Incendiary (13 page)

Fuck, I hate her.

She can’t fucking do this to me. But, she does, and I hear her, deep down in my soul where nothing can touch my feelings for her. Ignoring my protective instincts toward her, I stare at the tiny human in my arms, in awe. She’s absolutely fucking perfect, while her mother is a breath away from hyperventilating. Bryn must sense Georgie’s distress. Her little face scrunches and she whines.

Being a raging motherfucker, I hand the baby to Kiln and then wrap my arms around Georgie to keep her in place when she reaches for her.

“Do you know what it’s like in solitary confinement?” I whisper harshly, my lips close to her ear.

I lick the sensitive area and bite gently. Vanilla invades my nostrils, the slight scent on her skin feeding my desire for her and reminding me of what she means to me.

What she
once
meant to me.

Her heartbeat pounds against my hand and her muscles are taut. Her hair tickles my nose and I bury my face against the silky, black strands. When I pull away, I run my tongue along the shell of her ear.

She cries harder at my act of intimidation, necessary to illustrate
I’m
the one in control no matter how she fucked me over. She sniffles and I shake her.

“Shut the fuck up. Why’d you fucking pin rape charges on me?”

Her fast, furious tears prevent her from talking. She attempts to regain control, though my anger, lust, and sense of betrayal fly over the edge.

“What the fuck should I do to you to make you suffer?” I whisper against her ear, purposely throwing her off-balance by my menacing demeanor. “You’ve already been branded a slut and an addict. The next step is being labeled an unfit mother.”

She twists against me and wraps her arms around my neck, sobbing. “I’d never do anything to hurt you. I love you.”

Blood roars in my ears and I inch toward a fucking stroke, I’m so goddamn angry. With Georgie, and her admission. At the feel of her trembling in my arms. At my belief of her words of love. Most of all, being such a flaming fucking asshole to her pisses me off. I’ve reached a new low, even as I insist my behavior is justified. But, for fuck’s sake, she just delivered my baby.

And she humiliated you in front of the world with false accusations and had you arrested.

Indeed, my treatment of her
is
justified. I’m the one in control, not her and petty vengeance. Whether I intend to follow through on any of my threats or not, I have every right to scare the fuck out of her.

“I can raise Bryn alone and forget you ever fucking existed,” I snarl.

Georgie opens her mouth, then snaps it shut and glares at Kiln.

“You did this,” she accuses him hoarsely, her eyes blazing in his direction. “You set me and Sloane up. You sent that dickhead of a detective!”

I snap my gaze to hers. “What fucking detective?”

Sniffling, she bites her lip. “The one who tried to trick me into talking about our relationship,” she whispers, not looking at either of us anymore. “I didn’t go to anyone. Detective Jackson came to me. He…he was like…like a thug and threatened to arrest me.”

Lying little bitch.

“Enough, Georgie,” I warn. “Coercion is against the fucking law. Nothing would be admissible in court.”

“I swear, Sloane. I-I didn’t know I was being recorded and…and I didn’t do an interview. Yes, I spoke to Detective Jackson, and I said some of those words, but everything is all twisted. I’d never hurt you, even though you’ve hurt me time and again. You and your father turned me into a whore when I’ve never been with anyone but you…” She pauses and hiccups, emotion after emotion swirling in her gorgeous eyes.

Anger, betrayal, pain, fear, all stark for me to see. She’s reading me the riot act without saying a fucking word while asking me to believe her. It’s all rolled together, her agony and outrage. But not her guilt. That she’s putting on me. When
she
did this.
Her.

Yes, I hurt her but is it worth what she’s fucking done?

My eyes narrow. “Did you talk to a fucking detective?”

“Yes, but—”

“I don’t need to hear anything else.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt you,” she insists. “Please, believe me.”

Fuck, but I feel physically ill, my heart and my head at war. My traitorous heart believes her, but my head, my experience of being fucked over by my very own father, doesn’t allow it.

“It was Kiln. I know it was.”

Kiln pulls his attention from Bryn and lifts a brow. “Deflect your guilt to me. Excellent strategy.”

“Fuck you,” she storms, kicking Kiln’s leg.

“Kiln’s a motherfucker, but he isn’t fucking stupid,” I grate, gripping her shoulders and shaking her again, ignoring her reddened eyes and nose. “I’m still useful. Besides,
your
fucking voice is on the recording. You haven’t fucking heard?” I ask sarcastically when I know she has. The whole world has listened. “It’s being replayed over and over. Breaking fucking news.
I’m having a little girl. I’m carrying Sloane’s daughter.
It’s
you
, Georgiana, speaking to a reporter from
Music Time Magazine
.”

“No, no, no, no,” she chants. “I was talking to Kiln and telling him I was carrying your daughter. No one else. I know his voice—”

And I know Georgie's voice, in all its many variations. High-pitched. Low-pitched. Angry. Sad. Passionate. Bratty. Sexy. Amused…

Bryn wails and Georgie struggles against me. I refuse to release her, enjoying how fucking good it is to hold her again. She elbows me. Clenching my jaw hides my wince. She’s pale and tired, and I wonder if she’s in pain from the delivery. There’s fuck all I know about pregnant women. But Georgie, the girl in front of me? I know her and see her need for rest and recovery.

On the other hand,
I
need revenge.

“Let me go! Bryn’s hungry. I have to feed her.”

“Where’s her bottle?” I demand. “Because you aren’t getting her back.”

If I weren't holding her up, she would double over in the place where she’s sitting. I release her, to watch her fall apart. She doesn't disappoint me. She buries her face between her knees and sobs so hard her body trembles. The moment I reach out to comfort her, she lifts her head and sends me a desperate look. I drop my hands in my lap.

She raises her hands in supplication. “I-I’ll suck you off. Pl-please. I-I’ll do whatever.” Flushing, she sidles a glance to Kiln. “Please, Sloane. Just don’t take her from me. She’s all I have,” she says in a small voice.

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu barrels into me. She’d spoken similar words once before. Only then, she referred to Crowell. Months have passed and I'm furious with her, but those words from her, gut me.

Our gazes meet and I see her endless hurt. I also recognize her look, the one she adopts when backed against the wall. The look Crowell taught her.

Submission.

She’ll do whatever I tell her to do, suck my cock
and
Kiln’s if it means keeping Bryn.

I nod to Kiln, and he hands my daughter to me. I cradle the back of her head and smile at her, ignoring her whines to study her tiny features. Her eyes are a dark blue, her hair black. She resembles neither me nor Georgie but is gorgeous in her own right.

She yawns and whimpers again. Kissing her forehead, I offer her to Georgie, who breathes in her scent and closes her eyes in relief before she reopens them to search my face. A wealth of gratefulness glimmers in her features. When I remain rigid, her face crumples.

Sniffling, she slides one side of her gown over and exposes a swollen tit, guiding Bryn to her nipple.

My dick hardens, but she pays no attention to me, not caring my balls are drawing up and tightening at her display. I choke, staring at her bowed head in awe. She’s still ignoring me and cooing to Bryn. With my brain stuck firmly on Georgie’s nipple in Bryn’s little mouth, I have no fucking clue what she’s saying.

Milk
fills Georgie’s tits. Milk. I’ve never tasted a milk-filled tit before. The need to taste Georgie has my mouth fucking watering. As a distraction, I glance outside and sigh. We’re about thirty minutes away from my father’s house, so I still have a while to suffer Georgie’s nearness without doing something completely stupid.

Kiln grunts, and I snap my head toward him. I growl, low in my throat at the lust darkening his eyes as he stares at Georgie.

“She’s not a fucking show-and-tell,” I snap.

Georgie breaks in before Kiln responds.

“What’s going on?” she asks around a shuddering breath. “Why am I here?”

Kiln starts to speak, but I stare him into silence. If
I
want to terrorize Georgie for the hell she’s put me through that’s my business.

“What did Helen tell you?”

She licks her lips then murmurs something to Bryn, who’s still contentedly sucking Georgie’s boob.

Fuck, I’d be quite contented too if I had Georgie’s tit in my mouth.

“Grandma didn’t say anything, but in a matter of hours, I’ve gone from brokering a deal to never see you again to being ushered out of the hospital with all that fanfare.” Her gaze roams the interior of the car. “To this.”

Curious, I cock my head to the side. Perversions aside, Georgie nursing Bryn reminds me of the daughter she’s gifted me with me. I haven’t gotten much satisfaction from lashing out. It’s only made me recognize her continued vulnerability. Before I continue torturing her, I’ll check out her story about the fucking detective. I owe it to her as the mother of my daughter. My decision to ease up on her has little to do with the never-ending desire I feel for her. “What were the conditions of Helen’s deal?” I ask in a moderated voice, free of my bitter anger.

She swallows and offers me the barest of smiles. “She wouldn’t take Bryn from me, if I swore I’d never see you again.”

I shouldn’t be surprised the wicked old bitch taunted Georgie with such a prospect. I scowl. “She said she would?” I ask, for confirmation.

Georgie nods. “She wants me to put her up for adoption. A closed adoption. I told her to emancipate me, but I’m four months from eighteen, so she declined. Then, I told her to disown me.”

I glare at her. “How do you expect to support you and my daughter if that happens?”

“I have ideas,” she says defensively.

For some reason, that motherfucker, Crowell, comes to mind. I’m so fucking certain he’s somehow involved in her
ideas
, I’m ready to find him and fuck him up again.

Her lips tremble and she raises her stunning gaze to me. I search her eyes for signs she has it in her to betray me. The only thing I see is what brings me to my knees with her. An innocent defenselessness and sweet adoration.

“Bryn, Georgie?” I manage. “Why would you name my daughter after my mother?”

She shrugs and opens her mouth to speak.

“Naming her after Sloane’s mother will only back up the allegations that you’re an obsessed groupie,” Kiln interrupts.

Georgie stays silent, withdrawing from me at Kiln’s words. I glower at him as she sniffles and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Her pervasive sadness makes me draw in a deep breath and endure the remainder of the ride in miserable silence.

What did I do in the last minute?

Nothing important. I’ve just been standing in Georgie’s study, staring. Wasting another minute of my life. Returning from the hospital, I headed to her suite, furious my little selfish bitch of a daughter refused to allow me a moment to hold Bryn.

Clenching my jaw, I narrow my gaze to the framed poster of Sloane.

She thinks she’s so special because he put his little puppy in her to breed.

Besides fucking, she’s only good to serve as a brood mare. She has no goddamn academic sense
or
common sense.

Grim, I walk to her desk and stare at the report Mother sent to me, courtesy of Georgie’s tutors. She failed because she’s a failure. Georgie may have youth, but…