Cream Pie by Madison Faye
Chapter 4
Javier
Fuck me sideways.
This is not good.
I stare at her, the girl from last night from somewhere in my dreams—the girl who I laid eyes on and knew was perfection. I just fucking stare at her, and all I can think of is the how she moaned. All I see when I look at her is the gorgeous body I know is under that dress. All I can think of is how she moved for me, and how she fucking tastes.
…And she’s my best friend’s fucking daughter.
The ground feels like it’s going to give out under me. My entire body is on edge, like I’m hovering over knives. And yet even with all of that, I look at Amy, and my fucking cock twitches.
I’ve known Marshall for years, and of course I’ve heard all about Amy. But I’ve never met her. Probably because we first met when I worked for La Société Rouge— the secret society for men of means that Marshall was a member of. Back then, I worked as almost a concierge of sorts—the man that makes things happen for a member. I was partnered up with Marshall, and over time, we became more than that, to the point of being great friends.
In the last few months, after Marshall left the society once he found Kendall, I did too—to work for him, actually. I’m now at Bane Financial, basically as Marshall’s second in command. Finance was always my interest, but when an old connection got me the job at La Société Rouge, the pay was too good to try and grind my way through the hedge fund game.
Marshall gave me the fast track to the top when he convinced me to come work for him. The man has given me so fucking much. Hell, he’s not even just a best friend, he’s like a brother, or a father as I like to joke, given his age. But the bottom line is, almost everything I have is because of him.
...And I just fucked his daughter.
Like, literally three hours ago. I’m willing to bet my cum is still dripping out of her tight little pink cunt, filling those lacy black panties with my white cream.
I groan.
Marshall clears his throat, and I turn to glance at my friend.
“So where were you last night?”
“Nowhere,” I answer way too quickly. I frown. “I mean, I went out.”
Marshall raises a brow, grinning. “Went out, huh?”
“Nothing crazy,” I mumble, feeling Amy’s eyes on me.
The thing is, this isn’t me. I never go out and just pick up girls. Hell, I know I probably look and fit the part to the letter—relatively young, rich, in great shape. I never knew my dad, but I can thank my Argentinian mother for my looks. Mom was a model back in the day, and she’s still a damn knockout.
But even with all of that, I don’t “go out.” I don’t “pick up girls.” I’m too busy with work, and besides that, it doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I’m not a one-night guy. Hell, for the last few years, I’ve barely been an anything guy when it comes to women. I haven’t had time to date at all—first too busy working my way through the ranks of La Société Rouge and then, being an executive with Marshall’s hedge fund. I did very well working for the society. Working for Marshall is making me a fucking millionaire.
Marshall turns away to speak to the minister, and I realize I’m just staring at Amy. She looks back at me, her brow furrowed and a little scowl on her face. I arch a brow at her, and she blushes before she frowns even deeper and glances away. The wedding planner walks over and rubs her hands together.
“It’s time!”
The ceremony is a blur to me. Kendall, Marshall’s bride and Amy’s best friend, steps down the aisle looking freaking radiant. They hold hands, they say the words, but fuck me, I’m just staring past them at Amy—Amy who rocked my fucking world last night. Amy whose sweet little pussy wrung every drop of cum from my balls. Amy who danced like a temptress and fucked like a demon. Amy whose pussy I can still taste on my tongue. Amy who I want fucking more of.
The crowd cheers, breaking my thoughts. Marshall and Kendell hold hands and waltz down the aisle. I hesitate, but the planner is shoving me forward.
“Hold her hand!” she hisses, pushing me into Amy.
I lock eyes with gorgeous brunette with the piercing blue eyes that fucking slayed me last night, and she blushes, her lips tight. We hold hands, hers so small in mine, and so warm. And we walk down the aisle.
Marshall and Kendall head off for pictures, and the rest of us are supposed to go to the main banquet hall and wait until we’re needed for more extended wedding party shots. But fuck, we can’t just dance around this and pretend last night, and this morning never happened. And I’m sure as fuck not going to just hang out with my dick in my hands waiting to see if Amy tells her dad everything.
I grab her and yank, dragging her off and into a side room. The door slams shut, and she whirls on me.
“What the fuck!” she hisses.
“What the fuck?” I growl back. “What the fuck you!” I spit. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her jaw drops, and this fury clouds her gorgeous face.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re Marshall’s fucking daughter!”
Her eyes narrow. “Yep.”
“And you didn’t think to mention that?”
She stares at me incredulously, and I know how fucking dumb it sounds.
“I’m sorry,” she sneers. “Did you take a second to walk me through your family fucking tree last night?” she hisses angrily.
I swear, whirling and shoving a hand through my dark hair.
“Shit.” I grunt. “This is bad.”
“Well, gee, make a girl feel fucking special,” Amy hisses.
I turn, my eyes locking with hers. “You know what the hell I mean, Amy.”
But I pause. She actually does look more than a little stung by my words, and I curse myself for being such a douche about this. Fuck, I didn’t know who the hell she was, but she obviously didn’t know who I was either. I move closer to her, and she looks up and scowls at me.
“Don’t you fucking touch—”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I growl.
“Yeah?” She sneers. “And what’s that?”
“Last night was fucking incredible.”
She stiffens and then blushes, blinking.
“Oh,” she says quietly.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, oh.”
“And so was this morning.”
I move closer to her, and she gasps as I move right into her.
“But Jesus fucking Christ, Marshall is your dad.”
She swallows, biting her lower lip before her eyes slide up to mine.
“Look, you think my dad would kill you for, well, me.”
“Indeed, I do,” I grunt.
“Well, it’s not like he’d be thrilled with me either, okay?” she mutters. “Look, we both were a little wild, and we didn’t know, right?”
“Right,” I swallow. “And we’re both adult—”
I freeze.
“How fucking old are you?”
Amy rolls her eyes. “Eighteen, relax.”
I stare at her and she glares back at me.
“What, you want my ID?”
“Do you have it on you?”
She rolls her eyes again. “I’m a freshman at college. I’m eighteen.”
I let out a slow breath of relief while at the same time cursing myself for being so fucking reckless last night. I mean she’s fucking beautiful, but she did look young last night. Thank fucking God she’s not that young.
“Would it have stopped you if I wasn’t?” she throws at me.
“Easy,” I growl.
She grins saucily, and I feel the fire roar inside of me. Fuck, she’s a wildcat, this one.
“So, now what,” I mutter.
“Well now we go out there and tell my dad!”
I stare at her.
“I’m kidding, obviously. Now we go out there and keep our fucking mouths shut. Because I doubt my dad would be thrilled about me screwing his secretary.”
I growl lowly, my jaw grinding. Little brat.
“I’m not his secretary.”
“Whatever you say. And I know he wouldn’t be cool with you taking his daughter’s—with sleeping with me.”
“Yeah, I somehow doubt that too,” I grunt.
“So, we just met here at the wedding. That’s our story?”
I nod. “Exactly.”
“And last night ever happened.”
I nod, but the heat pulses through me. I move closer to her, my eyes locking with hers. “But it did,” I growl.
“Yeah,” she breaths. “It did.”
I move even closer, so close that we’re almost touching, and Amy’s breath catches.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I growl, my eyes burning into hers as raw desire burns through me like diesel fuel. “Just being polite and saying hi, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she breathes.
I swear I’m about to reach out and grab her, and kiss her, and rip that fucking dress off of he right here, damn the consequences. But just then, her phone rings in her bag. She lets out a small breath of air, her cheeks red as she quickly pulls away from me and takes it out of her clutch. She looks at it and swears.
“Shit,” she mutters. “Fuck, we’re needed for the wedding party pictures.”
“Right, yeah, let’s get—” But suddenly, I freeze. Suddenly, something she said a second ago that tripped me for a moment but that I then forgot comes rushing back to the forefront of my mind.
“Whatever you say. And I know he wouldn’t be cool with you taking his daughter’s—with sleeping with me.”
My eyes widen, and as she walks past me, I suddenly whirl and grab her arm. She gasps as I yank her back, staring at her like I’ve seen a ghost.
“What the fuck?”
“What were you about to say, before?”
She scowls at me. “What?” She blinks quickly, shaking my hands off her arm and turning for the door. But I stalk after her and slam my hand against the door over her shoulder, stopping her. She whirls at me, annoyed. Something cold shivers through me.
“Before, you said ‘I know he wouldn’t be cool with you taking his daughter’s…’” I frown. “His daughter’s what, Amy,” I growl quietly.
She turns red, swallowing quickly and wetting her lips with her pink tongue.
“Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”
But I don’t move my hand one centimeter, because I think I know where this is going, and holding onto the door might just be what keeps me from falling right over.
“Amy.”
“Forget it, okay?” she snaps. “Let’s just go.”
She’s so flippantly dismissive of it, that instantly, I know I’m right. My eyes go wide, and my pulse roars in my ears.
Oh fuck.
I breathe, and I blink, and when Amy takes a shaky breath herself and turns back to me, I know without question that it’s true.
“Are you…” I swallow. “Were you a virgin?”
“Can we just go take pic—”
“Yes or no,” I growl quietly.
Amy blinks, her big blue eyes looking up into mine as she swallows thickly. Her arms hug herself, and she shrugs nonchalantly as her eyes bore into mine, unblinking and unflinching now.
“Yes,” she mutters. “I was.”
She whirls, knocks my arm away, and swings the door wide as she waltz’s right out.
Oh fuck.
