The Brit

I pick up my pace, rounding the corner toward my suite, and my steps falter mildly when I see the doors of my father’s room opening. Shannon appears. There are tears in my father’s lover’s eyes. Not tears of grief. Tears of worry. She spots me as I approach, but I don’t stop to acknowledge her.

“Danny,” she calls, coming after me. I keep walking, leaving her chasing my heels like the pathetic lap dog that she is. She kept my father distracted from his pain in the later days. That’s all she was good for and the only reason I kept her around. But now he’s dead. And I know what’s coming. The gold-digging whore is transparent.

Her hand rests on my suit jacket, pulling me to a stop, and I look down at her. “What?” I ask coldly.

She smiles coyly. “You must know it’s always been about you.”

Yes. I’ve seen the way she looks at me. With lust. Hunger. Pops never missed it, either. “Shame it’s never been about you,” I reply, short and curt, shaking her hand off my sleeve. “Pack your shit and leave.”

“Carlo would never want that,” she shouts to my back, panicked.

I stop abruptly and swing around, grabbing her and pushing her against the wall. Rage is instantly heating my veins, cutting through them to a point I think I could bleed out. “Don’t fucking tell me what he would have wanted,” I hiss. “Don’t pretend you fucking know him. You don’t. He fucked you. Nothing more.” The hard truth makes her face twist. It maddens me. What outcome was she hoping for here? Life-long protection? A house in the suburbs as compensation for riding my old man’s dick in his dying days? My father was a predictable man. He didn’t love women. He appreciated them, but he never loved them. And he reiterated a thousand times that when he’s gone, Shannon should be gone too. He knew as well as me that she was only in his bed for a free ride and protection. “Your time in wonderland is up, Shannon. Get the fuck out.” I release her, the fear in her eyes making them watery for different reasons now.

I make it to my suite and yank my tie from my neck as I walk to my bathroom, flipping on the shower before stripping down, leaving my suit in a heap by the sink for Esther to pick up. The man reflecting back at me in the mirror looks the same as he always does. Fresh. Well-kept. The only difference I see today is the devastation hiding behind his blue eyes. Devastation only I can see. Devastation I mustn’t let anyone else see. His death is a weight I must hide. It could be a weakness. I’m in this alone.

But I’ll be okay. I’ll survive this. I can survive anything. Old habits die hard.

I spend some time flexing my shoulders, rolling my head on my neck, trying to loosen my tight muscles. Scrubbing my hands down my face, I sigh, hearing the door of my room shut. And a moment later, Amber is draped over the doorframe of my bathroom. She bites her red lip, eyeing my naked body, her hands twitching at her sides. “You called,” she purrs, taking the clip from her hair and letting the blonde waves tumble over her shoulders.

“Your roots need sorting out,” I say flatly, turning to face her. She’s not naturally blonde, and today it’s obvious. That maddens me too.

She falters, only for a moment. “Where do you want me?”

“On my cock.” I stalk forward and push my hand into her chest, forcing her backward toward the bed. “You want that, Amber?” I ask, needing that one word.

“Yes.” She never hesitates.

“Bend over,” I order, spinning her and pushing her face-first into the mattress. I yank her dress up and pull her G-string to the side. I don’t check whether she’s ready. I know for a fact that the woman only has to set eyes on me to be ready. I snatch a condom from the dresser and roll it on, then spread her arse cheeks.

“No foreplay?” she pants.

I level up and pound home, and she screams at the hard, sudden invasion of her easy pussy. I breathe in, taking hold of her hips. I don’t possess the patience or strength to work myself up. I need to let go, and in my world, this—pussy on demand—is the only way. I pound forward savagely and repeatedly, my head dropped back, my body searching for the release it needs.

“Danny,” she yells, making my teeth grit hard.

“Shut up,” I growl, forcing her to turn her face into the sheets to help her cope with my wicked drives. The wash of pleasure starts in my head and finishes in my toes, my cock rolling as my climax stalks forward. I groan, swiveling my hips as it churns out endlessly. “Fuck, yeah.” I look down at her round arse, spreading her cheeks to watch my dick lunge with each pulse. The relief is instant but will be short-lived. I know that.