Paying His Debt Read online

  Freya sat back up and, despite her bravado, bit her lip a little nervously as she looked at my throbbing cock nestled between her thighs.

  But then the look was replaced with determination as she moved herself onto the tip and slowly slid her pussy over the full length of me.

  She gasped when I was fully inside her.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, breaking through my own pleasure to make sure she wasn’t in pain. Her brow was sweating slightly.

  “You’re just…wow. Really, really big.”

  I laughed, pulling her forwards to kiss her.

  “Keep talking like that and my ego will grow bigger than my dick, you know.”

  Freya’s muscles squeezed around me; my cock eagerly reacted.

  “Well, it seems like that part of you isn’t finished getting bigger yet,” she replied coyly.

  I thrusted up into her, and Freya cried out in surprise. “Hope you’re prepared for some vigorous activity, Freya,” I said. “The kids at your kindergarten ain’t got nothing on me when it comes to boundless energy.”

  Freya grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

  She sat up fully again, arching her back as she bounced up and down on my cock, slowly at first and then faster, grinding into me whenever she slammed back down.

  “Holy fuck,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

  At the rate we were going I wasn’t liable to last much longer. But it felt so fucking good—to be inside Freya, to watch her react to me being inside her—that I simply didn’t care.

  I grabbed onto Freya’s hips, digging my fingers into her supple, soft skin, willing her to go faster, faster, faster. Freya readily complied, her breathing hitched as my cock rubbed against her clit and brought her close to orgasm once more.

  She ran a hand through her now wild, dark hair; I didn’t think I’d seen anyone more beautiful than her, with her skin pale and glistening in the moonlight filtering through the window.

  I came a few seconds after Freya’s second orgasm hit her. I exploded inside her, months and months of frustration and sexual desire culminated in this precise moment.

  I stared up at Freya as it happened, holding her gaze with my intense and unwavering desire for her. She didn’t look away. I couldn’t help but wonder if she wanted to.

  When we were both spent and exhausted, Freya collapsed on top of my chest, breathing heavily.

  “I hope that was an acceptable first time for Miss Freya Grace,” I commented after a while.

  She laughed as she rolled off of my chest to lie beside me. “Acceptable isn’t the word I’d use. I could do with some water. Want some?”

  I pushed Freya down and kissed her. “I’ll get it; you stay here.”

  I wandered over to my bathroom, my brain heavy and dazed with satisfaction, but I knew I wouldn’t find sleep easily tonight.

  I wanted Freya in a superficial capacity—at first. That was why I was so eager to agree to her suggestion to pay off her brother’s debt with her body. But I put her in that position. I could just as easily have set up a manageable repayment plan for her to follow. I’d wanted her to suggest the impossible…and she had.

  But now I felt so much more for her. I wanted Freya to be with me, the way I wanted to be with her. I wondered if I could convince her to stay with me once the debt was paid. There was no way she could have fabricated every smile, laugh, sigh and moan since we’d began spending together, right?

  Right?

  Feeling like a despicable person, I retrieved a glass of water for Freya and brought it back for her. She happily gulped the lot down, then settled in against my side when I collapsed onto the bed.

  Regardless of what happened in the future, I knew I had been right about one thing, at least.

  Sleeping with Freya tonight was not enough.

  It would never be enough.

  I wanted to tie her to me; to convince her that being with me was, in fact, a good idea. And then it hit me—my father’s retirement ball. Perhaps, if Freya were to accompany me as my official date, she might get a better idea of how serious I was about her. My family would meet her, and I could make it clear how important she was to me.

  It was a risky gesture. There was a high chance of it failing either due to Freya being scared off or my family acting out of order. But if I didn’t do something soon then Freya might never accept that my feelings for her were anything less than genuine—and might therefore never allow herself to develop real feelings for me.

  I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye; he was already fast asleep. I didn’t want our relationship to end. A risky gesture would have to do. But I’d ask her in the morning.

  For now I was content to slowly fall into unconsciousness with the woman I was crazy about warming my side.

  Chapter Nine

  Freya

  I woke up to sunlight streaming over my face. Which was odd, because my bedroom didn’t get the sun in the morning.

  And then I remembered.

  “I was wondering when you would wake up,” Jackson smiled, when I sat up stock-straight in his bed, in his house, wearing his shirt. I barely recalled putting it on—I must have thrown on the first dry garment I could find on the floor on my hazy way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

  “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hand and swallowing a yawn.

  “Nearly eleven. You must have been exhausted.”

  God, eleven in the morning? I’ve not slept past seven since I was a freshman in college. Clearly I needed it.

  I mean, it’s not like Jackson and I actually got all that much sleep during the night anyway. I smiled at the memory, causing Jackson to quirk a curious eyebrow.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Just last night,” I admitted. Jackson plonked himself down beside me on the bed, ruffling my crow’s nest of hair before kissing me gently. “I guess I can’t call myself a virgin anymore, huh?”

  Jackson chuckled. “Definitely not. I made triply sure that you weren’t, after all.”

  A heavy flush crept up my neck to my ears. Three times. I had sex with Jackson Patera three times.

  It was…phenomenal. I couldn’t believe I’d been missing out on sex for so long. Or, perhaps, the only reason it was so good was because of Jackson himself.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was shirtless, giving me a blessedly great view of him abs and lean-muscled, tanned arms. He shook his sleep-ruffled blonde hair out of his eyes, smiling when he realized I was watching him.

  “What is it?” he asked, voice all innocence which I wasn’t sure was genuine or not. Could he really not know how gorgeous he was?

  “You…keep in really good shape,” I said, inclining my head slightly towards his stomach.

  Jackson merely laughed as he prodded my own stomach. “So are you, Freya. I didn’t realize how flexible you’d be.”

  The flush that had crept up my neck reached my cheeks. “Running after and picking up kids builds up muscles whether I want them or not.”

  “I think it’s a very, very good thing,” he replied, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear as he did so. “Well, if last night is anything to go by. Are you doing anything tonight?”

  The question struck me by surprise. I looked away for a moment. “You said you wanted to spend the weekend with me, so I…didn’t plan anything else.”

  “Good. That’s great. Freya, do you….would you like to be my date at a charity ball tonight? Well, it’s my old man’s resignation from the head of the Patera family, too. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but—”

  “I’d love to, Jackson,” I cut in, barely able to believe what I was hearing. Jackson beamed at my response. I bit my lip. “I don’t think I have anything to wear, though.”

  “Oh, that’s not a problem. I’ll have something sent to your place this afternoon.”

  Just like that. It must have been great to be so wealthy.

  But then something Jackson h
ad said caught my attention. I just barely touched his arm. “If your father is retiring, does that mean…you’re taking over?”

  Jackson looked conflicted. He took my hands in his and brought them to his lips. “Yes, I suppose. We’ll see. Do you want pancakes for breakfast?”

  The way Jackson changed the topic of conversation highly suggested he didn’t want to talk about his imminent promotion so I didn’t broach the topic again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when he dropped me off outside my apartment and told me a car would pick me up at seven. He had to be at the ball earlier, so I would be meeting him there.

  An hour or so later a knock on the door informed me that the dress Jackson was sending over had arrived. It was wordlessly handed over to me in a black dress bag. I only unzipped the bag when I was once more alone in my bedroom, and just about dropped the hanger when I saw the garment.

  Jewel-green and backless, with a delicate, woven halter-neck and gold beads embroidered throughout. It swept down to the floor in swathes of silky, slinky material. It was gorgeous—and expensive. I held it up in front of me as I looked in the mirror.

  I was going to look astonishing in it. It matched my eyes, and actually made my pale skin look ethereal and fairy-like instead of sick and vampire-esque.

  I set to work immediately to get myself ready. I washed and shaved and moisturized to within an inch of my life, blow-drying my hair as silky as the material of the dress was. I thanked God that my room-mate in college had been an avid hair and beauty fan; she’d used me as a practice model for make-up and hair styles more times than I could count. I’d picked up more than a few tricks from her, though I rarely if ever used them in my adult life.

  I lined my eyes with black cat-eye liner and gold eyeshadow, finishing them off with lashings of mascara. I put the barest amount of color on my lips and cheeks—just enough to make them pop.

  I pinned my hair up in an impossibly delicate French twist, to ensure the backless dress was the star of the show. I kept some hair loose at the front, though, to frame my face.

  When I finally slid into the dress I felt like there was something missing. The halter-neck meant I couldn’t wear a necklace, and bracelets and bangles annoyed me because they got in the way. But I had a pair of gold hoop earrings that had been my mother’s when she was younger; I fished them out of a small box of her things I kept beneath my bed. It may have been because of their sentimental value, or it might have been because they actually matched the dress, but I decided to put them on, though I’d never worn them before.

  They were exactly what I was looking for. They set off the gold hues in my green eyes perfectly, tying the whole outfit together. I was pleased (and relieved) that the only pair of high heels I owned matched the dress, too—delicate black straps with an open toe and metallic gold heel. They’d been my room-mate’s, in actuality, though she’d given them to me when she finally had to admit that they didn’t fit.

  I was supremely glad for them now.

  I barely had time to throw back a single glass of wine for Dutch courage before the honk of a car horn informed me that my ride was there. Checking my reflection quickly to ensure not a hair was out of place, I rushed out to the waiting car, heart hammering in my chest.

  I’d gotten so carried away with getting ready that I’d fully forgotten everything I’d been worrying about, but it all came crashing back around me now.

  Why did Jackson want me to accompany him? Was he wanting to embarrass me? In which case why did he send me such a beautiful dress?

  Or did he actually have feelings for me? In which case why was he blackmailing me into spending time with him?

  And what would happen to us once he took up his place as the head of the Patera family?

  My head was full of so many questions that I barely acknowledged the journey his father’s ball, which was a grand stone building near the coast. As soon as I stumbled out of the car I looked for Jackson, who had messaged me to say he’d be waiting outside.

  And then I spotted him, anxiously waiting by the front door, heartbreakingly beautiful in a tux with his hair slicked back, two glasses of champagne in his hands. He beamed when he saw me.

  “Freya—”

  “Oh my god, Freya!”

  I turned at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice just as the man in question bowled into me.

  My brother, Tate.

  Chapter Ten

  Jackson

  I had but half a moment to take in the sight of Freya when our eyes locked on each other. She was resplendent in the dress my sister-in-law had helped me pick out, with her hair twisted up and just enough make-up on to highlight her features. I’d never known Freya could look like this—like some ethereal goddess.

  Clearly she was full of surprises. I sincerely hoped I’d have the rest of my life to be continually surprised by the young woman making her way towards me.

  But then her brother shouted her name. Her brother.

  The last person I expected to see in front of me was Tate Grace. What was he doing at my father’s resignation ball? What was he doing in California, period?

  He’d run off.

  He’d abandoned his sister.

  So why was he here, embracing her like she was the greatest thing he’d ever seen? He had no right to be so happy to see her after what he’d done.

  Shut up, Jackson, are you honestly jealous of Freya’s brother? I chastised. But I knew the answer was a resounding yes. Tate was the only person in the world Freya cared for, and he had little and less reason to like me. If he wormed his way back into her life then Tate would likely try to turn her against me.

  No, scrap that: he wouldn’t even have to try. I was blackmailing Freya, after all. After hearing that how would her brother ever see me as anything close to a good man?

  “Tate, what are you doing here?” Freya exclaimed, her lovely eyes bright with unshed tears as she slung her arms around her brother and hugged him back. I made my way down their side with slow, careful steps; Tate hadn’t yet noticed my presence.

  “I have so much to tell you, Freya,” he said, practically stumbling over the words, he was speaking so fast. “I have so much to explain. But first I have to find one of the Patera brothers and—oh. Oh.” Tate’s eyes went wide as he spied me heading in his direction. He paled a little, despite the fact he was already just as ghostly white as his younger sister.

  To his surprise, Freya smiled warmly and waved me over. It sent a pleasant shiver up my spine, to see her look at me like that. She was disarmed. Relaxed. Not at all anxious and frightened, like she had been right up until I’d played with her and the kids at the kindergarten.

  “Mis-Mister Patera,” Tate stuttered, bowing his head slightly when I reached them. “I really didn’t mean to disappear—I just—it’s just that—here.” He handed out a brown envelope with what looked suspiciously like a wad of cash in it.

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

  “Twenty grand plus interest,” he explained, proffering the envelope to me once more. Only when I took it from him did Tate turn to face his sister again. “Freya I am so, so sorry that I left you. I never meant to. I’m ashamed I fell back into gambling but I swear it wasn’t intentional that I spent so much money.” He paused, looking at his feet uncomfortably before explaining, “my—ah—boyfriend, or at least I’d thought he was my boyfriend, drugged me the night I accrued so much debt. He played on my behalf, then by the time I came to the next morning he was gone. I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to get you involved, so I fled.”

  Freya stared at Tate in horror. I didn’t know the man enough to know if he was lying for sympathy’s sake, but going by Freya’s reaction he was telling the truth.

  Which made me the asshole.

  “You should have called!” Freya cried, grabbing hold of her brother and crushing him against her once more. “I thought you’d died! I had to hear about what happened from Jackson, and—”

  “Tell me you didn�
��t touch my sister,” Tate interrupted, his previous nervousness entirely dissipated in the face of any potential harm to his sister. “Tell me you didn’t extort her. She had nothing to do with what happened to me.”

  I wanted to say I hadn’t. I wanted to say I’d been reasonable and let her off. I wanted to say I hadn’t used the opportunity Tate’s debt presented me to force Freya into being with me. I wanted—

  “Jackson just hung around in case you returned,” Freya said reassuringly as she rubbed her brother’s arm. “I got to know him pretty well actually. He’s a nice guy…deep down.” The laugh that accompanied her words melted my heart.

  She was defending me when she absolutely had no reason to. She didn’t want her brother to think badly of me. Which meant…

  Was it possible Freya had real feelings for me? Now that her brother had returned and I had no excuse to force her to be with me, might she be inclined to continue seeing me anyway?

  I didn’t dare to hope.

  I held out my hand for Tate to shake. “I’m glad you returned and paid off your debt, Mr. Grace. I’m sorry for the circumstances in which you were driven into it. If you tell me the name of your ex-partner then I can look into finding him for you.”

  Tate smiled a lop-sided grin as he shook my hand. “Trust me, I found him. What do you think I was doing all these months? I got my own back.”

  Nobody asked him what that meant. I knew enough from his tone to understand it wasn’t anything good, and Freya was smart enough to know that she didn’t want to know.

  “Jack, there you are!”

  I turned; my father was heading our way, limping slightly on his cane. I flashed him a smile. “What’s up, dad? I was just about to head in.”

  He ignored me, instead casting his gaze over Freya with obvious disapproval. “I told you not to bring the teacher.”

  Technically he had, earlier that afternoon—after he’d found out from my brother who I’d intended to take, but I’d ignored him. Beside me, Freya stilled. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged me off.

  “What’s going on, Jackson?” she asked, her voice uncertain.