“For fuck’s sake, this certainly wasn’t expected,” I grumble as I throw my shirt back on.

Did she not see them at Queens House? I ask myself, trying to remember.

It was dark and, unlike most sexual experiences, I spent most of my time on my fucking back, but …

My thoughts are disrupted by the sound of vomiting, which totally screws with my fucking ego.

Well, I tell myself as I head toward the stairs, you’ve already fucking given it your all. If she’s not into this, then I’ll certainly make her regret fucking with me. After all, I hold all the damn cards.

I see her leaning over the side of the boat, heaving, and feel a tinge of guilt for being annoyed by her.

I walk quickly to her and pull back her braids.

“Who did that to you?” she pants out before throwing up again. Actually, she throws up several times, and now I feel awful.

I was ready to tell her until receiving the reaction she’s having.

“I’m not sure I care to discuss it any further, Paige.” I hand her a tissue.

Wiping her mouth, she turns and looks at me. She’s fucking green.

“Are you …?” I pause because I would really like to know where the fuck I stand with her on this venture before adding anything else that may throw her for a loop, but fuck her if she is and didn’t tell me. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

“What?” she gasps then immediately turns around and throws up again.

When she’s finished, she makes her way to the gate to exit the boat.

“Wait just a damn minute, Paige.”

Before I can grab her, she’s on the dock and nearly running toward the marina. When I catch up to her, she nearly falls.

I grab her by the bicep, and she whimpers, “Please,” as she pulls to move forward. With her arm still in my hand, she walks into the marina and over to the couch where she collapses in a pile.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you need a doctor?”

“No,” she huffs, trying to catch her breath. She’s on all fours, and I swear I’m about to just take her ass, as promised, and leave. I’m pissed, but not that much of an asshole.

She grips the arm of the couch and one of her feet touches the ground.

I have no idea what to do for her. None. And yeah, I’m freaked the fuck out.

When my phone rings, I see the name Pace and answer it.

“She ask you to dinner?”

“No,” I answer.

“She was supposed to ask you to dinner.”

“I’m not too sure she’s going to be hungry anytime soon.”

Pace laughs. “Did you take her on your boat?”

Not that it’s any of his business, but whatever; he seems to be in my corner, so fuck it.

“Yes.”

“How long did she last?” He laughs again.

“Not too fucking long.” I see no humor in this, but again, I’m fucking trying.

“She turn pea green?”

“Yes.”

“She make it outside before she started throwing up?”

He’s laughing and pissing me off. This isn’t funny, not at all.

I say nothing.

“She’ll be fine in half an hour or so. Pea always is. See you both in an hour.”

He hangs up before I can decline … again.

Her breathing has evened out, and her face is no longer buried in the cushion. She turns her head and looks up at me.

“Who did that to you?”

I refuse to answer her until she answers me.

“Are you pregnant?”

“Pea,” she sighs out. “Like the color of a pea. I turn that color anytime I’m on a boat in an enclosed place. I get seasick.” She pushes herself to a seated position. “Imagine that, being the daughter of a fisherman and getting sick every time you’re out at sea.”

When I sit down next to her, she does the damnedest thing. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder and looking up at me.

“Tell me who hurt you.”

“The men who did this to me didn’t hurt me; they made me stronger,” I tell her.

She takes in several shallow breaths then says, “I want names.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to tell Sabato, and he’s going to do whatever he does.” She pauses and leans forward, holding her stomach.

Then I do the damnedest thing. I rub her back.

She ends up with her head on my lap, and I end up hard.

She sighs. “You’re really turned on right now?”

I lift one shoulder and nod.

“How?”

I shake my head. “No idea. You smell like vomit, you’ve been acting bitchy, but then sweet. I certainly shouldn’t be.”

She tries to sit up, but I hold her still.

“Your brother said half an hour and you’d be fine. Stay put.”

“I smell.” Her nose crinkles up in disgust.

“So what?”

Her eyes widen slightly. “It’s embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing is my cock is stone even when you smell and have acted like a brat.”

She closes her eyes and sighs, relaxing against my lap again.

“Your dick makes for an awful pillow.” Eyes still closed, she smirks.

“Deal with it. I have to deal with your current state.” I take one of her braids and rub my fingers over the end where her hair is loose.

“I’m supposed to ask you to come to dinner.”

“I know. Pace called.”

“He should mind his own business,” she huffs.

“Well, since I’m now directly involved in his business, I guess he feels it’s all right. He’s also your brother; I’m sure he’s a bit protective of you.”

“Do you have sisters or brothers?” she asks, rolling to her back and looking up at me.

I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“How would you not …?” She stops talking and begins to sit up.

I wrap my arm around her upper chest to hold her in place. “You’re still a bit green; stay still.”

She rolls her eyes. “I stink.”  She pushes at my arm, and I allow it.

Standing in front of me, she looks confused.

“I’m going to shower.”

I nod.

“Brush my teeth.”

I nod again.

“Then, if you want to go to dinner at my family’s house that’s nothing like Valentina’s, definitely nothing like Dominic and Laney’s, nowhere near—”

“It’s a home, Paige. Be happy you have one.”

“Vincent? Who did that—”

“Go shower, Paige.”

“Because I stink?”

I nod. “Yes.”

But that’s not why. It’s because I’m not sure if I give a damn that she smells a little like vomit, because the reality is, regardless, I want to make her come all over my face.

I watch as she walks to the back, opens a door, and then heads up the stairs. Then I stand and adjust my cock.

Trying to force myself to give an actual fuck about this place, knowing my main objective is currently upstairs naked, showering, I walk behind the counter and see an appointment book. I flip it open, finding a paperclip securing several pages together. Today’s date is displayed with three cancellations. I scratch my head, trying to will myself to give a fuck. I don’t. Then I close the thing and walk to the bottom of the stairs.

I grab the door jamb, trying to physically hold myself back, and then decide fuck it. Taking the stairs three at a time, at the top, I look around. It’s huge, open, in desperate need of updates, but it’s clean.

Clean.

I see three doors. One is open with the light on. I hear water running.

She’s in there.

Unbuttoning my shirt, I walk toward the open door, seeing her clothes are in a pile just over the threshold.

I push the door the rest of the way open as I unbutton my pants and push them down, along with my boxer briefs. Then I bend down to pull them off and hear the shower curtain move. I don’t look up until my pants are off and I step out of them.

Her eyes are wide and hungry, just like my cock.

As I step closer, she steps farther in, welcoming me.

I grab the body sponge that is in her hand and visibly watch goosebumps climb up her arm as I pull on it slightly for her to release it. She shakes her head and pulls it back slightly. Then she lifts it, sliding it across my collarbone as her wide, hungry eyes soften and she steps closer, closing the gap between us.

She runs the sponge across my pecs, and I close my eyes because this, this feels so fucking good. My chest warms from the inside as she rubs down my abs, then up again, slowly moving the sponge up my shoulders. Next, she pushes up on her tiptoes to scrub the back of my neck.

Her breath smells like mint, her nipples press against my chest, and my cock rests against her stomach. I want to kiss her, eat her, fuck her, come in her, but this, this feels really damn good, too.

I don’t ever remember a time when someone washed my body. Hell, I never even got into the whole massage thing like everyone else I know did.

I reach out and grab the end of her braids and take off the little rubber bands. Then I work my fingers into her hair to release it from those damn things. She moans when my fingers work her scalp. I tug her hair so her head tips back and the water showers down on her.

This is not helping my hard-on, I think as I watch water run from her head, down her neck, her shoulders, and over her fucking tits. Suddenly, I’m thirsty, thinking about how sexy it was drinking wine from them.

Water will have to do.

I bend down and take one nipple in my mouth while using my hand to knead the other, giving that side a tweak and a tug simultaneously, mimicking me sucking her nipple.

She whimpers, and her breaths become labored. I know she’s worked up enough that I can set her off easily and take what I have been craving since that fucking night.

I let her tit fall from my mouth, and she moans in protest. Then I grip her hips and push her against the wall before sinking to my knees, lifting one of her legs and burying my fucking face between them. I start feasting on her cunt.

She thrusts her hips and tangles her fingers into my now drenched hair.

I release her hips, knowing she will take what she wants, and I will learn more about what it takes to get her there.

Reaching up for her tits, I grip them hard, inwardly scolding myself. I start to release them when she covers my hand with hers and squeezes harder.

Fuck yes.

I look up at her while still licking and sucking every slick fold, feeling her body tense and shake. She moans then cries out as I lick and suck every fucking delicious part of her cunt. I want to know how to get her off in seconds, and I want to know how to make her beg for a release only I can give her.

Over and over, I repeat every fucking move and take note of every fucking reaction I get, branding it into my memory so that I am a walking, fucking Wikipedia entry for Paige Arnesen’s cunt on a fucking members-only database where I’m the one and only member.

“Vincent, please,” she begs, grinding her bare pussy against my face.

I shove my tongue deep inside, feeling her walls contract around it while releasing one of her tits and rubbing my thumb quickly up and down over her clit until she comes harder than she did in that fucking dungeon.

Her body is trembling as she leans back.

I quickly capture her ass in my hands, needing to keep her pussy against my face. Leaning forward, I ensure it stays put while she leans against the shower wall.

Her eyes are closed as she blindly searches for the knob to turn off the water, her tits bouncing a bit with each move she makes.

Rubbing my nose back and forth, inhaling her post-orgasm smell, I watch her inhale as a small smile forms on her face.

Leaning back on my heels, I only just realize the tub has filled, nearing my hips.

When she finally opens her eyes, she looks at my lips, then down to my erection.

I force myself to push myself up, ignoring my need, and step out.

“Vincent?”

“We have places to go.” Taking a towel off the rack, I turn around and hold it open for her. “Come on.”

Stepping out, she eyes me skeptically. “You don’t …?”

“I’ve dreamed of eating your pussy again since the moment my mouth left it last. You’ll come back here after dinner so I can bury my cock inside you.”

She looks over her shoulder at me, looking a bit shocked.

“What?”

“Did you buy my family’s company just so you can eat me again?”

I shrug and smirk. “Could have been part of the reason.”

I wrap the towel around her and start to dry her off. Well, I dry her tits off anyway.

She reaches back, seeming perfectly comfortable with me doing the drying, and grabs a nearby towel to begin drying her hair.

I’m a little miffed by it, and when she looks back at me, she can tell.

“What?”

Her not being able to see the little green monster inside means she doesn’t harbor it, not for me anyway.

“How many men have you …?” I snap my jaw shut, feeling completely fucking stupid. Turning from her, I hiss, “Fuck!”

“Slept with? Showered with? How many men have I what, Vincent?” Her voice is a mixture of confusion and amusement.

I feel so fucking stupid. So fucking ridiculous.

I grab my clothes from the floor and step toward the door when an arm and another holding a towel wraps around me.

“How many men have I what, Vincent?” Her voice is different now, raw even.

“Fucking washed,” I sneer.

The towel she holds in her hands now dries my wet skin, and as she touches her lips to my back, she whispers against it, “None.”

I feel myself relax as she moves her hands slowly up and down my abs while placing soft kisses over my back. Those kisses are placed with purpose. Regardless of how jealous I feel, or fucking crazy this whole thing is, or how fucking fucked-up and insecure I can allow myself to be, I know what I want, why I want it, and how I will make it happen.

“And no one again.”

She drops her hand lower and grabs my dick, squeezing it, and pretty damn hard, too.

I reach down, like she did, and wrap my hand around hers, squeezing it even harder.

A sigh escapes her, and she kisses my back again, quicker kisses, all fucking over the scars.

“Who did this to you?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” I tell her, because it doesn’t. It’s over and done with—all of it.

“Does to me.”

“Why?”

When I feel her rest her forehead against my back, I look over my shoulder.

She looks up and shrugs.

“Why?” I repeat myself, this time looking at her and wanting to see it in her fucking eyes.

Anger flashes in them. Then it is replaced by sadness. “Because I wanna do it to them.”

“Why?” I ask, pushing, seeking affirmation to what I know down deep is there.

I turn around and lift her chin so she’s looking at me.

When she looks down, I tell her why. “I learned something a long time ago that has stuck with me my entire life.”

She looks up at me.

“When you are used to getting hurt, you push away anything that may have the power to hurt you again.”

She nods. “There’s safety in that.”

I nod slightly. “I’m giving myself one more moment in whatever time I have left on this earth to take the power back, hoping my biggest weakness can become my greatest strength.”