Chapter 21

Grant

I took it too far. I took it way too far. The problem with hindsight was that it only gave insight on a mistake after the mistake was made.

My plan for Kendra made perfect sense in my head. I wanted to push her boundaries, the way I’d been forcing her out of her comfort zone since I’d hired her at Luscious. And I wanted her to know how she made me feel, to know how much she hurt me. And more than that, how much she still hurt me. Every time I thought of her with Brody, it was like a knife to my stomach. The wound from high school had never fully healed, and she kept tearing that wound open, even now. Or at least, that was what I thought.

That was why I blind-sided her with taking a mold of her pussy for a new line of toys. If she wanted to get fucked by other guys like Brody, this was the perfect way to make that happen. It was my way of getting that point across to her. She got the point, all right.

And more than that, I thought treating her like shit would make me feel better and put me back in a position of power. But it didn’t. I felt terrible when the two of us entered that room. The chair sat in the room like a medieval torture device. The four men stood around her, touching her and judging her. They stared at her like a piece of meat and then treated her like one. What the hell had I been thinking?

My actions had been cruel and heartless. In my desire to assert dominance over Kendra, I’d crossed a line we might never come back from. No amount of apologizing would be enough to smooth over what I’d done, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try. I owed her that much, even if she would never forgive me.

I just hoped Kendra would come back to the room soon.

She had every right to slap me in the face. And she had every right to storm from the room in anger. Hell, if she picked up a chair and broke it over my back, I wouldn’t have held it against her. I deserved all of that and more.

My biggest fear now was that Kendra was in trouble. I didn’t chase her after she left. She was too mad at me for that. If I went after her, even if I tried to apologize, she’d just think I wanted to control her again. She’d have gotten even angrier with me, just making things worse. So I let her go.

But now I feared letting her wander around in an unfamiliar city was another mistake on my part. I worried about her. I opened a bottle of whiskey after she left. It slid down my throat like liquid fire, but the pain felt good. Like I deserved it after what I’d done to her. I wanted to smother my worries with a drunken haze, but the more I drank, the more I worried. I opened the door between our rooms and left it open. Then, I propped myself up on a chair to wait for her to come back. If she came back.

I called her phone, but she didn’t answer. I considered going out to look for her, but that would be pointless. She could be anywhere in Atlantic City by now. Chances were, she had no idea where she had gotten to. That brought me back to my original fear. I hoped that she was okay.

I also hoped that she would forgive me. When she came back, I’d have to do all I could to make her forgive me. I would prove to her that I knew I was wrong and beg her to accept my apology. If I had to, I’d get down on my knees. Whatever it took.

I should destroy that gummy mold. It had been a stupid mistake to make her do it in the first place. Jealousy stabbed my chest while I watched those men paw over her like that, even though I was the one that hired them. My heart felt like it was being crushed with every passing second as I saw the look of disgust on her face.

I had to erase the result of my huge mistake. The mold would be destroyed. I’d let her do it herself, if she needed to. To prove that I knew I made a mistake. I just hoped that she was okay.

It was late at night when she finally returned. I’d lost track of time in my drunken state, but I guessed it was well past midnight. Hours and hours after she had stormed out. By that point, I had downed the entire bottle of whiskey.

She probably hoped I’d be asleep by now. She crept into her room and closed her own door softly behind her. She didn’t expect the door between our rooms to be open, and she certainly didn’t expect me to be sitting there, waiting for her.

She tried to hide her shock at seeing me. She refused to make eye contact with me as she powered across her room, heading to the door like she wanted to slam it shut. I jumped to my feet and charged toward the door. I got there first. My hand closed around the door and pushed it open. She couldn’t ignore me now.

“What do you want?” she snapped, glaring at me.

“I want to talk to you,” I said, stepping into the room. I was a little tipsy and not even close to being in control of myself. I should have waited until the next day before trying to apologize, but alcohol mixed with love makes a man do crazy things.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” she shot back. She didn’t bother trying to push me out. Instead, she simply turned and retreated back into her room.

“Just let me explain,” I said as I followed her. “If you let me explain—”

“No amount of explaining will change what happened,” she said. “Or what you did to me.” She began undressing, but not in a sensual way. It was more like she was tired and wanted to get out of her dirty clothes. She wore a white blouse and jeans, and her hands unbuttoned her top.

“I know I can’t change what happened, but still,” I said, trying to focus through my intoxicated state. “You have to understand that it was a mistake.”

“Oh yeah? Like you slipped and let those men do that to me? I almost feel bad for you.”

By that point, her top was completely undone. It billowed out around her, offering me glimpses of her breasts, contained within a black bra. It was distracting, to say the least. The fact that I was drunk didn’t help matters either. “What are you doing?”

“I want to go home,” she said andunzipped her jeans. “I want to leave first thing tomorrow morning. No hanging around. No breakfast. The moment we wake up, you are taking me home.” She wiggled out of her pants and dropped them to the floor around her ankles. After that, she shrugged out of her top. It also fell to the floor.

“Okay, fine,” I agreed, trying my hardest not to stare at her. It was difficult, though. In a black bra and panties, she looked breathtaking as always. Her curves were fire. The black thong she had on strained against them. She traced her finger over it, as if considering taking that off, too.

But she didn’t. She turned and headed toward the bathroom instead. For a moment, I watched her go. Licking my lips as her booty bounced and jiggled behind her. And then, without even realizing it, I followed her.

Into the bathroom I went. By the time I got in there, her bra was off and the shower was running. Steam slowly filled up the room. She kept her back to me, dropping the bra to the floor by my feet. I craved for her to turn around so I could see her gorgeous breasts. I wanted them in my hands, in my mouth.

I loitered in the doorway, staring at her, and she turned around to close the door. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked when she saw me. Her breasts were still out, she didn’t bother to cover them up or hide them. It may have been the alcohol, but I was sure that she wanted me to stare at them. In fact, I was sure that she wanted me.

“I’m apologizing,” I said, closing the door behind me. As it closed, I turned back and locked it, shutting the two of us in the bathroom. Steam continued to pour from the shower, building around us. Alone. Together.

“And how are you planning on doing that?” she asked. She leaned back, putting both hands on the counter behind her. Again, it may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn that she was pushing her pussy out, pointing it toward me. I knew what I had to do. I knew what she wanted me to do.

So far, our entire relationship had been about me. Every time we had been together, it had been in service of my needs and my desires. I had told myself that was fine and that she enjoyed it as much as I did. But it was finally time to return the favor.

I stepped into her, pressing my body up against her. She didn’t move. She didn’t push me away. For a moment, we stared at one another in silence. Our faces a mere inch apart. I could feel her warm breath on me. I could feel her moist pussy, pressing up against my hard cock.

I leaned in and kissed her on the neck. Again and again. They were soft, tender kisses. Each time I brushed my lips over her skin, her body quivered. I could feel the response. I kissed her on the neck again before moving down.

I kissed her chest, then licked at her breasts and nipples. I moved from the right nipple to the left, kissing and biting them. I delighted in the way her nipples hardened in my mouth.

Once they were ready, I moved down even further. Dropping to my knees, I kissed down her stomach and traced a line with my tongue toward her belly button, keeping it wet. I kissed and licked toward the top of her panty line, not even bothering to pull them down as I moved my tongue around it.

Her hand ran through my hair, and she let out a soft moan, urging me forward. She knew what I was going to do, and she wanted it. I could feel it in her breathing. I could see it in the way her plump lips quivered.

With both hands, I gently peeled her thong off her. She arched her hips, allowing me to pull it down to her ankles. On my knees, my mouth was less than an inch from her lips. I kissed around them, pinching her thighs with my teeth, licking her everywhere but where she wanted me.

It was only when she was ready, when she was just about to scream out and beg for me to finally do it, that I plunged my tongue inside of her.