Madeline Sheehan - Undeniable

"Eva," Chase said.  "I don’t need to tell you that this will not be a onetime occurrence, correct?"

"Isn't that what you just did?"  I asked sarcastically.

He glared at me.  "It's not going to work if you're going to view this as a chore."

"Oh," I sneered.  "What should I view it as?  A workout?  A date?"

“We could go somewhere,” He said quietly.  “Have lunch first.  I have standing reservations at everywhere worth anything in the city.”

I snorted.  “We’re not dating Chase.  I just agreed to spread my legs for you. You don’t need to woo me.”

Chase’s already dead eyes went cold.  Chase was a beautiful man but someone, probably his parents, had repeatedly broken him until there was nothing left to fix.

“Fine,” He said callously.  “Strip.”

We glared at one another.

"Strip," He bit out.  "Now, Eva."

Gritting my teeth, I yanked my tee shirt over my head and tossed it aside.  I kicked off my green chucks then stood to unbutton my oversized jeans; they fell to my feet and I kicked them away.  Hooking my thumbs in my underwear, I shoved them down and stepped out of them.

Chase looked his fill, his face tightening, his eyes darkening, with hunger.

“Where do you want me?” I said sarcastically.

"Where do you want it?"  He asked, just as sarcastically.

I leaned over his desk causing my breasts to swing forward.  Chase’s eyes followed their movements.   I was so angry, furious, crazy with hate for this man.  A man I had considered somewhat of a friend.

And, to my astonishment, I was furious with Frankie.

Something happened to me while I glared at Chase, something both terrifying and profound.  I wasn’t just furious with Frankie; I hated Frankie.  He had fucked me up so badly that I didn’t know who the fuck I was.

All I'd ever known was Frankie.  What Frankie wanted.

My entire life had been about him…and a few secret longings that I had so rarely given in to.

Realizing all of this shit only made me even angrier.

Fuck Frankie.

Fuck everything.

With a hard sweep of my hand, I sent everything within my reach on Chase’s giant desk flying across the room.  His laptop smashed into his bookshelf, framed photos of his wedding, others of just Kami and a few of Kami and Devin, their four year old son, flew across the room and shattered, papers went flying into the air, I wasn't sure where his phone ended up.

I jumped up on his desk and slid myself to the edge, directly in front of him.  I placed my feet on his thighs and spread my legs wide open.

Chase sucked in air through his teeth.

"This is what you want, isn't it?"  I growled.  "You want wild pussy, don't you Chase?"

He gripped my calves and looked up at my face.  "Yes," He hissed.

And I wanted to give it to him.  I had only ever been wild with Deuce.  I wanted wild.  I wanted free.  I wanted my secret longings to become my reality.

"Then kiss me," I whispered, leaning forward.  Just before his mouth met mine I reared back and slapped him as hard as I could.  His head whipped to the right.

When he turned back to me, his cold eyes were blazing with fury.  And it turned me on.

I moved my foot from his thigh onto his bulging erection and gave him a nasty grin.  Stroking him, I crooked a finger.  "I thought you wanted wild pussy, Chase.  You want it, you gotta work for it."

His eyes widened with understanding.

"Fuck…me," He whispered.  "I knew it.”

I leaned forward and hooked several fingers in between the buttons on his dress shirt. “You know nothing,” I hissed and yanked.  Buttons flew every which way and I jumped into his lap.

Chase and I didn't have sex and we certainly didn't make love.  Chase and I fought.  I made him work for every kiss, for every touch.   This turned out to be perversely exciting for me but what really threw me over the edge was how much I loved that that final moment when he finally managed to pin me on my back long enough to pry my legs open and force himself inside of me.

I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs, “FUCK YOU FRANKIE!”

I stopped fighting then.

That's when we fucked.  Sick, depraved fucking.

Chase got off on things that would turn the stomachs of most people.  He had me doing things I'd never done before, things I hadn't thought myself capable of doing, let alone capable of enjoying.

And I'd begged for more.

Exhausted and sore, I left Chase’s office on shaking legs with a key to his suite at the Waldorf and an invitation to use his personal driver whenever I wanted.

I had just hit rock bottom and I didn't care.  In fact, I didn't give a shit about anything at all.

☼☼☼

Lying on his bed, Deuce stared down his naked body at the bobbing head between his legs, shuddered, and took another long swallow of Jack.  He wasn't going to come; he desperately wanted to come but it wasn't going to happen.  He was drunk, he was pissed and he wanted the release too fucking badly.

Fucking Eva.  He should have left her at that party.  Bitch wasn't his, never was.  She'd always been Frankie's and he'd been…what?  A once in a while distraction?  A fucking joke?

Cursing, he pushed Miranda off him, positioned her on her knees, and sunk inside of her.  He fucked her until he had fucked himself into oblivion and passed out, unsatisfied.

And he dreamt of Eva.  He always dreamt of Eva.

It wasn’t long before my meetings with Chase had become more and more frequent.  He was calling me four times a week, making me stay overnight with him at the Waldorf, buying me shit I didn't want but kept asking him for, raising the price of the items each time.  He started taking me out to dinner at exclusive restaurants and raunchy nightclubs, the existence of which, the general population in Manhattan knew nothing about.  He began making me dress up for him in the sort of clothing I never would have looked twice at, clothing even more ridiculous than what Kami wore.  That was for our dinners.  What he had me wearing to go clubbing was far, far worse.  As were the clubs.  Sex clubs, weekend long partying from Friday night to Monday morning.  Booze, drugs, free sex, kinky sex, violent sex, every kind of sex imaginable and all of it public.

Any inhibition I'd ever had quickly diminished after being fucked in front of a club full of people, some watching, some touching, others involved in their own public fucking.

I stopped talking to Kami, I stopped going to the club, I was constantly cancelling my lunch or dinner dates with my father unless Chase was with me, discussing Frankie’s case.

And Frankie…Frankie was gone.   I didn't visit him, I didn't write him, I refused to accept his calls.  Gone.  And I didn't care.  And I did care.  Half the time I didn't know what I cared about or what I was feeling, maybe because Frankie wasn't here to tell me how I felt and what I should care about and Chase could care less about anything other than what he was feeling.

My already precariously tilting world had gone and spiraled out of control and shit was dropping from the surface and being sucked into outer space.  I didn't try to stop it, I didn't do much of anything really, except what Chase wanted me to be doing which usually involved his cock and an orifice on my body.  Or several of them.

Then one day my world stopped spinning and I fell flat on my face.

It was a Thursday in late August.  I was sitting on my bed at the club and I was glaring at my cell phone.  It kept ringing and ringing and ringing.  I was supposed to have met Chase over an hour ago for lunch at his office but I couldn't stop staring at the pregnancy test in my hand.  The freshly peed on, undeniably positive pregnancy test.

My phone started ringing again.  Knowing he wasn't going to stop, I answered it.

"Where are you?" Chase demanded.

"The club."

He didn't say anything.  He knew I didn't go to the club anymore.  I could practically hear the wheels in his head working overtime at this new development.

"Listen Chase, I, uh, can't-

"You can't what?" He ground out.

"I can't meet you today," I whispered.  "I don't, um, feel good."

"What's going on, Eva?  You felt fine yesterday."

No.  I'd felt nauseated yesterday, I just hadn't told him.

"I think I have the flu," I continued in a whisper.  "I just want to stay in bed, okay?"

"Eva, what the fuck is really going on?"

I took a deep breath.  "Nothing Chase, I just don't feel good.  I'm not up to cage fighting with you today."

He hung up.

I stared at the phone.  I should tell him.  If he was the father, he had a right to know.  Only, I wasn't sure if he was the father.  Early June, I'd slept with Deuce.  I closed my eyes, remembering rocking back and forth overtop of his large, powerful body, watching every change in his hard face as my body worked his and that beautiful moment at the end when he’d tensed, our eyes locked and I felt him spill himself inside of me.  It was greedy, I knew that even in my haze of need, but we had both been greedy.  For that one moment, we were done pretending.  I'd wanted it, he'd wanted to give it, and then I'd ran back to Frankie when it was over.

I choked back a sob.  I was such an idiot.  And I desperately needed Kami.

Grabbing my purse, my four hundred dollar Poppy Line COACH purse that Chase's personal shopper had picked out for me last week because it was designer but edgy and not overly expensive and Chase had decided it worked for me, I headed for Kami's.  I was going to tell her what was going on and I would deal with whatever she threw at me.