Page 10

TEN

THORNE

This meeting is about to send me back to fucking prison.

It’s been hours of back and forth between the attorneys and I’m ready to tear the walls down.

It’s a mediation that should have taken an hour at the most, but leave it to the damn lawyers to fuck up something simple. The terms were set when we walked in, so we were supposed to agree and sign. Now, we’ve gone back to fucking square one. We sued Sweet Tastes on two counts. First, they copied a good portion of our branding and logo. They argued it was their design first, which should have been laughed out of court, but they’re backed by a fuck-ton of money. And then there was the second count. Sweet Tastes used the recipes (sold to them by a former employee) and the exclusive donut names for ten of our trademark flavors.

To tell you the truth, that second one pissed me off more because our customers shouldn’t be subjected to the substandard, greasy shit they churn out at that place. Anyway, the case should have been simple. It should have been shut- them-the-fuck-down. It shouldn’t have turned into this shit storm. But like I said, they’re backed by a fuck-ton of money from ConAgra Foods.

“Look.” I raise my hands and everyone looks my way. “We’ve been in here jacking off for too fucking long.” Adding to my frustration is the fact CeeCee hasn’t texted me.

I asked her to let me know when she left and by 9:30 AM I started calling and texting her and got no reply. Called my driver and he said she never called him for a ride anywhere, so I started to calm down, even smirked a little thinking she must have decided not to go in to work after all.

If I’m being truthful, I’m also fucking tired. That girl had me on the edge of something I’ve never experienced before and the intensity of it left me sleepless.

Content, but sleepless.

I laid with her, cradling her next to me all night, with images of my baby growing inside her swimming through my head. Thoughts of the simple things I’ve always dreamed of. A family. A wife. And my possessive nature protecting them until I take my last breath.

I think of the way her pussy spread apart when she took my cock last night. The way her eyes lit up and widened as I slipped inside her.

A perfect fucking fit. We both came so hard, our bodies shook against each other. I’ve never had an orgasm like that before. Inside a woman, flesh to flesh, and with CeeCee, it was soul shattering. I felt like I gave her part of me, something I can never give again.

Even sitting here now, thinking about it, I’ve got a hard-on. I don’t bother excusing myself, and I stomp out of the room. I’m not sure if I need to go stroke off, thinking of the way her tight walls clasp around me, her noises. Jesus, her noises. That’s enough to make my balls draw up right there.

But I decide otherwise. I take the elevator down and hop on my bike. I need to find her. My head will not let me think of anything else until I know she’s safe.

“Where did she go?” The poor receptionist at the front desk looks at me like I’m holding a gun to her head. Yeah, I’m ashamed to say I know what that looks like.

“I…” Her voice shakes as the fucking asshole from last night comes into view.

I aim my eyes his way. “Where’s CeeCee?”

He rolls his eyes. “Gone. Again.” His snarky tone and self-absorbed manner make me want to shove a foot in his ass.

“Where?” I’m a man of few words right now, but someone else better start spilling their guts because otherwise I’m going to start breaking bones.

“How the hell should I know? I don’t care where she’s gone.” He’s acting tough, but he still steps back when I move toward him and his voice goes up a notch. “Look, she got a courier delivery, said she had to leave and I said don’t come back.”

“Going where?” I snarl, my eyes going from the poor, scared-shitless receptionist to the asshole who’s heading down a road he does not want to find the end of.

“She didn’t say.” The receptionist’s eyes are pleading, and I almost feel sorry for her. But not for him.

“I told you. Envelope. Gone to the airport. That’s it. Now get the hell out of here before I call…”

I don’t hear the end of his sentence because my ears are ringing. I’m already turning, heading away from them, back to my bike. The airport. Where the fuck is she going?

“Sir.” Some TSA supervisor is giving me yet another warning to step back or I’m going to end up spending a few nights in some airport pseudo-jail. “We’ve been over this. You need to exit the airport and be on your way.”

The other four of his comrades flank me. My head is pounding. Fists at my sides.

I’ve been here almost two hours. This is my third run-in with the TSA and they are done playing with my ass. Sure, I’ve spent nights in worse places, but this isn’t going to help, so I tell myself to calm the fuck down and make a tactical retreat.

I spin on my heel and head out the doors into the warm night air. It’s a stunning evening for October. The cool met with a breeze that hints of the warmth of the summer still. The smell of airplane fuel and cigarette smoke don’t for a second dim the memory of her scent.

Her flavor lingers on my lips and for a split second, I wonder if she was just a dream.