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“I guess.” I narrow my eyes. “You jealous of someone else taking care of me?”

“After our mom…” she swallows, “died, we had nannies too. Most of ours were young—au pairs, from like France or Switzerland.” She pulls the backing off the adhesive. “I’m pretty sure that was more for my father’s benefit than ours.” She spreads the adhesive over my skin, fingers gentle. “They were all attractive and generally inexperienced. I just figured maybe you had a few hot nannies of your own.”

I snort. “The opposite, actually. Grandmotherly, Mrs. Doubtfire types. I guess it makes sense now, knowing that my father’s the Baron King.” Who has a reputation for cozying up to the much younger Baroness. The pieces of my childhood are easier to click into place now that I know his true identity. He never needed my mother, not when he’s had an endless string of house girls at his disposal over the years. It was well known in royal circles that the Baroness belonged to the masked Baron King first, and the current crop of barons, second. With that perspective, it begs the question, who needs to fuck the nanny when you’ve got a girl contractually bound at your whim? Apparently not my father.

“And your mom?” she asks, putting away the supplies. “Was she ever around?”

I lean back against the pillow. “Nah. She was never really part of my life. We mostly went to see her.”

“At the hospital?”

I nod. I don’t talk very much about my mom, Amber, very much. Why would I? She’s just another thing taken from me by my father. Another secret and mystery. Is anything I know about her real? My father deals in lies; I can’t trust anything he’s ever told me.

“That must have been hard.” She inches up the bed, curving her body against my side. She’s careful not to touch my stomach, although I’d give anything for her to counteract the pain.

“We had to visit Amber at rehab once or twice. It was… not great.” I can still remember walking down the long corridor, the walls a muddy brown, a sign of the chaotic emotions locked inside. “The hospital wasn’t so bad—I guess that’s what money gets you.” I push down her shorts, seeking the star. “Lots of sunlight and open spaces. Amber… she just always seemed kind of out of it, like half in this world and half in another.” I recognize the irony here. When I’m off my meds, it feels the same. “There was always this tension between her and my dad.” So much orange. “I’m not sure why he never divorced her.”

I know why: control.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“It’s been a while. He moved her farther away.” Like he’s always trying to keep her out of reach. “It’s fine. It’s hard to miss what you never had.”

She leans into me and kisses me. Soft and gentle, which is nice, but fuck, I miss hard and ruthless. It’s been nice having her here alone, but also a misery, not being able to have her like I want.

I may not be able to get off right now without busting a stitch, but there’s no reason my girl can’t. I push my fingers down the front of her pants, running them down the curve of her body until I find her clit. She’s warm, and it only takes a few strokes to get her wet.

“Rem,” she breathes, “I don’t want you to?—”

“I’m going to,” I reply, licking into her mouth, “and I’m not stopping until you come so hard, they’ll hear your screams down on the street.” I pull away. “Now be a good girl and take off those shorts so I can eat your pussy.”

Her gaze grows heated, and she actually cooperates, easing out of the tiny shorts. I inch down the headboard and lie on my back. She climbs on top, straddling my hips. “Is this okay?”

I reach out and push her tank up, exposing those pretty tits. “There we go.” I gesture her forward. “Come here.”

She’s careful around the wound, but I can smell her as she inches closer–see the slick residue between her thighs. “Fuck, I just want to taste you.” I run my fingers over her clit. She’s bare, skin soft and supple. Parting her folds, I give her a slow, teasing lick. Her pelvis bucks, and I clamp my hands around her hips, guiding her down, getting the first taste.

Fucking heaven.

Her groan bounces off the high ceilings, and she grabs the headboard with both hands. The view from beneath her is a dream, her tits heaving with every thrust. I’d stare at them all day but I’m too consumed with how hot her pussy is against my tongue.

Once she finds a rhythm, she breathes, “Remy, I’m close.”

“Not yet,” I command, pulling my mouth away and dipping my fingers into the sloppy heat of her pussy. I wet my fingertips, then grip her ass, pulling her cheeks apart, seeking her tight, puckered rim. Making tiny circles, I warm her up, testing to make sure she’s ready.

“You’re wicked,” she tells me, pussy thrusting desperately at my face. I flick out my tongue, giving her a tease.

“Baby, you’ve been toying with me for two fucking days playing nursemaid. This is just a little payback.” I push in a finger, and she moans as I stretch her out. “You want more?”

“Mmhmm.” Her words are lost as she bites down on her bottom lip, head nodding furiously. It’s time to give my girl what she wants, sliding in another finger and spreading her hole. Swiping my tongue flat over her pussy, I cover her with heat. My fingers chase her thrusts, fucking in and out. Her breath comes in short gasps, slipping into a groan when I feel the tremor run through her body as she gets closer and closer.

Then I do what I’ve been itching to do this whole time–the thing we do the best–fall off the edge to oblivion.

Lavinia

It’s day three,and I finally convinced Remy to leave the comfort of the top-floor apartment. Although he doesn’t need to overdo it, it is important to keep his body moving, and I figured exploring the building a little more couldn’t hurt. I take him straight to the Gazette archives.

“You’re addicted.” He gives me the once-over. “I can see it on your face.”