“You listening to me?”

I pull myself back from my thoughts to Eric, who’s sitting across from me in the conference room. “Yeah, got it. Warehouse turnover creates forty-two percent profit margin for the company. If we add fifteen new trucks, picking up the thirty-seven new routes, that brings in an annual income of fourteen billion.”

Eric smiles. He’s pleased with the figures, and if they’re coming from my mouth, he knows they’re solid. The new warehouse addition is going to be a success.

“You okay, man?” he asks as I start falling back into my thoughts.

“Fine,” I grit out. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I know you. I know the signs. You’ve been distant. Counting out loud again. Do you need to see Dr. Winters?”

I instantly become agitated. I love Eric, but I don’t need him acting like my father. “I’m fine. Just have some shit going on with the Flanders property.” And boy is that a goddamn understatement. My problem is less with the unsigned contract and more with the spitfire girl staying in it.

I went over there yesterday to talk about what happened Sunday night. Instead, we had round two of mauling each other. She was nothing I was used to. She was also disrupting my very organized life. The counting was getting worse. But it always revolved around her. Watching her in the morning. Every time I would see her pass by her kitchen window. The seconds it would take to pass by again. It’s like I’m obsessed with her. But that isn’t me.

I won’t admit to Eric that I already met with Dr. Winters. She came by the house Monday morning and guided me through the cloudiness in my head, which helped. But then I fell right back into it when I walked into that shack and got my brains fucked out by the little sex goddess. The strange thing was, whenever I was deep inside her, the numbers stopped. Nothing but quiet inside my head, allowing me to enjoy her. But then I would go home, where my brain would reset, fighting every single equation, probability, and factor of what had just occurred and the likeliness of it occurring again. I wanted her. But strangely, I wasn’t sure she wanted me. My dick, yeah. But past that, she showed no interest. And that fucking bugged me. So, tonight, after work, I’m going to go over there to demand answers.

What’s even more shocking is not once since Sunday have I thought about the setback of the delayed closing of the property.

I leave Eric to finish the paperwork, knowing he’s in his own shit of woman problems—or should I say child problems, since that’s how young he prefers them. I make it home seventy-two seconds faster than normal and pull into my driveway. I notice the open windows next door, so I shut off my Aston Martin, get out, and walk over.

I bang three times on the door with no response. I know she’s in there, so she better not even think about trying to avoid me. When I bang again, and she doesn’t answer, I twist the knob. It moves freely in my hand, and I push the door open, ready to call her name, when the fucked-up thing hits me. I don’t even know it. I’ve been balls deep in her twice now, and we’ve never exchanged names. I make a mental note to change that.

I walk further into the old house, peeking down the small hallway. Nothing. I walk through the kitchen and find her outside on the deck.

“Hey, I knocked,” I start, pushing through the sliding glass door to find her sitting with her legs crisscrossed on her old lawn chair in tears. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I’m on high alert, ready to kill anyone who’s messed with her.

“What are you doing here?” She sniffles, blowing her nose into a beat-up tissue.

“I wanted to talk. Why are you crying?”

She starts to cry harder, and I fumble for a moment, not knowing what to do. I’m shit when it comes to women and emotions, so I wing it and sit down on the open chunk of cushion, bringing my hand to pat her back. “Hey, whatever it is, it's gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not," she sobs, throwing her head into my shirt and soaking it. I’m starting to get agitated that someone really upset her. Hurt her in some way. The array of what could have happened builds in my head. What I can do to retaliate. “He’s dead,” she cries into my shirt.

I pull her off me, worried. “Who’s dead?”

“Herald. Or Bill. I’m not sure which one. The other one won’t tell me.” And she’s back in my chest sobbing.

“The lobster?” I ask, now confused.

“Yeah. I came home, and he wasn’t moving. I tried to get answers from the other one, but he wasn’t talking. I killed him. I murdered a helpless animal.” And off she goes again. She’s bawling over killing a lobster? Jesus, this girl. I’m not sure whether to laugh or roll my eyes. Seeing how upset she is, I hold back from doing both. I adjust her so I get a better fitting on the chair, and lift her, placing her in my lap. I wait until her cries are more of a whimper and I can feel her breathing calm.

“You okay?” She doesn’t immediately pull away, which I’m fine with. Strangely, I like the feel of her in my lap.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve just never killed anything before. I wanted to give them a better life.” This girl. This time, I do smile. I move her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry. I kinda soaked your shirt.”

I look at her, not giving a fuck about my shirt. “It’s just a shirt.”

“Yeah. Well, I should probably get off your lap. I’m wrinkling your nice pants.” 

“Fuck my pants,” I tell her, and a haze starts to form in her eyes. My little minx is getting heated. Before this goes any further, I shut it down. “Let me take you to dinner. Where you don’t have to worry about the preparation.”

I may have shocked her. “You wanna take me to dinner?”

“Dessert too, if you’re good.” Her smile pleases me. It’s been a while since something so simple did that. It used to be pleasing Eric, making money, working figures, but that got old fast. It quickly became a task. Four Fathers is everything to me, but the luster in it died a long time ago. I should be thankful for the money—for not being on the streets anymore. I should indulge in the billions I’m sitting on like the other partners do. But it's not about money to me. Yeah, I blew my first billion on buying an entire subdivision just to have the quietness of the beach, but that’s what I needed to survive—to find solace from the fucked-up shit swirling in my head.

“You’re counting again.”

Shit. When I get in my head, I forget I lose focus and do that. “Sorry. So, what do you say? Will you let me feed you?”

Her smile fucking does shit to me. “As long as it's not lobster.”

Fuck, I’m in trouble with her.

* * *

“So, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything you want.” I learned on the ride over to Flemings, one of Tampa’s hottest steak houses, her name is Lucy. She strangely already knew mine, telling me she figured it out by searching the name on the contract, then proceeded to google me, needing to know what she was up against with my pushing the early sale of her Gran’s house.

“What’s with the counting? If you don’t mind me being nosy.”

I knew this was coming. “There’s nothing wrong with me, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I watch her eyes fill with guilt. They always pin me first with an illness. “I’m what you call a math prodigy. My mind works solely based on numbers. Anything that is probable and can be solved, my brain latches onto it and tries to solve it.”

I watch her try to dissect the information. “It means my mind never stops. I’m always counting. Steps, seconds between breaths, the distance between waves. It can be anything, and my brain wants to break it down.”

“How…how do you function with all that madness?” She catches her choice of words. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine. Some days are easier than others. Certain things trigger it. Stress is a number one reason. I learn to deal with most of it, but when it gets bad, I use methods that have been taught to me over the years to calm my mind.”

“Wow. That’s nuts. So, like, can you tell me how many words you just spoke?”

“Seventy vowels, fifty-seven syllables, sixteen verbs, and twelve nouns in the last minute and a half.”

“Jesus, how did you remember all that?”

“It’s just the way my mind works. I can’t really control it. So, I just learn to live with it.” She’s quiet for a bit, so I take that opportunity to turn the spotlight on her. “Tell me about you. What brought you out here?” Her beautiful smile falls at my question. “You don’t have to answer—”

“Nope. You answered mine. Only fair. My Gran died. It was her last wish to have me stay here over the summer to help sort my life out.”

“And do you need sorting?”

“I need so much sorting, I doubt just the summer is going to fix me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, curious since I find her to be pretty perfect.

“I’m a mess. I have no direction. I make poor choices, and I can’t for the life of me follow through with anything. She wants me to find my way, I guess. Find love. Find my true passion, whatever that is. Her dying wish was just for me to be happy. And she thought having me spend the summer here would do that.”

My stomach turns with guilt. It reminds me of the addendum I grabbed off my desk and shoved in my suitcoat pocket when I left the office. I’m not even sure why. I had no intentions of approaching the subject with her. The last thing on my mind was giving her any reason to leave. And now, listening to her, I couldn’t even imagine doing that. I push it farther into my pocket as the waitress comes by to take our order.

We enjoy a great meal over small chatter. I learn she’s twenty-seven, and confess my own age. I thought she would be turned away by it, but it didn’t seem to bother her. We keep the topics light, and before I know it, three hours have passed and we’re getting the check.

“Are you sure I can’t help pay?” she asks for the billionth time as we walk to my car.

I take her hand and open the door, helping her in. “I wouldn’t think of it. It was my treat.” I also know from the small chatter she is completely broke. I had to reign in my anger hearing that she’s been living off sandwiches and cheap noodles since she got into town. Then again, maybe if she let me buy her damn house already, her money problems would be solved. Not to mention, all the restaurants in town I could have been spoiling her with.

The ride home is quiet. I take the scenic route along the coast, and she rolls down all the windows, allowing the ocean breeze to blow through her hair. As soon as I pull up in my driveway, she turns to me, gifting me with the most beautiful smile. Her hair is a complete rat’s nest, making her even more irresistible. I told myself I wasn’t going to pull another dick move and treat her like the two times we’ve been together. It’s different now.

I jump out and go around the other side to help her, but she’s already climbing out. I take her hand so she doesn’t stumble, since she’s been drinking and close the door.

“Well…thanks again. I really enjoyed tonight. I needed it after…ya know.”

I smile back at her, nodding. “Anytime.”

We stand there in an awkward stare down, waiting on each other to make a move. If she doesn’t, I won’t. I want this to be something she wants.

“Okay. Well…goodnight then,” she says, starting to turn.

“Goodnight,” I reply, watching her ass sway in the cute little summer dress she wore while regretting allowing her out of my grasp. I turn to head inside when I hear her call my name. Before I fully regard her, she’s on me. My arms move on instinct, catching her. Her lips are on mine, and we kiss like two lovers who have been apart for years. I press her taut body harder against me as our tongues tangle, fighting at one another, and carry her into the house.

I continue to kiss her as I walk down the long marble hallway to the stairs leading to the second level. As we enter the master, I realize the room is equivalent to the size of the shack she’s staying in. My mood plummets for a second knowing how unsafe that place must be. The probabilities of the structure—

“You’re doing it again,” she mumbles against my lips as I bring her up to the king size bed and drop her. The way she squeals and her blonde hair spreads along her face like a fucking angel…I want to freeze this moment—keep her here like this for as long as I can. Her deviant smile breaks the moment. It's time to fuck her.

“I’m hoping that serious look is because you’re calculating how hard you’re going to fuck my brains out.”

My smile isn’t sweet like hers. It’s predatory. Dangerous. I want nothing more than to fuck her until she loses sight of anything but me and my aching cock. “I’m going to fucking devour you.”

And then, I snap.

I grab her thighs, causing her to fall back, and pull her ass all the way down until her legs are hanging off the bed. My need to have my mouth wrapped around her wet cunt is unbearable. Pushing her dress up, I grab at her thong and rip it off. I plan on buying her a whole closet’s worth. Wasting no time, I’m in her, devouring her, tasting her sweet juices on my tongue. I suck so hard, I fear hurting her, but her thrashing under my hold tells me my little minx is enjoying herself. Her body starts to tighten, and I know she’s about to come on my mouth. The moment she explodes is pure ecstasy for me. That doesn’t stop me from sucking until long after her tremors have settled. She melts in my grip, but I’m nowhere near done with her. I pull away, removing my clothes. She starts to climb up, but I stop her.

“Not so fast. I want you on the bed. Turn over. Kneel.” My demands are immediately met. She flips her body and gets on all fours, sticking her ass out at me. God help me I don’t lose control and take this too far. Undoing my belt, I drop my pants, and my cock flies out hard as stone.

I grab onto her hips, pulling her to my dick. Her little moans tell me she’s anticipating what’s in store. Well, that makes two of us. “Tell me what you want,” I taunt, pressing the top of my cock into her wet opening. She moans again and grinds her ass into me. If she doesn’t watch it, my dick is going to go in her ass instead.

“I want you to fuck me,” she purrs. Dammit, she fucking purrs. My dick jolts, wanting deep inside her. Her ass is fucking with me, and I need to concentrate. “Do you want me to beg? I will, I’m horny and wet and I want your cock so far up me, I can feel you choking my throat—”

I slam so hard into her, she chokes on the last of her words. She turns me on so bad, I can’t take it. I pull out and slam just as hard—if not harder. Grabbing her ass cheeks, I dig my fingers hard into her skin and ride her, each moan giving me the fuel to take her rougher. Deeper.

“Oh, fuck yes, deeper.”

Jesus, she’s perfect. I raise my hand and slap her ass hard enough to leave an immediate welt. She groans, squeezing around me. A long, pleasurable moan follows, and I want to spank her ass until her entire cheek is red with my mark. In and out. Harder and rougher. My mind is clear. All I care about are the sounds falling from her mouth. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve spanked her. How many times she’s begged me to go deeper. I suck a finger into my mouth, then bring it to her back hole. Without a second thought, I shove the digit in her ass.

“Oh, my fucking God!” Her foul-mouthed curse mixed with a moan has me swelling to max capacity inside her. I’ve never been so turned on. So hard. So thick with the need to take everything from her and make her mine. She pushes hard against my finger, encouraging me. I pull out and shove it back in, that sweet moan filling the room.

“You like that, you naughty minx?” I pull my cock out and punch it back, along with my finger. In and out in unison, I become lost in the moment. I swear, the next time I take her, it’s going to be in that sweet ass of hers.

Her pants shorten as she clenches around me, crushing my cock.

“Oh, oh. Oh!”

“FUCK.” My orgasm takes me by surprise, blasting through me so fast, I almost lose my footing. My knees threaten to buckle as I try to pump into her one more time, spilling every last ounce of cum deep inside her.