Page 15 of Addicted to the Bad Boy
When she goes off, her body bucks off the desk, and I have to press down on her stomach to keep her from rocking off onto the floor. I snatch both her legs with one arm and pull her close, flattening my tongue and applying consistent pressure as she comes, long and hard and deep, moaning like a gorgeous symphony as her climax rolls through her.
I feel like a king. A hero. A conquering warlord laying claim to new land.
You are mine, princess. Mine.
There’s only one thing left to truly make my ownership of her truly official, and then she will be mine.
Forever.
6
MIRA
“That one is gorgeous,”Mom says, standing proudly behind me as I stare at myself in the mirror. “Butthismight do an even better job showing off just how truly beautiful you are.”
I try not to sigh as I step down from the pedestal at the center of the boutique. I’m on my third wedding dress now, but this is the only one that’s actually fit right. The first was too tight across the chest, and the second felt like a corset that was actively trying to compress my insides with enough pressure to create a diamond. Of course the pressure I’ve been feeling since this wedding was announced may be more of the issue than the dress.
I take the gown from her and stare down at the silk and lace. A feeling like a fish swimming in my stomach nearly causes me to vomit. The dress seems more like a noose than a bridal gown.
I never dreamed my life would go like this.
But what can I do?
I’ve been backed into a corner by my father, the sinister mastermind. So I take the dress into the dressing room and start the difficult changing process.
I have to make sure today is a nice day. A fun day between mother and daughter. Because I know she’s sitting out therein the Victorian-style pink chair, her cashmere scarf hiding the remaining wisps of her thin hair, fighting this goddamn cancer that could take her any day. I know that if I don’t pretend to go along with this wedding, Dad will make sure she doesn’t get her next round of chemo. And then I’ll lose her forever.
I should have screamed at him.
Beat him up even.
But instead, what did I do? I came here to try on dresses.
Honestly, this one is actually pretty nice. It’s simple ivory silk, doesn’t show too much cleavage, and has short, delicate lace sleeves. No crazy frills or jewels or anything like that. It’s not exactlyme, but neither is this wedding. Neither is Tyler. So what does it really matter? All I have to do is tolerate walking down the aisle in it.
Thankfully, Mom seems to love it. When I step out of the dressing room, she clutches a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Mira, you lookwonderful!”
Her voice is trembling like she’s going to cry, and I hate the fact that I actually like seeing her excited to see me in this godforsaken thing.
“Do a spin!” she says eagerly. “Do a spin!”
I turn slowly, and her eyes shimmer with tears just waiting to fall. “You look just like her…”
“Just like who?” I ask, my throat tight. This day is turning out to be much more emotional than I had anticipated.
“My mom.” She smiles, reaching into her purse and removing a small velvet box. “I thought I might wait until the wedding, but this feels like the right time.”
“What is it?” I ask, crossing to her slowly, a knot in my throat. Jesus, nowI’mgonna cry. All I wanted was to get away from Tyler and Dad and spend some time with my mom, and now I’m about to break down.
She opens the box, and inside is a gold locket I’ve never seen before. It’s clearly antique, delicate and slightly worn, with a thin gold chain. A single pearl is nestled into an ornate floral etching. A tear falls down my mother’s cheek as she opens it.
Inside is a tiny portrait of a young woman, chestnut hair and hazel eyes—just like mine.
“Is that…Grandma?” I ask, my throat quivering.
Mom nods, smiling. “She wore this when she got married. It’s nothing super fancy, but it’s important. Sentimental. Understand?” All I can do is nod back. “She said to me once that love is like a seed—”
“You have to water it?”
