Primed for Sin | 18+

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eight : meet the ruler pt. 2


♥ ♥ ♥

WHEN SIMON TOLD me that Gemma wouldn’t have agreed to come with me to the event because of how I treated the woman, I thought that it would’ve been the truth.

That she would never come back to me. Or listen to what I have to say. That I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for the way that I acted that night. And for the past weeks before that one.

But seeing as she is right under my body, withering and shivering while my cock pounds into her body, I can tell that my woman does not need an apology to say how sorry I am with how I have been treating her.

A quick fuck is what will make everything better.

My hands grip the edges of her hips, dragging on the skin and she closes her eyes in response, a moan slipping out of her lips. Her brows scrunch together while I’m pounding into her.

In and out, in and out and that cycle continues.

“Ohhh . . . Phillip!” Gemma moans out while I pound in and out of her on my office desk, the New York City skyline right behind us and illuminating the both of us.

With each shove of my cock in Gemma’s tight pussy, her breasts jump up and down, bouncing with each one of my movements. And on instinct, one of my hands releases the hold of her skin at the waist and reaches for one of her bouncing breasts.

And I hold onto it. Tightly.

Her eyes open wide, displaying the endless pool of coffee which coats her eyes. Then hidden within the colour, is lust and love and passion and all the emotions which she holds for me.

And I, her.

“Please, Phillip.” I could feel Gemma clenching around my hard length being coated in her juices and I know one thing: that she is almost at the euphoria that only I and I alone can bring her to. “I—I’m almost . . . almost there,” she says those words in a whisper.

I nod my head at her words but say nothing in return.

My nails dig hard into the skin of her waist and I could feel blood start coming out of her skin, from my marks. But I don’t care. I just keep on pounding into her until I can feel her clenching around me once more, more frequently than before and that tells me that she is close to her release.

“You may come, my love,” I whisper to her, the same words which I said to her the night that I left and I can see her eyes flutter shut, the slight movement of her head and a ragged and breathless moan come out of her mouth before she releases and jumps off the cliff that she has been hanging onto for a long time.

Her organism has come. And that makes me so full of relief.

I keep on pounding into her with my thick cock until I shudder, my seed spilling into the condom before I pull out of her. I take the filled rubber of my length and walk towards the office bathroom and chuck the rubber into the bin. Then, with my naked glory on display, I make my way to the sink and then open one of the many cabinets underneath, take out a towel and then walk out of the bathroom to Gemma.

The tanned skin woman—my Gemma is still lying against the expensive wood of my desk, her breathing making her breasts fall up and down.

They aren’t the only things that can do that.

I grin at the words, the towel in my hand heating from the sweat and then I step between her legs.

“That was . . . ,” Gemma grins, her dark cocoa eyes twinkling under the light from above and also, the slight light from the outside. Then she brings her eyes to me, her lips growing even more when looking at me before she concludes with her words. ”Magical."

A chuckle releases. I lean over her body and could feel her nipples hardening under the touch of my chest against her full breasts. And then the best thing comes.

A shudder of her body.

I was almost tempted to forget about the bottle of water near the front of my desk and instead drive my length into her once again. Almost. But I knew that I needed to clean her up. And I know that she’s sore down there.

All of the girls that I’ve been with—before Gemma, of course—have been sore in their centre after a night full of passion and lust with me. It was expected, and even more so now that I have only one woman with who I am intimate.

The one woman whom I’m in love with.

And forever shall it be.

My hands latch around the glass of the bottle and the coolness of the water inside chills my sweaty hands. I bring the bottle to me before opening the top and allowing some water to come out and begin to pour it onto the towel in my hand. The towel dampens in my hand with each droplet of water which lands in the towel until I stop when I could feel the faint coldness of water touch my skin.

Quickly shutting the top of the bottle, I place it back right where I found it before getting back in my place between Gemma’s legs.

“Let me clean you up,” I begin, my towel filled hand starting to make wet stripes on the inside of her thighs. One stroke and then another. “Because we need to get to the hotel before we get in trouble by my father.”

At my words, Gemma’s dark orbs open wide, gazing into my own silver ones. “What?!” Gemma sounds panicked, afraid. She gazes around my office, her eyes darting left and right rapidly. “What do you mean that your father is going to be mad?”

“You don’t remember why I called you in here, do you?” A pause. I smirk. “Of course you don’t.”

Gemma then looks back at me, frowning. “Wait, what do you mean . . . ?” Her words trail off than before realization sparkles in the dark depths. ”Ohhhhh."

Gemma blushes while my hand continues to make strokes. I never stopped, even while the two of us were having a discussion.

I keep my eyes on her face at all times. The dark-haired woman right under me lowers her gaze down to her chest, more specifically on her breasts and the rise and fall actions they make.

Even though it has been more than a few minutes since the both of us had reached the high which everyone wants when they have a good fuck with the person which they love. It is one of the many things which a human being strives to have.

A good—in my case, extraordinary—fuck.

And for the both of us, it was a sweaty, skin slapping against each other type of fucking which makes a chill cover the skin of her body. Also heart.

The heart is more important in this place when sex can be done whenever you want. The heart is forever, permanent.

The one thing which can be broken into a hundred million pieces and then have no way to fix it.

So it just gives me joy that Gemma Sneddon has decided to give me her heart and knows that I’ll take care of it.

I raise my silver eyes to her’s. “You know what that means, right?” I wait for her to answer my question. But that doesn’t happen when I could see her looking right at me.

Sighing, I continue to clean up her lower half. The cold water drips onto her skin and I press a kiss to the marks that have scattered on her thighs—from what I made in the height of pleasure. Her’s and mine. Kiss after kiss until I make it to her core, pressing a soft kiss there and when a hiss comes from her lips, I was extremely tempted to eat her out. Just like a desert in my case.

But I know that Dad would come and kick my ass if I got even more late than what I already am.

I place just one lone kiss right on her centre before pulling away from her body. One glance that I take at her face and I know that her tanned cheeks have just the slightest tint of the colour pink on them and I chuckle at that.

“Let’s go. Shall we?” I bring one hand in front of her, hoping that she takes it. And she does. Pulling her onto her two feet, I wrap my hand around her naked body, her bare breasts pressing against my chest and my hands tighten on her hips.

Gemma winces at my touch.

A frown comes onto my face. “Gemma, my love, what’s wrong?” I do a quick once over her body and see nothing wrong with her.

She shakes her head at my words, her dark orbs looking into my silver ones “Nothings wrong. It’s just . . .”

“Just what?” I question, my eyebrows creasing.

“Well,” she says softly. Then her gaze breaks from my own and goes to the place where the pain is coming from. And it’s placed right on where my hands resonate on her hips. “Looks like pain might be the ending of this night.”

My hand rapidly drops from her hips, looking at her hips.

Bloodstained them.

Then I look down at my own red painted hands. My eyes widen with horror at the fact that I made the woman that I love—my woman—bleed into a pool of her own blood.

Memories started to flood my mind. Ones which I tried my hardest to forget. The room around me started to spin, the white walls around me closing in on me and the lights from outside flashing multiple colours; a headache coming sooner.

What do you want from me, Phillip?

Everything that you’ve ever loved.

My surroundings start to merge into one and I can feel myself starting to fall, fall into a deep, large, endless pit of black water which wants me to drown. And in the water are a bunch of sharks that are attracted to the blood that stains my hands, the memories which riddle my mind and remind me of what I had become.

Of what I had to do. For me.

“Phillip!” a voice screams, hands grab onto the skin of my shoulders and starts to shake me, back and forth.

The world around me starts to come back to life. Blurs of colours start to turn into objects, the room has stopped spinning, the walls that were closing in on me start to move back, giving me breathing room to stop my suffocation. My silver eyes start to focus on the objects around me, the environment of my office and the New York skyline that has been displayed.

“Name three black things around the room.”

The voice has stopped shaking my shoulders; instead taking a different tactic that always works wherever this happens.

Whenever I’m having a panic attack.

I quickly nod my head at the words. My eyes dart around, looking for anything which is a dark black colour. “Stapler,” the word came out soft, almost like I was whispering the words to a ghost. “Painting.” I look towards the dark colours that are coated on the previous blank, white canvas. And finally, I look in the direction of the biggest thing which represents black. “Door.”

My eyes gaze at the blackness of the door, the gateway which is to show my future, the darkness that I carry inside of me. And spread to the people around me.

“Just like that, Phillip,” the voice coos in my ear. “Breathe in and out.”

Gemma’s voice is a comfort in my world of destruction, deals and deception that occurs in a billionaire and CEOs life. I crave it, ravish in the juices which are given to me and I know that I’ll never give it back.

Even when it’s the most toxic thing ever.

The world starts to come back to me.

Blinking my eyes, I gaze into the dark pools of brown of Gemma’s eyes before bringing her into a hug, a tight and fierce hug.

And Gemma returns the hug just as tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

The voice is soft against the nape of her neck, the naked surface of her skin, the sweat which builds up reminds me of home. My home. She’s my home. I know that. I rub my face against her collarbone, my freshly shaven chin doing back and forth motions while the strands of blond fall onto her neck, tickling her—which explains the slight giggle coming from her lips.

My orbs shut tightly, trying so hard to stop the heaviness which is building behind my eyes, stopping the tears which want to drop down my cheeks.

And it works.

I do this for one reason and one reason alone: to not show that I’m vulnerable. Because if that happens, my enemies will get me. Using my weakness against me to further their own agenda and leave me the fool left behind in the dust.

That’s the reason why I hide my fears, my weaknesses; my vulnerabilities will be the death of me.

And I know that.

But just this once—just this once—I’ll show my fears. The fears that I hold deep in my heart and hidden away from daylight. The ones that I want no one to see.

The ones that I only show to the darkness of the night. Because the night holds flaws and they don’t give a care about my own.

I let one tear fall from my eyes before pulling back from Gemma’s neck. She looks into my eyes, her hands coming up to rest on my cheeks before bringing my face closer to her. “I’m okay,” she says those words with so much strength in them that I’m surprised that she is not the one who is tearing up with what I did.

No, she holds her front and right now, she is my pillar of support tonight.

I swallow, harshly, my head bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” I rasp out. “You’re fine, everyone’s fine.”

She smiles at me. “Yes, Phillip,” After, she looks down at her bare waist, her dress bunched up at her mid-thighs. “I think that it’s a good idea to place some bandages on this, you know, to make sure that it’s clean for the night.”

As soon as she finished those words, I was already walking through the doors of the bathroom and in the direction of the sink. Right above the sink is a bunch of cupboards with some random things that Emily thought were necessary for my office. I never questioned her about it because that woman is crazy—and I think that it has something to do with her being a redhead—and saying no to her is very hard when she has done nothing wrong to me and the other people who work in my office. Otherwise, when she has done something wrong, she knows to be scared of me and of what I can do.

She knows that I can be quite the devil when I don’t get what I want.

But back to the things that Emily placed on my cabinets. The things range from different sorts of hand towel with different textures to the same body wash and the following five bottles that are identical to them there. And something that is more important in a first aid box that has everything one needs to deal with wounds that have been made.

Grabbing the green box labelled ‘First Aid Box’ with a big white cross on it, I walk back into the room with speed in my steps and see that Gemma has moved from her lying down position to now leaning against the glass table.

“Here!” I exclaim. “I have it.”

“Great,” she walks over to me, takes the first aid box from me and sets it on the table. After a few moments and taking of things from the box, she looks back at me. “Would you like to help me or do you prefer to sit down on your chair?”

I look in the direction of the chair, the same thing that Gemma is doing at the same time.

However, I bring my gaze to those dark orbs and then towards the mark on her hips. But before anything, I look at the now dried blood on my own hands.

My mind starts to churn, just like it did a few moments before.

But she comes in front of me, takes my hands and forces them into her hand and gives it a tight squeeze “I’ll take that as a no,” a smile, “but looks like doing yours is the first thing to be done now.”

I don’t even get a say as Gemma drags me towards the couch, right beside one of the windows that show the outside view.

I don’t even question her while she places something wet on my hand and them making wet strokes along the skin.

I don’t even ask what Gemma is doing when she brings me to my feet and pulls me in the direction of the shower.

The only thing that I do is stay quiet.

After all, the only thing that’s speaking is the demons. The demons in my head.

And they are very loud right now.

♥ ♥ ♥


♥ ♥ ♥

CHAMPAGNE GLASSES FILLED to the brim with peach bubbles and laughs of passion escaping from red coated lips are one of the things that are around me.

Rich women all have a thing to say to someone.

They are socialites of this world for a reason. They know all, see all and damn well know how to speak without giving all of the important details away.

An exquisite talent in my opinion. But I think that is because I have the same talent that these rich women have. After years of going to parties, hanging out with Brooks at the most popular restaurant in New York and knowing what is the difference between real diamonds and fakes, I had learnt how to act in front of the rich and powerful of New York.

Keep talking; smile and wave and make sure that you leave enough information blanked out that they have to come back to you. Not want it, need it.

“Did you hear what happened with Sabrina Clarke’s wife?”

One of the rich women giggles out the words. Her hand tightens around the glass in her hand while taking a glance around the five other women around her. “Well, do you?”

The five women around her look at each other, carefully assessing what the other people know. But after a few knowing glances between the five, they all face towards the woman who asked the question, shaking their heads.

“Seriously?” another shake of five heads. “Well, I’ll tell you, girls, anyway.” The lady brings a hand to the gold of her left ear, just letting her touch flutter over the piece of jewellery, before bringing it right back down to her champagne glass. “It is said that Sabrina’s wife, Marie, was said to take a vacation to the Maldives, on Sabrina’s private jet bit with no Sabrina on it. Guess who was on the jet instead of her?” The women gaze at each other and then, quickly, turn back at the woman telling the tale. “It was a woman. A woman who was said to be the one who Marie was cheating on with Sabrina Clarke.”

The five woman’s eyes widen, mouths opening to ask question after question of what happened after Sabrina found out the truth about Marie.

I just take a drink of my own champagne glass in response.

Classic move.

I watch the exchange of the six women right from the cover of the room. I have nothing better to do with my time so I thought that watching rich women say secret after secret and then the cycle just continues until everyone in this room knows what’s happened between the couple.

The funniest thing is that I see the red curls of Sabrina Clarke’s head right across the room.

And in the arms is none other than Marie Clarke, the brunette and the nobody who has stolen the heart of Sabrina Clarke, a world-famous jeweller.

The two women might walk with each other, one foot in front of the other with smiles stitched onto their faces. I, however, know that the smiles are fake, the small subtle touches with each other are fake, the devotion in their eyes are fake. Everything that they are doing is fake from now on.

Now that the news that Marie is having an affair with another woman has been spread, gossip will reach everyone in New York until it comes right back to Sabrina to bite her in the ass.

Sabrina Clarke’s reputation is now permanently ruined; never to be fixed again.

And Marie Clarke, well . . . no one has an idea of what is going to happen to her now. She might be shamed out of the city—not from loving a woman, that’s not it. But a cheater is what she’ll be and she’ll be shamed for cheating on the woman that she loves.

Loved now. Past tense.

I keep my hazel eyes on the couple, coming deeper into the event and that’s when the woman who was just talking about her before and the ring of other powerful women turn from their place to gaze at Sabrina and Marie Clarke.

Their eyes widen before huddling into a tight circle, voices whispering words, sly gazes being drawn to the couple before going back into the circle to continue with their talks.

I watch as Sabrina and Marie walk together, arm linked in arm, while people look at them.

I can see the guilt in Marie’s eyes; the sadness in Sabrina’s orbs and there is only one way that this marriage will end: a divorce.

Turning my eyes from them, I keep my eyes hovering over the people in attendance at the event. The feeling of boredom flowing into my body.

Taking a sip of the champagne from the glass, I swallow before looking down at the glass, a thought coming into my mind. I need something way stronger than this now. Whiskey. I need whiskey. Now

After Brooks left for god knows where I talked with Elias for a while. A bit about New York, some talks about his company and some words exchanged about my job as an actress.

The same old discussion that can happen between people who met a couple of seconds ago.

However, after a bit, some people came over to us, praises on their lips and alcohol on their breaths. Elias just had to go over towards them. He gave me a sad smile before departing me and moving with the crowd that had formed around him, coming to him with compliments about how beautiful the hotel is and how amazing the party is.

Elias didn’t even plan the event in the end. He told me himself that it was his son and his assistant that planned the event. More his assistant than anyone else.

Now I just stand in the corner of the room, a glass of champagne in my hand and my ears now heightened from doing nothing else. I just hear the conversations happening around me.

They’re my only source of entertainment at the moment.

Boredom just flows through me now and I can do nothing about it.

The gossiping ladies stop a few moments.

I bet that they never get tired of it. Now they just have nothing to gossip about. The buzz around Marie having an affair while married to Sabrina is old news.

My mouth pursues. I have no entertainment now.

I take another sip of my champagne only to find that the glass is empty of the topaz liquid. A frown comes onto my lips before I bring my body of the wall and start making my way towards the bar.

But I only take a few steps before a woman comes in front of me.

The woman is young, looks young but she might be in her early forties, late fifties. Her silver eyes look into my own, her brown locks flowing around her head with a few grey hairs here and there. Her body is covered with a gold dress, a modest dress that shows off her young-looking body without showcasing the assets that she has on her chest.

She looks familiar to me but I have no idea where to place her face.

While I assess her body and her features, she does the same thing to me. Looking at my hazel green eyes, my brunette hair, my blue gown that flows to my feet and my rather large breasts that are on display from the plunging neckline of mine.

My eyes thin out, my head tilting to the side while a calculating emotion lights up those silver eyes of her’s.

“I know you . . .” she starts off. Then the woman looks to the left and then to the right before looking back at me. For a few moments, she just looks at me before her mouth tilts into a grin. “Hera Langford, the Gold of the Depths; a famous actress in New York.”

“Yeah,” I start off, my arms folding over my chest, making my fabric covered nipples rub against the fabric of the dress. “Why are you asking?”

The woman looks to the side once again, towards the entrance of the room. This makes my eyebrows crinkle together.

What does this woman want?

But then she looks right at me. “I have a few questions to ask you but before that, I think that it is best that I introduce myself,” she looks me dead in the eye, “my name is Nina. Nina Whittaker.”

My eyes widen. I knew that this woman looks familiar. This is the same woman who was standing next to Elias when Brooklyn and I first entered the event. This is the woman who was wrapped around his arms, giggling softly at the words that he said. This is the same woman who has a similar feature to Brooklyn Whittaker.

So that must mean that Nina Whittaker must be the mother of Brooklyn Whittaker.

The same mother that did not respect her daughter’s career pathway.

Anger starts to flare in my chest and starts to spread throughout my body. My hands—that are on the expensive silver clutch—tightens its grip. My eyes narrow onto Nina’s body.

I open my mouth, ready to say words until—

“I know that you’ve heard a lot of things about me.” Nina brings a hand forward, ready to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and then bringing it back down. “Some bad; some good, but I think that the most that you’ve heard about me are the fact that I’m married and in love with the most powerful man in the country and that—”

“Not being rude or anything,” I wave a hand in the air, “but do you have a point here or not?”

Nina stops her speech, her eyes wide before they narrow onto me. “You might have some connections in this city, Hera, but that does not mean that you can be rude.”

“I’m sorry,” I drawl at her. “But like you were saying before—about the good and the bad things—I have mostly, only, heard bad things about you.”


“And what?”

The woman’s eyes rake over my face before stopping at my lips. “And what are those bad things as you said? And who told you?”

“I won’t go into that much detail about the what but I’ll go into the who. The who in this case bring Brooklyn Whittaker. Ring a bell,” I ask Brooks’ mother.

For the first time since meeting this woman, true emotion appears in the silver orbs of hers. The emotion of pain and sadness and guilt appears and that makes me falter just the slightest.

“Well,” she winces, a hand coming to rub the base of her neck,” that changes things, doesn’t it?”

“You think?” my hands stay folded along my chest.

“Since we’re talking about Brooklyn,” a gulp, “I have a few things that you can tell her the next time that you see her.”

I don’t give Nina a response to her words, just looking at the bar that was my destination before she showed up in front of me. But I do give the satisfaction to give her just a quarter of my attention.

“I need you to tell her that I’m sorry about how dinner ended last week. I didn’t mean to be rude to her or—or say something to offend her but I just want you to tell her that I’m sorry.”

That sorry from her lips grabbed my attention. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to understand?”

Coming from your lips, it’s a yes. But I don’t say those words. My family raised me to be a proper woman and disrespecting my elders is one of the things that I’ll not do.

Before—when I interrupted Nina’s words—it was just a slip of the tongue; a mistake that I made and one that I don’t plan on making any in the future encounters with the woman in front of me. I might be rude but that doesn’t mean that I’ll be a bitch to her.

I shake my head. “Yes? No? Maybe? If I’m being honest with you, I don’t think that you should take anything that I say seriously.” I bring my champagne glass to my lips before tilting it in the hopes that some liquid will fall out. And it did but it was just a small drop, barely there to quench my thirst.

I bring the glass back to my side; in my other hand is the expensive bag of mine.

“I don’t care what you think. However,” she spits the words out without actual spit coming out in clumps. “I need you to tell Brooklyn that I’m sorry for what I said.”

The anger that started in my chest from before starts to explode now, covering as much distance in my body and this time that I spent talking to her did not help in any case.

I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave.

I need to leave right now.

I hold onto the two things in my hand before taking a step forward while Nina just continues to explain her reasoning for me telling her daughter sorry on her behalf.

That is not how sorrys work in my books.

I keep on moving forward, ignoring the shouts that are coming from Nina, ignoring the people around me, ignoring the people who are touching me, asking for autographs or cameras flashing before me for photos.

I just ignore everything around me.

♥ ♥ ♥


♥ ♥ ♥

GEMMA’S HAND IS tightly wrapped around the corner of my elbow, a small smile playing on my lips while gazing at her. The bright brown eyes of hers to the laugh that escapes from her lips; everything about her screams happiness and smiles.

Something which I do not have.

“And then he just walked out the door, shit on his pants and everyone laughing at him!” Simon exclaims, finishing the story that he was just telling a few moments ago. He looks around the small group around us.

The small group around me contains Gemma, Lyn, Simon and myself. There would have been more people here, with us, but that is one of the reasons why you don’t arrive late to your own party.

“And then what happened?” Lyn questions her boyfriend, standing right beside him and her green orbs on him.

“Well after he was publicly humiliated in my office, he never showed his face again,” Simon shrugs. “I guess that embarrassment was just too much for him.”

I smirk at the words. “And did you miss him?”

“Who said anything about me missing him?”

I shake my head back and forth at his words, the blond strands moving with the action. “Just a guess.”

My hand, which is around Gemma’s hips, tightens and I could feel the bandage on the skin right on the surface of my own skin. I try my best to ignore the texture but it’s just something that is continuously around me; the thought still running through my head going a hundred miles per hour.

I hurt the woman that I love.

Sure it was in the heat of the moment but it was still something that I had done. Something that I did. And something that will forever be on my mind until the end of time. Something that will be forever remembered. Something that can never be forgotten. I’m going to remember that moment for the rest of my life—the time that I’m going to stay with Gemma; something that I am never going to do.

You know that is a lie, right?

I ignore the voice in my head and face forward, a small smirk—not a smile—and just continue to listen to the words coming from Simon’s lips, the questions flying out of Lyn’s mouth and the giggle coming from Gemma’s red-coated lips.

The dress that Gemma is wearing is a red one, tight around everywhere, her curves and the red lip of her just tie the ensemble all together. Gemma is hot, she knows it with her seductive body and her tantalizing curves. She is not afraid to show me what I’m missing. But past that, she is also a woman who has a heart of gold. The raven-haired woman can be kind; help out at the orphanage, donate to charity and help as many people as possible.

Another thing about Gemma Sneddon is that she does come from money. She has an accountant father, a smart businesswoman as a mother but she does not put that past her. Her mother would pay her, give her as much as money as she might want but she declines it. She much prefers to make her own money. Her own living.

And that is something that I admire about the woman.

I think that it had something to do with my way in the world. I was given Whittaker Industries as its heir; it already had an outstanding market value, building hotels, designing them and doing as much publicity as required. But when I came into the picture, I—something that is not surprising at all—quadrupled the amount of money going in and the amount of money that goes out.

I made Whittaker Industries better than it was when it was under the rule of Dad.

“Phillip,” a voice mummers beside me. I turn to face Gemma when she has a small smile on her face. I raise my blond brow in return. “I need to speak to you about something.”

A frown comes onto my face but I slowly nod my head.

I turn back to Simon while the male is laughing his head off at something that Lyn said before. He continues to laugh—making me roll my eyes—before I grab onto his arm and bring him back into the moment.

“What?” Simon questions me, his smile turning into a frown as well.

I point a finger in Gemma’s direction. “Gemma needs to tell me something so I will be leaving,” a glare in his direction, “don’t fuck things up, Simon.”

The man has the audacity to smirk in my direction, his lips tilting up. “No promises, Phillip.” That smirk deepens on his face before he looks in Lyn’s direction.

Lyn’s eyes widen, fear in them.

What does she have to fear?

But it comes in the form of Simon Carnes. “Do you have any idea what I was doing before you came in? Why did you think I came in with Brooklyn on my arm?”

I narrow my eyes at his words. What the fuck is he talking ab—that fucking idiot?!

“Why you little—” I take a deep breath in when a hand latches onto my arms and rubs small circles on the skin. “Never mind. See you later, bastard.”

A growl comes from Lyn.

A gasp comes from Gemma.

However before I could say anything more, the hand on my arm starts to pull me in the direction of the exit. We pass through the bodies of wealthy women, a group of rich bratty girls fawning over older men—including me—and men in their suits, being formal and making business deals in secret.

We pass through the room quickly before coming to a hallway.

A sound makes me frown and I turn a little bit to see a couple making out against the wall; the male pushed up against the wall and the woman kissing him rather harshly. The woman’s navy blue dress is rising up her leg and pinning the male to the wall. Her hands run through the hair of the male and I have to narrow my eyes to see better. There was not that much lighting in the hallway right now because everyone is inside the room and there is just enough light for the guests to be able to walk and see their way around the hallways.

Gemma tugs on my hand, her body urging me on and right before I turn around, I see the hazel green eyes of the woman face me.

That’s all I see.

The raven-haired woman drags me towards another hallway. When she brings me to an empty and random hallway, she stops the both of us before leaning against the wall, her breaths coming out heavy and a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Right when I was going to approach her, ask her what is happening when she places a small smile on her lips, a hand coming up to stop me before she confesses breathlessly, “Those orbs that you put in me, well,” she winces just a tiny bit, “they are doing their job.”

I frown, wondering why she was talking about when I remember what happened right before we left the office.

Can I ask you something, Phillip, Gemma asked me.


Can we play a game? she raised her eyebrows at me, a glimmer of wickedness in her eyes.

I smirked. Sure.

Then she brought something that she kept clutched in her hand and opened her palm up, displaying two orbs.

I looked back at her. Let’s play.

“Well you’re the one who wanted them inside of you, I had nothing to do with it,” I bring my hands in front of me, telling her the truth while keeping my gaze pinned on Gemma.

She smiles, a rather soft smile coming onto her red lips. “It was worth it. And I know that you love this. It’s written all over your face.” She stands up, taking a few steps only for her leg to wobble for a second, a gasp coming from her lips and then puts another hand up, balancing in front of the wall.

I keep an eye on her, trying to see if she needs any help from me but when I see that she is fine, I smirk. “Well . . . you got me there. I love watching this. And what makes this more is that I know you do too.”

After the little incident in the office space, to ease the tension that was built, Gemma made a suggestion to wear those metal orbs in her centre from the black coloured door.

It was her choice and it did what needed to be done: it eased the tension. The tension that was built up from the mess that I made. That—in the height of passion—I had made her bleed.

Something that I promised never to do again.

I see Gemma make her way to me and when she finally gets to me, she places her hands on my muscled chest, leans in and smirks at me. “I love you, you know that?”

I nod my head at her words.

“And this . . . this relationship that we have,” she looks down for a moment, takes a deep breath in before looking me dead in the eye. “It might have been born with lust and passion and desire at first but after knowing you for so long now, Phillip.” She brings a hand up to cup my recently shaved cheek. I bring my own to cover her hand—she smiles me a smile full of happiness. “Now though, now it is love. Something that I will cherish for so long. And I know you will too.”

Her words make a genuine smile come onto my face. Not a smirk, before I bring my lips to hers and give her a gentle kiss. Gemma’s hand grips harder on the fabric of my suit before drawing me in, deepening the kiss.

I was going to give her more. More of what she and I wanted until a buzzing sound came from my pocket.

I ignore it.

The first time.

But after five times of the phone buzzing in my pocket, I hastily removed my lips from Gemma’s—something that I didn’t want to do—and gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, my love.”

Gemma grins at me, nodding her head.

I give her one more smile before pulling the phone from my pocket.

A message from Simon. I saw some people go into the office.

Frowning, I reply back, Are you sure?

The reply came instantly: Positive.

My eyes widen, remembering what I left in there.

You have got to be fucking kidding?!

I look to Gemma, stammering out, “I have—have to get going.”

The raven-haired woman steps back, hurt simmering in her eyes. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I just have to go.” I turn from her, not caring that Gemma is calling my name; I have more important things to do than listen to her words. Things that I need to hide.

Because if I know that someone has entered the new hotel office, they are going to discover some things.

Things that if they were found out . . . could change my future.

And in the process, turn it into a mess.

♥ ♥ ♥


♥ ♥ ♥

THE EXIT FROM this infernal room is going to be my saviour right now.

With Nina Whittaker staring daggers into my back, the people around me are trying to grab my attention, the same as the paps who are wandering around the room, trying to grab the celebrity’s photos here and there. They just want photos, maybe a few scandals here and there but they all want the same thing.

Something which I do not want.

I stride across the room, one silver covered foot in front of the other until I reach the exit of the room. A sigh escapes from my lips as I exit the rather stuffy room and slip into one of the many hallways here.

Each hallway leads to another and then another until you get to the end of the hotel and to every corner that’s available.

I turn left then right, looking for something which I want, something to grab my attention.

And it comes in the form of a tan-skinned man, walking into Whittaker Industries’ newest accomplishment and his attention on the phone in front of him. There is a small crease between his eyebrows while he walks and types a message at the same time.

I have no idea how he is doing this but he does.

That is until I stride up to him, power in each of my steps before grabbing the brown-haired male by the collar and dragging him down the hallway, a few feet away from the entrance to the party but just enough light to see what I’m doing. But at the same time, no one knows who the two of us are in the darkness of the night.

He looks at me. “What the—!”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, shut up, Colin.”

And then the next moment, my lips are placed onto his.

The phone that was in his hand is now safely tucked away in the small of his pocket before his hands are now on my checks, deepening the kiss.

I sigh into the kiss. This is exactly what I need; need this moment in time.

With the threat from Nadine Nix and the words that were spoken by Nina Whittaker about Brooks, things just started to build up and there was no way to release that emotion except a good fuck with someone.

Sure, Colin and I might not be a couple but we do have this arrangement between us. A sort of friends-with-benefits relationship that is going on.

The both of us agreed to this; when things just got too much in this world, we can use each other like a tea towel. No strings attached at the end of this.

But I have mostly used this mutual arrangement maybe once every two months, three times, it depends on the sort of things that I’m going through at the moment.

And right now, it’s a lot of things.

My hands grab on tightly to the edge of the suit jacket he wears, pushing him deeper into the wall behind him. One of my legs drapes over his lower half, keeping him in place while I kiss the living daylights out of him.

The kiss deepens more and more; a moan escaping from Colin’s lips and it gets swallowed by my own.

However, Colin pushes away from me. His eyes wide and holding surprise in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft as always.

“Why would something be wrong?” I mummer against his lips, a breath away from each other.

“Because you always do this when there is something huge on your plate,” his hands come onto my cheeks, softly coating the skin. Colin grins downs at me. “You know you can always tell me anything.”

I shake my head, trying to get rid of my thoughts. “Why do you say this? Why do you think that there is something wrong?”

He looks deeply into my eyes.

I know what he is doing: Colin is trying to see deep into my eyes, trying to determine what has happened to me to make me think like this. To make me want something that I only need when something bad has happened.

He is trying to find the bad.

Only I won’t let him.

“Fine,” he bits out, his eyes finishing roving over my face before he looks to the side. His eyes narrowing before coming back to my own—only to widen his brown orbs.

I push my lips to his once again, our lips molding together. I could feel the fingers on my cheeks move down the length of my arms to my hips, just resting there. Colin pulls me in, closer to his body to feel his cock straining against his pants.

Pulling away from him, I smirk. “Looks like your little friend is excited here?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? Colin Jr is a sucker for a good night.”

I scoff at the words. “You can have a good night with anyone. Whether it’s a boy or a girl. Doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

Colin shakes his head. “You know it doesn’t.”

I grin before pulling him by his collar once again and bringing his lips once more to my own while pushing the both of us down the hallway that we’re in. We pass by different doors, each one having their own people in there, having a good time but Colin and I just ignore it. Our bodies push against the brand new walls and my hand starts to fiddle with each one of the doorknobs.

None open.

That is until the farthest of the doors opens wide open for me. Colin falls in before me and I just push him against the now-closed door. Our lips are still glued together for a couple of moments more before I break our lips apart to start trailing little kisses down his jaw.

A groan comes from Colin’s mouth.

I smirk at the sound. “Still love it when I do this?”

Another groan comes from him. I smirk again.

The kisses go down from his jaw to his neck where they make a path to the edge of the white shirt. Then I pull back and start to push the suit jacket off his shoulders, onto the ground and start to unbutton each one of the buttons.

While I’m doing this, Colin grabs onto my hips and does a little pinch on my skin which means one thing: he wants me to jump.

I do that, wrapping my legs around his waist while he walks the both of us backwards, to the nearest surface. I continue to unbutton the buttons and when the last one is done, it was more than expected that the fabric would fall to the ground and my lips would go to the skin that is remaining to be pampered by my lips.

Kisses travel down his chest until I feel my back pressed against a glass surface.

Colin looks down at my body, licks his lips before pulling down the straps of the blue dress until you could see my bare breasts with the only thing on my chest is black heart pasties.

“Wow,” he gulps, staring down at me.

Wow? Really? I roll my eyes at his words before snapping my fingers at him. “Yeah, yeah. I know that I’m hot.”

“You already know that, Hera. what is the point of telling you that?” Colin shakes his head.

I say nothing in return when his lips descend on my chest, kissing every inch of the golden skin that is bestowed in front of him. My eyes close in response.

But for some odd reason, they open wide.

I frown at the fact and look down, only to see the brown curls of Colin on my chest. I just wind my fingers through the strands and tug, earning a groan from his lips. My own lips part open in a voiceless scream.

And then I moan.

My eyes look around the space that we are in. Black wooden bookshelves housing expensive books; pristine white walls and the glass table that is now used as a surface for my body are just some of the furniture in this space. There are also some couches, each matching a colour of the theme or contrasting with the room; the chairs which are facing each other while windows lie to the right of me.

My eyes widen. Holy fucking shit?! We’re in an office.

Then my eyes look towards the table that I’m on. The stapler; the iMac sitting just a couple of centimetres from me; pencils, pens and other things. My hazel eyes gaze at the drawers and I can see something glimmering in the dark space.

“Wait,” I whisper, pushing Colin off me before making my way to the drawer cabinet that is calling to me. I don’t care that my upper waist is on display—as long as it ain’t my chest where the silver marks are—and continue over to the drawer.

I hear a groan come from the table. “What is it, Hera?”

I turn back to see Colin taking my place against the glass, his chest bare while his pants are on his legs. He runs a hand through the brown strands and sighs again.

“I don’t know,” I shake my head and then stop at the drawer. “It’s just . . . just that I saw something in the drawer. Something that was sparkling and . . . I don’t know? It just called to me.”

Colin looks at me like I’m crazy. “It called to you? What type of drugs have you been snorting up your nose, Hera?” he grins at me.

“No drugs, Colin.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know,” I snap at him. “I just need to find what’s in the drawer.”

He gives me a sly look. “Then what are you waiting for? Open it up.”

And that’s what I do.

What’s in the drawer makes my eyes widen—more like makes them pop out of their sockets. I rapidly look over to Colin, eyes still wide.

“What? What is in there?” He stands up, starting to make his way over to me when the door swings wide open.

The both of us snap our heads to the door—to see a blond male, his hair messy and his silver eyes glaring at the two of us. He huffs in his breath like a damn fucking bull who is chasing after the red cloth in those arenas in Spain.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. People. Doing. In. My. Office."

And in his eyes, I could see my future flash before my eyes.

♥ ♥ ♥

this chapter for some reason took me a month to write for some odd fucking reason.
i don’t know why.
but what i do know is that the next chap will be coming sometime this weekend.
xoxo, kira.

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