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“I know your type,” she said. “You like to control your bitches.”

“I don’t control anything but my money.”

“If you say so.” She sipped her champagne.

“You don’t sound impressed.”

“I’m not.”

“I’ll marry you tonight if you let me.”

She laughed at me. “I’m not to be kept. I’m dangerous. I break hearts.”

“Not with me.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Let’s go up to my room and find out.”

She didn’t hesitate to follow me, and once we got back to my penthouse suite, neither one of us played games or pretended we didn’t know why we were there. Once we were out of our clothes, she pushed me onto the bed, and without warning, she sat that pretty pussy on my face. She rode my tongue, letting her juices flow down my beard. Her taste was something i could get addicted to, but i noticed one thing. I wasn’t fully in control, and I couldn’t believe it.

After she came, she slid from my face and onto my dick, no hesitation. Azaria matched everything I gave her. At some point, I started paying attention to her in a way I hadn’t expected. I wasn’t only fucking her. I was watching her and remembering shit about her that I had no business caring enough to remember. How she rode my dick and how she talked back to me in French. I remembered the way she fucked back when I had her in missionary.

I was balls deep, sweating, giving her everything when she said, “Tu n’auras plus jamais ce sexe.” (You won’t ever get this pussy again).

I chuckled before turning her onto her stomach and sliding back inside her. “Tu m’as laissé baiser à cru,” I shot back, then gave her deep strokes that had her gripping the sheets. (You let me fuck raw).

She didn’t argue with that.

After everything was over, I fell asleep with her in my arms. I didn’t do that with women, and I knew I shouldn’t have done it with her.

When I woke up at eleven that morning, she was gone. There was no note and nothing left behind to tell me she had even been there. I grabbed my phone and called her, but it went straight to voicemail. I called again and realized she had blocked me.

I sat there with my phone in my hand and my face balled up with irritation because my ego had taken a hit I wasn’t prepared for. Azaria had played me, and the worst part was I had walked right into it.

From that night on, I stopped moving like I had anything to prove to a woman. Women became rotation, structure, and something I could control. I left no room for surprises and damn sure no room for another woman like her.

But I never forgot Azaria.

I would’ve dropped everything for her back then.

Now she had no choice but to be with me.

CHAPTER 4

Naomi

“You Only Come To Me When You’re Breaking”

Here I was again, laid up with Ares, me face down, ass up at six in the morning. We had been fucking all night, and it was good, but I knew Ares was fucking the shit out of me because he was irritated, lonely, sexually frustrated, and confused.

Ares only came to me like this when something heavy sat on his chest. And somehow, I always ended up being the place he landed when life started closing in on him.

I had tried pushing him away. God knew I tried.