I moaned, slipping my fingers into his denim and underwear and clutching his ass as I opened my legs wider for him. “What are we doing?”

“Exactly what I promised myself I’d never do again. Fucking without a condom.”

He chuckled, kissing my lips, then my cheek, then my forehead. His lips met my ear and whispered what I knew would be his last words for a long time, “Remember, Edie, don’t beg.”

Then he flipped me over, my stomach pressed against the hay, my ass in the air. It was so quick, I didn’t have time to fathom the fact he tore my panties off of my body. They ripped at the seam on one side, and I cried out at the sudden discomfort, clutching the stack of straw, trying to whip my head around and see what he was doing. He quickly grabbed my jaw and turned it so I faced the floor.

Then he shoved one, two…three fingers into my pussy, one after the other. He curled his middle finger, immediately hitting my G-spot. He thrust cruelly, making me squirm, every bone in my body screaming at me to get away.

Don’t beg. Don’t ask for more. I already wanted too much.

My spine was a candlewick, melting slowly and hotly. My first climax felt wild, unnatural. Like I was bursting at the seams, my body like a too-tight corset. Pop, pop, pop, muscles tensing, belly-clenching, toes curling, every organ in my body—his. The warmth was unbearable. Too much and not enough. I was going to explode into little atoms, into minuscule cells, and the worst part was that with Trent, I knew he wouldn’t put me back together afterwards.

Shaking like my body wasn’t mine anymore, I came on his fingers, feeling myself dripping. He pulled out his hand, wiping all of my arousal on his cock, which he fisted in his palm.

With one flexed movement, he pulled me up on all fours, guiding his cock to my rectum. I flinched before it even got there.

“You’re making me crazy,” he said.

“You’re making me unhinged.” I grinned, my cheek pressed against the hay. I felt his bare tip poking at my backside and clenched on instinct. He brushed his finger against my puckered hole softly. “You’re filthy.”

“Relax for me, Edie.”

I tried, feeling the head of his cock again. It was completely lubricated with my arousal. He coated it by stroking himself up and down. At first, it was just the tip. Then the pressure shot up to my lower back, but I bit down my lip and waited for the good part.

“You’ve ruined me,” I muttered, when another inch, and then another rolled into my burning hole. I didn’t enjoy it. It felt horrible. Like he was going to rip me apart.

“You’ve fucked me up pretty good, too,” he retorted, pushing all the way in. He settled there, and I bit into the hay, feeling its bitterness bite back. My fingers clutched the dirt.

He kissed my ear, my cheek, licking a lone tear of pain away. “Next time you make a joke about someone else fucking you, just remember I own every single hole in your body, including the one I’ll leave in your heart when I’m done.”

When he moved inside me at first, I thought he was pouring gasoline into my ass and lighting a match. But after six or seven thrusts, I relaxed, getting used to his big cock inside of me. That’s when he snaked his hand around me, pinching my clit softly, borrowing some of my wetness from my pussy and playing with it.

“Ahh.” I closed my eyes, getting lost in his touch against my sweet spot.

He kicked my legs farther apart, making me open up as a result. He pounded into me, paying close attention to my clit now. My elbows were shaking. God, yes. It felt so much fuller, and intimate, and crazier than what I’d ever experienced.

“Shit, you’re tight. I’m gonna come.”

It felt oddly comforting to have him filling me from behind. Especially as he had one of his hands all over my pussy—filling me from both ends—and how he clutched my waist, squeezing it extra hard every time my legs quivered so bad I was about to fall down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Jesus,” I moaned, feeling a smile on my lips.

He yanked my hair, making me arch. My shoulders met his clothed torso and he bit at the tip of my ear. “I knew you’d beg. You’re so weak for me, Edie. So fucking gone.”

“Do it,” I hissed.

He came inside me, and I came on his hand…

The drive to the hospital was littered with silence and my moving around to try to soothe my sore butt. No more words were spoken. In fact, the only gesture he’d made before I poured out of his car was squeezing my thigh with a hand that still smelled very much like me.

Trent nodded to me in assurance, and I scrunched my nose—because that was my thing.

“We need to stop,” I said.

“So stop.” He shrugged.

“I will,” I lied, getting out of his car. I couldn’t miss his laughter. It rang in the air long before he drove off.

A week later.

“YEAH. PALM SPRINGS. I KNOW. A driver will be waiting for them downstairs.” I jammed my finger into my temple, rolling my eyes and pretending to shoot myself. Dean, sitting at the chair opposite to me, was chuckling, rolling a joint between his fingers. No fucking way. I was not smoking downstairs with him. Not on my office patio, either. I had too much shit to do.

I paused again, listening to the person on the other side, before responding.

“It’s a one-month program, and for all I care you can chain her to the fucking bed and let her piss and shit into a bowl. She’s not running away this time. This woman needs to get well.”

So that Edie will be happy, I didn’t add.

I hung up, taking a long breath and loosening my tie. Dean cocked his head, placing the joint above his ear. Dudebro move, then again, every single thing in the world had the potential to piss me off these days. I wanted to put the Jordan Van Der Zee shit on lockdown, because it was starting to become evident I couldn’t, for the life of me, stop seeing his daughter. And it was ironic, how I was trying to get her mom off drugs when Edie became my very own addiction.

“Luna started young. I don’t think my kids will touch drugs before ten,” Dean commented on my phone conversation.

“Hey, dickface, here, you dropped your sense of humor.” I groaned, scratching my cheek. “The rehab is for Lydia Van Der Zee. Since her husband is too busy to help her and I can’t really ask Rina to do it for me because that’d lead to questions,” I explained.

“Questions to which their answers are yes, I am fucking his daughter, why, I’m glad you asked, yes, we did it in the office, too, and of course, I want a bullet to my head. That’s why I did it in the first place.” He tapped his chin, like he was waiting for me to throw a fist in his smug face.

I got up and sauntered over to the bar by the window, grabbing two bottles of water for him and me. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood,” I noted coolly.

“I’m in the best mood. You finally have a girlfriend.”

“Incorrect. And even if it wasn’t, don’t repeat that outside these walls,” I shot quickly, chugging the majority of my drink.

“If you’re not her boyfriend, then why the fuck are you admitting her mother into a rehab facility? You taking a side job as Mother Theresa?”

Glancing at my watch, I asked myself whether today would be the day she’d finally show up in the fucking office and spare me the agony of walking these hallways without seeing her perky ass in another ill-fitting number she’d stolen from her mom. Even if I never looked at her when she was noticing, I did look. She was my fuel for the rest of the day. She was what kept me going.

“Mmm?” I hummed at Dean, still not committing to answering him. He leaned forward, stroking the J he plucked from behind his ear in long motions.

“What is she to you, man? Why are you helping her so much?”

“Because she needs help, and because her dad will never give it to her.”

Jordan hadn’t missed a day of work in the week Lydia had been in the hospital. He even stayed late most evenings to catch up on work. The relationship between us had escalated to the point where I no longer pretended like he didn’t make me sick, and he no longer acted like he was indifferent toward me. We openly hated each other, and it dripped from every glance and encounter we’d shared.

I locked my office every single day. The unattended, full trash bin had already started smelling like leftover protein shakes and stale coffee, but at least the fucker didn’t have access to my shit when I wasn’t there.

“Speaking of Jordan…” Dean got up from his seat, walking over to the door, his bespoke blue suit so full of swag you’d think he was Conor McGregor. “Thought you should know, he is sniffing to buy one of us out, and he is offering the big bucks. He wants you gone, bro. Do you think he knows about you and Edie?”

Who the fuck knew? But the thing was, Jordan had wanted to get rid of me long before I drilled my cock into his daughter’s mouth, ass, and pussy. I tucked my hands into my pockets. “Probably not. He wouldn’t miss a chance making a scene or taunting his daughter.”

Dean gripped the door handle, swiveling to face me. “Well, watch your back.”

“When have I ever not?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent smoldering in my own wrath. I knew, logically, that my friends would never sell Jordan shit, which meant he was desperate, and I wondered—why? What the fuck had I done to deserve his hatred?

That day, I wasn’t The Mute. I was The Asshole, and I was holding that torch for dear fucking life. Even Vicious couldn’t take it from me. I yelled at Rina for bringing me the wrong sandwich for lunch—she’d been working with me for six months, what the fuck was so difficult to remember?—and fired an intern who’d accidentally sent a contract to the wrong client to sign. I fired her on the spot, without a hearing or even time to collect her things from her desk. I then proceeded to patrol the hallways, shooting ridiculous orders at random people, but it did nothing to soothe my anger.

Edie was still with her mother at the hospital. She said she might drop in to work, just to see me, but she didn’t.