Empire of Lust: Chapter 22

“I’m going to miss you so damn much.”

I can hardly breathe as Caroline squeezes me in a hug that could be mistaken for a bear’s.

Reluctantly and with enough awkwardness to spring second-hand embarrassment, I pat her back. “You’re not leaving the planet.”

She pulls back, sulking. “Well, I’m leaving you after I got used to you.”

“We’ll meet again, Callie.”

“You bet your sweet ass we will.” She kisses my cheek. “I’m so, so glad I reunited with you again, you beautiful bitch. Take care of yourself, okay? If anything happens, don’t hide and deal with it on your own. I’m only a call away.”

I slowly nod and she hugs me again before she ushers her dogs out the door. The two animals release disheartened huffs as they stare at me one final time before they join her and Mateo, who’s been waiting for her outside.

After weeks of dating and courting nineteen-century style, they finally reconciled. Caroline knows he didn’t cheat on her, after all, and that the whole scene was a setup, probably by Nicolo.

A gloomy emptiness fills my apartment as soon as the door closes.

I’m finally getting my peace and space back without anyone interrupting me whenever I’m trying to work.

And yet, it feels as if I’ve been thrust back into that black hole I called my life not too long ago. A life that was filled with checking with the prison guard and holding my breath whenever he talks to me about my father.

I called him after the two attacks, and he said nothing has changed about my father’s state. He appeared to be in his element while he sent people to get rid of me—or teach me a lesson.

And the fact that he can hurt me even from behind bars sends trepidation through my soul. What will happen if he actually gets out?

Even with the guards and Nicolo’s promises of protection, I can hardly sleep at night anymore, and I always, without doubt, look over my shoulder whenever I’m outside.

It’s like I’m back to being the younger, paranoid Aspen.

Wrapping my robe around my chest, I sit on the couch and pull open my laptop, opting to work.

Despite my best efforts, concentration doesn’t come.

So I go to the kitchen and open the bottle of tequila I hid out of Caroline’s sight. She and Kingsley need to stop trying to deprive me of alcohol when it’s the only thing that keeps me functioning properly. Besides, I’m never hammered, just tipsy enough to escape the chaos in my head and the feelings in my newly revived heart.

I pour a glass and then retrieve my phone, glaring at it.

The asshole didn’t call me or text me today.

I refuse to think that’s one of the reasons why the hollowness is having a party in my heart today.

It’s been two weeks since he made me agree to exclusivity and we started our unorthodox arrangement. Unorthodox, because it feels forbidden as hell whenever I face Gwen. It’s like I’m doing something wrong and thrilling at the same time.

During those weeks, I’ve gone to his house or he’s come here—but only when Caroline is romancing Mateo. He fucks me until I can’t move and then force-feeds me. It’s a thing since, apparently, it’s a problem that I barely eat any real food during the day.

Sometimes, we spend the night together just so he can wake me up with his dick inside me or his lips on my pussy.

It’s scary how sexually compatible we are. I’ve never had a lover who knows my body better than I do like freaking Kingsley Shaw. The worst part is that he takes pleasure in tormenting me with the knowledge.

And don’t get me started on his stamina, because it’s as crazy as he is. I just don’t understand how he fucks as if he’s still in his damn prime.

From my memories of him as a teen, he was fast and determined. Now, he’s intense, animalistic in his violent fucking that almost always is coupled with some sort of pain.

The type of pain that adds an edge to each release he rips out of me. At first, I tried to resist the pull, to not fall into his carefully crafted web, but I soon realized it was useless.

Not when I can’t get enough of him.

Not when I crave more of his firm hand and unapologetic touch.

Sometimes, soon after we’re done. It’s an unfortunate addiction at this point.

It’s why I’m staring at the silent phone.

It’s definitely not because I miss his company or need it now more than any other time or something.

We usually bicker like the worst of enemies. Our philosophies, perspectives, and view of the world are as different as night and day.

He’s a manipulator. I’m a rationalist.

He’s violent in both thinking and action. I’m more diplomatic.

He’s the storm. I’m the sea that refuses to be flipped upside down.

And yet, we have the deepest conversations. He’s one of the few men who isn’t intimidated by my mind, and the only man who wants more of it.

However, our conversations usually end up in a verbal fight and then a hate-fuck to sort it all out.

It’s unhealthy, bordering on toxic, and should’ve ended a long time ago.

And yet, any moments spent with him are the only time I’ve ever felt so undeniably alive. The only time I don’t think about the threat my father poses or the fast-ticking bomb that is my life.

Besides, it’s not like we have nothing in common. Okay, just a little, like how much we both love and care about Gwen or how we both have no tolerance for bullshit.

Especially each other’s.

Point is, we can agree.

Who am I kidding? It’ll be a cold day in hell before we ever do that.

Still, what we have—whatever it’s called—works in a strange way.

Taking a sip of my drink, I open the texts and take another swig. Then I finish the whole glass.

Not that I need liquid courage.

Just to make sure, I pour another glass, finish it, and then quit the bullshit and drink straight from the bottle.

Only when my nerves loosen a little do I type the text.

Aspen: Caroline left with Mateo. I’m alone.

He sees it but doesn’t reply immediately. I drum my fingers against the counter and take a few more sips.

Kingsley is usually the one who texts first, picks me up first, barges into my space, mind, and body without apologies first. And as soon as I take the initiative and text him, he ignores me?

I shake the phone, then narrow my eyes on it, then contemplate throwing it in the sink.

Just when I seriously consider the last option, his reply comes.

Kingsley: Congratulations on losing the freeloader and her demon dogs.

Aspen: She’s not a freeloader. Callie is my friend.

My lips shake as soon as I send the message. She is my friend. One of the few people I can call a friend, actually.

Wow. Look at me having a friend. Or reuniting with an old one or whatever.

There’s Nate, but our relationship has always been more of professional camaraderie. I did have a small friendship with a previous assistant in the firm named Nicole Adler and helped her with her custody case, but then she relocated with her boss to England and we don’t keep in touch often. At first, I helped her because I understood what it’s like to lose one’s child, but now I realize it was because she resembled Callie with her blonde hair and fair complexion.

Kingsley: Didn’t know that term was part of your life plan.

I basically punch back the reply.

Aspen: Are you going to piss me off for a few more minutes or will you tell me your reply?

Kingsley: My reply for what? Did you ask a question?

I didn’t, but I can almost hear the mockery in his voice. One of these days, I’m going to accidentally kill this bastard in pure voluntary manslaughter fashion.

Aspen: I said I’m alone.

Kingsley: I don’t see a question mark there. Do you?

Aspen: Stop being a dick.

Kingsley: What? I’m just asking an innocent question.

Aspen: Just come over before I reach into the phone and punch your balls.

Kingsley: *laughing out loud emoji* Your tough love is adorable.

Aspen: You won’t be thinking I’m adorable when you come here, asshole.

Kingsley: Who said I’m coming? Maybe I’ll channel the Aspen Leblanc in me and play hard to get today.

Is he for real?

I read and reread the text, and sure enough, the words are there.

Aspen: I don’t play hard to get.

Kingsley: Is that why you start bantering whenever you don’t want to say thank you out of concern of sounding emotional? Or the fact that you go out of your way to look aggressive in front of Nate and everyone else because God forbid they find out about us?

Aspen: You’re aggressive as well.

Kingsley: As a response to your behavior. Karma might be your beloved bitch, but pure spite happens to be mine, sweetheart.

Aspen: Does that mean you won’t be coming?

Kingsley: Add a please and I’ll consider it.

I’m foaming at the mouth as I stare at his words. I’m about to call him a thousand names, but I’m drunk—or getting there—and surrounded by a lonely halo that I need to vanish.

But I’m definitely not going to beg.

So I let my robe fall open and shiver at the gust of air that hardens my bare nipples. I pull one of them and snap a faceless picture that only shows me biting my lip, tugging on a pink nipple, and a hint of my lace panties.

My finger shakes as I hit Send, then type.

Aspen: Your loss.

I’ve never done this before, because I haven’t trusted anyone not to use this against me in the future. I’ve also never felt like showing this part of me to anyone.

A scary thought spreads through the confines of my brain. Does that mean I trust Kingsley?

Before I can find an answer to that question, my doorbell rings.

I jump, pulling my attention from the text that Kingsley read but didn’t answer.

Goddamn him. If he didn’t fall for that, then I’ll really have to beg. Maybe I should ask one of the guards Mateo provided for me to drive me to Kingsley’s house so I can smack him upside the head.

Closing my robe, I sigh, fighting the bitter taste of humiliation, and practically drag my feet to open the door. It’s probably the guard who’s at the door. They usually get me my packages after they check them.

When I swing the door open, however, it’s not a solemn-faced guard that appears on my doorstep.

It’s Kingsley himself, dressed in a black suit—the only color he wears—and exhibiting the expression of a dark underworld lord.

My heart flutters with the ferocity of a trapped bird that’s escaping its cage.

Goddamn it. I shouldn’t be this happy to see him.

And yet, I can’t help the surprised joy in my voice. “What are you doing here?”

He grabs me by the chin and basically shoves me backward, barging into my apartment as if he owns the place.

“You didn’t expect me to stay away after sending me that picture, did you?” He kicks the door shut behind him, his eyes shining with dark desire.

“I don’t know, maybe I did.” My mouth is dry with how much I need his lips on mine.

So when he lifts my leg up his thigh, I climb up his body, wrapping my arms around his neck and my thighs trap his lean waist in a stronghold.

“What else did you expect, my little whore?” He kneads my ass and I moan as his handprints and bite marks throb in remembrance of last night.

“Don’t call me a whore if you’re just going to tease me.”

“You’re the only cocktease in this equation, sweetheart.” He slams my back against the wall, holds me with one hand under my ass, and opens my robe with the other.

I’ve always loved the way Kingsley handles me with pure command and no chances of me fighting his dominant control. I feel like I can finally let go and not be scared that he’ll drop me to the ground.

“This is the culprit you chose for the night.” He bites almost the entirety of my breast into his mouth and I moan, pulling at his hair with the same violence.

Then I rid him of his jacket, throwing it somewhere beside us as he devours my nipples.

I try to unbutton his shirt, because he’s way too overdressed, but the fact that I’m hanging on the edge of an orgasm doesn’t help.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” I say, fingers scratching on his skin.

“Maybe I wasn’t.”

“And yet, you were around here even before I texted you.”

“I planned to drop off food or you would’ve gone to sleep without a proper meal in your stomach.” His lips trail from my bitten breasts to my neck and then to my mouth.

He thrusts his tongue inside, kissing me open-mouthed as he fusses with his belt.

“You taste like an alcoholic,” he whispers near my lips.

“Then stop kissing me,” I shoot back, feeling heat rising to my cheeks and shame trickling to my chest.

“Alcohol isn’t good for your health. Your liver will bail on you soon.”

“Are you really going to talk about my liver right now?” I grind myself against his erection that he’s freed from his boxer briefs.

“It’s part of you, too.”

“Not the most important part.” I align my pussy with his erection and just when I’m about to go down, the doorbell rings.

“Ignore it,” he says, and I’m fully prepared to.

There’s no way in hell I’m going to stop this now.

The doorbell sounds again, this time followed by a murmur of voices. One of my guards says, “She’s in.”

“Are you sure?”

At Gwen’s voice, Kingsley and I stare at each other, stunned, then we stumble in an awkward chaos of limbs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he curses low, pulling the robe around my waist.

I smooth my hair that he loves to mess up for sport, then point in the direction of the bedroom. “Go there and don’t make a sound.”

“Get rid of that little cock-blocker. You have five minutes.”

“Like hell I will. You had a lifetime with her, but I’m lucky to have as much time as she’s willing to give me.” I push him. “Go.”

He wipes the corner of my lips and that makes me aware of the unsatisfied ache between my legs.

Then he goes to the bedroom and I take a deep breath before I open the door with a smile. “Gwen.”

She smiles back, pushing a basket into my hand. “I brought cupcakes.”

“Thank you.” I move to the side, allowing her in, and she watches me intently as she passes me by.

Shit. Don’t tell me my hair is telling the tale of what just happened?

“Why do you look so red?” she asks. “Have you been working out?”

“Uh, yeah, working out. I just finished.”

“In a robe?”

“Just a spur-of-the-moment abs workout.”

I place the basket on the kitchen counter and offer her some green tea with vanilla. I’ve been stocking up on everything vanilla since Gwen started to come over.

“That must be why you missed my call.”

“You called me?” I check my phone that I abandoned here earlier and sure enough, there’s a missed call from her.

I can’t believe I was too caught up to notice. Thanks to her damn father.

Sometimes, I look at Gwen and wonder how the hell two unlikely people made her.

It seems surreal.

The fact that she’s her own person, completely different from me and Kingsley, is even more surreal.

I’m just glad she didn’t experience our traumas. Even if she grew up without a mother.

“How’s Nate?” I ask, pouring the hot water into a cup.

“He’s coming home late today. Don’t you work with him at the same office?”

“Yeah…I was just trying to start a conversation.”

She grins. “You’re bad at the social game, huh?”

I hang my head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You understood the assignment.”

“What assignment?”

She grabs a cupcake that she brought and laughs. “It’s just a saying, Aspen. Like when someone does something right or in a way that everyone likes, we say they understood the assignment. So you, like, understood the assignment, because society isn’t really that useful. Dad says it’s only to be used, which is wrong, by the way, because Dad is evil sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Yeah, only sometimes. Don’t believe everything the media says about him. They’re assholes and like to paint him as the devil.”

“Does that mean you’re back on good terms with him?”

“Well, he still wants me to apologize and I refuse.” She pouts, looking absolutely adorable.

“Why do you refuse? I thought you wanted him to forgive you.”

“He…he doesn’t spoil me anymore and…well, I guess he’s still mad at me, and I’m scared he’ll hurt me again if I do apologize.”

“He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He just won’t. Next time you see him, apologize. Okay?”

She gives a small nod. “I hate not being his angel, but it’s okay. He’ll always be my dad. Savage Devil, slightly evil, and everything in between.”

The lucky bastard.

Instead of acting bitter and showing my reaction, I ask Gwen about school. She tells me all about the exams and her friends, then joins me in the living room.

She says she misses Caroline and that she wants to go out with her because she’s like the fun auntie.

And I’m equally jealous and glad that I can even share these conversations with her.

We put on a movie—horror, per Gwen’s choice—and she tells me how she had problems falling asleep and usually watched horror movies to be able to do that.

I have a long way to go to learn all about her, but we’ll take it one day at a time.

As long as she lets me, I’m willing to do anything.

Soon after, her head falls on my shoulder with her eyes closed.

I hesitate before I glide my fingers through her ginger hair. I’ve wanted to do this ever since I found out she was alive and not actually buried in a nameless grave.

Gwen sighs in the middle of the horrified screams coming from the movie.

But then they disappear.

I lift my head to find Kingsley standing there, holding the remote.

He’s all dressed up, his expression closed off as he watches us.

Despite his objections to me forming a relationship with Gwen at the beginning, he hasn’t commented on it lately.

But I’m not sure if that means he’s come to terms with it or not.

“Let her stay the night,” he whispers in a low, deep voice. “If Nate comes to pick her up, she won’t be able to go back to sleep.”

“Are you leaving?” Despite my joy at having Gwen by my side, I can’t help the pang of disappointment of losing him.

“Either that or the cock-blocker will find out.” He raises a brow. “Besides, didn’t you say I’m so evil?”

“You know you are.”

He smiles and bends down to kiss Gwen’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, Angel.”

“Mmm, night, Daddy,” she mumbles in her sleep, and I swear my chest is about to rip open from how full it feels.

She told me about her sleep talking, but to actually witness it is a completely different experience.

The fact that even though Kingsley is a bit mad at her but still treats her like his precious princess is also another heartwarming experience.

He has a firm, protective side that I’ve never seen on any other man. I wonder what I would’ve become if I’d had a loving father figure like him.

I expect him to pull away, but he captures my lips in a slow, passionate kiss that rattles me to the bones.

“Dream of me, sweetheart.”

And then he’s out the door, carrying a piece of my heart.