Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mya

Stupid slut. She ruined everything. Everything!

I had been there, about to pull the trigger, and then she had sidled up to him from out of nowhere and wrapped her grubby hands around him.

I should have just shot them both. As soon as I realized he wasn’t alone, I tucked the gun quickly into my purse and walked away.

To my relief, the hall around me was empty. No one had seen me.

Fuck. I should have taken the shot when I had the chance. Should have left him bloody and dead and walked away like he’d done to Jason.

That’s what he deserved.

Anger, resentment, and bitterness ate at me.

I had failed. I tried to hold back a sob, but I couldn’t. I had failed Jason. I had failed my mom.

Maybe I just hadn’t deserved them. I was a failure. And I was so alone.

The tears wouldn’t stop falling and I was blinded by them. Not thinking, I fumbled to open one of the many doors that lined the hallway and found myself in an empty study. Just beyond a large wooden desk and even larger chair, was a set of ornate double doors that led to a balcony.

I went toward the doors, pushing them open, and I stood there, breathing hard, trying to catch my breath. I was crying and feeling as if I was suffocating. The air was thick. My heart was racing and I couldn’t catch my breath.

Suddenly, my legs gave out under me, and I was falling toward the ground. Then, suddenly, I felt strong hands pick me up.

Confused, I looked up and saw Dario standing there. His eyes were guarded as he said, “It looks like you’re having a panic attack. Just breathe.”

I did as he said, grateful for his presence, grateful to not be alone. He wrapped his arms around me. I leaned my head against his chest and just let myself cry. He held me, innocently.

He didn’t try anything. He just held me.

I sobbed for a while and then, as the tears dried, I pulled away in embarrassment and went toward the balcony railing, grabbing it, refusing to make eye contact, wishing he would just leave. I probably seemed insane to him, and honestly, I felt insane.

Five minutes ago, I had been about to shoot someone and now I was sobbing, having a complete panic attack in front of someone who was pretty much a stranger.

It was insanity.

“Are you done?”

He sounded dismissive.

Shaking my head at his audacity, I let out a bitter laugh. “For now.”

“Good.”

“You know, no one asked you to be here. You can leave.”

“A thank you would suffice.”

“You’re not getting one from me.”

I was angry with him. Angry with the world for the injustice. I had to get away. I had to get out of there.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, catching me by my hand.

“Let go of me.”

“No.”

He pulled me up against him.

Suddenly, all the fight was gone from me. He was hard. It was the first thing I noticed. It was difficult not to. I could tell right then that the evening had taken a turn.

Whoever this man was, tonight, I was his. His hands were already at the top of my dress, pushing the straps down. I was wearing a strapless, plunging bra that he quickly got rid of like an expert.

Then he picked me up and sat me on the edge of the balcony. His hands were all over my breasts. He took one nipple, and then the other into his mouth. He sucked my nipples until they were hard, making me groan.

I threw my head back. The pleasure was beyond anything I had ever experienced. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I was an emotional mess. But whatever it was, this man’s touch lit me on fire.

Then his hands were between my legs. He was pushing my panties to the side and then bending down. His hair tickled against the sensitive skin of my thighs.

I gripped the edge of the balcony, suddenly not caring that one wrong move would send me over. I trusted this man completely and I had no idea why.

His tongue parted my already wet pussy. I screamed as I wrapped my ankles around his back, never wanting him to stop. I closed my eyes and spread my legs even more, grinding my core against his mouth, gasping as he traced my clit with his tongue.

He took his time, tasting me, exploring my wetness as if I were the finest wine and he was a connoisseur.

And when I started to come, he abruptly pulled away and lowered my legs to the ground. He roughly turned me over.

“Keep your hands on the railing,” he ordered.

I complied.

I heard him unzipping his pants and gasped as he rubbed his dick up against me before pushing into me in one strong stroke. He pushed my dress far up on my back.

The cool air caressed my legs and my backside but nothing else mattered. Nothing mattered but the feel of him buried deep inside me.

“Dario,” I gasped.

He covered my mouth with his hand.

“Shh.”

I bit his hand as he pushed deeper into me to the point of pain, and then he pulled out, teasing me, making me cry out because I needed him inside of me.

He muffled my screams with his hand over my mouth as he roughly took me from behind, gliding in and out of my pussy, as wetness pooled at the tops of my thighs.

I don’t know who came first. I just felt him tense up inside me and my pussy clenched around his dick, hard and fast.

I was screaming by then, his hand barely muffling my cries of pleasure.

He surprised me by slapping my ass hard and harshly whispering into my ear, “Quiet down or I’ll stop.”

I couldn’t have that. I didn’t want him to stop. I hadn’t been fucked so good in so long. The last thing I wanted him to do was stop.

I obeyed, knowing that I would be rewarded. And I was. He grabbed my hips and pulled me back toward him, spreading my cheeks further as he fucked me harder, deeper. I swallowed back my screams, but I couldn’t help but moan.

And when I came again, my entire body tensed. I felt a rush of hot liquid between my legs, his cum or mine? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. And my head seemed to explode into a hundred thousand stars.

My legs felt wobbly and I was breathing hard, trying to catch my breath. It was then that I felt his hands on my breasts. My nipples were still hard. When had his hands gotten there?

He began massaging my nipples, and to my surprise, I could feel him beginning to harden again inside me. He hadn’t pulled out. We were still connected…

I opened my eyes and looked down then. I could see the landscaping below me. Not a soul was in sight. He was stroking my back, in no rush to pull out.

I could hear the voices downstairs. Embarrassment flooded over me. Had they heard me? In my mind’s eye, I pictured what I looked like, bent over, on a balcony with a stranger’s dick buried deep inside me. I remembered that he was getting hard again…

I straightened, attempting to pull away, but he grabbed my hips even as I straightened, keeping my body locked against his.

“Where do you think you’re going?” There was no amusement, no gentleness in his tone. He sounded angry.

I wiggled against him, trying to wordlessly separate myself from him. Finally, he stepped away, freeing his dick from inside me, but it still nestled against me, ready for another round.

I turned around, pushed away from his arms, and took a step back. I began to straighten my dress. I abandoned my bra since I had no clue where it was, and put the straps of my dress back up on my shoulders. I fixed my dress where it had been bunched around my hips.

The whole time I kept my eyes cast down. I couldn’t meet his gaze.

What had I done? Oh God, what was I about to do again?

I had fucked a stranger at a charity event after I had aimed a gun at a man’s head with every intent to pull the trigger. Who the fuck was I?

Finally, I looked up, and he looked back at me. His steel gray eyes guarded, his expression inscrutable. He looked perfectly put together, perfectly at peace, as if nothing had happened.

For whatever reason, that made me feel worse. I was thrown off by my actions, my pussy was swollen from our lovemaking, and he was completely unmoved.

I had to leave. I had to get out of there.

“I have to go.”

He reached out a hand to stop me, but I pulled away, stumbling as I did. It didn’t stop me, though. I had to get away from him…from myself.

And so, I ran.