AN INNOCENT OBSESSION

Jessa Kane

Copyright © 2019 Jessa Kane

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CHAPTER ONE

Emery

I can’t breathe.

I can’t stop shaking.

Today is the day. It’s happening. I never thought I would come within a hundred yards of the man I love beyond reason and accountability, but today I will.

Clarke Carroway is…

No, there are no words to describe him. Not a single one that would do him justice.

I stare into the mirror and try to control my breathing, watching my friend Karen twist a braid into a blonde crown on my head. Does Clarke like braids? I know so much about him. Practically everything. His preferred brand of toothpaste, the color of his bedsheets, the fact that he keeps packets of sugar in the pocket of his dress pants and forgets to take them out.

Yes, these are the perks of being a house cleaner for the obscenely rich.

Scrubbing floors is not my only job, though.

Twice a week, I volunteer in the file room at Carroway-Silver, a corporation that has revolutionized the renewable energy industry. Clarke sits at the helm of the company he created and rules it with quiet authority, spending his days on the top floor of merely one of the skyscrapers he owns in New York City.

And while he’s behind that desk making multi-billion-dollar decisions, I do very bad things. Inexcusable things that could not only lose me my cleaning job but get me in trouble with the police. Can I help needing to be close to Clarke any way possible, though? No. Every single time, I tell myself I shouldn’t take off my clothes and writhe about in the expensive sheets that smell of musk and male. I try so hard to stop myself, but as soon as I catch a whiff of his scent, I find myself crawling in, desperate to be near him in some small way. I shudder to think what would happen if my supervisor caught me.

Or Clarke.

What would happen if he walked in and caught me naked in his sheets?

“What in God’s name are you thinking about, Em?” Karen chuckles as she puts the finishing touches on my new hairstyle. “Your cheeks are bright red.”

I press my cool palms to my face and once again remind myself to inhale, exhale. “I just can’t believe I’m going to be inside his office. He’s going to be so close.”

In the mirror’s reflection, I watch Karen cast a glance around my tiny bedroom. At the pictures I have taped to the walls. Pictures I had no right to take. “You know well enough what Clarke Carroway looks like. The sight of him shouldn’t shock you.”

“I’ve never been this close,” I whisper, running my hands down the front of my blue, thrift shop dress, wishing it was nicer. Newer. “What if he…looks at me? What if I freeze?”

“You won’t,” Karen says, patting my shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Closing my eyes, I let Karen’s reassurances wash over me. What would I do without Karen? I’m nineteen years old and she should have kicked me out of the orphanage when I turned eighteen. But she let me stay—and thank God. I have nowhere else to go. I have some money saved from working two jobs, but my dream is to go to college. Karen has agreed to let me keep my room at the home until I’ve saved enough for a full year of classes.

“Tell me again why you’re going to be in Mr. Carroway’s office,” Karen says, pushing a bobby pin into my hair in that no-nonsense manner of hers. “I thought your coworker was the liaison between him and the records room.”

“Marion usually brings him the requested files, but she’s on vacation in Fort Lauderdale with her family.” Finally. It only took her a year. “So I’m bringing him the files while she’s gone.”

Karen narrows an eye at me in the mirror. “And this close proximity to Mr. Carroway wouldn’t happen to be the reason you applied for the file room job, is it?”

“It’s terrible of me, isn’t it?” I murmur. “Why can’t I get him out of my head?”

My friend humphs in her throat. “I still remember the first day you laid eyes on him. The gossip section of the newspaper, wasn’t it?”

Heart fluttering, my gaze drifts over to the glossy clipping affixed to my wall. In the fading picture, Clarke is crossing Fifth Avenue, a black overcoat flapping behind him in the wind. Oh, he’s beautiful. Harshly masculine, tall, commanding, robust. His dark hair twists around his head in the breeze, a groove of annoyance between his black brows. That’s what made my palms start to sweat the first time I saw the picture—his expression. Clarke Carroway didn’t have time for photographers or any other nonsense. He had an empire to run. And an iron fist with which to do it.

In my dreams, he rules me with that iron fist.

“Yes,” I breathe. “That was the first time I saw him. In the Sunday gossip section.”

“Your father had only dropped you off the week before, so you must have been…”

“Fourteen. I was fourteen.” My hands are still trembling as I apply a coat of balm to my lips and press them together. “It’s been five years, Karen. I should have put the infatuation behind me by now, but I can’t. I…think it’s even getting stronger.”

Karen gives me an assessing look. “Maybe you should leave the files to someone else?”

I should. I have no idea how I’ll react when the object of my obsession is mere feet away. Will I faint? Will I break into a giggling fit out of sheer nerves?

Worse, what if Clarke Carroway—the man who rules the fantasy world in my head—looks straight through me? I’m not sure my heart could withstand it.

Still, if I pass up this chance to be near him, I could regret it forever.

I reach over and pat Karen’s hand. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I push back my chair and stand, scrutinizing my reflection in the mirror. Normally, I would be wearing baggy clothes and my waist-length blonde hair would be tucked up beneath a hat. When I arrived on the orphanage doorstep, Karen took one look at me and declared I wouldn’t be safe on the streets alone and proceeded to help me hide my appearance. I’m not sure what she found so dangerous about how I look, but I trust my friend.

Today, however, I’m not hiding.

“Thank you, Karen,” I say softly, turning and pulling the older woman a fierce hug. “For finding me this dress and doing my hair. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Karen pats me on the back. “I just hope I don’t regret it.”

Half an hour later, I’m even more grateful for Karen’s presence in my life. On my subway ride to Carroway-Silver, several men attempt to speak to me. They give my body lecherous looks and don’t even attempt to hide it. Even the grandfatherly security guard in the Carroway-Silver lobby licks his lips and grunts as I flash my badge and pass through the metal detector, when normally he would have given me a friendly smile. By the time I get to the files room, my heart is rapping against my rib cage and I’m wishing I’d stuck with the baggy clothes. But I don’t have time to dwell, because before I know it, it’s time to bring the files to Clarke’s office.

“Oh my God,” I manage, fanning my face and picking up the stack, holding it tight to my chest. He’s going to be right in front of me. Right there. “It’s really happening.”

Clarke

I press a thumb to the center of my forehead, attempting to lessen the pounding. How long is the conference call going to continue? Speaking to our product distributors or my research team is what I enjoy, but this? I’m not sure why the board of Carroway-Silver decided I required a publicist, but the woman doesn’t seem to understand I hate cameras. Her sole mission seems to be getting me in front of them as often as possible.

“Ms. Sterns, I have another call. Please email my assistant and I’ll discuss the interviews with her, but I can’t promise I’ll agree to any of them.”

“Oh, but Mr. Carroway! You’re simply amazing on camera.”

“It’s true,” chirps the second woman on the line, whose only function appears to be agreeing with the first woman. “She’s so right.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray for patience. When did my career become less about the technology and more about social media clicks? Progress is what I’m passionate about. Cultivating a better future through the use of clean energy.

My gaze ticks over to the picture on my desk. I’m a decade younger, standing in front of a hill covered in wind turbines. The man standing beside me in the shot, my late business partner, is shaking my hand, his expression brimming with optimism. He’s also a decade younger in the photo, but he would only live another three years. If Gary Sterling could see me now, stuck behind a desk, getting pitched on an Entertainment Tonight piece, he would never stop laughing. Can’t say I would blame him.

“If talking interviews aren’t your thing, Forbes has been begging me to run a feature. It would only require a quick photo session. Maybe, I don’t know, some of you in the gym pumping iron or hitting a speed bag—”

“Oooh,” chimes the other one. “I love that!”

“Or more serious shots of you could work? Checking operations in the field…”

The idea of being in the field makes me sit up straighter.

“If we sent you to Egypt for the shoot, you might even get hot enough to take off your shirt. Who says sustainable energy can’t be sexy?”

“No one says that!” says woman number two. “No one at all!”

All right, this is getting ridiculous. “I understand your job is to make Carroway-Silver more accessible, but please find me a way to do that without a camera in my face.”

“Um…” Nails drumming in the background. “How do you feel about a Reddit AMA—”

I don’t hear another word of the conversation.

One minute I’m in hell and the next, I’m convinced I must have died from boredom during the phone call, because there’s suddenly an angel in my office. She’s let in by my secretary, a small stack of files in her arms, and she stops in front of my desk, waiting. Shifting side to side, looking everywhere but me. Her blue eyes dance all over the goddamn office, but they refuse to land on me and I swear to God, I almost leap over the desk so I can clasp her face in my hands and demand—demand—she look at me.

Where did she come from?

There is no way, zero chance, I’ve seen this girl before. She must be new.

I’ve never seen anyone more extraordinary in my life.

The faded denim color of her dress matches her eyes almost perfectly. The sun from my office window is causing the deep gold of her hair to glow, having the same effect on her skin. Christ, she looks so fucking soft. Head to toe, but especially that mouth. It looks as though her lips are swollen from sucking the juice out of strawberries—and that thought makes my cock stiffen in my pants. No. She, as a whole, is doing this to me.

Never in my life have I reacted to a woman this way. In the past, I dated, but it became quickly apparent that my bank account attracted women I had nothing in common with. A lot like the publicist that continues to chatter on in my ear, others seem to latch on to me because of my persona. They want nothing to do with me. Who I am. I’m good for a flashy Instagram picture and fancy parties. To some people that’s enough, but not me. So it has been a long time since I’ve bothered with women at all. Leading to having my name on an annoying amount of Most Eligible Bachelor lists. Kill me now.

There’s another reason I haven’t dated in five years, though, isn’t there? I’m a realist, so I find it hard to admit that I’ve sensed…something. Someone. Hovering just at the edge of my world. It’s so hard to explain. Sometimes I turn a corner on the street or walk through the hallway of my home and I swear, there’s an elusive presence right at my fingertips that I can’t quite grasp. Somehow that presence is more real to me than anything else in my life.

Finally, finally, the girl’s eyes land on me and widen—and a sound escapes me.

My whole body reacts at once. My gut tightens, my lungs empty, I’m hard. I’m so fucking hard and hot, my cock is pressed to the underside of my desk.

“Shut the door,” I rasp at my assistant, who is still hovering in the doorway.

The publicist mistakenly assumes I’m talking to her. “What was that, Mr. Carroway?”

I slam the phone down into its cradle.

The girl and I stare at each other across my desk. I should stand, but I can’t. My erection would scare the hell out of her. Rightly so. It’s highly inappropriate, not to mention unprofessional. She’s just a girl trying to do her job and she’s turning me on so much, I’m unzipping my pants beneath the desk. Jesus, I can’t help it. She’s having an effect on me I can’t explain. As she stands there, innocently clutching the files to her breasts and blinking at me, I’m powerless to do anything but stroke my cock.

“What’s your name?”

She sucks in a breath and drops the files.

Thank God there is a panel of wood blocking the view, because she drops to her knees to gather the scattered papers and that’s all it takes. The sound of her knees hitting the carpet of my office makes me come. I bite down hard on my wrist as ropes of spend shoot from my cock, hitting the carpet with light thuds. Can she hear them? Why do I want her to? My fucking head is spinning. I can’t believe what I’ve done. What I want to do again. My dick is still semi-hard, despite the intensity of my climax, and demanding my attention.

No. It wants her attention. Wants to cram itself into the little hole between her legs.

Control yourself, Clarke. What the hell is going on here?

Doing my best to breathe and get myself back under control, I zip myself back into my pants and blot the sweat from my upper lip, just in time for her to stand again.

“I’m s-sorry, Mr. Carroway. I think…I-I think I mixed up some of the paperwork, but I can go back down to the file room and reorganize them.”

When I notice the sheen of tears in her eyes, it’s like a knife to the heart. Knowing I shouldn’t get any closer to her after displaying such a lack of control, I can’t help standing and rounding the desk. Comforting her is suddenly my life’s top priority. “Don’t worry about the files. Please.” Her face tilts up as I approach and I momentarily lose my train of thought. “Please don’t worry about a single thing. Ever again.”

“That’s impossible, don’t you think? Worrying makes us human.”

“Not you. Not anymore. I’ll worry for both of us.”

She tucks some hair behind her ear, a pink flush weaving up her neck. “You have the whole planet to worry about, Mr. Carroway. Let me fuss over a few files.”

I’m drawn closer, close enough to see her individual eyelashes. “What else do you worry about…”

“Emery Lake,” she whispers.

“Emery Lake,” I say, hoarsely—and I catch the files before she can drop them again. Never taking my attention off of her, because I physically can’t, I set down the stack, leaving nothing between us. I can’t stop my eyes from dropping to her sexy, little tits. They’re not on display and thank God, because I think I would fire every male in the building. Simply for having the nerve to be in the same office where even a hint of Emery’s cleavage was showing. Starting now, every man in my employ better run in the other direction when they see her coming. “What else do you worry about, angel?”

Those blue eyes evade me. “Oh, just the usual things.”

“Why do I think you’re fibbing?”

“Because you’re a genius,” she whispers, swaying toward me, before she catches herself. I watch in fascination as she mumbles under her breath, apparently attempting to gather herself. “I should really get back to the file room.”

“No.”

Her sweet, swollen lips pop open. “No?”

I clear my throat and make a useless attempt to get my animal instincts under control. The idea of her leaving this office and passing through an office full of men makes me want to rip my computer off the desk and throw it through the floor-to-ceiling window. This possessiveness is so unlike me, I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve never experienced it.

“I’ll escort you back to the file room,” I say, leaning down to inhale the scent of her hair. There’s something familiar about the note of magnolia I’m catching, but I can’t place it. “But I would really rather you stay here. With me.”

I must be losing my mind, because I don’t even realize I’ve crowded Emery up against the edge of my desk until our hips meet and a sob wrenches from her throat, that long mane of blonde hair tickling the desktop when her head falls back. “Mr. Carroway…” Her tits shudder up and down. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect you t-to…”

“To what? Touch you?” I drag my forehead down the curve of her throat, my mouth salivating over her skin. Jesus, it’s so flushed and flawless and smooth. “I didn’t expect this, either, angel. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Remind me I’m your boss and I shouldn’t be doing this. Tell me to stop.”

“No. Please no. But…oh God,” she says on a gasp, her thighs starting to shake where they’ve settled on either side of my hips. “I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“Never,” I mutter thickly, licking the fluttering vein at the base of her neck. “There’s nothing you could do in front of me I wouldn’t love.” My hands settle on her knees, thumbs circling once on the soft insides of her thighs—

She slaps a hand over her mouth and screams, her body shaking violently against mine. I have a moment of fear that I’ve inadvertently hurt this beautiful creature…but I realize quickly she’s having an orgasm. Not just any orgasm, though. She’s staring blindly up at me, teeth marks on her lower lips, legs dancing around me, body heaving. I’ve never seen anything more sensual or incredible in my life. I barely touched this girl and now she’s having a full-body climax, her back arching to show off her tight-peaked tits. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this gift from God, but I’m never letting her go. I’m not even sure I’m capable of letting her out of my sight.

Finished shaking, Emery covers her face with her hands. “Remember when you were eight and you thought hiding like this made you invisible?” she says, her voice uneven. “I really wish that was true right now.”

“Emery,” I rasp, letting my hands ride higher on her thighs and watching in fascination as her hands shoot to the edge of the desk, clenching around the wood, my barest touch almost seems to cause her sexual pain. “That was beautiful. You, angel, are so fucking beautiful.”

She searches my eyes. “Am I dreaming this?”

“I could ask myself the same question.”

Her nose wrinkles. “If I’m dreaming?”

A warm laugh is drawn out of me. “No, if I am.”

“Oh.” Her expression turns a little dazed, as if the relief of her orgasm is finally registering. “What do we do now?”

“There are two things I’d like to do.” The pressure in my cock is becoming unbearable and I reach down to adjust it, noticing Emery’s body as jerk as I complete the action, a moan tumbling out of her mouth. “All right, three things. I’d like to do three things, but I’m going to do two of them. For the time being.”

She nods and folds her hands in her lap, eager and adorable. “What are they?”

I press my lips together to trap a growl, but I end up letting it out as soon as my lips brush her ear. “I want to spread your legs apart and see the mess you just made for me in your panties.” A shudder passes through Emery and her fingers fly to the sides of my suit jacket, twisting in the material. “And then I want a desk brought in here. Starting now, you’ll be working in here with me.” My hands turn into fists on the desk. “Are there men in your life? Any men at all, Emery. Friends, brothers, a father…” I swallow a roar. “Boyfriends?”

“No. None.” I search her eyes to make sure she’s telling the truth as she continues, a small frown wrinkling her brow. “There is a man who operates the building elevator and—”

“And?”

“And the men who come down to the file room to request records.”

I swear to God I’m one second from beast fucking her on this desk, this need to possess is so strong. So rampant. “You will take my private elevator from now on, Emery. And no more file room.” I pick up the phone and bark the orders into my phone before hanging it up. “You’re my new assistant.”

She faints.

CHAPTER TWO

Emery

Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events?

I focus on denying my body its approaching orgasm, but it’s almost impossible with Clark’s hand on the small of my back. He’s guiding me through a restaurant I wouldn’t be able to afford in a million years, in my cheap thrift shop dress. Everyone is staring at me, some people even snapping discreet pictures with their cell phones. More than anything, I want to turn and hide inside the flaps of Clarke’s overcoat, but I put my chin up and bear the scrutiny. I won’t be anything less than proud to be at this man’s side.

Although…how am I at this man’s side?

I’m still not fully convinced this isn’t happening in one of my elaborate fantasies. It wouldn’t be the first time I got carried away with a daydream, after all. I once convinced myself so completely that I was Mrs. Carroway, I fell asleep in his bed and woke up in the darkness. I barely made it out before he was set to arrive back home.

The maître d’ slides a panel aside when we reach the rear of the restaurant and I cover my mouth with both hands. What greets my eyes is something out of a fairy tale. There is a small table in the center of the room. No windows. Candles flickering on bookcases and ledges everywhere. There must be hundreds.

“This room is all for us?” I breathe.

Clark’s hand travels up my spine, his fingers sliding into my hair. “It’s all for you, angel.”

How? I’m the girl that cleans his apartment. The girl who embellished her skills on her résumé to get a job, just so she could breathe the same air as Clarke Carroway. Just so I could travel the same hallways as him.

I hesitate at the edge of the room, thinking of my secret drawer full of his possessions. Little things I’ve pilfered over the years. If he knew who I was and what I’ve done, he wouldn’t be taking me out for a fancy meal. He’d be calling the police.

He would be disgusted with me.

“Angel,” he whispers against my temple. “You fainted in my office. If you hadn’t woken up within five seconds, we’d be at my physician’s office right now.” His lips brush me, and I squeeze my thighs together. “You promised you’d let me feed you in exchange for no doctor. That was the deal.”

I think of his panicked expression when I woke up. How he’d been mid-shout of my name. “I didn’t faint because I was hungry. It was just…a lot at once.”

“You’re telling me.” He guides me into the room and this time, I let him. “It’ll make me feel better if we get you something to eat.” My gorgeous boss—the man I’ve been stalking for years—turns to the maître d’. “Shrimp cocktail, two steaks, medium, and anything chocolate for dessert. As soon as possible. Thank you.”

I force myself to soak up the experience. The unbelievable reality of Clarke pulling out a chair for me, brushing the hair back from my shoulders, pouring me a glass of wine. Oh, crap. Pouring me a glass of wine. I can’t bring herself to lie to this amazing man about one more thing. “Um, Mr. Carroway?”

“Clarke.”

“Clarke,” I murmur, trying not to visibly relish his name on my tongue. “I’m not old enough to drink that.”

He pauses in the middle of pouring and raises an eyebrow at me. “Really.”

“Afraid so.”

Flickering flames make the shadows dance around on his face. “How many years until you are old enough to drink alcohol?”

“A little less than two.”

“You’re nineteen.” Clarke sets down the bottle and massages his forehead. “Christ.”

A pang catches me in the throat. “I’m too young for you.”

“Yes.” His eyes capture mine. “And I should be worried that your age isn’t making a damn bit of difference in how bad I want you, shouldn’t I?” He leans back in his chair like an indolent king and my loins turn heavy at the reminder that Clarke has another side. How many times have I seen the proof in photographs? This is the man who is forever poised on the edge of a growl, ready to scatter reporters with a dark glance. This is the man who I fantasize about creeping into my bed at night, telling me to keep quiet and hiking up my nightgown. “Come over here and sit on my lap, angel.”

Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. “What if I…you know. Again.”

He pats his leg. “Do you think I wouldn’t love going back to the office with your cream all over my thigh?” Something dark flashes in his eyes. “I’d visit every floor of the building so the other men could smell it.”

Clarke Carroway is attracted to me. I still can’t quite believe it. He wants my body. Badly, it seems. Again, my conscience niggles at me. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into. He doesn’t know I’ve been infatuated with him since I was fourteen. My body won’t let me deny his needs or wants, however, so I rise from my chair and move to stand between his outstretched thighs. As my belly trembles, I watch him wrap the hem of my dress in his fists. “You fainted before I got to see how well we soaked your panties.”

I have to hold his shoulders for support or I’m going to drop. “Y-you can look now,” I whisper, forgetting where I am for a moment. “You can do anything you want with me.”

His eyes flash to mine, but he doesn’t seem turned off. Or weirded out. On the contrary. He seems like he’s barely keeping himself restrained as he lifts the hem of my dress—and his jaw flexes. “New rule, angel. My rule.” He shakes his head. “You’re old enough to soak your underpants until they’re dripping wet, so you’re allowed a glass of wine.” I can’t stop trembling as he drags the sodden panties down my legs and tucks them into his jacket pocket. “Come here.”

I turn and sit on Clark’s thigh and it’s so high off the ground that my feet dangle between his calves. “Do you always make your own rules?”

“Yes.” He brings a glass of wine to my lips. I take a long sip and he does the same, before he sets it back down on the table. “Good?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Nineteen.” He blows out a breath and exhales it against my neck. “Why are you working in the file room instead of going to school?”

“I’m still working on saving the money.” Thinking about how much progress I’ve made between my file room job and cleaning houses, I smile. “I’m really close. This time next year, I’ll be entering the business program at Baruch.”

“Business?”

I raise a teasing eyebrow at his tone. “That’s right. I drop a couple of files and all of a sudden I don’t look business-y to you?”

“Maybe not with wine staining your lips and your panties in my pocket.” We laugh and he cups the side of my face. “But yes, angel. Of course I can see that.” For a moment, I swear he can see right through me. “There’s something about you…that tells me you can do anything. Where did you come from, Emery?”

Again, I find it impossible to lie. Even a little bit. I just want to hold on to this impossible moment with Clarke as long as I can. Who knows when it will end? In five minutes? Five hours or days? It can’t go on indefinitely. He’s a powerful man. Probably the only reason he hasn’t ordered a background check on me is because he refuses to let me out of his sight long enough to make the phone call. “I’m from here and there,” I whisper. “My parents aren’t around anymore—not for a while. I live with my friend, Karen.”

“How long have you been working at Carroway-Silver?”

“A year.”

“Please don’t tell me that.” He closes his eyes briefly, his hand traveling along the curve of my hip. “You’ve only been a few floors away. How is it possible I haven’t seen you?”

“I was just filling in while Marion is away.”

His brow knits together. “Who?”

“The woman who brings up your files. She’s my supervisor.”

Clarke’s mouth settles on mine and I brace, my heart shooting up into my throat. He’s finally going to kiss me and I’m never going to recover, but what glorious suffering it will be. “Thank God she went on vacation,” he whispers, his breath warming my mouth. “How is it possible I just met you, Emery? It feels like you’ve been mine forever.” He tastes me with a groaning interlocking of mouths, his tongue flicking my upper lip. “I’m afraid I’m going to be very selfish with you, angel.”

I stroke his jaw. “How so?”

His expression is apologetic yet firm. “You’re not going home tonight.”

“What?”

“My home is the safest place in the city.” He licks into my mouth and wrestles my tongue into a kiss. It must be painfully obvious I’ve never kissed a man before, but I think the pulsing ridge of flesh under my backside is a signal he doesn’t mind. What I learned about the male body, I learned from Karen. And I’m pretty sure her information comes from romance novels, so I darn well know what that hard flesh means. It means he wants me.

Urgently.

If he takes me home, I’ll spend the night in Clarke’s bed. With him, this time.

Huge difference.

Clarke’s hand finds my breast and rasps his palm over my nipple in a slow circle. I have to break the kiss in order to suck in a breath and I look down, watching him touch me in a trance. Not a dream. It’s not a dream.

“You’ve never taken a man inside this precious body of yours, have you, angel?”

“No.”

His knuckles clamp around my straining nipple, hard enough to send a jolt through me. “I’m going to be the first,” he growls, giving me meaningful eye contact. “I won’t rush you. If you want to sleep in my guest room until we know each other better, that’s what we’ll do. But I won’t sleep for a goddamn second until I’ve conquered your untested little pussy. It’s mine.”

An orgasm is rushing toward me, tightening the intimate muscles between my legs. They’re contracting and releasing and the more Clarke fondles my breasts, the more intense the buildup. “I don’t want to wait.”

Clarke’s nostrils flare and he yanks down the bodice of my dress, causing the tips of my breasts to pop free, red and puckered. “Good God, you’re perfect all over. Close to coming again, aren’t you, Emery?”

I nod vigorously, beginning to shake where I sit on his thigh. “I can’t help it. The way you’re looking at me…”

“How is that?” He sucks on my earlobe, letting it go with a pop. “Like I want to throw you face down over this table and lick your tight, pink asshole until you scream?”

“Clarke,” I moan.

“Turn and face me.” He lifts me by the hips and twists my body, urging me to wrap my thighs around his hips. “Good girl. Sit on my cock, angel. Ride it with your bare naked cunt.”

I can’t. I can’t do this, can I?

There’s no choice. As soon as the fullness of Clarke’s flesh presses to my constricting core, I’m powerless to do anything but fall forward against his chest and buck my hips. Vaguely, I sense Clarke covering me with his overcoat, hiding me from view. And just in time, because I hear the panel slide open, the buzz of voices, before they’re blocked out again. Plates are set down, one by one, on the table and I continue to writhe on his swollen erection. I can’t help it. Feels too good. Feels like I’m going to die if I don’t keep going.

Clarke’s hand finds my flexing backside beneath the overcoat and squeezes. “Your needs will be met first and always, Emery,” he rasps in my hair. “My angel needs to come, so I give her a place to rub her sweet, greedy clit. Simple as that.” When I pick up my pace, lights beginning to wink in front of my eyes, Clarke hisses a breath, using his hands to ride me on his lap in a punishing rhythm. “Ah, angel. If we were alone, my tongue would be buried so fucking deep inside you, I’d leave teeth marks on your pussy.”

His words only half make sense to me, but I know they’re dirty and illicit, and even though I can sense the waiter’s presence in the room, I cry out into Clark’s chest and shudder through a climax that robs me of brain power, my hips jerking up and back on that trunk of flesh that’s been offered for my pleasure.

I start to fall asleep afterward. How can I not? I’m cradled against the most magnificent man in the universe, his fingertips coasting up and down my spine. Before I can doze off, though, Clarke nudges up my chin and begins to feed me bites of food.

Being cared for like a child awakens another, secret part of me.

One I keep all to myself, not even telling Karen.

It’s twisted and wrong, but these urges and feelings have been with me since I was fourteen. When my father abandoned me at the orphanage, unable to care for me after my mother passed away, and I was cast adrift. Until I saw Clarke Carroway in the newspaper…and he became my imaginary caretaker. My disciplinarian. The man who comforted me when I was sad or praised me for being a good girl. One day, I stopped merely looking up to Clarke. I started to want him. On top of me. Using me. A lover and a caretaker. The two perceptions I had of this man twined together into something…forbidden.

I accept a bite of steak and chew it dutifully, a rush of pleasure and contentment washing over me when Clarke murmurs his approval and strokes my hair.

If only this could last forever.

My appetite wanes when I remember why it can’t.

Clarke is getting ready to take me home…and I’ve already been there thousands of times. Touched his things, stolen some of them, rubbed his boxers against my open mouth, down my body. I’ve kissed his pillows and sipped from open bottles in his fridge, euphoric in the knowledge that our mouths would touch the same place. I’ve watched him from afar, hidden in shadows, and cut his image out of countless magazines, newspapers.

He lusts for me now, but once he slakes that desire and the edge isn’t quite so sharp, he’ll want to know more about me. He’ll hunt…and while I’ve hidden my trail well, it’s only a matter of time before he finds out I’ve known him much longer than he’s known me.

I won’t be his angel for long.

After we finish eating and Clarke pays the bill, he holds my hand and walks me to his limousine waiting at the curb. He sits me on his lap in the backseat and kisses my face, my hair, his stroking hands coaxing another fire to life inside of me. One that will never go out.

It doesn’t occur to me until we exit the limo and we’re approaching the forty-story building where he lives that I could be recognized by the doorman. No, it’ll be fine. I look completely different today. Don’t I? The familiar gentleman opens the door, tipping his hat to Clarke, his eyes narrowing on me in speculation. Thankfully, he says nothing as we pass and then…it’s happening. I’m walking into Clarke’s home. Once again.

Only this time, he’s by my side. Wanting me there.

CHAPTER THREE

Clarke

I’m beside myself just watching her enter my home.

This is where she belongs.

If it wasn’t obvious from the moment I saw her in my office that she was mine, it would be now. The presence I’ve felt for the last five years in my apartment…it seems to be at rest now, just having Emery there. This place has been missing something all this time—Emery. My angel. She walks in through the door, her petite figure outlined by the city skyline view, and I want to kneel on the spot. Ask her to be my wife and never leave. Already, I’m anxious about tomorrow. What if she wishes to go somewhere without me? To see this Karen? I don’t want to smother her, but I’m afraid there’s no choice. The only way I’ll know she’s safe is if we’re in the same room, preferably touching.

Touching.

God, she turns me into an animal.

I’m stalking her as she floats through the penthouse, the blue dress molded her to delicious ass, her long hair swaying, tickling the small of her back. Self-control has never been a problem for me, but all of my willpower is being poured into not dragging her to my bed and fucking her mercilessly. I’ve got to get a hold of myself.

Any hope I had that sex with Emery would ease some of this relentless hunger I have for her…it’s gone. The way she rode my dick in the restaurant, her ankles smacking off the chair legs, fingernails digging into the back of my neck…I already know I’m in for a lifetime of obsessive need for this girl. I haven’t even been inside of her yet and I’m already desperate to fill her full of my seed again. Again. Again. Until she’s swollen with my child.

And look at her, innocently trailing her fingers along my hallway wall, no idea I’m barely leashing the beast she woke up inside me.

Soon enough, she’ll meet him.

Soon enough, I’ll meet him, too, since she’s the only one who has made him stir. I’m not even sure how ferocious this beast inside me is…or what shape he’ll take. I’m poised right on the edge of self-discovery and it’s all because of this extraordinary girl. Her inner strength shines from within her so brightly, it’s impossible to be anything but optimistic when I’m around her. The trust she shows me…it has reminded me I need to trust myself more. Follow my instincts when it comes to business. That conviction has been lacking of late and she’s given it back to me, simply by being herself.

Despite all of this, I can’t shake the odd sense I’m missing something. Tomorrow will be soon enough to learn everything there is to know about Emery—and I will be learning everything. I want to know where she was born, what movies she favors, her favorite meal. What makes her giggle, what makes her cry (so I can destroy it), and…hell, I want to know what she’s thinking every fucking minute of the day. I want to hear every thought in her gorgeous head as it occurs and I’m going to find a way to accomplish it. Even if it means sitting her on my lap all day, every day, and making the same demand over and over.

Tell me what you’re thinking, angel.

Tell me again.

And now?

I put a hand against my forehead and squeeze tight, trying to gather some semblance of control. It’s a futile mission, though. Emery has turned me inside fucking out and there’s no going back. As if I’d ever want to.

We’re approaching my bedroom now and I hold my breath, waiting for the moment I’ll see her in front of my king-sized, four-poster bed—but I’m not prepared for the primal surge inside me when it happens. Her feet are sunk into the plush carpet, her hands wringing at her waist. The bed so high, she’ll probably have to jump onto the edge and climb in. Or I’ll have to give her a boost, which I’m already striding forward to do…because I can’t wait any longer to make her mine. If my cock doesn’t rip through her cherry soon, I’m going to lose my mind.

Emery turns to me and murmurs my name softly. “Clarke?”

I catch her around the waist and swing her up onto the bed. “Yes, angel?”

She blushes when I slip off her shoes, letting them thud onto the ground. “Why did you look so frustrated and sad when I walked into your office today?”

Trying to think back to a time before Emery is a challenge, but I try. “I think I was on a phone call. Publicity people.” Reaching up to loosen the crown of braids on her head, I sigh. “They think pictures of me are more appealing than the technology.” I wink at her. “And I tend to be just a little disagreeable about that.”

Her mouth ticks up in a teasing smile. “Just a tad?”

I hum, enjoying the act of unbraiding her hair, marveling over the golden waves left behind. “I’m nice to you, angel. That’s all you need to worry about.”

“There you go again, telling me when I should and shouldn’t worry.” Lips pressed together, she reaches up hesitantly, then starts to unravel the knot of my tie. “You deserve to have someone worry about you.”

“Yeah?” My heart climbs up into my mouth. “You want to worry about me, angel?”

“Yes,” she says breathlessly, before her nose wrinkles into a frown and she gives an authoritative nod, like the world’s cutest boss. “And they should be shouting from the rooftops about your new method for naturally producing hydrogen…”

To say I’m stunned is an understatement. “You know a lot about the company.”

Her shrug is jerky. “I-I work there.”

“Until today, you were in the file room.”

I’m poised to question her further, because damn, she was already too good to be true. Now she has an interest in renewable energy? I want to know how she came by the information. In a newspaper? On television? But she speaks first. “About that whole assistant thing. Are you sure you want me in your office all day?” She exhales a laugh. “Won’t you get sick of me?”

“No.”

She’s obviously waiting for me to expand. When I don’t, she smiles so gorgeously, I have to grind my back teeth together to keep from tackling her onto the bed. “Oh.”

“Emery, I…” I brush her hair back, watching the soft strands filter through my fingers. “It’s been a long time since I had someone inspire me.”

Sadness sweeps into her eyes. “Your business partner, Gary?”

I nod. “Yeah, I forgot what it was like to be excited about what I do. Everything has gone so stale. And then you walk in…” I swallow the sudden mass in my throat. “You walk in and the world is suddenly bright with color and I remember what it’s like to reach for the things I want. You woke me up from a dead sleep, angel. So yes, I want you in my office. I want you in my bed. I want you all around me. Now. Tomorrow. Every day that comes after.”

“I hope you mean that,” she whispers.

“I never say things I don’t mean, Emery.” I press my forehead to hers. “Ever.”

After a moment, she takes a deep breath and nods. Secure in the knowledge that I have forever to convince her I’d die before letting her go, I force myself to relax. As much as possible when I’ve got a hard-on to beat the band, anyway.

Goddamn, this is heaven. Standing here in front of the most exquisite creature in the world and letting her tend to me. She sets aside my tie and—with a shy glance up at me through her eyelashes—starts to unbutton my shirt. The hem of her dress has ridden up, leaving her thighs bare and spread, as if my cock needs to get any harder. Already I’m dripping semen from the tip of my erection, my balls heavy and aching to release their contents as deep as possible inside of her.

When she’s finished unbuttoning my shirt, I let it fall to the ground and I think she’s going to faint again. As her blue-eyed gaze slides over me in unabashed wonder, her breath travels in and out in a wheeze. Color leeches from her cheeks and panic seizes me. “Emery—”

“I’m fine,” she blurts. “I’m fine, it’s just…you’re s-so…”

I grip the tops of her thighs and lean in, brushing our mouths together, memorizing her texture and taste. “Take a breath, angel. It’s just a body.” I tease her innocent tongue into a lazy kiss, hoping to calm her down. “This body is just the thing housing my heart—and that heart is fucking wild for you.”

Our eyes meet for a long beat of time. And then Emery peels her dress off over her head and sets it aside, leaving her in nothing. Not a fucking stitch. Just a wet, virgin pussy, jiggly, little tits and innocent, trusting eyes. It’s a wonder I’m not foaming at the mouth.

At least I don’t think I am.

“Angel,” I groan, stroking my growing cock through my pants. “I’ve waited a long time for you. I’ll do my best to control myself, but it might hurt a little this first time. You’ll forgive me, won’t you? I can’t stand the thought of you being angry at me.”

“I could never be mad at you, Daddy,” she whispers.

And my fucking world explodes with light.

Emery slaps her hands over her mouth, shaking her head vigorously. “I don’t know why I said that,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

She tries to slide off the bed, but I hold her by the shoulders, trying to come to grips with the rapid expansion taking place inside of me. There has always, always been something missing when it came to the opposite sex. Something I couldn’t put a finger on and gave up on trying to find a long time ago. To be exact, I stopped looking for the elusive missing piece the day I started sensing that warm, hidden presence in my world. It brought me far more comfort and contentment than I could hope to find with anyone else. Emery has just given me that same feeling, multiplied by a thousand. A million.

She’s what I’ve needed my whole life.

There is a degree of wickedness in me I’ve always known was there, but I didn’t know how to feed it. That simple word, a single whispered title, out of Emery’s mouth and my universe makes sense. I’m a red-blooded man and I’ve had no choice but to pleasure myself throughout my life. Years ago, I occasionally searched for what I needed with members of the opposite sex, but I’ve never, ever been fully satisfied. The vibration in my blood is telling me this is why. I’ve been missing this girl. I’ve been missing this bond that sings between us.

Not anymore. I’m never going to live without her again.

My hands drop from Emery’s shoulders to her knees and I push them wide open on the bed, revealing her sweet pussy, all glistening and dusted with blonde hair. Mine.

“Don’t be sorry, little girl,” I rasp, unzipping my pants with one hand. “Be nice and quiet while you and Daddy have play time.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Emery

Did I hear Clarke right?

When I accidentally called him the D word, I expected him to turn away from me with disgust or worse, laugh at me. I should have known better. I should have trusted my heart. Clarke Carroway is perfect for me in every way, just like I always dreamed.

I can barely believe this is reality. Clarke stands shirtless in front of me, his physique something straight out of the Greek mythology books Karen keeps on her shelf, wedged in between the romance novels. He is Zeus. Powerful, observant, mighty. Strong. Behind me, the city he practically owns offers the only light in the room. Twinkling lights that highlight the solid planes of his pectorals, the ridges of his stomach, the twining black hair that grows thicker, before vanishing into his waistband. A waistband that he’s reaching inside of now, his forearm flexing. And oh my God. My God.

When he brings his erection into view, full to bursting in a tight fist, a sob is wrenched out of me, my fingers flying to my nipples. Playing with them in a way I never found necessary before, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop touching my body. It’s coming alive and I’m suddenly on the verge of extinction unless Clarke touches me. Uses me. Makes love to me. The secret place between my legs is pulsing, growing more and more damp. It hurts. Doesn’t want to be empty anymore.

“Please,” I whimper, arching my back and pinching my nipples, hoping to entice him. “Please take the ache away.”

“Jesus,” he groans, licking his lips, his fist traveling up and down the turgid flesh that juts from between his thighs. “You’re a revelation. How have you managed to remain untouched this long?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, how have you reached nineteen without a man taking you for his own? Many must have tried to touch what’s mine before I could find you, Emery. You’re not just smart and sweet, you’re too goddamn beautiful for this earth.”

“Oh. Thank you.” My cheeks feel flush. “I guess that’s why my friend Karen didn’t think I’d be safe on my own in New York. She made me cover my hair every day and wear clothes that didn’t fit. Until this morning, anyway.” I smile. “Today was the first time I’ve worn a dress since…since I can remember.”

“I owe her a great debt,” I say, shaking my head and looking her over, top to bottom. “How will I control myself?”

I open my knees wider on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to.”

Moisture spurts from the top of Clarke’s arousal and drips down his wrist. Before I can throw myself to the floor and lick up every blessed drop, Clarke steps closer, closer, resting his gigantic manhood on my belly. His thumb tugs down my chin, leaving my mouth open for the invasion of his tongue and he tucks it deep, so deep between my lips. Claiming me, stroking our tongues together in a manner that speaks of promises.

Maybe even something more.

By the time he lets me breathe, I’ve created a damp spot on the bedspread. I’m shameless and I don’t have the capacity to care anymore. I can only stare adoringly into the eyes of the man I love to the point of obsession and let him dictate to me. I’m his to command. His. His. His. His. His.

“Did you like that kiss, Emery?”

“Yes.”

His fingers tighten on my chin. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I gasp, a sense of completion crashing down on me. “I love your kisses.”

“Good girl. Now lie back so I can give you the same kiss to your pretty cunt.”

I don’t so much lie back as I do fall, my body having gone boneless. My dreams are coming true, right in the very bed where I’ve imagined them all. If I’ve fantasized so much and so often about Clarke that I’ve disappeared into one of my dreams, I never want to wake up.

One second later, I realize I knew nothing about fantasies. Clarke’s tongue jiggling the nub of flesh between my folds is an explosion of sensation I never could have imagined in all my fevered ideas of sex. Within moments, I’m on the verge of an orgasm, simply from knowing my beloved’s mouth is there. On my female flesh. The place I’ve touched time and time again while thinking of his big body rocking above me. But my climax is beautifully thwarted when he begins to lick every slick fold with harsh growls, tucking his tongue inside me and twisting, twisting, using his thumb on my clitoris at the same time. My hands tear at the comforter and I cry out like an untamed animal, begging and whining and babbling.

His hands slide beneath me and grip the cheeks of my bottom, holding me like a feast of which he’s the only diner. True to his word, he kisses the lips between my legs the same way he kissed my mouth, tilting his head to the right and working his tongue in and out, in and out, until my hips are writhing on the bedclothes and my thighs are shaking violently where he’s rested them on his broad shoulders.

“Daddy!”

My sob of his title makes Clarke pause in his torture—and then he’s looming above me, his roar still echoing in the air. He clasps his hands around my waist and drags me to the center of the bed, his thick sex bobbing between us like a warning. An inevitability.

“Christ. I can’t wait any longer, angel,” he grits out, settling himself between my thighs. “The taste of you has broken me. Open wide and let Daddy give Emery her first fuck.”

I raise my hands up above my head, crossing my wrists together. And I spread my legs as far open as they can go. Just like I’ve always been inside my own mind, I’m his dutiful little girl and I want nothing more in this world than to make Daddy happy. “I’ll take all of you. Every inch, even if it hurts,” I whisper. “I was born to give you pleasure, Daddy. Take it.”

Clarke stares at me in heat and wonder for a beat, before guiding his erection to my untried entrance, his fist unsteady as he positions the bulging head of his sex, sneaking just the tip of it into my hole. “We were born to give each other pleasure, angel,” he says, hoarsely. “And I will. My life is about satisfying you now. But God help me, I’ve waited so long for you.” He sinks a single inch into me and I whimper, my back arching on its own. “I’ve waited years and my body isn’t listening to my heart. Forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

Daddy’s body flattens me on the bed, knocking the wind out of me—and I’m filled in one savage thrust of his hips. My mouth opens to scream against his shoulder and no sound comes out. I’m flooded with rightness, a sense of homecoming, even as pain blooms in my middle. There’s no time to grow accustomed to Clarke’s girth stretching me past capacity, because he’s rutting me into the mattress with great, heaving drives of his body.

It’s the greatest moment of my life.

I’m Clarke’s pleasure vessel. He’s a man of strict discipline and I’ve snapped it. Thoroughly. There is nothing more gratifying than listening to his strangled growls or the groan of the bedframe as he fucks into my womanhood with his long, thick inches. He’s a snarling, possessive beast and I’m the prey he’s been seeking. His open mouth drops to the crook of my neck and he feasts on me, sucking until my skin bruises and dragging his teeth over me in every direction while his hips pump, pump, pump.

“Your taste did this, little girl,” he shouts into my neck. “Daddy was going to be sweet with his angel. But you dripped that virgin juice all over my tongue and made my cock impatient. Knew you’d be so tight for Daddy, and I was right. Just like fucking a soft, little keyhole. And I’m the only one who gets to turn my cock in this cunt and unlock you.” His teeth sink into the curve of my shoulder. “Aren’t I, angel?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper, my view of the ceiling beginning to blur as a climax races closer. Desperate to feel the floor of his satisfaction inside me first, I work my hips to meet his bone-shaking thrusts. “No one else will ever touch me. Just you.”

“Fuck touching you. I’ll kill anyone who looks.” I only have a second to revel in his words when Clarke reaches between us and begins to circle my clit with his thumb. “Jesus Christ. You’re tightening up even more. Daddy can’t hold on to his come when you’re strangling his cock, little girl.” His hips increase their pace and his jaw goes slack, his moan mingling with the sound of his sex smacking into mine. “God, Emery. Your pussy is begging for a load. My little girl is good and fertile, isn’t she? I’m a lucky man.”

I can barely speak around the pressure in my throat, in my middle—everywhere. I’m lost in the grind of our bodies and the bad words he says into the darkness. If what we’re doing is bad, that’s what I am. I’m a bad, bad girl and I want my Daddy to get me pregnant. “Fill me up, Daddy. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

Clarke’s mouth lands on mine and our lips begin a frantic dance of teeth and tongues. They’re mating as much as our lower bodies are. Hot breath, moisture, grunting, moaning. A quickening begins in my belly and I cry out, undulating beneath the unstoppable force of Clarke’s pounding body. His teeth snap at my lips when I start to orgasm and he plunges in his tongue deep, so deep, as if to absorb my climax in every way possible. My sex shakes and squeezes around his thrusting manhood, slicking the pathway for an extra-violent drive—

“Emery. My angel. Goddamn it, the taste of you. The tight, little suck of your pussy is driving me insane.” He shakes the bed with another ramming blow of his body into mine and I feel the hot rapids of his seed spew forth inside of me. My body is only capable of accepting a fraction of what he drains from his loins into mine, and the excess goes creaming down my thighs, splattering onto the comforter—and still he bellows into the opulent bedroom, shaking the chandelier that hangs above us, pumping his powerful hips in uneven movements, before eventually collapsing on top of me, big body shuddering with the power of what we’ve done.

I’m shaking, too, trying to breathe around the weight of Clarke on top of me. Not that I want him to move. I would rather suffocate than lose the perfect, glorious weight of Clarke on top of me, but I swallow my protests as he rolls to one side, gathering me against him and crooning words of praise into my hair.

“Angel. My angel, are you okay?” He crushes me to his chest. “The only thing stopping me from losing my mind is knowing I gave you pleasure. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

I find Clarke’s eyes with mine and let him see the full scope of my happiness. This incredible man just made love to me and it was so much more than I ever could have dreamed. My heart won’t stay still in my chest, alternating between my throat and simply bouncing around like an overinflated ball. “You didn’t hurt me. I’ve never been happier,” I murmur, laying a soft kiss on his lips. “And I’ll never feel this way about another man. Not as long as I live, Clarke. I promise.”

“Thank God, angel. Thank God.” Clarke searches my eyes, his hands running over my body as if he can’t believe I’m still there. He gives me several long, thorough kisses before leaving the bed and returning with a washcloth to clean the red stickiness from my thighs. The visible proof of my virginity has an effect on his body, his erection rising swiftly, pupils dilating and crowding out the irises of his eyes. But he shakes his head firmly when I give him a questioning look. “I’ve been enough of an animal for one night,” he rasps, lying down on the bed beside me and tucking me into the warmth of his chest. His thumb rubs circles into the base of my neck and meanders down my spine, massaging every inch of me.

“I feel like I’ve known you for a million years,” he says, pulling me close. “I’m going to give you everything, angel. I’m going to give you all of…me, too. Everything inside me. If you want it.”

My smile fades, my pulse thudding dully in my temples. “Of course I want it,” I say. “Of course I do.”

But as Clarke falls into a deep sleep behind me, all I can think about is how I’ve duped him. He’s ready to trust me, give me everything—but he doesn’t know the real me. I’ve lied. I’m a fraud. Oh God, I don’t deserve him. And I’m not just talking about Clarke Carroway, the superhero I’ve been worshipping from afar. I’ve fallen in love with the real him, too. The man behind the appealing exterior. I can’t hurt the man who holds me like a treasure. I can’t.

Moreover, I don’t think I’ll survive his hurt and disappointment when he finds out I’ve been violating his privacy for years. Not to mention papering my room with his face and talking to his image like it was the real thing. He’ll think I’m crazy.

He won’t feel the same about me once he finds out.

If I leave now, at least I’ll have this one perfect night to keep me warm for the rest of my life. Living without Clarke will be agonizing now that I really know him. But I don’t see another way. I don’t see how this can last when him finding out the truth about me is inevitable.

With tears clogging my throat, I slip out from beneath his arm and dress silently in the dark. And I walk out of the life of my dreams, clinging to the one perfect night I was given.

CHAPTER FIVE

Clarke

I wake up confused because it’s light out and I never sleep past five a.m. The light is what reminds me of Emery. Although, reminds is a weak term for what happens when I remember I’m the happiest man alive now. Bliss rushes through my veins at breakneck pace and I start to turn to her side of the bed—as it will henceforth be known—already planning on canceling my morning meetings so I can spoil the hell out of her.

Guilt makes me freeze before I can face her. God, I was so rough with her last night. She came to me so sweet and trusting—and I turned into an uncontrollable beast. I might have been able to wrestle back some self-control, but her thighs could not have been more welcoming, her moans couldn’t have been louder or more encouraging. I somehow stumbled across the horniest virgin alive and I’ll cut my tongue out before complaining. My cock is already engorged beneath the sheets, searching for her pussy again. Craving it. Decades from now, I’ll still be waking up this way. I know it in my gut. Hot for Emery. My angel.

My little girl.

I swallow a groan and fist my dick, giving in and stroking myself a few times, envisioning Emery’s snug, drenched pussy, how she whines the word Daddy.

Pull yourself together. After she gave herself to me last night so trustingly, I owe her an amazing day. First, I’ll have one of my employees bring her a selection of the finest clothes to choose from. Toiletries. After that, we’ll start with a bath. The hot water should help with the soreness I caused. Breakfast will happen after that—and I’m going to make it for her. I want to watch her perfect lips chewing food I made. Her Daddy will sustain her in every way.

Fuck it, I’m going to cancel my entire day.

If we leave by noon, I can have us in London in time for dinner. The flight will give me a chance to learn every single thing about her—which reminds me, I’m going to have my investigator give me a full report on her history. Not because I don’t trust Emery to tell me everything there is to know about herself, but because I need every piece of ammunition to protect her. If there’s a person in her past that could prove a threat in the future, I will know about it and guard her against it. No one is going to touch my angel.

No one but me—and I’m desperate to get my arms around her.

Why aren’t they around her now?

Finally, I turn to face Emery’s side fully, anticipation gathering in my stomach—

And she’s not there.

Panic shoots into my throat, my hand reaching out to run over the mussed sheets. Cold.

“She’s probably just in the bathroom,” I mutter thickly, lunging out of bed and gaining my feet. Trying to collect my scattering thoughts, I pull on my discarded boxers and beeline for the bathroom. “Emery!”

Empty.

I jog to the kitchen next, but there’s a voice whispering in my ear that she’s gone. It’s an intuition that I can’t explain…there’s something else odd, though. Something I must have been too absorbed in my angel to notice last night.

Her magnolia scent lingers.

And it’s the same scent I’ve smelled in this apartment for years.

Jesus, what the hell is going on?

Did I imagine the presence into existence? Did I become so desperate to find that elusive other half of me that was always out of my grasp that I…dreamed Emery?

“No. She’s real. I know she’s real.” I plow my fingers through my hair and shout at the top of my lungs. “Emery!”

Dreaded silence greets me. Why would she leave?

Christ, what if I hurt her worse than either of us realized last night? What if she left in pain and needing to get away from me? Is she out there hurt? The very idea makes me crazed. I have to find her now. I need her.

I find my cell phone and dial the head of human resources at Carroway-Silver. “This is Clarke Carroway. I need—” I bash a fist into the kitchen cabinets. “Yes, that Clarke Carroway. Your boss. I need information on one of our employees. Emery Lake. She works in the records room. A file clerk. I need her file emailed to me immediately. And I need to know if she showed up for work this morning. Her new station is in my office, but she might have gone back to the file room. Check in both places. Now.”

My footsteps pound in time with my heart as I make my way to the second-floor home office, which I rarely use, because I never leave Carroway-Silver. I will now. Now that I have a reason. Her. I just need to find her and bring her back here. Why did she leave? Why can I smell her in my home office? I suck down the incredible scent, wondering how it can be so familiar and fresh all at once. Need her. I need her back here so I can inhale it off her skin.

The file is in my inbox when I open my email. The only words in the body are, “Ms. Lake is not scheduled for work today. She’s a part-time employee and I’ve double-checked that she has not come in.” Swallowing hard, I open the attached file and scan the contents with desperate eyes. “Her address is…” Am I seeing this right? “She put down my address?”

Even as I rejoice in seeing her name above my address, apartment number and all, I’m filled with even more panic. I damn well know she doesn’t live here. Yet. So where the hell does she really live? I can’t find her without that information.

I call the phone number listed on the application, but somehow I know it’s disconnected before the dreaded beeping even starts in my ear.

“FUCK!”

I rip the computer out of the wall and throw it across the room, watching it spark and go still. How the hell did I fall in love with this woman and not secure a method of reaching her? Common sense is begging me to consider the possibility she just went out for bagels, but I know—I know—she didn’t. I’m missing something here. Something big, and whatever it is, it’s standing between me being with my angel.

Forcing myself to breathe, I call my private investigator. He answers on the second ring.

I give him all the information I have, but an hour later, he still has nothing. My Emery Lake doesn’t exist on social media. She’s not turning up in any law enforcement database and her coworkers know virtually zero about her personal life.

“Keep looking,” I croak into the phone, returning to the bedroom to dress myself. Again, my nose is treated to the hints of magnolia in the air and I almost can’t bear the sweetness of it.

Where are you, angel?

If I have to search every street of New York, that’s what I’ll do. I put on a pair of jeans, throw on a T-shirt and shove my feet into boots. On the way out the door, I call the police commissioner and remind him of the donation I make every year, like clockwork. After giving them her description and being assured that every man in a badge will be on the lookout, I descend to the lobby in the elevator, anxious to start looking while simultaneously terrified that I’m never going to see her again.

I stride past the doorman, unwilling to wait for him to open the door for me, but his voice halts me before I can leave. “Mr. Carroway!”

Impatient, I stop and turn, my skull throbbing. “Yes?”

“That girl you came in here with last night…”

My pulse kicks. “What about her?”

His gray eyebrows furrow together. “Well, she looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her until now. Never seen her all fancied up like that.”

“You’ve seen Emery before?”

“Sure. Every time she’s cleaned your apartment for the last five years.”

Emery

I’m never getting out of this bed.

My body won’t work, except to cry. I’ve cried all morning and afternoon, and Karen is hovering around me like a mother hen, trying to feed me tea and toast, as if I’ll ever eat again. I know I did the right thing walking out of Clarke’s life, before he had to throw me out, but I didn’t expect this wrenching, horrible emptiness.

I curl up in the fetal position and wail into my pillow, scalding hot tears catching on the scratchy cotton material. Every time I open my eyes and I see one of the images of Clarke taped to my wall, my misery blooms anew, but I can’t bring myself to take them down. I’m never taking them down, especially now that I see them in a whole new light. Before he was just my dark, imaginary lover, and now I see the caring side of him. The passionate CEO who felt stuck in his mission to save the planet, despite his ample power. I see all of him.

There’s a loud crash downstairs in the orphanage and I jackknife in bed, trading a startled glance with Karen.

“Emery!”

“Oh my God,” I breathe. “It’s Clarke. It’s him.” My heart wings around the room like a deliriously happy bird, but utter horror takes the place of my euphoria within seconds. Eyes wide, I look around the room, my veritable shrine to Clarke Carroway. “Karen. Please. He can’t come in here. Stop him.”

Karen is already halfway out the door and I hear her muffled voice in the hallway outside my room, but her efforts are futile. Clarke bursts into the room looking haunted, his hair standing in every direction, sweat dampening the front of his T-shirt. “Angel, I found you. The cleaning agency had the address. I’m getting you out of this place. My Emery in an orphanage? Cleaning houses?” He moves toward me, so clearly ready to scoop me up and carry me off to a fairy tale, but the pictures on the wall cause a hitch in his stride. He turns in a circle, his expression giving nothing away, although he must be sick to his stomach. How could he not be? His stalker spent the night in his bed. “What is all this?”

I cram my knuckles up against my mouth and release a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His attention returns to me and still, I can read nothing on his gorgeous face. “Explain,” he commands, almost curiously.

A calmness settles over me. Okay, this is it. This is the last time I’ll ever be this close to the man I love. At least he’s giving me the chance to tell him how he’s affected me. The chance to tell him I love him. It’s more than I deserve and I won’t lose this opportunity to say the words written on my soul.

“My mother died when I was thirteen and my father…he was in too much debt to keep me. He wasn’t prepared to be a parent, especially alone. So he brought me here when I was fourteen.” In my periphery, I notice Karen slip from the room and close the door behind her. And there I sit, in the middle of my shrine, face stained from tears, facing the object of my not-so-innocent obsession. “I saw you in the paper that same year. At first, I just looked for you on television and sometimes on the internet when I could make it to the public library computers. There was just something about you. I can’t explain it. I know it was my imagination, but I swear…you were looking right at me.

“I wanted to go to school and become the kind of woman who could h-have you. But I needed money to do that and I…” I press my hands to my flaming cheeks. “I needed to be near you. In any way I could. It was like…if I didn’t get close to you somehow, my heart was going to burst.” My head drops forward because I don’t want to see his reactions to the rest. I can’t witness his disgust. “Karen told me one day that her friend cleans houses for a living and it gave me an idea. I waited outside your building and found out the company you use when they arrived to clean. I l-lied about my age on the application. I told them I worked at the orphanage, not that I lived here. I made some fake references and…they’d just lost some staff and were desperate, so they hired me. I couldn’t believe it. I was cleaning your house.” My voice drops to a whisper. “And touching your things. And lying in your bed and a lot of other things that I’m ashamed of.”

Still I don’t look up, terrified of what I’ll see.

“After a while, it wasn’t enough. I know it sounds crazy, but I…thought you were waiting for me. You were never pictured with dates anymore and I just wanted that to be true so bad.” I sniff and wipe at my eyes. “And I know it’s impossible when you’d never even met me. I know that, but my heart wouldn’t rest. It wouldn’t let me stay away. I stalked you.”

“Emery.”

“And now I know the real you and…you’re even more incredible than I could have imagined. You’re real. You’re a man with frustrations and hopes…and you mean even more to me now because of it.” I crush my threadbare quilt between my fingers. “I’m so sorry. If you’re going to have me arrested, please don’t get Karen in trouble. She told me I needed to stop so many times—”

“Have you arrested?” Clarke ducks down into my line of vision, tilting up my chin with a finger so I can see the incredulity on his face. “I came here to take you home, angel, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He points at the door. “That was Karen? The one who gave you a place to live and made you dress down so you’d be safer from men?”

Confused, I nod.

“Then don’t worry about her. I’m going to make her a very wealthy woman.”

“What is happening?” I say slowly. “Why are you still standing here?”

“I was waiting for you, Emery,” he grits out, rapping a fist to his chest. “These last five years, I’ve known you were there. Just out of my reach. It nearly drove me insane. I could smell you. I could feel where you’d been in my apartment. But I couldn’t see you. No one else even compared to the energy you left behind. That energy belonged to the woman I love and I fucking knew it in my soul.” He looks around the room, before his attention zips back to me. “Do you think I’m not going to have our home covered in pictures of you? My desk, my phone, our jet, my wallet. It’s going to be full of every expression you’ve ever made. You think you’re obsessed with me, angel? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Is this really happening. “B-but…you’re not angry? Or—”

“I’m only angry that you didn’t show yourself sooner, Emery. We could have been together for years,” he rasps. “Years.”

“I’ve only been legal for one.”

“I would have waited forever.” He reaches out, dragging his thumb across my lower lip, his eyes darkening with undisguised hunger. “At the very least, I would have tried my damnedest to wait. Fourteen, huh?”

Relief and desire are making me dizzy. Clarke loves me. He was waiting for me. All this time, it wasn’t my imagination. “It’s complicated.”

His hand leaves my face and I hear him unzipping his pants. Wetness rushes between my thighs on command, but I manage to form my thoughts into words. “At first, I looked up to you. Like a father figure. You would take care of me. You would come save me and be a better father than my own. But…” My breathing harshens. “Something changed after a while, I started to…to think of you when I touched myself. And then you were my father figure and…more. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. Those two roles got wrapped up together.”

Clarke’s fingers spear into my hair and massage my scalp. “And I became your Daddy.”

I nod, my neck losing power at the utterance of that word.

He holds it up. “You’re obsessed with your Daddy.”

My thighs clench together and a shudder passes through me. “Yes.”

Clarke growls. “He’s just as obsessed with his little girl.”

I’m suddenly starved for the taste of him. The taste of his pleasure. I’m craving it like nothing else, so I rise to my knees on the edge of the bed and reach into the opening of Clarke’s unzipped pants, taking his thickening flesh in my hands. As I stroke him, Clarke brings our mouths together and guides me through a slow, cherishing kiss, his hips rolling toward my grip in time with his seeking tongue. “Can I suck you here, Daddy?”

His head tips back on a groan. “How long have you been imagining yourself doing that to me?”

“A very long time.”

I whisper the age to him and a rope of come shoots across my lips. “That will be our little secret,” he says, gruffly, guiding himself to my lips with shaky hands. “Get my cock wet with your innocent mouth, angel. Show me what you dreamed about doing to Daddy, even when it would have gotten me arrested.”

The moment his thick staff slides between my lips, I’m overcome with his taste. It’s the most incredible texture and essence I’ve ever encountered. It causes a change to come over me, much like last night when Clarke tasted me. Suddenly I can’t get enough. I’m moaning around his stiffness, massaging him in both hands and trying to take him as deep as possible. The head of his sex caresses the back of my throat and I whimper loudly, my thighs flexing involuntarily on the bed. Need need need.

The door to my room opens and still I can’t stop bobbing my head, cramming my mouth and throat full of Clarke. I hear him shout, “Leave us, Karen,” and maybe I should be embarrassed that I’ve been caught in this intimate act by my friend…but I’m not. The click of the closing door means nothing to me. My eyes are tearing and moisture is leaving my mouth to drip down my chin and still I suck as hard as I can, hollowing my cheeks and listening to Clarke’s harsh pants, his seed trickling down the back of my throat in tasty little rivers.

“Stand,” Clarke orders, his voice choppy, his powerful hands fisted in my hair. “I can’t take any more.”

He doesn’t understand. I can’t stop. His pleasure is my addiction now. I whine as Clarke eases my head away and yanks me to my feet, whirling me around to face the wall.

“Which picture is your favorite?”

“Th-the one of you reading the paper. On the balcony in Italy.”

I’m propelled toward that section of the wall, Clarke crowding me from behind. “Would you stand in front of this picture and play with your little clit, Emery?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “All the time.”

His open mouth drags up the side of my neck. “Do it now while I fill you full of come.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

As he lifts the hem of my sleep shirt over my head, I sense his pause. “Is this my shirt?”

Without looking at him, I nod.

“I’m glad you stole it,” he says in my ear, licking my lobe, snagging it with his teeth. “I like knowing a piece of me was wrapped around you. Now get those fingers on your clit.”

My legs are like rubber, but I do what I’m told, looking at the picture I’ve mooned over a million times, only wonder of wonders, the man of my dreams is standing behind me now. I slide my middle finger between the folds of my womanhood and gasp as I make contact with the hardened nub. I bite down hard on my lower lip as I start to harass it with quick circles. I’ve only been stroking myself for a matter of seconds, before I feel Clark’s huge member tuck into my entrance. My breath suspends itself in my lungs, but I keep touching myself. How can I stop when his inhales and exhales are rasping in and out at the back of my neck?

His right hand cups my mouth, the other wrapping around my waist to lift me higher against his lap—and then he drives his rock-hard inches deep inside me, trapping my scream with his hand. “Daddy has needed you for so long,” he grates. “And you were right here, fingering your little cunt to pictures of him while he suffered uptown.”

“I’m sorry,” I gasp into his palm, trying to balance on my tiptoes.

“Do you know what I was thinking in that picture while I read the paper?”

I shake my head, my thighs beginning to tremble. “Keep touching your pussy and I’ll tell you.” My fingers blur back into motion and he resumes speaking. “I was wondering how the hell I can be in love with someone I can’t see. I thought I was losing my fucking mind. I almost cut that business trip to Italy short so I could get back to you—the scent and feel of you.”

His hips begin to slap deliberately, slowly against my bottom and my eyes roll back in my head at the delicious friction. My being is already beginning that delicious descent into a climax, my pulse walloping, lower body melting.

“I’ve found you now, Emery, and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” His hand slides down from my mouth to the front of my throat, squeezing firmly. “If you ever leave me again, I’ll go fucking insane. I’ll take a wrecking ball to everything I own. You are what I need to survive, and if you think you’re obsessed, angel, just watch. My own obsession already far surpasses yours.” He stoops down and drives back up into me, bringing my feet off the floor and there I am, dangling in his arms as he pumps inside me, one hand around my throat, the opposite arm wrapped around my waist. Slap slap slap. He fills me over and over, his pace quickly becoming frantic and furious. “It’s going to take me decades to recover from this morning,” he growls. “Finding out you’ve been cleaning houses when you should have been spoiled rotten in your Daddy’s care. I can’t stand it.”

I throw my head back onto his shoulder, my back arches, thighs writhing. I can’t get any leverage to achieve my orgasm and all I have to do is whine “Daddy” and I’m thrown face down onto the bed, Clarke pressing me into the thin mattress. He holds open my thighs in a punishing grip and shoves his thick rail of flesh into my hole without cease, groaning his pleasure into my tiny room. The ancient, rusted bed creaks loudly, bumping into the wall with every thrust of his hips and I once again hear the door to my room open, probably Karen being worried about me with all the noise.

I’m beyond caring about the interruption, though. I need relief. My fingers sneak down between my thighs and I press down on my clit, tweaking my hips side to side, grinding down—and Clarke’s manhood finds that spot deep, deep inside me and I pop. I scream into my pillow as a rush of satisfaction courses through me.

“That’s a good little girl,” Clarke pants into my neck. “Now hold still while Daddy gets rid of the pain you caused. Feel how much my cock needs that fuck-tight pussy. All day and all night.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” I gasp. “I don’t mean to make you hurt.”

“Don’t be sorry, angel. Just stay sweet for me. Just like this. Keep letting me do these bad things to my little girl’s body.”

Instinct makes me tighten the walls of my femininity and I almost have another orgasm when Clarke jerks on top of me, cursing as his drives start going faster, turning desperate—and finally he finishes with a shout, sweat from his forehead dripping onto my back, his teeth sinking into my shoulder blade.

“Mine,” Clarke says, breathing heavily. Then louder, “Mine.”

I stare up at the pictures above my bed, a secret smile curving my lips as my obsession—the man I love to the point of madness—gathers back his control on top of me. As if I’ll ever let that happen. My whisper is barely audible in the dim room. “Finally.”

EPILOGUE

Clarke

Two Years Later

My obsession with my wife knows has no end and knows no boundaries.

Sitting in the back of my limousine, I scroll through the thousands of photographs of her stored in my phone, landing on one of her wearing nothing but black stockings and my come splashed across her stomach. Judging I’m still ten minutes from our home, I take my cock out and abuse it in my fist with great, groaning strokes, my gaze never leaving the picture.

“I’ll be inside you soon, little girl,” I mutter thickly, willing the driver to go faster. Get me home to Emery sooner. Today is one of the rare days she didn’t come in to perform her duties as my “assistant,” which generally include me feeding her a lunch of caviar and champagne, before she slips off her panties and rides my dick.

Thinking of my wife’s tight cunt milking me up and down, I grit my teeth and tip my head back, my hand on my cock going faster, faster. My God, I love her. My angel, my Emery and my little girl, all rolled into one sweet, savvy package.

And she is savvy, my wife. She wasn’t at the office today because her private tutors gave her an exam. The one she’ll need to earn her Bachelor’s in Business.

When I brought her home two years ago and declared she was never leaving, Emery insisted she be allowed to attend college. She wanted to learn, so she could become a true help to me at Carroway-Silver. So I created my own college and named it after her. Emery University. She’s the only student and her tutors—women, every last one of them—teach her everything she needs to know from the safety of our penthouse, while I watch on a closed-circuit camera that connects to my phone.

Knowing I need to stop beating off so I can save my come for Emery, I zip myself back into my pants and close my photos, going to the live feed of her in our home. My thumb swipes left, left, until I find which room she’s in. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed in our playroom. We have two of them.

One is for our toddler son, Emanuel.

The other is strictly for Daddy and his little girl.

Call the games between me and Emery wrong or right, we require them. No form of judgment can change what turns us on and completes us. Emery was robbed of a proper upbringing, so while in the daylight hours, she’s my equal, my wife…at night, I give her the youth she missed out on. We do it our way—and no one can take it away from us.

My driver pulls to a stop outside the building and I don’t wait for him to open my door. I’m already out and striding toward the entrance, breezing inside and going straight for the elevator. My cock is leaking in my pants, in need of my wife’s pussy. This rampant fuck-lust for Emery has only grown more and more obsessive over the last two years. It grows almost unbearable to be away from her for even a couple hours. I’ve arranged round-the-clock nannies for our beloved son because my need for her knows no schedule. It’s never-ending.

I don’t want it to end.

As soon as the elevator reaches our penthouse, I step off and unzip my pants again, shouldering off my jacket and letting it drop, even though one of the nannies—Annie, a British woman in her sixties—is sitting on the couch while my son presumably naps. She’s well used to my single-minded hunger for Emery and has witnessed the outcome several times. It echoes off the walls of our home at all hours. Her screams of rapture, my possessive demands.

When our son gets a little older, we’ll be forced to be quieter—or soundproof sections of the penthouse—but not yet. And thank God. I have a particular need to make her call my name today. It has been two years exactly since she walked into my office and changed my life. Made me a better businessman. Renewed my passion for what I do. Made me want to live every day to the fullest. All because of my extraordinary soul mate.

My dick is throbbing as I stop outside our playroom door and knock lightly.

“Come in,” calls Emery.

I open the door and step inside the pastel pink room, covered in furry pillows, beanbag chairs and stuffed animals. There she is. The object of my obsession. She’s lounging on her belly in a bunch of pillows on the floor, reading a book and twisting her hair around her finger.

“Hi, Daddy,” she chirps, rolling onto her back, giving me a glimpse of the virginal white panties under her short plaid skirt. “You’re home early.”

I kneel down beside her and tickle her ribs. “Maybe I missed you.”

She giggles and her thighs fall open. Just a little, before she smacks them closed again, a flush rising on her cheeks. “Um…I think I did well on my exam.”

“Good girl.” My hand still lingers on her side and I slide it down now, over the curve of her hip, letting it rest high on her bare thigh. “I knew you would do great.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

My fingertips creep just beneath the hem of her skirt. “Is your mother home?”

“No, Daddy,” she whispers, wide-eyed. “Why?” Reassuring her with a smile, I part her semi-resistant thighs and ease myself down between them, grunting when my cock grinds down on her pussy. “W-what is that?”

“Shhh. It’s just the part of me that appreciates the woman you’re becoming, angel. And I want to show you how proud I am of you. You’ll make me even prouder if you let Daddy wrestle with you for a while. Just like this. Would you like that?”

“I don’t know…”

I roll my hips and force a smile, though I suspect I’m baring my teeth like a wolf. “Isn’t this fun? You’re making me feel so good after a hard day.”

She tucks a thoughtful finger into her dimple, a line forming between her brows. “I do like making you feel good, Daddy.”

I’m dry humping her sexy body now, the soft cradle of her pussy driving me to the brink of eruption already, even through the barrier of her panties and my boxers. Speaking of which, we need to do something about that. My need is too vast for obstacles. Distracting her with a flick of my tongue against her gasping mouth, I take out my dick and lay it against the soft cotton, leaving only one layer of material between me and heaven. “That’s because you’re my sweet girl, aren’t you?”

“Oh my gosh.” Her back arches, body twisting her teeth chewing on her lower lip. “I’m feeling funny, Daddy…”

Once again, I shhh against her mouth and use my dripping cock to deftly push aside the crotch of her panties and slide my tip inside her drenched cunt. “Oh, that’s not good, angel. Only certain little girls get that naughty feeling between their legs.”

Nervous blue eyes flash up at me. “Bad ones?”

“Yes,” I say sternly, unbuttoning her tight, white blouse and watching her tits bound free, watch them bounce as I drag my cock up and back in her wetness. “There’s only one way to get rid of that feeling, Emery. There’s only one man who can do it for you. No one else.”

“M-my Daddy?”

“That’s right. This is how it has to be.” I bury myself inside her with a drawn-out groan and she sucks in a breath, feigning a struggle beneath me on the floor. It takes no effort for me to pin her down, wrists locked above her head. “We won’t tell anyone as long as you save that feeling just for Daddy.”

“Always and forever,” she whispers, when I lean down to kiss her. “I love you.”

My response resonates in my voice and deep inside me, my heart squeezing in my chest as I look down at my obsession, my wife, my soul mate. “I love you, too, angel.”

THE END

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