Hearts of Glass (The Glass Trilogy Book 3) (8 page)

I texted her:

Don’t call back, about to go to bed, but am alive and fine. Will explain all tomorrow, may need your help. Am at The Bellagio, room 716.

What Star could do for me, I wasn’t sure. I had learned one thing: even the rich and famous couldn’t solve every problem. It was like throwing a life vest to Daniel in a raging storm. Yeah, there was hope, but no guarantees. I felt myself biting my lip nervously—so hard I could taste the metallic tang of blood.

I looked at Remy, “Won’t Kristin get suspicious that they’re meeting past midnight? That’s not normal procedure in a hospital. And what about the rest of the staff?”

Remy took out his cell. “You want me to call Kristin and check how the land lies?”

I shook my head and laid my hand on his to stop him from dialing. “Tempting, but no. That could really screw things up. Kristin would ask you to explain yourself, for starters. Where you are, and so on.”

“Yeah . . . of course . . . how dumb of me.” He laughed at himself and stretched out his arms above his head. “Never said I was the brightest crayon in the box.”

I got up from my position on the bed, went to the mini bar and poured myself a Coke. “You’re really taken with her, aren’t you?”

“Who? Elodie?”

“Good luck cracking that exotic nut.”

“Crazy, huh? She held a gun to my back, and now I’m having ideas about dating her. Like that red flag wasn’t enough!”

“Interesting women those two. Quite the mother and daughter team. Although I read that Elodie is Sophie’s step-daughter from her ex-marriage, not her biological daughter.”

Remy took a swig of his whiskey. “She’s fucking beautiful, that’s for sure.” He paused, then looked me in the eyes and said, “Look, Janie, I apologize for treating you the way I did.”

“You did what you thought you had to do. Oh by the way, I’ve got your money here. It’s in the safe.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I can’t take your money. Not after what you’ve been through, and I was partly responsible. You must have been scared shitless. And what with Daniel still being in his condition. Not to mention the shit that went down with the animals—that’s something neither of us will forget in a hurry. Keep your money for something more deserving.”

“But a promise is a promise.”

“Really, I wouldn’t feel right.”

There was a knock on the door. Room service bringing us a feast. Remy tucked into a steak and I had grilled sole with new potatoes and asparagus. I was finally having a healthy, hot meal, after days of cookies, potato chips, chocolate, bad coffee, and too much soda from vending machines.

We stayed up late, me a nervous wreck, and Remy not leaving my side. I guess he knew he needed to keep my mind off Daniel, because every now and then I’d break the conversation and burst out crying. Remy did a wicked Christopher Walken imitation to distract me. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Finally, when it was obvious that nobody was going to call us, Remy said he was going back to his apartment. We promised to call each other if we heard anything. Meanwhile, all we could do was try and get some sleep.

After what seemed forever and—as the sun was coming up—I dozed off.

11

Daniel.

“I
T COULD BE another twenty-four hours.”

A male voice is drifting in and out of my consciousness. Other voices, too, join in. I can’t smell Kristin anymore—I feel at ease. I’m surprised I’m still alive.

“Midazolam is a Benzodiazepine and the longer a Benzodiazepine is used, the higher the risk and the likelihood that Daniel is getting addicted to it. Therefore, getting him out of this coma may have some challenges, namely withdrawal symptoms and therefore a gradual weaning off the Midazolam, which might delay his ‘waking up.’ ”

“Withdrawal?”

“I’m afraid so. And when he does come to, there may be side effects such as aggression and confusion because of it.”

I feel myself fading again. Floating . . . floating, on a white puffy cloud, comfortable as a feather cushion.

“JANIE, IS THAT YOU?” My voice is different. A growl. Am I dreaming, am I awake?

“Sir?”

Yes, that’s right, my name’s Finn. I’m Janie’s Dom. But she’s not called Janie. The name of the character she’s playing is something else entirely.

“Sir.” She sounds as if she’s being gagged.

I look down and am glad to see I’ve got my sweet little pet just where I want her—where I need her. On her knees, my cock stuffed into her hot pretty mouth. Oh, fuck, yeah. She’s sucking me hard as my hips move back and forth. Her delicate little hand is cupping one of my balls and she’s groaning, being rewarded with my dick for being a good girl. No lollipops for her, just my huge great cock, which she devours with gusto. She’s doing well, drawing on it, sucking in her cheeks, just the way I trained her . . . oh yeah, now she’s licking along the shaft, flicking her tongue on my big, wide crest, rimming the head . . .

I groan with pleasure. “Good girl,” I encourage her. “If you keep this up I’ll let you come later. I’ll fuck you from behind, the way you like.”

“Oh God,” she mumbles. I can turn her on just with my words.

“Don’t talk or I’ll take away that privilege. That’s right, make me come, baby, make me detonate right at the very back of your throat.” I push myself in deeper so she takes nearly all of me—nearly, I said, not all, because I’m hung like a stallion—and I let my scalding seed flood her eager throat. “Swallow every drop,” I command, my hooded eyes closing as my climax shoots out. Fuck, this feels amazing. The blindfold on her has her clutching my ass to balance herself. Her nails dig into my flesh, as my orgasm pounds powerfully right through my dick like an avalanche. I’m coming hard but I’ll want more after this. I always do with her. I crave her tight cunt . . . her tight, innocent little cunt that I’ve corrupted, that I’ve turned into a greedy little harlot that needs me, and only me, to function properly.

I am Finn.

And the one thing I’ve learned is:

I’m every woman’s fucking fantasy.

“Get up, baby. Steady now, I’ve got you.” She stands up slowly, swallowing the last drop, using my hips as her guide, walking her hands around my waist. Her breasts have gotten bigger because of all the attention I’ve been lavishing on them lately, her pussy more swollen. She’s ravenous for me. I’ve had her on a diet. A fuck diet. I want her screaming my name, begging for it.

I’m her drug.

“Bend down,” I say. I lay my hand on the small of her back as she hairpins her lithe body forward. My gaze focuses on her sweet ass, and I toss up the different possibilities in my mind. Today I’ll fuck her, good and hard. That’s what she craves. “Good girl. Touch your toes.” She does as bid, and when her hands reach the floor, her dripping wet pussy is on full display. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Sir. I want you to fuck me, Sir.”

“What else?”

“I’ve been a bad girl. I need you to spank me.”

My eyes set alight, glinting in the semi-darkness like a fox eyeing up his juicy meal. Her ass like a peach, her swollen center like a split fig, pink and lush on the outside, fresh and tight in the middle. My left palm comes down hard on her left cheek, my right hand a sting to her right. She cries out, but not in pain. With yearning.

“Please, Sir, fuck me.”

“Watch your mouth,” I rumble, striking that now rosy ass again. But as soon as the sting of the spank has rung through the room, I bend down and swoop my tongue over her wound, let it ride along her crack and lap up her quivering slit. Fuck, she’s wet. My cock expands at her carnal desire. She’s balancing her hands flat on the floor the way I’ve trained her so I can slam her from behind. The huge head of my cock teases her opening, in wait for the right moment to strike. This is the part that drives her wild with anticipation, the moment that has her begging.

“Please!”

“Please, what?”

“Please shove it in.”

“Watch your dirty mouth spouting crass verbs like that.”

I hold her ass with one hand and with the other I smear my pre-cum, which is oozing out of the wide crest of my cock, all around her engorged clit. I slap her nub with my dick, making her moan, then bring my arms around her breasts. I’m so hard it needs no guidance as it prods in and out, just enough to keep her begging, while I play with her nipples, twisting them, tweaking them, kneading them (needing them) between my forefinger and thumb.

“Please!”

I slam into her all the way—deep—and she cries out, screaming my name. Not Sir, but Finn.

“This. Is. Mine,” I rumble. I’m pumping her ruthlessly, but she loves it. So much, I can feel her orgasm tighten and clench around my erection, its ardor so electrifying I come once more, bursting inside her beautiful body.

Yes, I’m her Dom.

But the irony is . . .

She’s got all the control, because I’ve fucking well fallen in love.

“HE’S HAD A WET DREAM AGAIN.” The nurse titters with amusement, waking me up with her giggles.

Another nurse, with a voice I don’t recognize, adds, “Have you ever seen a patient with such a huge schlong?”

“Ssh, clean him up quick, Dr. Jürgen’s coming.”

12

Janie.

M
Y CELL BUZZED me out of a deep sleep. I had forgotten where I was and then, after I cracked open an eye, remembered I was in a hotel. In Vegas.

I grabbed my phone. “Hello.”

“Janie, it’s Elodie.”

“Thank God. How’s Daniel?”

“He hasn’t woken up yet.”

My pulse began to race. “Oh, no!”

“The doctors say that the induced coma was a good thing, that Kristin behaved ethically, that she did everything right.”

“But that’s crap, he . . . he woke—”

“They’re saying that’s unlikely and there is nothing to that effect in his medical notes . . . are you sure you didn’t imagine it, Janie? That he woke from his coma that time?”

I could hardly believe my ears. “Not you, too?”

“Look, I’m on your side, and even if Kristin Jürgen did the right thing by Daniel, she’s still a monster in my eyes. I’m just saying, that
professionally
, nobody can fault her as a doctor.”

That figures . . . the award winning doctor of the month, posing as fucking Florence Nightingale
!

My nails were digging so hard into my palms they were almost bleeding. I was beyond tense and furious. I tried not to lose it completely. “What about the marriage stuff?” I shot out.

“She says she doesn’t know what you’re talking about, that you’ve been imagining things. That she never pretended she was married to Daniel. She laughed about it, saying what a wild imagination you have.”

“She’s insane! Did you speak to the concierge at Daniel’s hotel? Ethan?”

“Yes, he says it was your choice to leave Daniel’s hotel, that you shot out of there all of a sudden, and that he doesn’t know anything about Kristin Jürgen claiming she’s married to Daniel.”

“This is crazy!” I screeched. “I feel like I’ve walked onto the set of a Hitchcock movie. The woman is insane!” I wondered what Kristen’s agenda had been, pretending she was Daniel’s wife. Obviously her plan had been to forge a marriage, wanted to prepare everyone (namely me) for it, and then, because of Sophie’s fancy doctors getting involved and stopping his coma in its tracks, wasn’t able to see it through. Marriage to Daniel would have made her a very rich woman. Beyond rich. And with him in a coma, or worse, dead, she could have funded her sick experiments to her heart’s content. As I was sifting this all through my shell-shocked mind, I remembered the most urgent thing of all: “Anyway, more importantly, will Daniel be
okay
?”

“Nobody knows yet. He still hasn’t come out of his coma. They think maybe another twenty-four hours. He’s under observation.”

“Will he be
okay
?” I realized I’d just asked that question. “What if that bitch gets to him again?”

“Stay calm, Janie. Like I said, he’s under observation. One of our doctors is sticking around until he’s awake. And his mom is here from Switzerland. She’s given the green light for him to be transferred. To a hospital in LA, when he comes to . . . whenever he’s ready.”