LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) (78 page)

“I don’t understand,” he finally whispers.

Oh Law.

“Yeah, you do. You know, you just don’t want to think about it is all. Look at the others,” I say, urging him and closing my eyes briefly to stem the tears burning at the edges.

Law takes a deep breath and lifts out another three frames in one go, his hands shaking as he slowly turns them face up and arranges them on the table in front of him.

In one, I’m holding my newborn son, my hospital gown clear, beaming into the camera lens. In another, Cody is about three years old and proudly grinning as he puts the finishing touches to a replica of some building he built out of his Legos.

In the last, Law’s little mini-me is smiling brightly, decked out in hockey gear, as he proudly poses in front of the goal, his position.

Like father like son, I think ruefully.

The silence stretches for what seems like an eternity, as he gazes between the photos, taking in the different ages, seeing his son look more like him with every age progression.

When he skims through the album though, I see his jaw tighten before he raises his gaze to mine, his face so stony I feel his anger like a physical blow.

“You liar. You goddamned thief!”

He’s up on his feet and pacing, his movement jerky with his anger. I know exactly how he feels and more. I paced for a long time, cursing him, calling him everything from liar to thief—because he stole my heart and every drop of happiness I had.

In those early days I cursed him so vehemently it’s a wonder he didn’t fall down dead just from my loathing. So yeah, I know how he feels, and yet I still feel terrible because what he took from me can’t even begin to compare to what I took from him.

We’re not even. He hurt me, but I did something unforgivable because I was hurt and angry. I deserve his anger now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let him punish me anymore.

“I understand your anger—”

“You understand nothing!” he yells, moving so quickly that I rear back when he plants his hands on the arm rests and leans down, his irate face shoved into mine.

“You understand nothing! You kept my kid from me!”

“No. I kept you from him, which is a totally different thing, Law,” I say quietly, keeping my composure by sheer force of will.

There’s so much more to say, but he doesn’t give me the chance. Instead, he drags me up by my arms and hurls me towards the hallway.

“Go pack, Nic.”

Law

The rage I feel is nothing compared to the sense of hurt and betrayal when I saw those photos and realized that the very kid I’d been resenting for weeks is not only innocent, but also my flesh and blood.

The moment I laid eyes on that first photo, the one of Nic in the hospital proudly beaming down at the baby, I knew. There’s no mistaking the James genes, and God help me, that kid is mine. From his little golden baby fuzz to the milky blue eyes that even then promised to be the exact same shade of deep blue that my father and I share.

At the thought of my dad I feel renewed rage because it hits me that even now Mom and Dad are flitting around Europe with my son, a kid they couldn’t have mistaken as anything other than mine.

They all knew about this and kept me in the dark. Everyone betrayed me, stole from me, and as God as my witness, they will all pay. Starting with that deceptive bitch, Nic.

I expected tears or excuses from her, something, anything that would calm me down. Instead, all I got was her unwavering gaze and unapologetic stare.

I want to hurt her and yet even as the need courses through me, I have the cruel thought that this is my “in”—the only way I will ever get what I want. See, I still want her; she’s still mine. I will have her, even if she’s nothing more than a liar and a cheat.

Nicolette Sharp has always been the future mother of my children, children I now want so badly I feel my cock heat and lengthen at the thought of putting them in her.

She’s stolen from me, so I think it only fair that she repay her debt. On her back, with my seed flourishing in her belly.

Yeah, as the thought takes hold and starts growing, I allow my body to take over and wipe away the emotions threatening to break free. She’s going to wish she’d never even thought to cross me, and I’ll spend the next fifty goddamned years making her beg forgiveness, as I take everything from her that ever mattered.

She’ll have no job, no life outside of what I’ll willingly give her, and the best part: She’ll enjoy every minute of her time under me—even as I break her spirit.

She’ll belong to me in every way and be grateful for any crumb I’ll willingly give her. And those will be very rare. I intend to have a large family with her and will devote myself only to those I can love.

Starting with Cody, my son, the boy I have to make up ten years to.

Christ, how do I make up ten years of neglect to the kid when explaining to him that I never knew he existed? It seems like a lame-ass excuse—even to me.

“Nicolette! Get your ass out here.”

“I’m coming!”

She stalks out of her bedroom, holding a small overnight carry bag and her laptop and purse. She thinks this will be a one-night thing? She’s got another thing coming.

“That’s all you’re bringing for the rest of your life?” I ask conversationally, giving her a crude leer and seeing her blush. “Fine. Naked it is. Don’t complain to me about clothes and shit when you run out.”

“Law—”

“Shut your mouth right now if you know what’s good for you, Nic. You got two choices. You can either come with me and keep your yap shut and legs open and give me what I want. We can get married and raise our kids together. Or you can stay here and lose your son. I don’t give a shit what it feels like either which way, so you can hold the waterworks for my mom and dad. And yeah, I realize they’re in on this, too. Don’t worry, I’ll make them suffer in their own ways.”

And I will, just not as terribly as I’ll make her hurt. She’ll be nothing more to me than a vessel, a broodmare as I put babies in her and keep her exactly where I want her—dependent on me and me alone for every minute she gets to spend with my kid.

Does that make me a bastard? Whatever. I could give a fuck what anyone thinks of me.

“But—”

I’m in her face and crowding her into the wall at her back so fast I feel her breath hit me in surprise. He body is tense and trembling and so soft against the erection raging beneath my belt that I’m tempted to start my program here and now.

“I told you, not a word. You’re coming with me. You have only a few functions. You will be my wife. You will bear and care for my children, and you will take me whenever, however, I want, without complaint. Anything besides that is not on the table. You decide you don’t want that, fine, but I swear to you, I will take my son and you will regret it,” I say quietly, letting her know exactly how serious I am with just that softly spoken statement.

I feel her tense and tremble, her lip quivering for a split second before she straightens, blinks, and then nods. That a girl, Nic. Always weighing the options and coming up swinging.

That’s the thing about my girl; she’s smart as a whip. She weighs pros and cons and makes a decision based on logic, and logically, she knows that I am not a man to mess with.

Sure, I can be laid back and carefree, mostly it’s just an act though. I didn’t get to be captain of my team all those years ago because I’m a nice guy or a push over.

I know what I want and I take it, no matter who says what or what others feel—and she knows that about me.

“Can I—?”

I don’t let her finish, choosing instead to do what I’ve wanted to do for almost two weeks now. I mesh my mouth to hers, sealing our lips and kissing her hard.

She squeaks and tries to pull back when our teeth clash and grate together, but I just shove a hand through her hair and keep her still, thrusting my tongue into her mouth in an aggressive show of anger and ownership. I don’t stop kissing her till she’s gone soft and is moaning into my mouth, her tongue trying and failing to participate, as I completely overtake her.

When I pull away, she’s got a dreamy look in her eyes and her lips are pouty and swollen from mine. She looks well aroused, and I love that I can make her want me despite the anger that I see bubbling beneath her surface.

“Let’s go.”

*******************************************************************

Nic

The car ride from the city to Jack and Minnie’s house is a silent, loaded event that leaves me feeling tense and on edge. I struggle to hold onto the anger that had been simmering below the surface when he’d laid down the law and thrown me at my bedroom like a wet rag with no feelings, but the truth is, I’m not feeling hot, and to top it all off, I’m still wet and achy at his display of dominance from earlier.

Gosh, who knew that all that angry hardness would turn my crank like nothing I’ve ever felt before?

I’m no submissive, and though I’ve read BDSM novels and stuff, I can honestly say that I’m not into any of that stuff—no judgement though—but his attitude, all that fiery dominance clothed in seething anger makes me hot and twitchy inside.

When we reach the house and he finally drags me out of the car, I’m feeling a little less queasy and on firmer ground about this whole situation.

I know a few things, and while some people think ignorance is bliss, I prefer to know what I’m dealing with so that I can confront the beast head on, instead of having my back ripped to shreds while I’m eaten alive.

Firstly, he’s talking marriage again, as if he has every intention of not just owning me, but ensuring that I have no escape from him. Funny that now I’m terrified of the thought when years ago I’d anxiously awaited a proposal as if my very life depended on it.

Another thing…he wants a whole bunch of kids that he can raise from infancy. Oh and he wants Cody. Bet he’s not “willing” to just raise him now, huh?

Lastly and surely by no means least, to get that litter of babies going Law intends to be on and in me at all times. I’m not about to complain since, really, I’ve lusted after the man since the first moment I laid eyes on him.

And I haven’t ever stopped.

The only kink in that chain is that I think he’s being utterly serious when he says that he won’t let me be more to him that, an incubator and sexual slave.

Oh well, looks like I’ll have to find a way to disabuse him of that notion. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m liking the thought of staying home and having kids.

It’s something I always wanted to do but never thought I would be able to since I had to work all the time and be in control of everything. Now that I don’t have to think about these things, I feel a certain weight lift free, and for the first time since I lost Law, I feel a burst of happiness unfurl deep in my chest.

I can let go, give up all that control I’ve been lugging around with me and just relax.

The one good thing about Law being so hard now is that I know that I won’t get a say in anything that happens now and I feel…free.

“Come on. You need to eat and then we should make plans to get married. I’ll order the plane for tomorrow and we can fly to Vegas since you don’t seem all too bothered by the place,” he says with a growl, taking my arm in a firm grip and pulling me inside.

When we get to the kitchen, Rose bustles away from the oven with a grin and enfolds me in a bone-crushing hug, her large bosom swallowing my face for a second.

She’s been Minnie’s housekeeper and best pal for years, and I’ve loved her from the get go.

“Glory be child, you look positively green. Come on and sit down while I get you a plate.”

“That won’t be necessary, Rose. I’ll serve us. You may retire now,” Law cuts in, giving the older woman a hard glare when she goes to argue.

“Now don’t you look at me that way, boy—or I’ll take my switch to your mighty fine ass. Your mama taught you better. Suit yourself though, just make sure Nicky eats something to get her color back and I’ll be fine,” she barks, helping me to a chair at the table before walking past Law, only to turn back and give him a slap upside the head.

“Mind your manners, boy.”

The giggle that bursts forth doesn’t amuse him one bit, and he bangs pots around before slamming a plate in front of me and ordering me to eat.

To be honest, I feel way too unsettled to do the food justice, but a glare from him convinces me to eat at least half of the poached fish and potatoes before I push my plate back and nurse the glass of water he poured.

The silence lengthens to the point where it’s no longer uncomfortable or even awkward. It’s just becoming downright scary, the way he keeps his eyes on me while he eats and doesn’t say a word.

I could say something flip, something deep, just about anything really, but I don’t think Law is in half a mood to have me open my mouth, so I do the smart thing and keep quiet, thinking of a way to minimize the backlash he seems intent on slinging Jack and Minnie’s way.

“They didn’t know,” I say before I can recall the words, my lips clamping closed when his eyes narrow and his mouth thins into a scowl.

“I told you—”

“Yes, and I accept that I deserve your anger, but only me—not them. They only found out the day we left for the cruise, and I made them a promise that I would tell you myself. They think you already know, or that I’m telling you now.”

I don’t tell him that Jack knew the minute he saw Cody after he was born because I don’t need him to hate his father. He’ll need him in the coming days to teach him to be a father.

Me though, I can take this. I’ve lived alone for years, knowing this day would eventually come, so it’s not as if I’m not prepared, though right now I long for that day he walked into my office.

Mexico or Siberia are looking pretty good right now.

“They lied.”

“No! They were so mad at me when they found out, and I swear they were going to tell you right away, but I begged and promised that I would do it,” I say, begging him to believe me with my eyes and an expression I don’t think I’ve worn a day I my life. Contrition.

Law nods once and goes right back to eating, his icy blue eyes still pinned to me where I nervously fiddle with the glass in my hand. When he’s finally done, he clears the plates away and takes my arm.

By the time we reach his rooms, I’m a ball of arousal and a jumble of nerves. He’s bringing me up here, not just for sex, but to breed me—and I’m nervous.

Not because he’s about to use me like an animal, oh no, my moist sex is so on board with that. My nerves stem from the lie of omission that I’m keeping trapped inside.

Good luck getting me pregnant buddy since I’m on the injection and probably as fertile as a tumbleweed in the desert. Sure, I would love more kids, but that will not be happening till I am sure that he’s capable of being a better father than he is a husband.

“Strip and get on the bed.”

The authoritative tone sends equal parts nerves and excitement through me, and I consider this new aspect of my personality. Do I really want this? Is this commanding attitude really turning me on?

I would have never have pegged myself as the type of woman to get off on being ordered around and used this way, but gosh, I am so freaking hot for him right now that I have to accept the truth.

Yes, I really do like this—and what’s more, I want it with an intensity that leaves me feeling breathless and desperate for whatever he’ll do next.

I strip slowly, watching him from the corner of my eye, as he stands stiff and keeps his eyes on my every movement. When I’m naked, I force myself to walk to the bed and lie down, letting him have the reins.