Overexposed: The Complete Boxset: A Virgin Meets a Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

“Oh my God, you feel so fucking good.” Devon bends his head to suckle my nipple, the slight nip on its peak causing my back to arc and his cock to bury another half an inch inside of me. “I want to feel you cum, I want to feel your velvet walls clench and throb around my cock.”

His words are my undoing. And as he continues his small strokes I’m tossed into the raging tidal wave, my chest tight as I tumble over the edge—my body lost to the undulating waves of pleasure as the waves shatter me, put me back together only to shatter me once again.

Devon’s moan soaks into my skin, his face buried into my shoulder as he thrusts up through my trembling folds, his hot seed spilling onto my stomach.

There are no words left to speak. We had spoken them all.

W
hen I wake
the next morning Devon is gone. Are these dreamlike moments all he’ll ever be to me?

I
n the light of day
, it's hard to distinguish between reality and dream. Had last night really happened, was it merely a fantastical dream brought to life by an overwrought imagination? But the flowers are still here. My body is loose and languid, the pleasant ache of multiple orgasms still clings to my muscles and skin. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, not with my hand and a ghost, but with Devon tasting every last morsel of me before I resigned myself to this new life. The one with Eric.

The door buzzes just as I’ve pulled on sweatpants and it startles me. My heart leaps through my chest with only one thought.
Devon.

I race from my room and press the intercom. “Hello?”

“I have a delivery for Anna Windsor.”

My swoops with excitement. “That’s me, let me buzz you up.”

I press my finger on the button, and wait impatiently for the delivery person. He finally emerges carrying a large white box tied with a purple ribbon, and after I sign I race back into the apartment. Laying the box down on the couch, I tug the ribbon open and yank off the lid. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper is a breathtaking dress, in my favorite shade of lavender. My fingers shake as I lift the light as air dress and hold it against me. It’s cocktail length, with three-quarter length sleeves and a plunging neckline that will be perfect to show off the delicate diamond pendant that my father had given me for my sixteenth birthday.

How had Devon known?

My phone rings a minute later, Eric’s face flashes from the screen. I almost don’t answer, but a stab of guilt forces me to swipe my finger across the screen. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you,” Eric’s happy voice greets me from the other end. “Did you like your gift?”

Shit. What gift is he talking about?
“Gift?”

“The dress. I just received notification that you signed for it.” Eric answers, he’s voice confused.

I swallow the disappoint and force a brightness into my voice I do not feel. “Baby, it’s beautiful. There wasn’t a card and I was just about to ask Charlene if she’d bought it.”

“I forgot to mention last night that my company is having a Christmas party at the New York office, and I wanted to make sure my fiancé was the belle of the ball.”

“It’s perfect.” I answer, even as irritation floods my veins over his assumption that I obviously have no life outside of him. “I absolutely love it.”

“The neckline is low enough for your pendant?”

“Not to sound repetitive, but it is perfect.” Tendrils of remorse weave their way through my skin. Of course he knows how much the pendant means to me. It’s the one consistent in my life, I wear it every day as a reminder of my father. But not while working. Devon would have never have known.

“Good. Then I’ll be by with the car at seven sharp.”

“I’ll see you then.”

* * *

B
y six-thirty
I’m pacing the room, heels in hand, while Charlene watches me from the sofa. When I glance in the mirror for the billionth time, to make sure every stray hair is in place and my makeup is still impeccably done, Charlene clears her throat. “You look beautiful, Darling. Stop worrying.”

“I want to look perfect.” I say fiddling with the pendant nestled a touch above my cleavage.

“Believe me, they are definitely going to be more than charmed when the get a view of the twins,” Charlene jokes, before taking a sip of her drink.

“It’s not to vulgar?” My hands flutter to the neckline that ends at my sternum.

Charlene winks. “It’s not, but something tells me he had other reasons for choosing that dress then showing off your necklace.”

“Of course he did. How could I be so naive? What good is a man without a stunning woman hanging off his arm.”

“Now, Anna. I’m sure part of that is true, but Eric adores you. You’re not some floozy trying to make a quick buck.” Charlene lifts her glass. “But if you need something to keep you occupied until he arrives, I wouldn’t mind another one of your specialties.”

A slow grin spreads across my face. “Another philistine for you, and while I’m at it I might as well indulge in one to calm my nerves.”

“That is a plan I can get behind.”

* * *

I
’ve never been more
thankful for a mai tai in my entire life. It had mellowed me enough that I was able to overlook the fact that Eric had simply had the driver blow his horn until I’d finally gotten the hint to come down. Charlene had shaken her head in disgust, and I couldn’t help but agree with her. To make matters worse, Eric had barely glanced up at me before returning to his phone, holding a finger up to silence me when I’d murmured my hello.

Doing my best to ignore the slight, I focus on the sparking skyline—New York City is beautiful at night. Its towering buildings all lit up, the thrum of electricity in the air—it’s a living breathing organism all of its own making. But all I can do is wonder where Devon is right now. Which brightly lit window is his.

At last we pull up in front of Eric’s company’s building, and I quietly thank the driver when he offers me his hand. Eric finally tucks his phone back into the pocket of his trousers, and offers me the crook of arm. The receptionist greets him by name, her smile a little too wide and toothy for my liking. Eric’s responsive smile back borders on offensive. He finally admires me when we’re alone on the elevator. “You look so tempting in that dress.”

Tempting? What the fuck is that supposed to imply?
I don’t even know how to reply, so I merely smile.

The elevator doors open, and the room is full of bright, glittering people. Eric wraps a possessive arm around my waist and leads me into the thick of them. He begins to introduce me to countless people, all of whose names I instantly forget, and I’m grateful for the server who offers me a flute of champagne. I’ve just finished it when I realize that Eric has abandoned me with a group of his partners wives, and when I smile sweetly at them they take great pleasure in ignoring me. Snagging another glass of champagne, I drift away from the catty wives of New York’s finest and find myself drawn to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city.

“Excuse my forwardness, but what is a stunning beauty like yourself doing all alone?”

I turn toward the voice, a stately man in his early sixties with salt and pepper hair and kind eyes. “I seem to have lost my fiancé.”

“And who might he be?” He asks with a charming smile.

“Eric Underwood.”

“I wasn’t aware that Eric had a fiancé, or that she was such a lovely one at that,” he says, before taking my hand in his own. “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Edward Graybill. And you are?”

“Anna Windsor,” I answer, before his name clicks inside my head. “Edward Graybill, you own the company.”

“I’ve been found out.” He smiles and releases my hand. “If you don’t mind indulging an old man, how did you and Eric meet?”

My first genuine smile of the night stretches across my face at his kindness. “We’ve actually known each other since birth. Our mother’s were best friend’s.”

“Were?”

“My mother died when I was fourteen.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear. It’s a terrible thing to lose a parent.” Edward’s eyes are compassionate as his reaches out to gently pat my shoulder.

I open my mouth to reply, when Eric suddenly reappears at my side. “Good evening, Mr Graybill. May I have the honor of introducing you to my Anna?”

Eric’s words slur, and for the first time in my entire life I’m embarrassed to be associated with him.

Edward’s eyes tighten, but he extends a hand in return. “We’ve just become acquainted.”

“Isn’t she a beauty?”

I bite my lip in an effort to contain my mortification.
What the hell is wrong with him?

“She is quite lovely. Inside and out.” Edward replies, and my eyes prick with unshed tears.

Eric nods before he turns to me and holds out his empty tumbler. “Babe, do you mind getting me a refill?”

Actually, I do fucking mind. And maybe you should fucking care about not seeming like a complete asshole in front of your boss.
But I don't say any of that, instead I smile sweetly and take his glass. “It was nice meeting you, Edward.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Anna.”

I keep my back straight and my chin up as I pick my way to the bar. As I wait for the bartender to fill my order, I hear Eric join a group of men behind and to the right of me.

“Eric, my man. Where did you find that hot piece of ass?”

Eric laughs heartily. “She’s been mine since we were kids.”

“Nice. I bet she comes beautifully.”

“You don’t know the half of it. She’s a wildcat. The other night she almost came while sucking my cock, she was begging me to fuck her right in my parents library.”

I so fucking did not, you limp-dicked fucktard.

“You better enjoy it while it lasts, because that shit stops the moment you say, ‘I do’,” another misogynistic asshole adds.

“She couldn’t have been as crazy as Chantel at Sapphire. That bitch wanted your cock so bad.”

The fucking Gentleman’s Club that his father is known to frequent?

“That bitch wanted money to fuck me, why would I do that when I can get it for free.” Eric boasts again.

The bartender places Eric’s drink on the counter, and I quietly ask for another. This one is for me.

I down the two fingers of whiskey, enjoying the slow burn. It adds to the fire growing and spreading through my body. I’ve never seen this side of Eric, and frankly I’m disgusted. He truly is Lloyd’s son through and through. Do I really want to marry a man, who would talk and act as if I were a plaything?

Thankfully their drunken boasts turn towards sports stats, but I still can’t force my feet to move to join him. I might be tempted to throw his goddamned drink into his fucking smug face.

While I’m standing there, contemplating the many ways I could castrate Eric, my phone buzzes. I quickly fish it out of my purse, and swipe the screen.

Come meet me.

My fingers fly across the keys.
Where?

Devon texts me an address and I quickly text him back.
On my way.

With a plan in place, I grab Eric’s drink and head over to him and his perverted lackeys. “Here you go darling.”

“It’s about time, I thought you’d fallen off the edge of the earth and taken my drink with you.”

Eric’s friends laugh boorishly, and I’m tempted to slip out of my heels and stab them all. “The bar was crowded.”

“Next time use your assets,” Eric slaps my ass. “No one can resist them.”

I’m going to behead him. That’s how he’s going to die. But first I’m going to cut off his tiny crooked dick and force feed it down his throat.

There’s another round of laughter and back slapping, as I lay a hand on Eric’s arm. “May I steal you away for a moment?”

“Sure.”

There’s another loud smattering of laughs and whistles, but I refuse to acknowledge any of them. I lead Eric a few feet away. “I’m sorry about this, but I’m suddenly feeling ill. Would you mind if I made it an early night?”

“Are you ok? Do you need me to take you?” Eric asks, morphing back into his sweet and solicitous self.

No, you're the reason I'm sick.
“No, stay. Enjoy your party. I’ve already ordered an Uber to take me home,” I assure him.

“I’ll walk you out.” He places his half-empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, and offers me his arm.

“Really, it’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

Once we’re back down on street level, Eric waits patiently with me for the Uber to arrive—and when it does, he gathers me gently in his arms and places the sweetest of kisses on my lips. “Feel better soon.”

“I’m sure I will,” I answer, as he holds the door open for me.

Eric leans through the window and gives the driver my address. And as we pull from the curb I turn to look at him through the back windshield. He’s still standing there. Alone in the snow. There has to be a metaphor wrapped in there somewhere.

Too fucking little, too fucking late.
Fuck being a better fiancé, he the one who needs to be better.