Astrid: You’d probably be dead around that time.
Daniel: Exactly.
Astrid: You really don’t plan to get married and have kids? Ever?
Daniel: Marriages are overrated. They’re just a glorified contract for a socially acceptable whoring agreement. They’re messy, full of betrayals, and usually end with sloppy divorces and a hefty check for the solicitor.
Astrid: Just because your parents’ marriage was messy doesn’t mean all marriages are. Look at mine.
Daniel: Three kids and thinking about a fourth? How is changing nappies going for you, Bugger?
Astrid: I can’t believe you’ve become so cynical, Bug.
Always was. Just tried to hide it with a charming façade in the past.
Daniel: I’m a realist.
Astrid: How about kids then?
Daniel: Wrong number. Not interested.
Astrid: Damn you lol. I mean, who will inherit your fortune? Who are you making all that money for?
Daniel: A million and one cat organizations. I would’ve given them to your children, but they have the King surname and have been richer than me since they were fucking toddlers, so I’m going for the next best thing.
Astrid: I can’t believe you’re choosing cats over actually fathering children.
Daniel: Everyone has different priorities. Mine include not changing nappies.
But even as I text that, my mind reels to when Aspen first told me about Nicole’s custody case.
For some illogical reason, I hoped—no, I wished—that Nicole had been raising our child. After all, I didn’t use a condom that time.
It didn’t matter that the maths didn’t align and that if she actually had been pregnant, she would’ve shown during our senior year.
It didn’t matter that in my head, she cheated on me with that fucker.
At that moment, I wanted Jayden to be mine and hers. A link that would connect us for years.
That was crushed to pieces once I saw the official documentation, but I asked her the question anyway.
It was worth it, if not for anything else but to see the surprised expression on her face.
Astrid and I text back and forth for half an hour, then she ignores me when Levi comes home.
Or he probably distracted her.
I lose count of the number of times he kisses her, open-mouthed, while we’re on a video call, just to force me to end it. I try to give him the middle finger by continuing to watch, but apparently, hearing Astrid moan is my limit.
That’s similar to imagining my mother having sex.
And now, I need bleach for my brain.
I stand up and go to grab a coffee, completely intent on ignoring Nicole’s presence.
But the moment I step into the living area, I pause.
Because they’re asleep. All three of them.
Jayden is holding on to the remote as a film plays on the TV. Despicable Me. No surprise there.
Lolli is curled up to his side and Nicole’s head is lying on the sofa beside them while she’s in a sitting position, the papers and the tablet snug on her lap.
I should wake them up and send them home, but the peacefulness of the whole picture keeps me rooted in place.
It’s the first time in…ever that I’ve seen Nicole off guard. Looking almost soft.
And my dick hardens against my sweatpants.
Fuck.
I endure the discomfort for long enough to get some blankets and go back to them. I cover Jayden first, then take away the remote and switch off the TV.
Carefully, I remove the papers from between Nicole’s fingers and move her so she’s more comfortable on the carpet. It’s thicker than the floor in her flat. The better option would be to carry her to a room, but she’d probably wake up.
Lolli peeks at me like a sneak as I place a pillow under Nicole’s head, then cover her.
What? I glare at the cat. If she gets sick, I’ll be the one without an assistant.
Lolli gives me a haughty glance as if thinking, Whatever makes you sleep at night, mate.
A moan mixed with a sigh rips from Nicole’s bitable lips and I remain there, perched over her like a fucking devil.
My fingers latch onto the cover, then I slowly trail them to her frail neck, to the visible veins beneath her transparent skin and the delicate contours of her face.
She’s like a fucking sin waiting to happen.
A sin I should’ve committed a long time ago.
Her lids flutter and I retract my hand before I act on some disturbing necrophilic thoughts.
I glare at Lolli, the only witness of my fuckboy moment, then stride to my room, shutting the door behind me not so gently.
I spend ten minutes pacing, another fifteen minutes doing push-ups, and another ten minutes contemplating Pornhub for real.
But here’s the problem, I don’t need fucking Pornhub.
It’s not just any gratification that I’m after. My dick’s tastes have become singular and pickier than my stomach about food.
After getting rid of my clothes, I step into my shower and hit the cold water button.
The state of my hard-on, however, updates from mildly annoying to I probably need to fuck the nearest object. Slamming one hand against the shower wall, I grab my cock with the other one and jerk off like a teenager with anger issues—hard, fast, and with the intention to get the bloody hell off.
I jam my eyes shut, feeling the snarl lifting my upper lip as I pump the length of my dick.
And just like that, her face appears in front of me. The same face she made when I fucked her that time when she made me her first. The same goddess-like body she had back then.
Her tits are round and full and tipped with dusty pink nipples that make my mouth fucking water.
Her pussy is smooth and waiting for me to fuck it the hell up.
I’m thrusting inside that pussy now, over and over, until her moans echo in my ears, bleeding into my veins and infecting my system.
This is the reason I hate blondes. I always, without exception, see them as her.
With brunettes, I can keep my distance. I can pretend that my type isn’t the only woman with whom sex ever meant something.
Her moans echo in my ears and I up my pace, pretending that my brutish, callous hand is her inviting, delicate pussy.
A gasp reverberates around me and I frown. They’re supposed to be moans, not gasps.
Slowly, I open my eyes and stare at the source of the sound.
Nicole stands in the doorway of the bathroom, her limbs shaking and mouth open in an O.
Fuck me.
What are the chances that I’ll empty down that pretty throat that keeps bobbing up and down with her swallows?
Only one way to find out.
17
NICOLE
Are there signs of having a heart attack? Because I’m pretty sure I’m having one right now.
A nasty heart attack that’s coming due to the bane of my existence.
My whole body trembles and my eyes widen as they take in the view in front of me.
Daniel is in the shower, completely naked, with his hand wrapped around his thick and very hard cock.
A view I wasn’t supposed to walk in on or see.
A view that’s currently paralyzing my motor and cognitive functions.
When I jolted awake from an extremely forbidden dream, I was disoriented and surprised to find myself sleeping on Daniel’s carpet while Jay lay on his sofa. What was even more surprising was the fact that my brother and I were covered with blankets, and the papers I was reading through were neatly tucked on the table.