Page 33

I always knew I was a sinner, that I wasn’t bound for something as pitiful as gods and heavens, but dry-fucking a girl against the wall of a confessional is a bit far, even for me. But when that girl is Aubree Callows? Well fuck, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. Heaven, hell, saint, sinner, God, the Devil, all of it so inconsequential when she is involved. It doesn’t matter what she says or what she does, every second I spend with her, I fall deeper into my obsession.

If she wanted the shirt off my back, I would give it to her. If she wanted my heart, I would rip it from my chest and hand it to her on a silver platter. The only thing I wouldn’t do is leave her alone. No, I’m too far gone for that. That’s how fucking deep she has me. I can still feel her shaking and trembling against me, her eyes glazed and filled with satisfaction instead of tears, and when she offers me a shy smile, I feel like I have won the greatest prize in the fucking world.

“I’ll go and find the priest,” I finally mutter, squeezing her hips in my hands, relishing in the thick weight of her wrapped around me, not truly wanting to let her go, not when I have barely even had her, and when I go to move, she tightens her hold on me.

“Let’s just go home, Alexander,” she breathes, still struggling to catch her breath as she comes down from her orgasm, and fuck, she is so blindingly beautiful that I can barely stand it.

“What?” I ask in confusion. “What about the priest and your confession?” I add, but Aubree is already shaking her head.

“I already have everything I need, so just take me home, there is nothing left for me here,” she tells me softly, and my heart hammers in my chest as I search her stare, finding nothing but the truth.

“Okay, come on then, Trouble, let’s go home,” I reply, dropping a kiss to her forehead, before slowly and reluctantly letting her legs fall from around my waist, and the smile she offers me this time is everything I have always needed and more.

We leave the church hand in hand, my eyes scanning the darkness back and forth, nodding to the security guys, all the while her fingers stay tightly wrapped in mine. From the church to the car ride, all the way back to the safety of my room, her hand remains clutched in mine, and this simple touch grounds me more than anything ever has before. Once there, she excuses herself for a shower, and I lay out one of my fresh jerseys on the bed, stealing the pajamas she left for herself, before I head to one of the other bathrooms to wash up myself. By the time we’re both done it’s past midnight, and we once again crawl into bed together, something that feels scarily natural already, but everything does when it comes to her. Then, for the second night in a row I watch greedily, as she falls asleep in my arms.

Except sleep doesn’t come for me, not like it did last night, not when that prick is still out there with a hard-on for my fucking girl.

I wait until I am certain Aubree is asleep, before I silently slip out of bed and head downstairs. I check in quickly with the security guys, before moving to make myself a pot of tea, taking a seat at the kitchen island to drink it, which is how Archer finds me.

“Everything okay, brother?” he asks, eyeing me carefully, as he moves to grab a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, and I nod sharply, willing the tea to make me feel better, but for once it doesn’t work.

“Yeah, you?” I snap, not being truthful in the slightest, and I’m sure he detects it in my tone. He’s too perceptive for his own good sometimes.

“Yeah, just nightmares, you know,” he grunts softly, and I do know. Daemon stays here often enough now for me to be well-versed on his night terrors, and I know the only thing that helps him these days is the man standing across from me. “Now stop being a mopey prick and tell me what’s wrong?” he adds, leaning on the counter to glare at me.

“I can’t fucking control it,” I grit, reaching up to press my fingers against the ache in my chest, before quickly dropping my hand and reaching for more tea under his watchful stare.

“Control what?” Archer asks, nodding his head toward my teapot, and I roll my eyes as I move to pour him a cup, taking a deep breath as I try to sort through the thoughts in my head.

“How I feel about her,” I admit with a sigh, and any worry he had is now replaced with a smirk. “I’m just so fucking angry, brother, so angry that I want to find him and kill him with my bare fucking hands.” I don’t have to say the pastor’s name for him to know who I am talking about, I know he understands.

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” he replies darkly, sipping his tea, and I don’t miss the shadows that cross his eyes.

“How do you handle it? How do you control it without losing your damn mind?” I ask him desperately, and it brings another smile to his face.

“You don’t,” he shrugs with a laugh. “That’s love. It’s feeling out of control, it’s losing your damn mind, but knowing the person responsible is worth it anyway. So is she worth it?” he questions, eyeing me over the rim of his pink teacup.

“She’s worth fucking everything,” I tell him truthfully, and he shakes his head with another laugh, knocking back the rest of his tea, before placing his cup back on the tray and rounding the counter, slapping me roughly on the back.

“Then welcome to the club, Alexander, your balls now belong to someone else, so you’re fucked.”

I watch him go, not wasting a second in getting back upstairs to the other half of him, leaving nothing but his words behind. Words that ring in my mind the whole time I drink my tea, and when I make it back to my room and see the girl of my dreams with her pink-tipped hair, who I haven’t even fucking properly kissed yet, spread out across my bed, I know he’s right. I am fucked.

Fucked and completely and totally in love.

Shit. How the hell did this happen?

The drive into Manhattan for once is not a total slog, not when I have all that is good in the world sitting right next to me. Aubree admitted that she had never been into the city before as we reached the outskirts, and suddenly all the traffic and morning commuters were no longer a bother. I split my attention between my phone and her, watching as her awestruck eyes take in the sights, while also making sure everything is arranged perfectly for when we arrive.

We’re staying in one of the penthouses that my family owns, alongside my parents, although we will have a whole floor to ourselves, and I can tell Aubree is nervous, as she hasn’t stopped fidgeting since we got in the car. When we woke up this morning it was a lot calmer than yesterday. I got to enjoy her sleepy smile, lazy stretches, and blushed cheeks, before we headed downstairs and shared a pot of English breakfast tea. Did I tell you she’s perfect? Then Daemon rustled up some breakfast for everybody, before we bid them all a goodbye and got on the road.

A few extra security guys arrived earlier to keep an eye on the house, and we have one of them with us alongside our driver. Both of them have worked with my family for a long time and I trust them with Aubree’s safety. Which is why I am able to relax and enjoy her taking in the New York scenery, making a mental note to bring her here again when it gets a little warmer. She asks question after question, all of which I answer with ease, making her roll her eyes, but her excitement is just so infectious, and I’d do anything to keep it that way.

By the time we reach the underground parking for our building, Aubree genuinely looks like she is about to throw up, and I smother my smirk, as I jump out of the car and round it so I can open the door for her.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me,” she snaps, knowing me too well already, and I have to swallow a chuckle, as I guide her toward the private elevator by the crook of her elbow.

“I would never do such a thing,” I tease, and she uses said elbow to deliver a sharp blow to my ribs.

“I mean it, Alexander, don’t mess with me, not when I am seconds away from meeting British royalty,” she seethes, her attitude once again making my dick flare to life.

“I know I’m your Prince Charming, but you know we don’t have any actual royal blood, right?” I reply, shuffling us inside the elevator and putting in my private code to the top floor, before pulling her against me by the waist.

“You might not, Satan's Spawn, but Sinclair Striker is the only queen I recognize.”

“Sinclair Reign,” I correct, making her roll her eyes again. “And if she’s your queen, what does that make me?” I ask, whispering in her ear, and her eyes meet mine in the elevator mirror.

“My worst nightmare?” she replies sweetly with her perfect smile, and I tip my head back and groan, flexing my hands around her hips.

“Fuck, love, stop talking to me like that or my parents are going to know exactly how much I fucking like you,” I toss back, pressing my now hardening cock into her, and then following her blush where it starts at her chest and rushes up to her neck and cheeks.

Today’s outfit is a light purple blouse, with little flowers on it that ties together in the center, concealing her perfect fucking tits, and she has styled it with a pair of soft blue jeans that cling to every one of her curves. She looks just as perfect as she usually does, and I know the second we reach the top I am going to be fighting with my own mother for her attention.

“Alexander,” she curses my name in warning, and I tighten my hold on her once more.

“I love it when you say my name,” I tell her truthfully, turning her tension into a soft smile, just as we reach the top floor, before I lean in and add in a whisper, “I love it even more when you moan it.”

Before she can respond, the doors fly open and we are stepping right into the foyer of the penthouse. It’s been a few months since I’ve been here, but it’s just as pristine as always, and I’m looking forward to spending some time with not just Aubree, but my parents too.

“They’re here,” I hear my mother’s excited tone from down the hall, before she appears, looking just as elegant as always, as she strides toward us as if still working the catwalk. “Oh, Sweetheart,” she greets me, opening her arms, and I have no choice but to step into her embrace, leaving Aubree’s side as my mother hugs me, before she pulls back and gives me a quick once over. “I swear you get bigger every time I see you.”

“Mum, we both know I haven’t grown since freshman year,” I reply with a laugh, taking a step back beside Aubree, which is where my mother’s gaze now moves. “Mother, allow me to officially introduce Aubree Callows.” I place an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to my mother, and I can practically feel the nerves lining her body. “Aubree, meet my mother, Sinclair Reign.”

Aubree opens her mouth to say something, but my mother is there in an instant, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug and no doubt checking she is actually real. “Oh my goodness, Aubree, it’s so good to finally meet you,” she preens, pulling back and cupping one of her cheeks. “And look at you, so beautiful. I mean, Alexander said you were even prettier in person, but oh my, you really are stunning,” she gushes, looking between us both, no doubt imagining what her future grandchildren are going to look like, as she adds, “Alexander, isn’t she stunning?”

“Yes, Mother, she is very stunning,” I reply, enjoying the deep shade of maroon now stained on Aubree’s cheeks, as I toss her a wink.

“I cannot tell you how glad I am to meet you, Mrs. Reign,” Aubree finally says, looking beyond starstruck in her presence, and I know she truly means it. She’s told me a few times now about how often she and her mother used to watch my mum’s shows, and I only wish her mum was still here to enjoy this moment with her.

“Oh, now, none of that,” my mother starts, putting her arm around her and stealing her away from me. “It’s Sinclair to you, my dear, Mrs. Reign is my mother-in-law,” she states firmly, leading her to the kitchen, and all I can do is trail behind them until we reach the large open space. “And this is my husband, Parker.” She gestures to my father as we enter, who is side by side with Glinda, our housekeeper.

My dad quickly wipes his hands and rounds the large marble island to greet us. “Miss Callows, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I heard a lot about you from my wife and son,” my dad tells her, offering his hand for her to shake, and she does.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too, Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she smiles, much more relaxed toward him than my mother, which only makes me smirk. Only she could be more intimidated by my sweet angel of a mother.

“Son, good to have you home,” my father adds, turning to me and I also shake his outstretched hand and then pull him in for a hug.

“It’s good to be home, Dad,” I say by way of greeting, patting his back, before turning my focus to Glinda. “And there she is, the Wicked Witch,” I tease, moving toward her, and she whips me with a towel.

“Don’t start sassing me, boy, or I’ll get your mom to get the baby pictures out,” she warns, before pulling me in for a warm hug.

“Go for it, I was a beautiful baby,” I shrug, turning my gaze back to Aubree, who is watching us closely. “Aubree, this is the woman who keeps us all in order,” I start, and my mother and father both laugh in agreement, taking a seat at the island. “Glinda, this is my girl, Aubree.”

Our housekeeper smiles warmly at her. “Your girl, huh? Does she know that?” she jokes, moving around to greet her with a hug, which Aubree gratefully accepts with a smile. “Alexander said we had to have mac and cheese for lunch today,” she adds when she pulls back, and Aubree’s eyes snap to mine.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” she starts, but Glinda is already cutting her off.

“Oh my sweet child, I’m sure you know by now that the boy never takes the word no kindly,” she winks, moving back around the counter to finish what she was doing, and I lead Aubree to one of the free stools.

“Glinda, you’re making me sound like a predator,” I tease lightly, and our housekeeper only rolls her eyes at me like she usually does.

“A pain in my ass more like,” she grumbles playfully, and Aubree snorts a laugh.

“And mine,” my mother agrees, toasting her glass of champagne in the air, and I give them both my best death glare, as I take a seat beside my girl.

“I hate you all,” I declare, and am then delighted when Aubree gently places her hand on my arm.

“Alexander, don’t be mean, they are only teasing you, I’m sure they’ve done it before when you’ve brought girls home,” she laughs, and then both my parents smile knowingly.

“Ah, well you see, Miss Callows, our son has never actually brought a girl home before,” my father announces, and her head snaps in his direction, looking between him and me to see if I disagree.

“You have never brought a girl home before?” she scoffs in disbelief. “You? The manwhore…” she quickly cuts off when she realizes what she is about to say, and my mother laughs.

“I think it was the prostitute he tried to book for his sixteenth birthday that first alerted us to his ways,” she muses, looking to my father for confirmation, who only nods, before she continues. “And though we are far too aware of his extracurriculars, it seems he never deemed any of his many lady friends good enough to meet us.”

My mother’s words leave Aubree staring at me in shock, and I open my mouth ready to defend myself, but the girl in question just laughs. “You tried to hire a prostitute for your sixteenth birthday?” she asks, completely bewildered, shaking her head at me.

“What else does a sixteen year old boy with too much money need?” I muse with a shrug, pouring us both a glass of pink lemonade, as Glinda sets it down in front of us.

“There is something seriously wrong with you, Alexander,” she sighs, still laughing, and the rest of them all agree with her.

“Don’t I know it, Trouble,” I toss back with a wink, and I can feel both my parents watching us closely. They know what this is, even if Aubree isn’t ready to admit it yet.

“So, Aubree, Alexander tells me you’ll both be joining us for the annual Striker Gala tonight,” my mother cuts in. “My beauty team will be arriving in a few hours and I’ve asked them to make room for you too, I’d love for you to join me so we can have some girl time together,” she pleads with a smile, and I see the panic in Aubree’s eyes.

Shit. I forgot to tell her about the gala.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know there was a gala,” she starts, glaring at me. “Alexander only mentioned a brunch, so I didn’t bring anything suitable for a gala,” she rushes out in a panic.

“It’s okay, I’ve taken care of it,” I tell her, reaching out and squeezing her hand gently, but her stare only hardens.

“You better not have spent more money on me,” she warns, and I see my dad hiding a smirk behind his hand, as my mother and Glinda share an amused look.

“Shall we eat,” I suggest to all of them instead of responding, and then I spend the next hour watching all three of them fall for her the same way I have, and when I finally excuse us to go to our room, they grumble at our departure.

The penthouse is spread out across three floors, with the top floor belonging solely to my parents, the middle floor belonging to me, and the bottom floor catering to the living spaces and guest rooms. I lead Aubree upstairs and down the hall until we reach my room, and when we push inside, I find our bags have already been placed neatly on the bench at the end of my bed.

Aubree studies the space in awe and I get it, this level of wealth is both obnoxious and unattainable to almost everyone on the planet, but I love taking things in through her eyes. She wanders around the space, lingering more on the personal items, such as books and photographs I have in here, than anything else, before stepping toward the floor to ceiling windows and admiring the view.

I expect some kind of comment about it all, yet when she turns and finds me staring, all she does is smirk. “What? I don’t get my own room?” she asks with a knowing smirk.

“Sure, if you want,” I reply smoothly, closing the distance between us, not stopping until I have her pressed against the window. “There are four more on this floor alone that you can choose from, but just know I will be crawling into bed beside you, no matter where you choose to sleep,” I promise, and her eyes flare in an excitement that has my dick once again stirring awake for some attention, but now is not the time for that.

“Is that a threat?” she whispers, clearly not knowing me as well as I thought she did.

“Oh no, Trouble, it’s a promise,” I warn, before pulling back and leaving her panting against the window. “Now come on,” I demand, moving to carry our bags into the walk-in closet, and it isn’t long until she follows behind me, taking a seat on the long sleek bench in the center. “I got you a selection of dresses, all of which come with shoes, jewelry, and underwear that will compliment them,” I gesture to one of the rails that now completely caters to her, and her eyes flare wide as she takes them all in.

“Alexander,” she breathes in disbelief, as her eyes trails over every one of them in surprise. “This is too much, you don’t need to buy me gifts…”

I cut her off, dropping our bags at her feet, before throwing myself down beside her. “Trust me, they will be more of a gift for me than you,” I tease, imagining not just what she will look like in them, but what she would look like with me stripping her out of them too.

“But it’s too much,” she whispers again, and the way she says it has me wanting to punch Ben in the face all over again.

Hasn’t anyone ever spoiled her?

“Don’t worry, they were pocket change, love, and will no doubt be worth every penny when I get the privilege of seeing you in them,” I tell her truthfully, once again being granted that delicious blush of hers. “Now unpack and get settled,” I command, reaching for her bag and passing it over, and she snatches it with a roll of her eyes.

“You’re annoying,” she tells me, and me and my dick both preen under her praise.

Then we sit and watch as she delicately pulls out her things, placing them on one of my shelves in my closet. Her clothes, shoes, toiletries, and then I see her pause as she pulls out a little black box, hesitating with it in her hand.

“Sex toys?” I ask, attempting to cut some of the tension now lining her body, and she scoffs.

“Not quite as exciting I’m afraid,” she sighs, moving back to me with the box still in hand. “I packed it out of habit,” she adds mindlessly, passing it over to me, and I take it with a frown, sitting up slightly as I open it. Inside is a small, black bible and a set of black rosary beads. “They were a gift from Ben when I first started wearing my ring,” she explains, as I hand them back and she inspects them slowly. “I’ll get rid of them,” she states, fleeing the closet, but I follow after her, gripping her elbow and pausing her in place in my room.

“You don’t have to get rid of them,” I tell her softly. “Not if they mean something to you.”

“That’s just it, I don’t think they do, I don’t think any of it does.”

“Is this about last night?”

“Yes. No. Not really. It’s about all of it I guess,” she shrugs, dropping down onto my bed and placing the box on the table next to it. “It’s just, how did I get here? How did I stray so far from everything I thought I knew? From going to church with my mom and grandma, and being with Ben, to sitting in penthouses with rich playboys, who have hearts bigger than anyone I’ve ever known?” She shakes her head in disbelief, and I watch her silently, knowing she needs to get this off her chest. “I keep expecting to feel like I am doing something wrong, that my faith will come back and scream at me for not being where I’m supposed to, except all I feel is free. Free of judgment, free of expectation, and free of the version of myself who they wanted me to be, but I never was.”

I can tell there is guilt weighing down on her shoulders and it kills me, because I know how good of a person she is, and it’s not because of any misguided faith or expectations, it’s because I know her, the real her.

I drop down to my knees in front of her. “Aubree, forget about everyone else for a second and just focus on you. What do you want? What do you need? That’s all that matters, you do that and I can promise you that your mother and grandmother will still be proud of you, no matter what,” I tell her firmly, watching as her stare searches mine, for what, I’m not sure.

“What if the only thing I need is you?” she asks in a shaky whisper, as if she doesn’t already have me hook, line and sinker, and my smile is instant.

“Baby, you’ve had me since the moment I laid eyes on you,” I tell her with a soft laugh, my words settling over her, and then for the second time without warning, she is grabbing me and slamming my lips against hers.

Aubree kisses me, she fucking kisses me, and it isn’t like the last time, it’s not urgent or even desperate. No, it's a possessive, claiming, completely and utterly sure kind of kiss, the kind that makes her fucking mine. There is no going back, not when her mouth moves against my own, or when her lips part and our tongues clash together as one.

My hands snake around her hips, dragging her from my bed and pulling her against me, wrapping my arms around her and claiming her right back, like I wanted to do that night in the bar. I pour every ounce of want and need into the kiss, dousing us both in flames and setting us alight. Right here there is no god, no Ben, no string of nameless girls I will turn to again, there is just me and her, and the fire we both ignite in one another.

She kisses me, commits to me, puts her fucking faith in me, and nothing has ever tasted sweeter. I steal her moans as she swallows my groans, and it’s the most perfect kiss in the history of the fucking world.

She is mine. Every part of her belongs to me. Her mind, her body, her soul, her fucking lips.

Everything about Aubree Callows is fucking mine.

Finally.