Torn: Part Two (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (The Torn Series Book 2) (6 page)

Calm down. Once you put the lock on the door, you'll feel a lot better. You'll have more privacy. And besides, you still have time to kill. Doing this now will keep you occupied.

I suck in a breath, trying desperately to calm myself. Then I grip the screwdriver firmly in my right hand and start unscrewing the old doorknob from the door. The screws come out blessedly easy and I'm able to pull the doorknobs free on both sides. The locking mechanism, however...

I stick my finger in the hole where the doorknob should be, gripping the latch and trying to wiggle it out. It doesn't give. I grab the screwdriver and push it through the hole where the original doorknobs went through the latch. Then I grab both sides of the screwdriver and yank towards me. It still doesn't budge.

Stress balls up in my chest and floats to my head like smoke, burning my eyes. My teeth are clenched so tightly that I feel like they could crack. Violently, I jerk at the latch, losing all composure. It's a lot more stable than I am. After nearly ripping the door off of its hinges, I surrender, letting go of the screwdriver to sit back on my calves and cry uncontrollably. Why can't anything go right in this house?

“Are you alright?” a soft voice asks me from down the hall.

I glance back to see Earl standing there looking at me with an uncomfortable expression. Quickly, I wipe my eyes, sucking back in the emotions that so desperately need to spill out. “I'm fine.”

He takes an apprehensive step forward. “Do you need some help?”

I hold my hand out to him, turning my face away so that he can't see the fresh tear trail streaming down one of my cheeks. “I got this. Just go back and watch television.”

For a few moments, everything is silent except for the sound of my breathing. I wait for Earl's footsteps to retreat back into the living room, but they don't. My arm is getting sore from me holding it out, but I feel so frazzled that I'm practically frozen in place.

Finally, he moves. Not away from me, but towards me. Stubbornly, I refuse to acknowledge him. All I want is to be left alone. It's taking everything in me not to say that much. If one rude thing comes out of his mouth, I know I'll snap. I can't hold myself together any longer.

“Here.” He kneels beside me and picks up the screwdriver.

Against my better judgment, I look to see what he's doing. He jams the head of the screwdriver between the bracket of the latch and the wood of the door and wiggles slightly. Almost immediately, it starts to come loose. Within seconds, he has it pulled out.

I move back to give him room, expecting him to lay the latch at my feet and return to the living room. He doesn't though. Silently, he sets the latch down, then picks up the new doorknob and begins installing it. All the while, I just sit there and sniffle.

When he's done, he gathers the old doorknob and the trash from the floor, then he stands. “There. All done. You don't need this stuff anymore, do you? If not, I'm going to throw it away.”

“No.” I shake my head.

I stare at the newly installed doorknob as Earl steps out of view and walks down the hall. It's such a surreal moment, and I'm still in shock that he actually came to help me. I've been horrible to him, and he came to help me.

“Earl?” I twist around.

He pauses at the end of the hallway, turning his head but not actually looking at me. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” the word is so soft that it's barely audible.

“You're welcome.”

My gaze falls to the floor and I smile. Maybe this is progress.

“Piper?”

“Hm?” I glance back up at him.

“Would it be okay if I got a lock for my door too?”

“Yeah.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my arm. “Sure. I'll pick one up for you next time I go to the store.”

“Thanks.” He grins back at me, and for the first time since moving back home, I feel like things might be okay.

***

I lie on my back in bed, thinking about so many things. Crying in the hall depleted all of my leftover energy, so I decide to stay home. Besides, after that strange bonding moment with Earl, I started to feel bad about wanting to go out.

I take a shower followed by a nice, long bath. Thoughts of the things that Ann said and the kindness that Earl showed me gives me hope for a better future. I begin to consider how things could be. I'll never be the boys' mother, but at least we can be a family. Family is there for one another.

By the time I return to my bedroom, I'm oddly content. It's only 8 PM, but I'm already tired. The thought of going to bed so early makes me feel old. I have nothing to stay up for though.

“I can't believe I slept so much today and I'm already ready to sleep again.” I toss myself onto the bed.

My mind drifts to what might have happened had I gone to Club Fet tonight. Would Sir Suit have been there? Probably not this early. Maybe not at all, since it's a Sunday. Businessmen typically get their kicks in on Fridays and Saturdays. I'm likely not missing much.

I sigh, hugging myself. The robe I'm wearing is plush and comfortable. Tonight I'm craving a man's embrace though. It's not too late to get up and get dressed, I think briefly. But then laziness takes over and my grip relaxes as I realize that I'm not leaving this bed for the rest of the night.

There's no point in pretending that I'll suddenly get a second wind. I'm down for the night. Submitting to that fact, I pull off my robe and crawl under the covers.

It's nice to be able to sleep naked now that I don't have to worry about being barged in on. It was one of my favorite things about having my own apartment. Back in Utah, I used to walk around naked all of the time on my days off. I don't have that luxury here, but being able to do it in my room is the next best thing.

I purr as I wiggle myself into a comfortable position, picturing Sir Suit's handsome face. His gaze was so intense. How he looked at me made me feel violated in all of the best ways. If he could do that much with just his eyes, I can't even imagine what his hands could do. Or maybe I can. A mischievous grin creeps across my lips as I allow my fingertips to lazily explore down my curves, wondering if he'd be slow and gentle or aggressive and rough.

“Good evening, Miss Gravatt.” He's standing behind me, his large hands sliding over my hips.

In my fantasy, I'm naked, but he's not. We're in some swanky penthouse and he's getting ready to have his way with me. While I have no idea what his voice actually sounds like, I imagine that it's masculine silk. Smooth and powerful and Dominant, but not overbearing or gravelly.

“Good evening, Sir.” I reach back to caress his face, feeling the thinnest layer of stubble brush beneath my fingertips. He smells strong of expensive cologne.

He's not looking at me the same way that he did at Club Fet. That's a look for the chase. He's already caught me. Now his eyes are hooded, knowing that he's about to get what we both deeply desire.

“I've been dreaming about this all day.” He cups my chin, gently pulling my face close to his so that our lips are almost touching. He doesn't kiss me though. He leaves me wanting. Always wanting more of him.

“How about we make your dreams come true?” I turn in his arms, clutching his tie and pulling it out from beneath his suit jacket.

The fantasy fast forwards through the seduction until we get to the good stuff. He already has me so wet and ready, bent over a chair with my ass sticking out. His shirt is unbuttoned, his chiseled chest and abs visually teasing me beneath it. He pulls his cock out of his pants, and I'm more than impressed by its size. It's long and veiny with a thick pink head, swollen and ready to take me to the heights of ecstasy.

I push my hips back towards him, the cool air feeling delicious against my pussy. In real time, my hand slips between my legs, but I imagine that it's his hand warming me up for his entry. He rubs his middle finger delicately across my lower lips, feeling the velvety skin there. Back and forth he pets, and my body responds by growing more aroused. Internally, I'm practically begging for him to thrust a thick digit into me, and then more.

“Please, Sir,” I whisper into the darkness, arching my back to show my need for him.

“You're such a wanton girl,” his voice is husky with amusement.

“I've wanted this since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“Is that so?” A short laugh escapes his lips. “I'd certainly hate to disappoint you.”

Just the tip of his finger crests my folds, dipping into the slickness there. He's nowhere near my hole, the slowness of his actions driving me insane. I need to be fucked. The fantasy can't drag on any longer.

He gives me what I want, grabbing his shaft and guiding it to my cunt. I plunge two fingers deeply into my pussy as he plunges his cock into me. It's so wide that it hurts, but it's the amazing kind of pain that quickly melts into pleasure. He grips my hips and slides all the way inside, filling me completely. It's so good.

I whimper as he begins rocking. My core throbs in approval. In and out, full and empty, over and over again. He picks up the pace, his balls slapping against my nub. I use my free hand to stimulate my clit while I finger myself hard and fast. All the while, I picture what his expression might look like. He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, wetting it. His hooded gaze takes my arousal to a new place.

“Fuck me! Yeah! Fuck me hard!” the words come out in a heated blur.

“Fuck you? I'm going to destroy you,” he growls.

His grip tightens around me, his fingers digging into my soft flesh. The bite of pain it causes sends a shudder throughout my entire body. My nipples bead from the waves of bliss rolling through me.

He slams into me again and again. The friction between us sets us both on fire. His breathing is ragged, his muscles contracting beautifully as he works behind me like a machine built for my pleasure.

And then I feel the best thing of all. His dick thickens and twitches as it spews into me. The overwhelming stimulation of it rockets me to the edge. I crumble, squeezing around him as his cock fights against my tightness.

“Oh God.” I tilt my head back as the intensity of the orgasm makes me sees stars.

The fantasy fades away, and I'm left panting on my bed. As my senses return to me, I can still hear the faint sound of the television in the background. It brings me back to reality quicker than I would have liked—makes me wish I would have waited for the boys to go to bed. I needed this though. And now, I need sleep.

***

It's my first day of work, and surprisingly, I'm not nervous at all. Perhaps that lunch with Ann was more helpful than I thought.

All of my feelings of comfort go out the window though when she opens the door to me and I see a look of concern and uncertainty on her face. She's not even smiling, and that makes my heart sink into the pit of my stomach.

“Good morning, Ann,” I greet her in my most cheerful voice.

“Good morning, Piper.” She glances past me.

“Is something wrong?” I try to swallow the fear that I'm about to be fired before I've even begun working for her.

“No. Come on in.” She moves aside to allow me entry. I step into the foyer, then wait for her to close the door and give me instructions. She keeps her head bowed as if avoiding my gaze. “I'd like for you to make breakfast this morning. Eggs and bacon should be sufficient. Make some toast, too.”

Straight to work. At least, that's a relief.

She leads me into the kitchen where I quickly explore the cabinets and drawers to find everything that I'll need. The space is well organized. All of the pots and pans are neatly placed side by side in the cabinets. The utensils are perfectly stacked in their drawer. Her refrigerator is clean and clutter-free.

Ann takes a seat at the small round breakfast table to watch me work. “I want one egg sunny side up. Two scrambled. You can make yours however you'd like. Make eight pieces of bacon and six pieces of toast. Cook the bacon until it's close to burnt.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I chirp as I pull the carton of eggs from the fridge.

“I'd also like you to put some orange juice in a pitcher. And some milk.”

I smirk at the request. I've never understood people who do such silly things. It makes fewer dishes to wash if you just pour out of the container. But I suppose it doesn't really matter to her since she's not the one who will be washing the dishes.

“I want everything to be perfect.” Ann stands and walks over to the china cabinet to take out place settings. As I glance over, I notice that she's removed three of everything.

“Expecting company?” I ask while heating oil up in a pan.

She finishes placing the plates and cups on the table before pressing both of her palms against it and leaning over looking exhausted. “My son will be joining us.”

“Your son, huh?” I smirk. “Is he single?”

She gives me a warning tilt of her head. “I'm afraid this won't be a pleasant visit.”

“Is that why you're having me make him breakfast? To butter him up?” I try to imagine what Ann's son might look like. If he has her same wispy blonde hair and light brown eyes, he might be quite the looker. That's probably hoping for too much, though. Besides, it's not like I can sleep with my boss' son, so what does it really matter.