Desire Me

She is, asshole.

My nostrils flare at the thought. I hate myself a little for having her here with me. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have sucked my dick. I shouldn’t have come in her mouth.

“Mom?” she answers in a voice hoarse from sleep.

I go on high alert, knowing Cassandra is on the other end of the call.

“No! Mom—“

Georgie sucks in a breath and starts to cry. I remind myself she isn’t my problem. I want her gone from my life.

“It isn’t like that,” she wails.

She glances nervously in my direction and swipes at her tears.

“I’m not here with Sloane,” she sobs. “I swear.”

My gut clenches. I know where this is leading. Georgie starts to trip away and then halts, her shoulders trembling. Even knowing I’m on the verge of being accused of a crime, I want to comfort her.

I’m fucking touched in the head when she spins around and the movement flutters the shirt she’s wearing, allowing me a sneak peek of her pussy.

My dick jumps. Which head I’m touched in is debatable.

“Yes, ma’am,” she sniffles. “Yes, ma’am.” She covers her mouth, looking and sounding as if her heart is breaking. “No, ma’am.”

She hangs up and lowers her head. She stumbles toward the bathroom door, not looking at me. I don’t want her tears to affect me. She cries a lot. She’s young and sensitive and fucked up. Just the right recipe for a watering pot to constantly leak from her eyes.

I wonder if she’s playing me so I can feel sorry for her. She was flying fucking high last night, but she sucked me off like a pro. I’ve been handed all kinds of bullshit from girls to get—and keep—my attention. Theatrics. Threats. Tantrums. Promises. Pleas. Pleasure. I’ve had schemers and dreamers, good girls looking for a wild night and bad girls looking for wild sex.

When the shower starts, my dick gets even harder. Growling, I jump to my feet. I stomp to the door and throw it open.

Arms folded, Kiln leans against a wall, looking bored. Pres is there, too. I frown. “Problems?” I ask, wondering why the head of the band’s security is here.

Kiln grins and glances behind me, toward my bedroom.

“We want to stare at the girl whose pussy will send you up the river, asshole,” Adam offers casually, sipping on bottled water.

Cold sweat breaks out on my bare chest and makes my jeans cling to my legs.

Kiln roams across the room to the table where silver servers of food sit. The hotel accommodates us every morning with a huge breakfast. He snags a sausage, then turns back to me, his expression unreadable.

“For what it’s worth, I think she’s a loyal one. More so than sweet Dietrech.”

My entire body freezes at the mention of Dietrech and my blood runs cold.

“I offered Georgiana blow if she sucked my dick. She declined because of you,” Kiln continues.

For one moment, I just stare at Kiln, not quite believing any of what the asshole just said. I’m not sure if I’m angrier because he was willing to overdose her, because he asked her to suck his dick, or because he spoke of Dietrech. My feet are moving and my fists are flying, landing against Kiln’s jaw.

“Motherfucker,” he growls.

Before he can retaliate, we’re pulled apart. I’m like an angry bull, and I want blood. Much of my rage comes from wanting Georgie’s pussy and feeling lower than shit because of it.

What the fuck can we do together but fuck? It isn’t like we have anything in common. I’m a grown ass man. Am I supposed to ask her when her next class project is due? Who she’s taking to the prom? Which of her teachers is the biggest asshole?

I yank myself away from the tight grip and turn. I freeze. Georgie is there, her eyes rounded. She’s in her bare feet, shoes and purse clutched to her chest. She’s wearing her two-piece, sparkly, bubble gum colored outfit again. Her damp hair is styled in a long braid. The bruise seems more outstanding in the cold light of day.

She looks at the floor. “I’ve called a cab,” she announces, shy, shifting her weight. Her entire demeanor is muted and toned down. She’s still groggy from the downer Kiln gave her.

I’m breathing hard. I know I’m wild-eyed and red-faced. I know when I amp up to lunatic status.

I advance to her but she sidesteps me before I can reach her. Her jaw clenches and she stares straight ahead. “Stay away from me,” she orders. “I don’t know why I’m in trouble, but I am.” She glances at me but then realizes it and looks away again. “I’ve seen Mom bulldoze other people. She’s never done it to me, though. Mostly, she ignores me. I’m in trouble because she says I’m with you.”

“You are with me.”

“No,” she whispers. “I’m with Crowell. He’s waiting for me. The cab will take me to him and he’ll vouch for me.”

Elle Boon, C.C. Cartwright, Catherine Coles, Mia Epsilon, Samantha Holt, J.W. Hunter, Allyson Lindt, Kathryn Kelly, Tracey Smith's books