The Rake (Boston Belles #4) by L.J. Shen

But at the end of the day, I didn’t enjoy it.

Not the kisses. Not the way her body folded around mine possessively.

I was completely soft, my cock refusing to find a logical reason for this union with Louisa appealing.

The softer I was, the more Louisa tried to coax me into arousal, kissing me harder, deeper, rawer. Cupping my cock through my slacks and squeezing teasingly, flipping her head back and forth.

Bile hit the back of my throat.

Not good.

I took a step back in order to stop it, to buy time. Maybe produce the engagement ring I’d come here with. Put it on her finger.

But I couldn’t, for the fucking life of me, take the ring out of my pocket. Make the final move. Ask her the question I couldn’t take back.

I don’t want perfect with Louisa. I want a big, hot mess with Belle.

Meanwhile, Louisa perceived my step back as an invitation to get undressed. She slipped out of her black frock to reveal shapely legs and a well-kept body that screamed five Pilates sessions a week.

Her dark eyes traveled to my groin, her brow furrowing when she realized there was still no detectable bulge.

“Buggers. Well, what’s a little hurdle—”

“Do not say little.”

She giggled, moving toward me again, resuming our kisses.

Swallowing back the sour taste of vomit, I tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

She was a beautiful woman. No less pretty than the women I usually took to bed.

“Maybe, I can …” Louisa slipped her hand inside my briefs through my clothes and rubbed, her fingers cold and bony. The distant sound of my father’s taunting laughter echoed in my ears.

“Is that okay?”

“Great,” I hissed, softer than a bloody Pillsbury roll. “Fantastic.”

But I felt nothing, other than great frustration as her lips moved desperately against mine. She was doing such a thorough job rubbing my cock I was surprised a genie didn’t materialize from behind my zipper.

“Wait,” I groaned into her mouth. I pushed her away gently. She latched against me harder.

“I’ll suck your cock,” she offered. Louisa dropped down to her knees, completely naked now, fumbling with the first button of my slacks.

I stepped aside, worried the engagement ring was going to slip from my pocket.

“Don’t, darling.” I caressed her face while simultaneously moving it away from my crotch.

It occurred to me, rather miserably, that I couldn’t have sex with Louisa. No matter how much I wanted to—and I did.

I wanted to get over Emmabelle. To move on. But it wasn’t happening.

“Is your stomach a bit dodgy? Must be the lobster.”

She hurried to stand up, rushing to the bathroom and coming back in a crème satin robe. “Seafood can be suspect if you don’t know the place.”

This was the Four Seasons, not a shack on a remote island.

I gave her a doubtful smile. “I better head home.”

And I’m taking my soft pig-in-a-blanket with me.

“Oh.” Her face fell.

“Lou,” I said gently.

“It’s just that … she’ll be there.”

“Comes with the territory of her living there.”

“Is it something I said?” she asked.

I thought about what she said about Frederick. About the sort of man he was. And couldn’t deny her the truth.

“Yes. When you told me about Frederick, I realized I could never offer you what he made you take for granted. I need to sort through things in my head.”

I slipped my hand over her waist and pulled her into me, kissing her lips.

“Take care now, Lou.”

“You too, Devvie.”




My head was still spinning when I got back home. My limbs heavy with the realization that I was apparently immune to all women in the world other than the one who didn’t want me.

I stomped my way upstairs, cursing myself for the millionth time that week that I couldn’t use the lift like a logical human being.

Once I was done detesting myself for my claustrophobia, I began despising myself for having a traitorous body. What on earth was wrong with it? In the past, I’d been able to get it up whenever the faint scent of a woman’s perfume wafted through the air. Now, my cock decided it had principles, feelings, and morals. Did it not get the memo that it was, in fact, a COCK? The least sophisticated organ in the human body, apart from the anus.

I shoved past the entrance door to a darkened, vast living room, kicking the fencing equipment by the door aside.

If Emmabelle was out again, working until late or being entertained by a male friend, I was going to … going to …

Do bloody nothing about it. I had no power over her.

Hope that month of shagging her was worth it, mate. Because this is your future.

Moving across the living room, I passed by her bedroom before retiring to my own bed.

Her door was ajar. To my great embarrassment, my entire body slackened with relief when I noticed the light inside was on.

Unable to resist myself, I stopped by the sliver of space separating both of us and watched her.

She was standing in front of an imperial full-length mirror.

Her hoodie was bunched up around her chest. Her stomach was bare. She cradled it in front of her reflection, staring at it in wonder.

My eyes trekked downward, doing the same.