Brutal Heir (Billionaire Heirs #2)

Chapter 17

Ezequiel

I walk into the bedroom. The sound of the door clicking shut behind me echoes in the silent room. Sage is tucked into my bed, the covers down around her torso, showing the top of her breasts. Her chest is rising and falling with each peaceful breath. She looks so pure and innocent, it makes me feel like a monster for bringing her here.

I sit on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. The urge to touch her is strong, so I reach out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. She doesn’t stir, and I’m relieved she’s sleeping soundly.

I rub my hand over my chest, over the area with the tattoo I had no choice in accepting. It’s a constant reminder of the shit I’ve gone through because of my father. The sacrifices I’ve made and the consequences I face for being part of my family.

Her world is so different from mine. Being security would make things hard enough to deal with. Being that she’s not a local, she could never understand the things that happen here, the deals that need to be made, and the people I’m related to.

It’s a situation, a life I never would have escaped without the help of Roman de Marco.

If I hadn’t let my dick take over, I would have put her in another room. She’ll never understand, never accept who I am. The best thing I can do is let her be and send her on her way in the morning then stay the hell away from her in the future.

I feel empty inside at the thought, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. It’s the beginning of a chasm that will never heal.

She’s lying there, peacefully asleep in my bed, looking like some beautiful fairy who wandered into my dark world. I want to protect her, to keep her safe from the things that happened in my past. From who I am and the things I’ve done.

My gut clenches with the realization that I want her, consequences be damned. I want this night with her so bad it hurts.

I take off my clothes, feeling like a fool for stripping down to my undershirt. I climb into bed with her, my hand slipping around her waist, pulling her close, feeling her warmth and smelling her sweet scent. She’s completely out.

I study her face, her features relaxed, making her look so innocent, so vulnerable. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing, but I can’t help myself.

She doesn’t wake up as I set my knee between hers, climbing on top of her and pushing her legs apart to settle between her inviting thighs. Despite her being unconscious, finding her pussy bare sends a rush of blood to my already hard cock, making me ache for her even more. It’s something that’ll flash into my mind over and over for a long time to come.

I put two fingers into her cleavage then pull down the top. Her breasts are bare, the oversized globes naked for me. Running my hand over the soft skin, I come up to roll her nipple, relishing the way it hardens beneath my touch.

Despite it all, she still doesn’t wake up, but the thrill of the forbidden makes the experience all the more exciting. This is my moment, my chance to explore her body, to feel the heat between us. It’s dangerous, but it’s also intoxicating.

I sink into her body, her pussy offering less resistance than earlier. The slightest noise of pleasure comes from deep in her throat. This isn’t a normal sleep. She’s knocked out hard. Her body’s moving every time I bottom out, but she seems to be oblivious outside of the body’s normal reaction.

Annoyance borders on anger, spurring me on. My thrusts grow harder; the sound of my hips hitting hers fills the room. The sound of my breathing echoes in my ears. Any other time I’d be relishing this moment, but I’m riding the fine line between anger and pleasure at the shit she’s pulled.

My balls tighten, emptying along her inner thigh and pussy as I pull out. I feel nothing toward her, nothing I’d have with a shared experience. That pisses me off more than I could ever imagine.

Done, I climb off her, to my side of the bed. I turn, going up on an elbow. What the fuck is she thinking?

Her cell lights up on the nightstand. Curious, I reach across her and pick up the phone. It’s a notification of a payment, nothing urgent. But having the cell reminds me of the video I asked her for, something she failed to send.

With little remorse, thanks to her current state, I key in the code I saw her enter earlier. After a few taps, her phone unlocks, lighting up the bedcover and my arms. I automatically glance over at Sage, but she’s oblivious. I suppose if taking a cock doesn’t wake her, the light won’t either.

I go straight to the albums and find the video. There it is: Sage in my truck, her arm stretched out to press the record button. I attach it to a message and send it out. A few seconds later, my phone buzzes when the video arrives. Satisfied, I go back and delete the message to myself.

Now that I’m done, I give myself free rein to investigate. Her pictures are from the ranch, the shots she took during the cattle strike, the damage done to a road after the rain, and these types of work pictures going back a couple of years.

She’s also included a bunch of memes she’s got off social media sites. Exercise routines, food, a mixture of desserts and protein shakes, and sunsets. They’re primarily taken at the office, but a few are from the lake, and some at places I don’t recognize.

Out of the thousands of pictures, there’s one with a man and woman, their features familiar enough that I know they’re her parents without having to ask.

The messages don’t have much either. Me, Bill, a guard, another, Elena, guard, guard, guard, Mike, and more things from work. Finally, I come upon a message from “Dad”. I press on the message without bothering to ask for permission.

Hey, pumpkin, we haven’t heard from you. I know you’re dealing with the pain and old enough to look after yourself, but you’re still my little girl. I’m sorry I failed you. I wasn’t there when you needed me most, but don’t take it out on your mother. We love you.

I’m stuck on the word pain. Being that he’s her father, it could be anything from a broken heart to physical pain. But, she’s apparently able to deal with it. It’s still made me curious.

I quickly go to my message and hit the share-location button. Why? I’m not even sure, but I chose to follow my instinct.