone else. Clearly, I kept that promise,” I said, pushing the lobster away. I’d lost my appetite. “I never had a serious girlfriend. My relationships, like my milk, had an expiration date of less than one month. I figured if I ruined things for you, it was only fair I’d do the same for me.”
She reached across the round table, taking my hands in hers.
“We have a chance now, Devvie. Let’s make up for lost time. It is not too late. Nothing’s stopping us.”
One thing was. “I’m about to become a father.”
“We can do this together. You said you’ll have joint custody, right? I can move here. Ursula would prefer it if you moved back, but I’m sure we’ll still get her blessing. I can help you raise the child. We can have children of our own. I bear no hostility toward Emmabelle. I simply don’t think she’s a good fit for you. I’ll be who you need me to be, Devvie. You know that.”
She was saying all the right things.
Making all the right points.
“You’ll need to be good to that child,” I warned, my tone turning icy. “I wanted the baby as much as Emmabelle. We had a pact.”
“I’ll treat this child as if it were my own.”
Louisa brought my hand to her mouth, leaning her cheek against my palm.
“I promise. You know I never break my promise.”
I didn’t remember standing up, but at some point I did. Louisa was up on her feet too, her body flushed with mine, her mouth moving over my own.
My hands skimmed the length of her back. We were kissing.
Belle didn’t want me, my family was on the verge of bankruptcy, and really, would it be so awful to have someone to grow old with? Someone who had my back?
But at the end of the day, I didn’t enjoy it.
Not the kisses. Not the way her body folded around mine possessively.
I was completely soft, my cock refusing to find a logical reason for this union with Louisa appealing.
The softer I was, the more Louisa tried to coax me into arousal, kissing me harder, deeper, rawer. Cupping my cock through my slacks and squeezing teasingly, flipping her head back and forth.
Bile hit the back of my throat.
Not good.
I took a step back in order to stop it, to buy time. Maybe produce the engagement ring I’d come here with. Put it on her finger.
But I couldn’t, for the fucking life of me, take the ring out of my pocket. Make the final move. Ask her the question I couldn’t take back.
I don’t want perfect with Louisa. I want a big, hot mess with Belle.
Meanwhile, Louisa perceived my step back as an invitation to get undressed. She slipped out of her black frock to reveal shapely legs and a well-kept body that screamed five Pilates sessions a week.
Her dark eyes traveled to my groin, her brow furrowing when she realized there was still no detectable bulge.
“Buggers. Well, what’s a little hurdle—”
“Do not say little.”
She giggled, moving toward me again, resuming our kisses.
Swallowing back the sour taste of vomit, I tried to concentrate on the task at hand.
She was a beautiful woman. No less pretty than the women I usually took to bed.
“Maybe, I can …” Louisa slipped her hand inside my briefs through my clothes and rubbed, her fingers cold and bony. The distant sound of my father’s taunting laughter echoed in my ears.
“Is that okay?”
“Great,” I hissed, softer than a bloody Pillsbury roll. “Fantastic.”
But I felt nothing, other than great frustration as her lips moved desperately against mine. She was doing such a thorough job rubbing my cock I was surprised a genie didn’t materialize from behind my zipper.
“Wait,” I groaned into her mouth. I pushed her away gently. She latched against me harder.
“I’ll suck your cock,” she offered. Louisa dropped down to her knees, completely naked now, fumbling with the first button of my slacks.
I stepped aside, worried the engagement ring was going to slip from my pocket.
“Don’t, darling.” I caressed her face while simultaneously moving it away from my crotch.
It occurred to me, rather miserably, that I couldn’t have sex with Louisa. No matter how much I wanted to—and I did.
I wanted to get over Emmabelle. To move on. But it wasn’t happening.
“Is your stomach a bit dodgy? Must be the lobster.”
She hurried to stand up, rushing to the bathroom and coming back in a crème satin robe. “Seafood can be suspect if you don’t know the place.”
This was the Four Seasons, not a shack on a remote island.
I gave her a doubtful smile. “I better head home.”
And I’m taking my soft pig-in-a-blanket with me.
“Oh.” Her face fell.
“Lou,” I said gently.
“It’s just that … she’ll be there.”
“Comes with the territory of her living there.”
“Is it something I said?” she asked.
I thought about what she said about Frederick. About the sort of man he was. And couldn’t deny her the truth.
“Yes. When you told me about Frederick, I realized I could never offer you what he made you take for granted. I need to sort through things in my head.”
I slipped my hand over her waist and pulled her into me, kissing her lips.
“Take care now, Lou.”
“You too, Devvie.”
My head was still spinning when I got back home. My limbs heavy with the realization that I was apparently immune to all women in the world other than the one who didn’t want me.
I stomped my way upstairs, cursing myself for the millionth time that week that I couldn’t use the lift like a logical human being.
Once I was done detesting myself for my claustrophobia, I began despising myself for having a traitorous body. What on earth was wrong with it? In the past, I’d been able to get it up whenever the faint scent of a woman’s perfume wafted through the air. Now, my cock decided it had principles, feelings, and morals. Did it not get the memo that it was, in fact, a COCK? The least sophisticated organ in the human body, apart from the anus.
I shoved past the entrance door to a darkened, vast living room, kicking the fencing equipment by the door aside.
If Emmabelle was out again, working until late or being entertained by a male friend, I was going to … going to …
Do bloody nothing about it. I had no power over her.
Hope that month of shagging her was worth it, mate. Because this is your future.
Moving across the living room, I passed by her bedroom before retiring to my own bed.
Her door was ajar. To my great embarrassment, my entire body slackened with relief when I noticed the light inside was on.
Unable to resist myself, I stopped by the sliver of space separating both of us and watched her.
She was standing in front of an imperial full-length mirror.
Her hoodie was bunched up around her chest. Her stomach was bare. She cradled it in front of her reflection, staring at it in wonder.
My eyes trekked downward, doing the same.
For the first time, it was truly and undeniably obvious that Emmabelle Penrose was pregnant.
The hard, round shape of her belly could not be mistaken. It looked magnificent. So smooth and warm and full of a baby that belonged to us.
She was showing.
I closed my eyes, pressing my head against the wooden doorframe, drawing a breath.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, sometimes I want to devour you just to make sure no one else will have you.”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
She turned around to the sound of my voice.
The love and wonder in her expression melted, replaced by a sly smile.
“I’m surprised Louisa let you off the leash tonight. Trouble in purgatory?”
Guess it was her version of the word paradise for us.
“Stop it,” I clipped.
“Stop what?” she cooed.
“Stop acting like a brat. Stop pushing me away. Stop ruining a perfectly good moment because you’re so scared of men you simply must torment them if they threaten to put a crack in your perfectly constructed wall.”
“All right, then.” Belle let her hoodie drop over her stomach.
“No.” I pushed myself off the doorframe and made my way to her, my stroll unhurried. “I want to see.”
Emmabelle opened her mouth—probably to tell me to go make a baby with Louisa if I was so interested in seeing a pregnant belly—but I managed to put a finger to her mouth before the words came out.
“It’s my child too.”
Silently, she pulled the hoodie up to her breasts.
I stood in front of her, gazing at the wonder that was her pregnant stomach.
“Can I touch?” My voice was unrecognizable to my own ears.
“Yeah.” Hers, I noticed, shook too. The air around us stood still, as if holding its breath too.
The tips of my fingers circled her stomach from both sides. It was hard as stone. We both looked down at her belly like we were waiting for something. A minute passed. Then two. Then five.
“I don’t want to let go,” I said.
“I don’t want you to let go,” she said quietly. We weren’t talking about her stomach anymore.
My eyes rode up to meet her gaze through our reflection in the mirror. “Then why are you doing everything in your power to drive me away?”
She shrugged, a helpless smile on her face. “That’s the way I’m wired.”
“It’s bullshit.”
“It’s still true.”
“Tell me what happened to you,” I demanded, for the millionth time, thinking about Frederick, the way he had peeled Louisa’s layers. Was I even close to shedding the first coat? How many more to go? And what in the bloody hell happened to this woman?
Even my mates, who were by no stretch of the imagination considered good guys, never left a woman quite so broken.
She took a step forward, erasing all the space between us.
I was hard as a rock and about to rip the clothes off of this woman.
“Stop butting into my business, Devon. You’ve already sampled my bag of tricks. There’s nothing more to see here.”
“You’re more than a ditzy party girl, no matter how hard you try to market yourself this way. False advertising.”
“Ha,” she said dryly. “You just haven’t read the fine print.”
A mean smirk tugged at my lips. “You’re fantastic, and thorny, and worth everything you put me through.”
“No!” She pushed me, her palms slamming into my chest. She was angry now, scared. I pushed a button. “I’m not. Stop saying that. I’m the bad crop. The unweddable harlot.”
“You’re fucking amazing,” I drawled in her face, laughing lowly. “Brilliant. One of a kind. The smartest woman I know.”
She pushed me again. I got harder. “I’m no good.”
“No. Not good. Fucking terrific.”
“I’m going to be a terrible mother.”
The last sentence was said in a rush of exasperation.
She fell to her knees at my feet, her head hanging low. “Jesus. What was I thinking? I can’t do this. I’m not Persy. I’m not Sailor. This is not my life.”
I lowered myself to be on her eye level, scooping her face in my palms.
My pulse rabbited. Bollocks, I was going to have a heart attack, wasn’t I? Well, it’s been a pleasure. Literally.
“Look at me now, Sweven.”
She tilted her head up, blinking back at me, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“I only choose the best for myself. Suits, cars, properties, restaurants. That’s the way I’m wired. Trust me when I say I was not lighthearted when I chose you as the mother of my child. You’re clever, independent, shrewd, creative, funny, and, so help me god, a bit of a nutter. But you are also responsible, stable, strong and levelheaded. You’re going to be an amazing mother. The best to walk upon this earth.”
Her chest heaved, and she looked like she was on the brink of a sob.
“What’s wrong now, darling?”
“You forgot pretty,” she moaned.
We both started laughing. She lost her balance, falling backward. Not wanting her to hit the carpeted floor, I pulled her with me and fell down to the carpet myself, using my body as a cushion for her. Our legs laced together.
“Sorry, darling, but you’re far from pretty.”
She pretended to throw a jab at my chest. I caught her wrist and gave it a soft bite.
“Gorgeous, however—”
Her lips were on mine in no time, hot and wet and demanding. Her tongue slipped through mine playfully, stroking and teasing.
I tore at her clothes, ripping her hoodie from the collar, careful not to hurt her.
Her hands were all over me. Her mouth too. I didn’t want to draw a breath. To give her time to change her mind.
She was undressed before she could blink. I was still fully clothed when I propped her back against the bed base, my tongue sliding along the back of her knee, up toward her inner thigh, teasing a sensitive spot that made her entire body shiver violently.
My lips found the sweet flower between her legs, and I sucked and bit and blew on it until she came, shoving my tongue into her to feel her muscles clenching it greedily. She hissed, her eyes widening, like she remembered something. I thought it was peculiar. The way she reacted. But then she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Continue.”
Moving up to kissing her belly, I pressed hot kisses on both her tits, nibbling my way up her throat, to her lips.
“Devon. Please. Fuck me.”
“All in good time, Sweven.”
She reached to undo my trousers. I could feel the pearl of precum gluing my cock to the cloth of my briefs.
Belle freed my cock from the confines of my clothes and mumbled into our dirty kiss, “Say that again.”
“Say what?” I asked, sliding into her, there on the floor, finding her wet and ready for me.
“My nickname. Call me that.”
She matched the rhythm of my thrusts.
“Sweven.” I kissed her lips.
Thrust.
“Again.”
“Sweven.”
Thrust.
“Sweven. Sweven. Sweven.”
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
I plastered my forehead to hers as I drove into her faster and harder.
“I’m going to come.”
“Come inside me.” She clawed her nails into my skin, marking me, making sure Louisa knew. “I want to feel all of you.”
My grip on her tightened. Her muscles quaked as I felt my hot cum sliding into her.
We were both sweaty and spent when I rolled off of her, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling.
