Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
“God, girl …” She licks her lips, and we start to walk again. “So fucking good.”
I laugh. “Sex that good, huh?” I had to listen to them fuck like rabbits while they stayed at the apartment last week when Ryat was gone.
“Absolutely. The man knows what he’s doing.” We come up to the door for our class and stop. “Last night, he literally choked me out.”
My eyes widen. “Like during sex?” That’s what Ryat practically did to me when we were out in the woods.
She nods. “He’s got this obsession with breath play.”
Breath play? Is it some kind of kink?
“One hundred percent hot as fuck. I came so hard before I passed the fuck out.” With that, she opens the door to enter class.
“Blake?” I hear my name being called. Without having to look, I know who it is.
“I’ll be right there,” I inform Sarah.
Turning around, I see Ryat coming toward me, pocketing his cell phone. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a backward baseball hat. No man should look that good dressed so casually. I hate that I’m mad at him and want to fuck him at the same time.
“What’s up?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. What if this is all some big game that I’m playing with them? I know he chose me because of Matt, but what if Matt told him to choose me? What if this is their way to fuck with me? He’s been too understanding of what I want. At the time, I thought he really seemed to care, but what if that’s not the case? Then he just up and leaves me without any explanation. And returns like it never happened.
“I’ll be gone tonight.”
Every thought that I just had about him not fucking someone else is shattered with those four words. Did I really think I was the only one? He’s a fucking Lord. I was told they can do whatever they want-their oath tells them that. “Of course.” I snort, making him frown. “Let me guess, the Lords?”
“No. It’s personal.”
Okay, I’ll bite and be a nosy bitch. “Where are you going?”
“Something has come up,” he answers vaguely.
How have I not seen this? How many times has he blown off my questions? Or something mysteriously comes up? I bet it’s another woman. Good thing I don’t love him. I won’t be that dumb bitch who believes everything a guy tells me because I want him to be someone he’s not. I hate how much my mother was right.
“Okay.” I reach out to open the door, but he steps in front of me, blocking it. “Ryat-“
“What’s wrong?” he interrupts me, searching my face.
“Nothing,” I lie.
He sighs heavily. “Don’t let your mother get to you, Blake.”
I refrain from snorting. Of course, he thinks it’s related to her. My mother may be a bitch, but she’s never made me think she was someone else. He’s the joke. The liar. And I’m the dummy who never questioned it. Instead of correcting him, I nod. “I’ll get over it.”
He steps out of my way and opens the door for me. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Without responding to that, I walk into class and up to my seat next to Sarah. She’s typing away on her cell. I pull mine out of my pocket and pull up breath play. By doing some research, I hope it gets shit off my mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY
RYAT
I WALK INTO the office in downtown Dallas with my lawyer behind me and look around the abandoned space. No one is here this late. It’s after midnight. This is an off-the-books meeting, just like when I was here last time.
Making our way down the long hallway, I hear laughter coming from the back office. Pushing the door open, I step inside to find my father and another man I have come to know well.
“Ryat.” He stands. “Glad you can join us …” He trails off as he sees the man enter behind me.
“Garrett,” my father states, acknowledging our lawyer also standing.
“Mr. Archer.” He nods, holding his briefcase in his hand.
I fall down into a high-back chair next to my father. “I’m the one who called this meeting.” It’s time to iron some shit out. Make sure people understand what I want and that I’m going to get it.
Phil sits back in his chair and sighs.
My father arches a brow at me. “Why are we here, Ryat?” Then he looks at our family attorney that we’ve had since before I was born.
I had already made up my mind after Matt fucked me over while we were in jail. But Blake’s mother’s stunt solidified my thoughts on what needed to be done.
“I’m guessing it’s because of my wife. She’s had plenty to say about you today.” Phil Anderson relaxes in his seat. “Said you put your hands on her-choked her and threw her out of the apartment.”
“I did. After she slapped your daughter.”
His jaw sharpens, slapping his hand on the desk. “She didn’t mention that part.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I grunt. That bitch will never touch Blake again. “I’m here to make an offer,” I say, getting to business, raising my hand to Garrett.
Silence falls over the room. The last time I was in New York, my father asked me how much I’d pay to beat out Matt. I never gave him a definitive answer because I wasn’t quite sure. Now I am.
Garrett places the briefcase on Phil’s desk and opens it up, pulling out a set of papers.
Mr. Anderson puts his glasses on and reads over it. “I don’t understand-“
“Five hundred thousand.” I interrupt him, so he doesn’t have to search for it.
He clears his throat, pulling his glasses off, and looking at me. “The Winstons …”
“Fuck the Winstons,” I snap. There is no signed contract that states Blake has to marry Matt. I know, I did my homework to make sure. “I want her.” He already handed her to me once, ordering I make her my chosen one. I didn’t think this would be difficult, but I came prepared just in case.
He tilts his head to the side. “For how long exactly?”
“Garrett,” I order, and he pulls out another set of papers and lays them on the man’s desk.
Placing his glasses back on his face, Mr. Anderson picks them up and starts reading them over as well.
“Marriage,” I say simply.
My father doesn’t interject, which means he’s given this some thought and isn’t going to fight me on this. But I don’t think he understands what this means. It’s not a temporary fix. I will marry Blake, and she will be my wife-forever. I will not be marrying Cindy
Phil looks up at me through his dark lashes. “And the agreement with …”
“Did you sign an agreement with the Winston’s?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Of course not.” He snorts. “That was my wife’s doing.”
Exactly. “It’s just a verbal agreement.” I shrug. “Not like he can sue you over it. And if it was that important to you, you wouldn’t have forced my hand to pick her as my chosen in the first place.”