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In fact, I could fuck her right now. She’d let me. But that would ruin her craving. Her anticipation.
I wanted the fire in her to intensify with each encounter, each touch, each kiss…
“Come for me, Briar,”
I breathed into her mouth, licking, biting, teasing, driving both of us mad.
“Be a good girl and come all over...
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I bit my tongue until it bled, forcing myself not to come at the sight of her orgasm. So familiar and yet so new.
It took a full minute for her to recover. I relished all sixty seconds of her nestled against me,
“Watch me be devastated for being taken advantage of.”
Truth was, when it came to her, I wanted everything and nothing at all.
“What were you thinking, letting him give you the orgasm of a lifetime?”
They’d tried to help. They were good people. Great people. And it wasn’t their fault Doctor Cohen—and Oliver—had laid down the law.
“Ma’am, I want your forgiveness, not a restraining order.”
“Thaw?” I buried my face into my hands. “I folded like a beach towel at a five-star resort.”
Ollie vB: First of all, I’m a fuckMAN, thank you very much.
Either way, my hopes that he would cash in on my commitment to being screwed by him crashed and burned.
It was all I could think of, even as I wanted to stay mad at him, especially because he’d cheated on me, and cheaters never changed.
We actually texted daily, but just the basics. He’d check in to see if me or my friends needed anything, if we wanted to use his driver, or if he could hire catering for us.
With so much time between now and dinner, I could surprise Seb with his first party in fifteen years. A party of two, but a party, nonetheless.
“Wait there.” I wheeled the cart to the coffee table, transferred everything but the cake onto it, and scattered confetti all over the rug.
“You know I don’t have housekeeping in this wing,” he pointed out. “Someone’s gonna have to clean that, and that someone is not me.”
“We’ll see.” To prove my point, I fisted a clump of confetti and tossed it over his head. It danced and sparkled in the air before r...
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You can do it, Briar. This is nothing. They are nothing.
Sebastian’s hand shot to his mouth. He stifled his laughter, snatched up his phone, and shot me a text. It came through a second later.
Seb vB: Hello? 9-1-1? I would like to report a MURDER.
Only Oliver tried to make it up to me by saving me in the pond, taking care of me bedside at the hospital, upending his life with me as his fiancée, and letting me crash here after I made it very, very clear that I hated his guts.
“See, this is the point of having a family. You stick it out even when things get tough. You don’t forget about the person and move on with your life.”
Sebastian’s fingers whipped across his screen, his tongue peeking out with concentration. A second later, a text flashed on my screen. Seb vB: 9-1-1? Scratch that. I’d like to report a DOUBLE HOMICIDE.
“Do you take me for an uneducated swine? I saw the announcement in the New York Times.”
“In the New Yor…” The rest of the words died in my throat.
Fucking. Oliver.
POTOMAC, April 3.—His Grace Oliver Etherion von Bismarck, oldest son of Felix von Bismarck, Duke of Carinthia, and Agnes von Bismarck, of the Conyngham art dynasty, announces his engagement to Briar Auer of Los Angeles, parents deceased.
It wasn’t a four-tier cake, but it was a dick-shaped cake. With cute, cursive letters written on the peach frosting in black icing. To have and to hold.
I’d met him for the first time in this very house. Told him I loved him on the steps near the swings. Promised to marry him upstairs on the balcony.
Keep it together, Briar Rose. School is more important. Oliver would tell you that, too.
Three rings. Four rings. Five rings. I glanced at the time. It was early on the East Coast. Why wasn’t he answering?
He liked her bikini pic.
Nope. He liked all her half-naked Cancun Spring Break pictures. All thirty of them in a row.
I’d never had doubts when it came to Ollie’s faithfulness…until now.
You are publicly flirting with another girl, while I’m sitting here planning our entire future together. What the hell, Oliver?
Ollie hadn’t returned any of my calls and texts. Yet, he found time to post this.
How could he disappear on me and go on with his life?
They left me behind, without as much as an offhanded good luck. Left me broken, broke, and terrified.
Revenge was a dish best served cold.
When Oliver returned home with takeout he’d driven an hour for, he found me in the kitchen scooping homemade coconut and honey ice cream into a waffle cone
The mere sight of him after four days of not seeing him left me wheezing.
He flicked them down, studying the cone. “What’s the catch?”
He folded his arms with a frown, which made his biceps pop even more. “Everything okay?”
“Please, let me know what you think about my ice cream. It’s a special recipe.”
“A special recipe that includes arsenic trioxide and phosgene?” He scanned my face, looki...
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“Come on.” I pouted. “Where is the trust?”
