Home > Corrupt(14)

Corrupt(14)
Author: Penelope Douglas

“You don’t, huh?” he replied, sounding snide. “You got everything covered? You’re in control?”

I lifted my chin slightly, not answering him.

He strode back over, eyeing me with arrogant amusement. “It’s a nice apartment,” he commented, gazing around him. “You must’ve worked hard to earn the money to pay for it. As well as the bills to those credit cards in your wallet, and that nice, new car you just got.”

I ground my teeth together, a flood of emotions I wasn’t sure what to do with hitting me. I hated what he was saying. It wasn’t that simple, and it wasn’t fair.

He stepped up to me, narrowing his eyes. “You ran away from my brother, my family, your mother, and even your own friends,” he pointed out, “but what if one day you found that all of those securities you took for granted—your house, your money, and the people who love you—weren’t there anymore? Would you need help then? Would you finally realize how very brittle you are without those comforts you seem to think you don’t need?”

I stared up at him, hardening every muscle, so I wouldn’t give myself away.

Yeah, sure. I enjoyed the money. And maybe if I were really serious about being on my own, I’d have chucked it all. The credit cards, the car, and the tuition money.

So was I what he implied? A coward who talked a good talk but would never really know pain or the struggle of having to fight for anything?

“No, I think you’d be fine,” he said in a low, sultry voice as he took a lock of my hair, grinding it between his fingers. “Pretty girls always have something to trade in, right?”

I shot my eyes up, locking gazes with him as I knocked his hand away. What the fuck was the matter with him?

The corner of his mouth tilted in a smile, and he walked around me toward the door. “’Night, Little Monster.”

And I whipped around, just seeing him slip through the door and close it behind him.

Little Monster. Why had he called me that? I hadn’t heard that name in three years.

Not since that night.

Present

DON’T BE ALONE WITH HER.

My one rule. The one thing I’d kept to myself and promised to heed, and now I’d broken it.

I breathed hard, my arms folded across my chest as I glared ahead at the rising numbers on the elevator wall. No one else knew her.

Not the way I did. I knew better. I knew how good she was.

Erika Fane played her parts well. The dutiful, self-sacrificing daughter for her mother, the pleasant, agreeable girlfriend for my brother, and a shining student and beauty in our seaside community growing up. Everyone loved her.

She thought she was nothing to me, insignificant and invisible. She wanted me to open my eyes and see her again so fucking badly, but she didn’t realize that I already did. I knew the deceiving cunt that stewed underneath that perfect little sheen of hers, and I couldn’t forget.

Why the fuck did I take her to her apartment? Why did I have to make sure she was safe? Being near her made me falter. It made me forget.

She’d burst through the stairwell doors, frightened and flushed, looking small and fragile, and instinct immediately kicked in.

Yeah, she played her parts well.

Don’t be alone with her. Don’t ever be alone with her.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped directly into my foyer, rounding the corner into my darkened living room, but then I slowed, noticing the girl I had sent up and nearly forgotten about. She sat in the middle of the floor, straddling a wooden chair.

Completely naked.

I held back a smile, surprised at her ingenuity. Most women waited for direction.

I narrowed my eyes, approaching the chair as her lips quirked in a small smile. Her forearms rested on the top of the chair-back, while her legs were spread wide and her high-heeled feet were planted on the floor on either side of the chair.

Stopping a foot in front of her, I let my eyes fall to her exposed body: supple, open, and ready for me. Her breasts were perfect and round, and I gazed down at her tan stomach, letting my eyes drop to her bare pussy and wondering if she was already wet.

I reached up, running the back of my hand over her cheek, and she leaned into it, eyeing me playfully as her long, silky hair draped over her breasts. And then she darted out, catching my thumb between her teeth and biting it gently.

I stared down at her, waiting to see what she would do next. Suck on it? Lick it? Maybe bite it harder? I liked it when I got as good as I gave. When a woman showed the fire in her instead of sitting idle.

But then she just let it go, offering me a shy look and leaving the ball in my court. It was my job to attack and hers to be the willing piece of meat, I guess. God, I was so fucking bored.

I tipped her chin up, ordering in a gentle voice, “Stay here.”

I needed a breather to get in the mood for what I no longer wanted.

I walked past her, up the stairs, slipping off my jacket as I climbed. Entering my bedroom, a large space with a king size bed and plenty of room to relax, I walked for the shower, which sat between the bedroom and the master bathroom. It was out in the open and completely visible from the bed. Sometimes it came in handy when I had a girl or two over and wanted to watch them play.

I stripped out of my clothes, tossing them on the ground and stepping into the shower, in no hurry to return downstairs.

The rainfall overhead poured down, immediately drenching my hair and spilling its heat over my shoulders and back. I wished I could say it was all the hours logged in at the gym, the personal trainer making sure I was ready for the season, or the constant practices we’d been attending since they increased our workout schedule, that caused the tension in my head and body, but I knew that wasn’t it. I was twenty-three, in the best shape of my life, and contending with demands I’d lived with for nearly my entire life.

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