James: A College Girl Romance (22 page)

“I can’t wait to feel you tightening around me as you come,” I groaned.

Over and over, I kept thinking of the moment I would finally take her. I wanted it like I had never wanted anything in my life. I ached for it as I slid my fingers across soft folds of her pussy. It would be so easy take her now. My balls tightened, my dick pulsing painfully at the thought.

“Cass, look at me.”

She blinked up at me with tears in her eyes as I dragged my fingers up and began circling her clit again. I didn’t slow until she was whimpering, her cheeks flushed bright pink.

“Yes,” I coaxed.

The moment her orgasm exploded, I thrust my fingers into the tightness of her pussy, caressing the spot that made her cry my name.

Her release was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. I craved it. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing that in a little more than forty-eight hours, she would be mine.

There was just one problem—I had to meet the devil in hell first.

***

“You look stunning,” I said before kissing her neck as I fastened the necklace.

I ran my fingers along her collarbone and then stepped back. The emeralds complemented her eyes perfectly, and the dress made her look like a fire-haired goddess. Whichever minion my father had put in charge of sartorial decision-making deserved a raise—even I had to admit that much. Cass shook her head as she studied her reflection.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You are going to be the most beautiful woman in the room.”

This fact alone gave me serious doubts about my plan, but there was no going back. I fastened my cufflinks and then straightened my bowtie.

“In the movies, I think the woman is always supposed to do that, but considering I hadn’t seen a real bowtie or cufflinks before today, I’m no help.” She fidgeted with the gown where it molded so nicely to her tits. “So, what’s the point of all this?”

“The point is for a countless number of vastly wealthy people to show up and listen to people talk about how they can become richer by flooding the upcoming election with dark money.”

Cass pursed her lips.

“Great. Where do I fit in?”

“Leverage.” When she looked at me nervously, I reached out and touched her hand. “No matter what happens, just trust me.”

“You are
not
making me feel any better about this whole thing.”

“You’re not supposed to feel good walking into the lion’s den.”

I walked over, took a bottle of water from the bar, and reached into her purse. When I held up the case containing her birth control, she blushed as I held it up.

“Wouldn’t want you forgetting.”

As soon as she swallowed the pill, I pocketed the case, took her hand, and led her to the door to the suite. It was a ten-minute drive to the Embarcadero, but I wouldn’t be escorting Cass. At the valet station, I helped her into the waiting car. Then I shut the door. The window rolled down immediately, and she stared at me.

“You’re not coming?”

Her look of panic and desolation speared through me.

“I’ll be there,” I told her.

When I tapped the roof of the car, the vehicle took off.

“I just hope you forgive me after tonight,” I said quietly.

The Model S was waiting behind the car I had hired to take Cass to my father’s event. My choice in vehicles was just one more way of gouging my father when a fair portion of those attending his event would be gas and oil CEOs and lobbyists.

I drove straight to the Grand Hyatt and told the valet I would return in less than five minutes. I stopped briefly at the front desk. Then I rode the elevator to the suite I had booked. After knocking and waiting for a solid thirty seconds, I used the keycard to open the door.

“How are you, Madison?”

“I’m hurt. Here I thought you would have met me at the airport at the very least,” she pouted as she applied another coat of lipstick and then picked up the champagne flute next to her.

She was undoubtedly a very attractive woman, as long as you didn’t peel away the layers of veneer. Without the time and effort of people she paid to keep her looking like a blonde statuette, she couldn’t hold a candle to Cassia Flynn.

“This is a work date, not a social call.”

“Work? I don’t do
work
.”

“Let me restate. We’re going to a party with more billionaires than you can possibly charm in one night.”

She walked up to me and grabbed the edges of my bowtie.

“What if I wanted to play with
this
billionaire tonight?” she asked coyly.

“I’m sure that won’t be the case by the end of the evening. Shall we?”

I took Stockton to Post, Post to Grant, and Grant to Pine before making the right back onto Stockton. As soon as the valet opened my door, I took a stack of bills from my front pocket and threw it to the kid.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Nick,” he said uncertainly.

I patted him on the shoulder.

“Nick, give me your number and have my car ready when I text you and there’s another stack in it for you.”

He grinned.

“You’ve got it, sir!”

I joined Madison and began leading her toward the grand ballroom. I did have to give it to the old man. He had impeccable taste. The nearly ten-thousand-square-foot space was adorned with sparkling Bavarian crystal chandeliers, silver leaf wall coverings, and carpeting in black and grey with a floral motif.

The event planners had gone with red rose centerpieces. Exquisite—and appropriate for such a bloodthirsty bastard as my father. I gave the invitation at the entrance to the ballroom and watched as the man’s eyebrows shot up.

“Welcome, Mr. McDevitt.”

He said something into his lapel mic, no doubt alerting security and my father’s sycophants to my presence. The hundred-thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner had already ended, and it appeared my father had finished his grandstanding. Now the room was simply a sea of tuxedos and couture. I took two flutes of champagne from an impeccably trained server and handed one to Madison.

“Oh my god—isn’t that—”

I glanced over and vaguely recognized an over-the-hill yet boy-faced actor from some network show. I was surprised by Madison’s enthusiasm—he definitely wasn’t rich enough to suit her tastes—until I realized he was standing in proximity to a tech mogul who had just filed for divorce from his fourth wife.

“Yes, Madison.”

I hauled her away before she could get too excited. I needed her to play her part tonight. Circling the room slowly, I kept an eye out for three people. Cass. Chris. And my father.

Unfortunately, I found two of them at the same time. Hanover was one of a hoard of tuxedo-clad dickheads surrounding Cass. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she looked beautiful—and overwhelmed. A small adolescent part of me wanted to start knocking heads together.

I opted to keep walking the periphery of the ballroom with Madison on my arm. Finally, I saw my father glad-handing an unholy triumvirate, including one crooked politician, a real estate developer with a despicable track record, and a pharmaceutical CEO who had been indicted—but not convicted—on fraud charges.

Kimberly, my father’s latest wife, was standing in the background looking pleasantly anesthetized. Anxiolytics combined with gin and tonics could do that to a person.

I watched as a lackey approached my father and whispered something in his ear. His reptilian gaze ticked around the ballroom, landing first on Cass, then moving to me. I smiled, lifted my champagne flute in salute, and then bent down and kissed Madison. When I disengaged from her, she giggled before finishing off the rest of her champagne. Within seconds, a server appeared at her elbow with a fresh champagne flute and took her empty.

“Madison? Would you like to meet the Devil?”

She smiled, unaware that I was being serious.

“I just need you to be your charming self,” I told her as I propelled her toward my father, who stepped away from his compatriots from the ninth circle of hell.

“Good to see you could make it, son. Punctuality was never your strong suit.”

“And integrity was never yours, Pops,” I said quietly

I leaned forward for a brief hug as an event photographer kneeled to snap a shot of us. My father straightened and smiled an icy smile.

“Well, James? Are you going to introduce me to your lovely young friend?”

“Madison Montgomery, my father—James McDevitt, the elder.”

“I can see where James gets his good looks, Mr. McDevitt,” Madison said ingratiatingly.

She was right. My father and I did look alike, despite a thirty-five-year age gap and the several inches of height and twenty pounds of muscle I had on him. I hoped our physical resemblance was the only similarity we shared.

“Call me Jim, please.”

As I knew she would, Madison began asking him polite, ingratiating questions and stroking his ego at every possible opportunity. My eyes wandered and then stopped on my business partner—and Cass—in the middle of the dance floor.

Karma really was a bitch.

Even more than three years later, I still remembered the look of absolute rage on Ryan Bennett’s face the night he had found me dancing with Alex Reed at his family’s winery. At the time, I hadn’t understood how in the fuck he could feel so possessive over an eighteen-year-old piece of ass.

Now, seeing Cass in Hanover’s arms, I completely understood. I wanted to fucken kill my business partner for touching her. As it was, his hand was dangerously close to her ass. Then she stumbled—and Hanover took the opportunity to pull her closer.

Motherfucker
. I was going to fucken kill him.

“James.”

My attention snapped back to my father. Madison was nowhere in sight.

“You know that wasn’t the young friend I was talking about.”

“Oh? What young friend were you talking about? Because Madison Montgomery is—what would you call her? My latest conquest? What? Too old for you, Pop?”

“I was talking about the one you can’t stop staring at,” he said as he nodded toward Cass. “No wonder young Christopher can’t keep his hands off her. She’s quite the piece of ass,” he added in a whisper.

My jaw tensed.

“Pop, I thought you were a happily married man. Family values—isn’t that the platform you’re raising money for? Sounds better than
insatiable greed
.”

He smiled his reptilian smile and leaned toward me.

“Watch yourself, son. Such a ripe little virgin.” My lip curled in disgust. “That’s right. I know that, too. And as you’re aware, I know men—not very nice men—who would be more than happy to have a taste if you don’t behave during this campaign. Or maybe I’ll be inclined to have her first.”

I stepped away from him, straining to keep the rage from showing. My hands shook as I imagined beating him bloody right here in the middle of the ballroom. For years I had wanted to watch my father burn.

Now, though? I wanted to be the one to light the match and send him screaming to hell.

W
hat the hell!

This guy’s hand would not stop slipping toward my ass.

“How did you say you and McDevitt met again?” Chris Hanover asked.

“I
didn’t
say,” I pointed out. “How long have you known him?”

“Since I was a freshman,” he smiled.

“In college?”

“Yeah. When I graduated, he helped me start my company.”

“Your company? How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“And you have your own company?”

“Yeah. Me and McDevitt. We’re partners.”

I made a mental note to look up their company. James hadn’t said much about his work—and he certainly hadn’t mentioned owning a company. On the other hand, I should have guessed after the private jet. James definitely had his secrets—and I had mine. The difference was that I was never going to tell him how I felt about him.

I looked around and caught sight of James with his arm around a very tall, very glamorous blonde woman.
That
was the kind of woman he was supposed to be with. Not me. I quickly looked away. Why had he brought me here?

“So, Cass—are you and McDevitt
actually
serious, or does a guy like me have any chance?”

Shocked, I looked up at James’s business partner. He was definitely good looking. Tall, though not as tall as James. Broader, bordering on meat-headed. Wavy light brown hair. Sparkling hazel eyes. A wide, gleaming white smile that contrasted with James’s knowing smirk.

“You don’t have a chance in hell, Hanover.”

At the sound of James’s voice, the hand skimming the top of my ass sprang free immediately, and James’s business partner took a step back.

“Hey, partner. I was just—”

“Save it, Chris. I’ve likely used the line you’re about to try.”

Chris Hanover gave me a sheepish look.

“It was nice meeting you, Cass,” he said before disappearing into the crowd.

I turned and looked up at James. When he held out his hand, I walked into his arms. It felt like coming home. He kissed me quickly on the forehead, and for a few seconds I felt more loved and protected than I had in a long time. But I knew whatever I felt was one-sided. It was my imagination filling in the gaps, my mind trying to imagine what it would feel like to be loved the way I loved him. I gave him a small half-smile, but his expression remained like stone.

“My father is going to find you. Whatever he says, don’t go anywhere with him. Promise me.”

I nodded as James released me and then walked away. I had a million questions and no answers. Who was that woman James had been with? What did his father want with me? Why was I even here? Still frowning, I began walking toward the edge of the dance floor.

Suddenly, a tall, grey-haired man in a black tuxedo stepped into my path. It was impossible to mistake the resemblance. This was James’s father. The man James had called
the Devil himself
. He held out his hand the same way James had a few moments ago, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. He was dangerous—but in a very different way than James.

“May I have the next dance, Ms. Flynn?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t dance very well.”

“I insist.”

I swallowed as I reached for his hand. As soon as my skin touched his, I felt the exact opposite sensation as when I touched James, and a tremor of pure dread traveled through me as he led me to the middle of the dance floor. The sea of revelers parted, forming a bubble around us as James’s father put his arm around my waist and took my other hand in his.

“I must say, Ms. Flynn. You are a breath of fresh air in contrast to my son’s typical female companionship. You have a lovely innocence about you, despite your recent employment.”

My expression hardened as I stared up at him.

“I may be innocent, but not stupid,” I said quietly. “I trust James when he tells me you’re the Devil himself.”

The hand on the small of my back tightened.

“Ah, yes. But there are many things my son doesn’t know. Did he happen to tell you how he lost the tip of his finger?”

When I bit my lip and nodded, he smiled in a way that made me wince.

“The truth is
I
had him taken. The ransom I paid was a convenient method to scrub some funds from less than legitimate sources. My son is fortunate I told them to cut only to the first knuckle.”

I stared up at him, unable to breathe, move, or make a sound. James was right. His father was the Devil.

“And if you don’t do exactly as I tell you, Ms. Flynn, I will have him taken apart
piece
by
piece
while you watch.”

“If you do anything to him, I’ll kill you myself,” I hissed.

His grip on me tightened even more, his fingers biting into my skin.

“Whereas you lack the means of following through with your threat,
I
do not. Do we have an understanding, Ms. Flynn?”

I nodded numbly.

“Good. And the next time we meet, I shall expect you to be exceptionally
willing
.”

He bent down as he said this. Drawing me closer, he kissed me on the cheek and reached up to touch the jeweled necklace. Then I felt his fingers slip down to the bodice of the dress, and I bit down on my tongue, barely containing the scream that welled up in my chest.

“These look stunning on you,” he breathed in my ear. “In fact, these jewels should be the only things you’re wearing when I join you in my suite tonight.”

He straightened to his full height, and when he released me, I nearly fell to my knees.

“Such a lovely girl,” he said loudly. “It was very nice meeting you, Ms. Flynn.”

People around us clapped, and my head spun as I watched him walk toward the edge of the dance floor. I wanted to run—to get as far away from him as physically possible. Swiping at my eyes, I began to walk in the opposite direction. Then I saw two men in suits waiting for me at the edge of the dance floor.

I looked around for James, but he was nowhere in sight. The moment I tried to pass by them, they crowded around me. I felt their arms grip onto mine, and without a word, they began towing me toward the outer edges of the ballroom. I tugged, but it was useless.

“I’m supposed to be meeting my boyfriend any minute,” I said with as much authority as I could muster.

My eyes darted around the room, and finally I caught sight of James. There were four men surrounding him, marching him toward another exit. I shook my head, uselessly twisting my wrists against their grip as the men pulled me from the ballroom and headed toward a bank of elevators. As soon as the doors opened, the two men lifted me into one of the elevators.

We rode up to the top floor. When the doors sprang open, they hauled me into a giant suite with parquet flooring and fashionably modern furniture. One of the men grabbed the purse from my hand and opened it. He took out my cell phone and pocketed it.

“You can’t do this!” I gasped. “This is kidnapping!”

The other man sneered at me, revealing a gold front tooth. Then they stepped out of the room. My mind kept spinning in circles as I stared around the well-appointed room. One of the items glaringly missing was a landline. No phones.

I rushed to the door and peered out the peephole. The bodyguards or thugs—whatever they were—were standing with their backs to the door. I swung around and saw another door that must have led to an adjoining room. I slipped off my heels, ran over, and jerked the handle. It was locked from the other side.

I could feel my eyes begin to burn. The fear was eating me alive. The thought of James’s father walking through that door was making me physically ill. On a table nearby there was a silver bucket of champagne and two flutes sitting next to it. It turned out James and his father had one thing in common—expensive taste in alcohol. I wondered bleakly if I could use the champagne bottle as a weapon.

I walked the perimeter of the room and found a bedroom just off the main living area. My eyes focused on a large silver attaché case sitting at the center of the king-sized bed. I walked over to it and nervously flipped up the buckles so I could wrench open the case.

“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

It was a full-on S&M kit. Metal handcuffs, a leather riding crop, alligator clips, a ball gag, black mittens of some kind, rope, a black hood, anal beads. I had read about this stuff, but always in a pseudo-romantic context—not from the perspective of being trapped in a hotel room waiting for a psychopath to show up.

My breathing sped up, and I backed slowly away from the bed as James’s father’s words rang in my head.

…
these jewels should be the only things you’re wearing when I join you in my suite tonight
.

There was a loud knock at the door. Then another, like someone had kicked it. When the door burst open, I held my breath, prepared to make a run for it. My breath left me when I saw James. He was by my side a second later. He caught me around the waist and pulled me toward the door. As soon as we stepped out of the suite, I heard a familiar voice.

“Really, mates? And you call yourselves security. For shame.”

I turned and saw Jasper Blake standing over the two now incapacitated men. He handed me my phone before James began pulling me toward the elevator with Jasper flanking my other side.

“Thank you,” I gasped

Jasper took my hand and kissed it.

“I’m well compensated for my heroism.”

We walked quickly to the emergency exit. Suddenly alarms sounded as Jasper opened the door. In the stairwell, James bent down and lifted me into his arms. Without pausing, he started down the nine flights of stairs. At the lobby, James set me down. The space was in chaos from the alarm.

“Now you owe me, McDevitt,” Jasper said before melting into the crowd.

James tugged me toward the exit, where I saw the Tesla already waiting at the curb. James pulled a stack of bills from his jacket and handed it to an extremely excited-looking young valet.

“Good job, Nick,” James said as the valet opened my door for me and helped me fit the dress into the front seat.

By the time the valet closed the door behind me, James was in the driver’s seat. He pressed the accelerator, and as we took off silently, I burst into tears and covered my face with my hands. I shook my head when James gently tried to pull my hand away from my eyes.

“It’s okay, lovely.”

“No, it’s not,” I sobbed. “He said he would—”

My throat closed up as I started choking on my own fear.

“Cass, it’s okay. You’re safe now. It’s all right. I told you to trust me. Everything is going to be okay.”

I gripped my hands together, trying to stem terror rushing through me. I had seen the face of evil tonight—I was sure of it.

“Your father
is
the Devil,” I whispered.

“He can’t hurt you, lovely.”

I shook my head again, because James didn’t understand where my fear was coming from; he couldn’t possibly understand.

“I’m not afraid for me—I’m afraid for you,” I said through my tears. “H-he said he would hurt you.”

When James kissed my hand, I bit down on my lip and tried to rein myself in before I said anything I would regret. The thought of anything happening to him was making me sick. Even if he didn’t feel the same depth of emotion for me, it didn’t change what I felt for him.

“How about we get out of here and have a drink? What do you say?”

I laughed through my tears, but I was afraid that no matter how far I ran, with James or by myself, his father would only be steps away. Turning, I stared out the window. When music started playing, I pressed my forehead to the window.

“
The Partisan
? Seriously, James? Could you have picked anything more depressing?”

“You know Leonard Cohen?” he laughed.

I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“I love Leonard Cohen. The problem is his songs make me a tad suicidal.”

The music changed, and I recognized a song that had been playing in the club the other night.

“Thanks,” I said.

By the time the car came to a stop, I was less surprised than I had been the day before to see that we were at the airport with a jet waiting on the tarmac. The only difference was that, this time, the jet was much bigger. Not the size of a commercial jet, but close. James got out and walked around to my side of the car. As he helped me step out, I frowned down at what I was wearing.

“I need to get out of this dress and then burn it.”

“I’m sorry, Cass. I never meant for you to be exposed to my father. It’s my fault.”

I shook my head at him and pursed my lips.

“It’s not your fault your dad’s a monster. Although, I
am
kind of surprised you turned out the way you did now that I’ve met him.”