The Filthy Series: The Complete Dark Erotic Serial Novel (29 page)

“What are you talking about?”
And why are you asking me now—when my cunt is dripping for you and your dick is hard and out just feet away from me?

“Tonight in the bar.” He clamped his lips down as if he had more to say, but physically had to restrain himself.

“Why?” I moved my arms, propping myself up until I was sitting. My arousal left a shiny wet trail up the side of my leg and on the side of my half-exposed belly. Rhett’s eyes latched onto it, following my fingers. I didn’t miss the way his cock kicked.

“I want to know.”

“You’re jealous.”

“No, I—”

“Maybe I do.” I cut him off and tugged at my shirt until it was off over my head and I was naked before him. Maybe it was wrong to goad him, but I didn’t care, not at this point. All I wanted right now was to cum. And I wanted Rhett to cum too. I wanted to watch the thick ropes squirt from the tip of his cock. I wanted to taste it.

“He’s not good enough for you.” His hand was still on his cock, moving slowly back and forth.

“Oh yeah?” I slid my fingers back to my pussy, moaning at the contact. “Maybe he is. I’ll be seeing him a lot more now that Cayden offered me a job at the firm.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“A job?” His eyes glazed over as he watched me, his hand moving faster.

“Who’s good enough for me, Rhett?” I arched my back, diverting his attention from the job prospect. I knew how it looked, my body contorted on the bed, my breasts pressed up.

“I—I—”

“Tell me,” I moaned, spreading my legs wider so he would have a better view.

His hand moved quicker, faster, up and down his length. The movement was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen in my life.

I never got to hear his answer because the orgasm shattered through me like a capsizing wave. A rough hand pressed over my mouth, stifling the sound just as I felt the hot lash of cum against my shoulder. I turned my head in time to see another jet of the white semen burst from the tip of Rhett’s thick cock.

The sight was more than I expected and my orgasm rolled into another as I stared him, his hard cock squirting cum on me, his hand clamped over my lips, the muscles in his arms flexing, threatening the burst from his skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he released me. I missed his hand instantly. The rough press of his fingers on my lips. I realized it was the only place he touched since he came in here.

He took a step back, his cock starting to go limp. A drop of cum still clung to the tip and I wanted to lick it off. I sat up and started to move toward him.
I wonder how soon I can get him hard again?

But as my feet touched the floor I glanced up at his face and what I saw there froze me. Pity. It was back, swamping his features, destroying everything that was previously there.

“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, Faye.”

And I didn’t know what he was apologizing for, looking at me like he was, or for what we had just done.

“Don’t say that.”

He glanced around at my room like he didn’t know how he got there and jerked his boxer briefs up. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“But you are.” I stood up, his cum still warm on my arm.

“And, fuck, I shouldn’t be.”

“You liked it.” I stopped just in front of him. I wouldn’t let him do this. I just wanted the pity to go away. I wanted him to look at me like he did a minute ago. How a man looks at a woman, at his equal. That’s all I fucking wanted. Not like a pathetic pitied child that no one wanted.

“I’m sorry, Faye, after everything you’ve been through.” He sighed. “God, I’m just so fucking sorry.”

“No.” I reached out to touch him but he moved away toward the door, as if touching me would infect him, burn him, destroy him. As if his cum wasn’t cooling on my arm. As if the last five minutes hadn’t transpired. “Rhett, please…”

But he was gone, shutting the door before I could finish my sentence and I was alone in my room again. I wished that I was strong. That I crawled back into bed and went to sleep, not giving a fuck about Rhett or anything else.

But I didn’t. Instead I collapsed there on the floor, the stickiness of him cum rubbing off on the carpet while I cried.

SEVEN

I’m a foolish man.

I’d been repeating those words in my head. Over and over. Since I left Faye in her room one month ago with my cum drying on her skin—my cock hardening for her again. I didn’t want what happened between us.

Fuck yes you did.

I tried to squash the thought, but I couldn’t. It was the truth. I had wanted it. It was why it occupied every moment of my spare time. It was why I jerked off alone in the shower and didn’t fuck my girlfriend. It was why I worked tirelessly on a case I didn’t get paid for.

It was why I went to work now. Because she was there. At
my
job. Cayden’s assistant. I hadn’t wanted her to work there. Not at first. I hadn’t wanted her to leave the apartment and go out into the real world and have a job. I didn’t want the world to see her. Was that wrong of me, to want to keep her to myself?

Yes, it’s fucking wrong. You’re worse than your father.

It was those words that stopped me. That proved I was just as much of a monster as Taylor was. What kind of man wanted to hide a woman away from all the other eyes of the world? What kind of man did that?

A man like Taylor.

So she had gone to work. Riding with me each day. Our rides had been quiet. We didn’t talk much. Just things about the case, or small talk. Neither of us ever brought up what happened in her bedroom that night. I wondered if she thought about it. About me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

I looked up at Sarah, who stood across from me while I dressed. She was already fully clothed. I had forgotten she was even there.

“Yes.”

“We don’t have to do this for her, you know. She can earn enough money to get it herself now that she works.”

I blinked at Sarah. She had been Faye’s biggest advocator for the longest time. But now there was something else going on. I could tell. She wasn’t as sympathetic to Faye anymore. She seemed annoyed with her presence. I could understand why, I supposed. Every waking moment I had went into working on the case against my father. Faye was in our home, everywhere. She worked where I did. There was never a moment Sarah and I had to ourselves. Not anymore.

It was funny because I didn’t miss the alone time. Not really.

“It’s her birthday. Of course I’m certain.” I buttoned my pants and moved toward the mirror, buttoning my sleeves.

“I just don’t think this was the right kind of investment for her.”

I turned around, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Sarah stood across from me, ringing her hands. “I just don’t think she’s ready for this. Or that we are ready to foot the bill when she wrecks the car. She doesn’t even know how to drive, Rhett.”

I’d considered all of these things before I went to the dealership yesterday with Cayden. The dangers, everything that could potentially fuck me over when it came to buying Faye a car. But I hadn’t thought about them for long. All I could see was the joy on her face when she saw the pretty new car. And I wanted that. Her joy. Was I that pathetic? Was I the man who would buy a woman a car just for a few moments of affection?

I glanced down at the keys on my dresser. Apparently I was.

“I’m going to teach her. She will be fine.” I waved her away and pocketed the keys.

“Yes, but you didn’t even discuss it with me. And it’s a brand new car.”

Ah, so that was the problem. I considered sitting down and explaining to her that I trusted Faye, that I would be careful. I wouldn’t just send her out into the world in a brand new car and leave us to be monetarily responsible. She knew Faye as well as I did now, and knew that she wouldn’t just ditch us. Those thoughts were long gone now, with the real reasoning of her running away coming to light. Just thinking of that was like a knife to the gut.

“It’s fine.” I turned away from her.

“Fine? That’s all you’re going to say?” She didn’t raise her voice. Sarah wasn’t like that. She wasn’t a woman who got angry or vicious. Instead it was the exact opposite. Her voice lowering until it was almost a whisper. Her tears would come next. The thought of them made my skin crawl. I didn’t want to see them. I couldn’t stand them. Tears for what? Tears because I’m going to spend my own fucking money on a car for the one person on this planet who actually deserved something nice? No, I wasn’t going to let her guilt me with her tears.

I moved toward the door just as a whimper came from between her lips. The sound made me freeze and I spun around, the urge to provoke her festered under my skin. I needed to yell at someone. And I needed them to yell back at me. That’s what I wanted. Anger. “I can do whatever the fuck I want, Sarah.”

She blinked hard and nodded her head. Tears leaking down her cheeks. “Okay,” she mouthed, but I couldn’t hear her. Her voice was all choked up with tears, her flat red hair falling around her face as her shoulders began to shake.

“I can spend my money how I
fucking
please.” My voice was louder now. Angrier. I was the man who walked away. I was the man who didn’t kick people when they were down. Especially Sarah. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t see past this moment and her tears. Tears that were always the same. They didn’t make me feel anything anymore. Nothing except loathing. It shouldn’t have been that way. Sarah was the love of my life. Her tears shouldn’t abhors me. But they did.

I wanted her to yell at me, to tell me what a piece of shit I really was. That would have worked better, didn’t she know that?

But she didn’t know. Because if she did she probably would have used that tactic a long time ago. Then again she probably didn’t have the balls.

“I’m s-sorry, you’re right,” she squeaked out, rubbing her hands up and down her face.

And I hated that more. The apology. For what? Why would she apologize? I was the asshole. I was the one dictating everything in this conversation. The only thing she had brought to it was her fucking tears. She was sorry. She was
fucking
sorry. And I would bet a million dollars that she didn’t know why. That all she wanted was for me to wrap my arms around her and tell her it would all be okay. But that would be a lie too. Things wouldn’t be okay. My father had raped my sister every day since she was nine years old. Until he got her pregnant. Until her ripped the baby from her. Until she was nothing but a shell of her former self willing to fuck anyone or anything for a bump of coke to make all the pain go away. Nothing could ever change that.

I
could never change that.

“I’m leaving.” I turned away. I couldn’t look at her anymore. Couldn’t acknowledge the fact that I had been living this pretty life with Sarah in a quaint apartment. She was a reminder. A reminder of how I had failed Faye.

“Morning,” Faye said pleasantly as she stepped out of her bedroom a few minutes later.

“Morn—” But the word died in my throat as it often did when I saw Faye in the morning. I had thought she was beautiful the day I picked her up off the street, when her body was too skinny, destroyed by drugs and malnourishment. But now she was something else. Something spectacular and bright. Each day she seemed to become more beautiful. Her body was so curvy, and accentuated under the tight black pencil skirt she wore. A half-sleeve white top was tucked into the skirt and black heels were on her feet. Her long black hair was down. Sarah had taken her to get it cut a few weeks ago and it fell in wavy disarray around her shoulders.

Her face had a little more color in it now. She’d helped us move Cayden and Katie into their new house a few weeks back and had spent the entire day outside in shorts and a t-shirt, a sight that captivated me more than it should have.

She moved around me and into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. I watched as she bent over, her pert as pressing against the tight skirt. I could make out the outline of her ass. Of the thong she wore underneath. I hadn’t seen these clothes before. Was it sad that I knew her wardrobe?