her death, Amika sits on the edge of my bed. She’s five or six years older than me. Over the years, we’ve fucked here and there. My specialty is casual relationships, best for me. Considering what happened with Georgie, I will never again stray from the success of flings and meaningless fucking.
“I’ve brought you something to eat.” Amika nods toward the sitting room, her brown eyes alive with heat and mischief, not caring at the lameness of her double entendre. “Do you want me to serve you?”
Need she ask? “Fuck food for now.” She wasn’t referring to food in the first place, but she enjoys my orders. I crook my finger at her and drop my towel. “Come here.”
Standing, she unbuttons her dress, the hem flirting with indecency, before pushing it over her shoulders and allowing it to drop to the floor. The sight of her nude body hardens my cock. Her tits swing as she walks toward me. When she reaches me, she fists my dick, stands on her tiptoes and kisses me.
She smells divine, like sweet lavender and hot pussy, and tastes like mint. The feel of her womanly curves pushes away the memory of the discomfort of solitary confinement. The air in my jail cell was stale and oppressive, worsened by the scent of human waste.
All atrocities I suffered thanks to Georgiana. The thought of her urges me to deepen the kiss with Amika.
“Sloane, please.”
Georgie’s words to me the night we met. Her image rises in my head, haunting me.
Taunting me.
Growling, I wrap my hand around Amika’s, encouraging her to stroke my prick. She had been, but, somewhere along the way she halted. Her hands are firm, her warm fingers sure in their movements.
“I love you.”
An innocent declaration from Georgie that I believed.
“Please, please, don’t do this. Don’t send me away. Please. I love you.”
My nostrils flare at the memory of Georgie’s desperation the last time I saw her. I pull away from Amika’s mouth to lick her nipple, clutching her ass in my hands.
“ Please, please, don’t do this.”
Fuck her! I squeeze my eyes shut, searching for the words from her interview, the ones where I’ll strengthen my hatred for her and justify fucking a woman I don’t want.
Determined, I thrust my cock against Amika’s belly.
“ I love you, Sloane.”
Georgie has taken up residence in my head. I can’t fuck her away. I can’t will her away. I can’t hate her away. As much as my dick aches to come, my heart—my head, I mean—rebels.
Releasing Amika, I step back and wipe the taste of her tongue from my mouth. “I’m not in the mood for you.”
Her eyes widen and hurt crosses her face before her gaze drops to my stiff cock. “You’re always in the mood, sir.” Sir. Amika calls me ‘sir’ and ‘mister’ out of habit, and as a show of respect to her boss’s son. I’ve given her money. I’ve eaten her cunt. I’ve used her for my own pleasure. But I’ve never given her the respect she deserves, because I’ve never given myself respect.
Tired from the turmoil of the past seven days, I rub a hand over my face. My stomach growls. Being under my father’s roof again makes me restless. Still, nothing compares to how unsettled I am being in the same city as Georgie and unable to see her. Disquieted by my fury and sense of betrayal, I convince myself I hate her.
My stomach growls again.
“Would you like your meal now, Mr. Sloane?” Amika’s dressed again, her mouth swollen from my kisses. “I can bring the cart in here if you’d prefer.”
The prospect of real food brings a small smile to me. “I’ll prepare my plate and eat in the sitting room.”
She hesitates and shifts her weight. “Do you need me to suck your cock?”
I always need a dick suck, but a sickness invades me. I don’t want her to touch me. The malady began months ago. When I left for Europe knowing Georgie was carrying my baby, I sought to protect my own ass. I’d broken Helen’s rules, slept with Georgie, and gotten her
“I’ve brought you something to eat.” Amika nods toward the sitting room, her brown eyes alive with heat and mischief, not caring at the lameness of her double entendre. “Do you want me to serve you?”
Need she ask? “Fuck food for now.” She wasn’t referring to food in the first place, but she enjoys my orders. I crook my finger at her and drop my towel. “Come here.”
Standing, she unbuttons her dress, the hem flirting with indecency, before pushing it over her shoulders and allowing it to drop to the floor. The sight of her nude body hardens my cock. Her tits swing as she walks toward me. When she reaches me, she fists my dick, stands on her tiptoes and kisses me.
She smells divine, like sweet lavender and hot pussy, and tastes like mint. The feel of her womanly curves pushes away the memory of the discomfort of solitary confinement. The air in my jail cell was stale and oppressive, worsened by the scent of human waste.
All atrocities I suffered thanks to Georgiana. The thought of her urges me to deepen the kiss with Amika.
“Sloane, please.”
Georgie’s words to me the night we met. Her image rises in my head, haunting me.
Taunting me.
Growling, I wrap my hand around Amika’s, encouraging her to stroke my prick. She had been, but, somewhere along the way she halted. Her hands are firm, her warm fingers sure in their movements.
“I love you.”
An innocent declaration from Georgie that I believed.
“Please, please, don’t do this. Don’t send me away. Please. I love you.”
My nostrils flare at the memory of Georgie’s desperation the last time I saw her. I pull away from Amika’s mouth to lick her nipple, clutching her ass in my hands.
“ Please, please, don’t do this.”
Fuck her! I squeeze my eyes shut, searching for the words from her interview, the ones where I’ll strengthen my hatred for her and justify fucking a woman I don’t want.
Determined, I thrust my cock against Amika’s belly.
“ I love you, Sloane.”
Georgie has taken up residence in my head. I can’t fuck her away. I can’t will her away. I can’t hate her away. As much as my dick aches to come, my heart—my head, I mean—rebels.
Releasing Amika, I step back and wipe the taste of her tongue from my mouth. “I’m not in the mood for you.”
Her eyes widen and hurt crosses her face before her gaze drops to my stiff cock. “You’re always in the mood, sir.” Sir. Amika calls me ‘sir’ and ‘mister’ out of habit, and as a show of respect to her boss’s son. I’ve given her money. I’ve eaten her cunt. I’ve used her for my own pleasure. But I’ve never given her the respect she deserves, because I’ve never given myself respect.
Tired from the turmoil of the past seven days, I rub a hand over my face. My stomach growls. Being under my father’s roof again makes me restless. Still, nothing compares to how unsettled I am being in the same city as Georgie and unable to see her. Disquieted by my fury and sense of betrayal, I convince myself I hate her.
My stomach growls again.
“Would you like your meal now, Mr. Sloane?” Amika’s dressed again, her mouth swollen from my kisses. “I can bring the cart in here if you’d prefer.”
The prospect of real food brings a small smile to me. “I’ll prepare my plate and eat in the sitting room.”
She hesitates and shifts her weight. “Do you need me to suck your cock?”
I always need a dick suck, but a sickness invades me. I don’t want her to touch me. The malady began months ago. When I left for Europe knowing Georgie was carrying my baby, I sought to protect my own ass. I’d broken Helen’s rules, slept with Georgie, and gotten her
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