“Then isn’t it lucky that we are both the type of men who are prepared to deal with that.”
The sun dips below the horizon as I chase a small yellow ball over the backyard court. I’m sweaty and exhausted, and Lara is scrambling right beside me.
One thing I’ve learned in the last hour? The best way to forget about weird stress caused by vile text messages is to play doubles tennis with two kids under the age of ten.
I’m paired with Lara, Anne is with Damien, and Bradley is chasing the balls. Not surprisingly, Anne and Damien are beating the pants off of us, but I blame that mostly on my complete lack of skill at the game, and not on Damien’s well-known prowess on the court. It’s clear that he’s holding back and letting Anne do most of the work. To my delight and surprise, she’s got one heck of a swing, too, which is causing much tension between her and her older sister, who is more of a dancer than a tennis player.
Anne returns my wild ball, and Lara misses right as the automatic lights on the court turn on, bathing us in an incandescent glow.
“More, Daddy,” Anne begs, but Damien shakes his head.
“Nope. It’s time for you little rug rats to go see Ms. Bree and get your bath. Mommy and Daddy need to talk.”
“Please?” Anne asks, this time with the question directed to me.
I shake my head. “You heard Daddy. Off you go. Take Bradley with you.”
To their credit neither girl tries another round of begging. They each take one of Bradley’s hands, and the three of them skip back up the path towards the back door.
Bree’s spent the last hour on the patio working on her book, and I hear her call, “I’ve got them,” a few moments later.
I put my racket down and cross the court to Damien. “Mommy and Daddy have to talk?” I repeat as I slide my arms around him. “I really hope that’s a euphemism.”
“I love a good euphemism,” he says. “This way.” He takes my hand, but instead of leading me up to the house, he leads me down to the bungalow. I keep a beach-style wardrobe there for both of us, and we strip out of our sweaty clothes and hop into the shower. Immediately, Damien’s arms go around me and he kisses me softly under the rain-style showerhead.
“This is nice,” he says. “On the court, here with you. I can almost forget that hell’s popping up all around us.”
I tilt my head back and press my fingers to his lips. “No,” I say. “Not yet. We can talk about it later if you need to, but right now, right here, I just want it to be us.”
“I like the sound of us,” he says, as I start to kiss my way down his chest, then tease the tip of my tongue along his cock. He groans, his fingers twisting in my hair as I continue to lick and tease him. I start to take him into my mouth, but he shifts, his hands moving to my upper arms as he tugs me to my feet, then wraps one arm around my waist as he kisses me.
“Turn around,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over my ears.
I do as he says, and he cups my breasts, teasing my nipples before trailing one hand down to find my clit. My body is already on fire, and I tremble in response to his soft, teasing stroke. He continues to play with me, bending me over so that I feel his cock against my rear and his fingers moving in long, sensual strokes.
“Hands on the tile,” he whispers, and I lean forward for him, my palms against the tile as the water pours down on us. “Now spread your legs, baby.” I comply eagerly as warm water runs over our bodies and he teases me from behind with his cock even while his fingers stroke my clit until I’ve been reduced to nothing but need and pleasure, and I’m begging him to please, please just take me. And, thank God, he does, and soon I’m lost in sensation. Damien’s hands on me. His cock filling me. His mouth kissing me.
Electricity curls through me, firing my senses until, finally, I hear his soft, “Come with me now,” and my body seems to shatter, until it’s nothing but me and Damien alone in the universe. And in that moment I know with unerring certainty that no matter what happens next, everything is going to be okay.
When I wake, sunlight is filling the bungalow, and I sit up looking around for Damien. I find him in the kitchen, his earphones in as he talks to Troy about his schedule for the day. “Just shift everything from the morning to the afternoon. If there’s anything I can handle by phone instead of in-person, rearrange that. I’m happy to take calls while I’m here. But I don’t think I’ll get to the office until after lunch.” He pauses, scribbles a note on a pad of paper on the counter, then looks up, sees me, and smiles.
“That’s perfect. Troy, I have to go. Email me if there’s anything else that’s urgent.”
“I didn’t mean to distract you from getting into work on time. I don’t want to be a bad influence.”
“Oh, but I love it when you’re bad.”
I roll my eyes. “Funny man.” I slide into his arms and kiss him. “And good morning to you.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
I raise my brows. “The last thing I remember about yesterday was nothing you have to be sorry about.”
His mouth curves in a grin. “God, I love you. What would I do without you?”
“Conveniently, you won’t ever have to find out.”
He pulls out of my arms long enough to pour coffee for both of us. I settle in at one of the stools by the counter while he leans against the sink, looking at me.
“I thought a bit more about the videos. The Masque video is still a mystery—I haven’t heard back from Matthew—but as for the Richter vid, I can only think of one person who might have had it.”
“Your father?”
He nods, and I shudder. The idea of Jeremiah Stark being involved in any aspect of our life, much less harassing us, gives me chills. “You think he’s sending these texts?
“I’m thinking that my father has reason to want to make my life difficult. As far as he’s concerned, we made his life difficult.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not nearly as difficult as he deserves.” Jeremiah Stark knew all about the abuse that Richter put Damien through. More than that, he’s caused no end of trouble with us, manipulating the press, demanding money, and generally being an albatross around Damien’s neck. But I still don’t understand what exactly Damien is thinking. “What’s in it for him? Your father’s all about the money. Are you expecting a blackmail demand? Pay or the video gets released?”
“That’s one possibility.”
“What’s the other?”
“At this point, I think he just wants to hurt us. Which means he may release the video simply out of spite.” He reaches up and rubs his forehead. “I need to go down there and talk to him.”
“Oh, sweetheart, do you really?” But I already know the answer is yes.
He nods.
“I get it. But I’m not going with you.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” His phone chimes with a text, and Damien grabs it, obviously expecting it to be from Troy about some important bit of business.
When I see Damien frown, I assume something’s gone wrong at the office. He looks up at me. “I’m not going to see him, after all.”