CW: Smut, choking, spit kink, daddy kink, light bondage, drunk sex.
Any translations are always at the bottom of every chapter.
"How do you want to do this?" Steve asks as he lights a cigarette.
They're sitting in the back of the hotel bar at noon. The place is almost empty, save for a few people having business meetings near the front. Staff is minimal, and everyone is on their best behavior now that James and Steve are here. James told them not to check on them unless he or Steve signal that they need another drink. They both sip their whiskey.
James is in the middle of a text to Dahlia while Steve scrolls through Tinder.
Pick you up tomorrow night at work at 6:00. Security detail will be outside of my house all weekend. We'll be safe. Rebecca is staying with me tonight. I've given her the rundown on everything that's going on.
There's still a chance that Walker could come after them again. It's not a big chance, but it's enough for James to be concerned about leaving Dahlia on her own. When he called Sharon to let her know what was going on, she immediately sent over two of her private security people. Former CIA. They're the best of the best, and that's exactly what James needs right now.
He's been taking care of Dahlia all week, making sure that she still trusts him, that she believes him. It's very important for him to keep up this facade until he can tell her the truth. And he will. He'll tell her everything. He's working his way up to the kind of honesty that he needs to give her. James has spent most of his life lying.
But he will tell her. About his father, about how he actually started to rebuild Barnes Towers, about everything. For the first time in his life, James wants to be completely honest. He's just not sure he's ready yet, and Dahlia might not be either.
His phone buzzes.
[Dahlia 🌸]: I can't wait. I love you.
I love you too. How's your afternoon?
[Dahlia 🌸]: Not bad. Your security people are taking a walk around the shop.
Tell them to buy something or go sit in their fucking cars. If they've got a problem, they can take it up with me.
[Dahlia 🌸]: 😂 I will!
"I called Belova. Told her what we were going to do. She wants in. She's pissed about her shipment. She had to placate some Russian gangsters when she didn't show up with their coke."
"By placate, do you mean, she fucking killed them? I saw the news. It was a fucking bloodbath."
James shrugs.
"Six of one, half a dozen of the other," he says with a sigh as Steve pushes the pack of cigarettes toward him. Belova's business doesn't concern him. Whatever she needs to do to control her empire is fine by James, so long as he doesn't bring a war to his doorstep. Steve stares at him.
"You look stressed out."
He almost never smokes unless he's stressed out, but this week has pushed him to his limit.
"I am," he confesses. It's the most honest he's been in a long time. "Dahlia is... fucking freaking out and I don't know what to do."
"What did you tell her? About the accident?"
James sighs. He hates lying to her, but the lies fall out of his mouth so easily that he just goes with them. Sometimes, he almost believes his own bullshit.
"I told her some fucking gang bangers from Skid Row tried to kill us."
Steve chuckles.
"Man, you've got so many lies running with that girl, I don't know how the fuck you keep track of it all."
"It's not easy," James laments.
"You could just dump her and live your life," Steve suggests as he sips his whiskey.
James lights his cigarette and takes a big inhale. Anger flares in his chest and he breathes out, trying to keep his composure as much as he wants to punch Steve in the fucking face right now. He's still bruised up. James is pretty sure he would end up popping some of those stitches in Steve's eyebrow.
"Stevie, I took another bullet to my left arm this week because I was trying to protect her. Live my fucking life? She's part of my life."
He hasn't felt this way about anyone in a long time. The kind of intensity he feels for Dahlia is unmatched. He thinks about her all the time.
Steve shrugs.
"Look, I know you say you love her, but you got into this shit pretty fast—"
"We're not having this fucking conversation." James stares at him. "Do you understand?"
"I'm just saying—"
"Well, don't just say it!" James snaps. "Dahlia is a part of my life. If you fucking cared about anything, you would understand."
"Fuck you," Steve mutters as he sucks on his cigarette.
James does the same and they both stare at their drinks.
"You're my best friend," he says after a few minutes.
"Steve—"
"Don't fucking tell me I don't care about people." Steve glances up at him with anger flashing in his eyes. "How many times have I stuck my neck out for you? How many fucking bullets and punches have I taken for you?"
He's jealous. James can tell that much. Steve isn't nearly as adept at hiding his emotions as James is. He wears his heart on his sleeve, which is interesting for someone who kills people for a living - partially, at least. He's not as vicious as James, nor is he as vindictive. Steve's kills are sudden and quick. He always aims for the head, he says he doesn't like to see people suffer, no matter how much they've pissed him off.
"I know, Steve. But I need you to accept that Dahlia is part of my life, and she's not going anywhere."
Steve scoffs.
"What, are you gonna marry her?"
James sips his drink and takes a drag of his cigarette.
"We're a long way from that, pal."
"Jesus," Steve whispers. "You're really thinking about it. She's got you wrapped around her finger—"
"I said we weren't having this conversation anymore. I want to talk about Walker and what we're going to do with him."
Steve sighs.
"All right. You wanna talk logistics?"
Say what you will about Steve, but he knows how to let things go and focus on the present. It's probably his best quality.
"We have to lure him to your birthday party somehow," James informs him.
"Or we could just fucking hit him over the head and kidnap him."
James blows a smoke ring. It's a little barbaric, but it works.
"That's not a bad idea," he says softly. "How do you want to do this?"
Steve crushes his cigarette in the ashtray and pops another into his mouth. When he's anxious, he chain smokes. It's his worst habit, but James doesn't say anything. We all have our vices.
"I've been tailing him this week. He usually gets into the precinct around 8:00am. I'll grab him, bring him back to the hotel—"
"Make sure you take him to Skid Row for the day. I don't need housekeeping walking in and seeing the Chief of Police tied to a fucking chair bleeding from the side of his head.
"Of course," Steve scoffs. "What do you think, I'm a fucking amateur?"
James reaches over and grasps his shoulder.
"I know you're not."
"Anyway, I'll make sure he's drugged before I bring him here, and we can have a little private party."
James smirks as Steve raises his glass. They clink them together and take a drink.
"That means we have to think about who's going to replace him," James mutters. "He's only alive for another week."
"Pierce."
James nods and Steve tilts his head.
"Unless you're thinking about running for Chief of Police."
"I'd rather throw myself off of a fuckin' bridge than be a cop," James spits.
Steve chuckles.
"Amen to that, pal."
James sighs.
"I'll call Pierce — or at least try to."
"We're going to have to fund this whole operation."
"I doubt there'll be a campaign," James replies. "Once Walker's out of the picture, they're going to want to get someone in to replace him fast. I'll drop Pierce's name to the mayor. I doubt we'll have to spend much."
"You finally go along with one of my ideas."
James rolls his eyes.
"The only reason I'm doing it is because of what Walker did. What the fuck was he thinking trying to send me a message?"
"He was signing his death warrant. Like you said, nobody messes with the King."
James smirks and stubs out his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth.
"I'm tired of him trying to intimidate us. We run this fucking city, we own this fucking city. I want to be the one to watch the light leave Walker's eyes."
"I would never deny you that, Buck," Steve whispers. "Just let me get a few shots in first."
James chuckles.
"It's your birthday. I'll let you pull out a couple of his teeth."
Steve throws his head back and laughs.
"I'll think about it. I might need a few drinks first."
"That won't be a problem," James replies.
They drink for another hour before James calls it a day. Steve has a date tonight. He takes a cab back to his place. James leaves the office early and tells Natasha to take messages for him.
He has to see Father Paul. The guilt in his chest about Dahlia is mounting and he feels awful.
He's never felt guilty like this before.
He stands outside of the hotel and calls Peter.
"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"
"Where are you?"
"Across the street. I'm just finishing lunch."
"I need you to drive me to St. Patrick's."
"Of course, Mr. Barnes. I'll be right there."
"Thanks, Pete."
James sighs. He only has to wait for about ten minutes before Peter comes driving up to the front of the hotel and rolls down the window.
"Sorry, Mr. Barnes! There was a lineup, and--"
"It's okay, Peter," James laughs as he opens the car door and gets in the backseat. "Don't worry about that stuff. I'm not going to fire you."
Peter nods.
"I know, Mr. Barnes."
"You're a good kid, Peter. And you're a good employee."
"Thank you, Mr. Barnes." He clears his throat. "So, uh, St. Patrick's?"
"Please."
Peter steps on it and peels out of the parking lot. James sighs softly, watching the buildings whiz by the car window. He's got a lot to get off of his chest, and Father Paul is really the only person he can come to in these moments. He's afraid of what Dahlia is going to say when she finds out who he really is. The thought makes his stomach ache a little, but he has to stay focused. James can convince her. If there's one thing he's always been good at, it's talking people into things.
He doesn't want to manipulate Dahlia, but if he explains himself well enough, she might not run.
The car pulls into the back parking lot. Peter always parks here. He thinks it gives James more privacy, but realistically, James doesn't care.
"I'll be back in a while."
"Sure thing, Mr. Barnes."
He steps out of the car and brushes off his suit before he heads inside. Father Paul is near the front of the church in an intense conversation with one of his parishioners. She's crying, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Father Paul seems to be doing his best to comfort her.
He always did that for Winnifred. It's one of the reasons why James decided to save this church from being bulldozed and developed into a bunch of fucking condos. There are good people here.
He's not all bad. He has redeemable qualities.
James lingers in the back, swiping a hand through his hair, deciding to sit down at one of the pews and take a deep breath as he runs over everything he wants to tell Father Paul. This is always the hardest part - figuring out what to leave out of the confession and what's actually important. He needs help with Dahlia. He loves her so much it drives him fucking crazy - and James Barnes knows a thing or two about crazy.
The woman Father Paul is talking to eventually gives him a hug and he escorts her out of the church. James nods his head at her and offers a kind smile as she leaves. When Father Paul shuts the door, he sighs and leans against it.
"I wanted to go and eat my lunch, James."
"I'm not stopping you."
Father Paul chuckles.
"Come with me."
He leads him to the back of the church and up the stairs where Father Paul lives. James wasn't able to save the clergy house from development, but luckily, there's a full apartment upstairs at the back of the church that James was able to pay to have renovated so that Father Paul could live and work in the same place. He always knew that kind of connection was important to the old man.
Father Paul unlocks the door to his apartment and James follows him inside.
"What kind of confession is this? Coffee or whiskey?"
"Both?" James asks.
Father Paul chuckles.
"I have some Chivas Regal."
"Where'd you steal that from?" James teases. "The poor box?"
"We don't have those anymore," Father Paul chuckles. "But if we did that would be an insult. I've got a vow of poverty."
James smirks and sits down at a rickety kitchen table. One of the legs is held in place by a book of matches. Father Paul takes a pot of coffee off of the burner and pours them both generous amounts, topping it off with the whiskey. He passes James a mug and grabs his lunch out of the fridge, ripping the Tupperware container off and digging into it without reheating it.
"What do you want to confess?"
"I'm in love."
Father Paul chuckles.
"Sounds awful. Twelve Hail Mary's."
"This is serious," James says with a soft sigh as he cups the mug in his hands. "She doesn't know who I am."
Father Paul chews his food thoughtfully.
"You're afraid she's going to leave."
"Wouldn't you be?"
"I wouldn't be doing what you're doing to begin with, but... yes, I would be afraid of that."
He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Deep down, he knows that Father Paul is right. James doesn't have a therapist. This is as close as he comes to being truly authentic with someone.
"What do I do?"
"I'm a priest, James. Relationships aren't exactly my forte."
"You've been fucking the same nun since I was nineteen years old. You must know a little bit."
Father Paul sighs.
"I wish you'd never caught us that day."
"Yeah, me neither," James scoffs. Silence creeps between them and James looks up at Father Paul as he dabs at his mouth with a napkin. "Earlier this week, I put her in danger. I could have gotten her killed, but my fucking anger took over and—"
"James, if you ever want a healthy relationship with anyone, you have to start telling people the truth. And you have to be prepared when they walk away from you because of it." He sips his coffee. "How many lies have you told this girl?"
"Dozens. More than dozens, probably. She's getting close to finding out what's really going on and I can't keep the situation under control for much longer."
"Do you not want her to get close to you? You're not exactly comfortable with intimacy."
"It's not about intimacy with her. I like intimacy with her. I just—"
"You're afraid she'll only see the monster; that she'll leave you."
James is quiet. This man's honesty is both brutal and necessary. It's why James respects him so much. Not many people are willing to tell James Barnes what's really going, or what they're really thinking, but he is.
Father Paul clears his throat.
"Well, James, you can't make anyone do anything they don't want to do. We all have free will."
"If you say if you love something let it go, I might just snap," James says calmly.
Father Paul chuckles.
"I wasn't going to say that, but you know I'm right. You can't control people like that."
"I make a lot of people do a lot of things, Father."
It's true. Money and intimidation go a long way. It's why he feels so out of his depth with Dahlia. He doesn't want to coerce her into anything. She's the first person he's really cared about in a long time aside from Steve, his sister, Natasha, and Peter. James is still having a hard time negotiating how strongly he feels about Dahlia, how sometimes it hurts to look at her because he loves her so much. He thinks about how he feels hollow without her, and the way it makes him feel to see her name pop up on his phone.
Father Paul glares at him.
"You intimidate people. Are you going to intimidate and scare her into staying with you if she wants to leave?"
James swallows thickly and sips his coffee, relishing the sting of the whiskey in the back of his throat while he searches for an answer.
"I don't want to."
"She's a grown woman, and if you love this girl, you have to be honest with her, or it's going to come out in the worst way possible."
"The man I killed — the one I told you about the last time I was here... he hurt her."
Father Paul sighs and hangs his head.
"James—"
"I did it because I love her so fucking much."
Father Paul takes a bite of his lunch and sighs.
"James, I can't tell you what to do or what to say to her that will convince her to stay with you, but I can tell you that if you love this woman - if you really and truly love this woman - you'll do what's best for you both and tell her the truth. 'What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.'"
"Luke 12:3," James whispers.
"You remember."
"I've been thinking about that passage a lot this week."
"That's good. It shows me you still have a conscience, even if it's fractured."
"I guess I do have a soul after all."
"James, everyone has a soul. Everything has a soul. You don't lose it, you can't sell it, it's a part of you that grows with you over time. But it doesn't mean our souls don't take big hits and have to be nurtured and cared for just like the rest of us."
"Is that what you think happened to me?"
Since he got into this life, James has been preoccupied with what he's become. He's not sure the younger version of himself would have wanted this for him.
Father Paul sighs.
"I think yours has gone off course and needs some mending. Maybe that's why you feel the way you do about this woman, maybe she's soothing for you somehow, she reminds you of the good things that God has to offer you." He pauses as he finishes the rest of his lunch and leans back in his chair. "You were molded by trauma and turmoil, and you chose a much different path than was expected of you. Your mother never wanted any of this for you. She loved you. She told me so many times about how her son was going to pitch for the big leagues, about how kind he was. You had a bright future, James."
James's throat tightens and he clears it.
"I know. But I'd tell her the same thing that I tell you."
"You do what you have to do."
"Exactly." James pauses. "So, tell her the truth or—"
"God will find a way to make you listen to the lesson he's trying to teach you."
"Is that a priest's way of saying 'fuck around and find out'?" James teases.
Father Paul laughs softly.
"In a way? Yes. He has a habit of teaching us the same lesson over and over again if we didn't listen the first time."
"Persistent bastard, isn't he?" James asks.
"Something like that."
They're quiet. James stares out the window, watching some kids playing in the park across the street. They're running around a swing set, one of them chasing the other, and both of them scream at the top of their lungs, laughing hysterically. James can hear them in the distance. He misses being that young sometimes. The world felt so much bigger. Kinder. He turns back to Father Paul and sips his coffee.
"My sister's coming to town."
"Oh! How is she?"
"She's good. She's still working on Wall Street."
"Doing the... computer thing?" Father Paul makes a typing motion with his fingers. James chuckles.
"Yeah. To tell you the truth, I never really understood it. She's tried to teach me about what she does a thousand times, but it just sounds like nonsense to me."
"You're not the only one," Father Paul whispers. "I use the Parish computer to check emails and that's about it."
James chuckles and Father Paul stares at him.
"You look like you want to tell me something else."
"I do?"
The old man nods.
"There's a weight in your eyes."
"I've got a lot on my mind."
"Do I want to know?"
James looks up at him and drains his coffee mug.
"Probably not." He exhales softly. "There are some big changes coming, Father. I don't know what everything's going to look like once it all shakes out."
"Well, keep me in the loop - but not too much."
"Of course."
James stands and takes the coffee mug to the sink, rinsing it out and leaving it there.
"Do you know why I continue to counsel you, son?" Father Paul asks from the kitchen table.
"Because I'd kill you if you didn't?"
"No. I'm not afraid of you. The reason I do it is because I believe that you're worth saving. If, somehow, I can push you in the right direction, you might just take my advice and get out of all of this."
James walks toward him, his shoes clicking on the hardwood. He puts a hand on Father Paul's shoulder.
"Father, as much as I appreciate it, I think it's pretty hard to redeem the Devil."
"Even Lucifer was an angel once."
James stares at him for a moment, watching the turmoil in the old man's eyes. He's really serious about this.
"Thanks for the coffee, Father."
"My door's always open, James."
James nods and walks out of the apartment. The weight in his chest doesn't feel any lighter when he climbs back into the car and tells Peter to drive him home.
🌺 🌺 🌺
It's Friday. It should be a good day. Dahlia is meeting James's sister tonight.
Still, she can't stop her mind from spiralling out of control.
The week has gone by without incident. James sent private security to sit outside of Dahlia's apartment, escort her and Wanda to work, and monitor things from across the street. They're not invasive, but she can feel their presence. They come by the shop every once in a while to "check in on things." All they do is wander around, but the second she sees them, all Dahlia can think about is the fact that she might have to live with this new level of normal for the foreseeable future.
What kind of a businessman needs private security?
There's something in Dahlia's gut that's not sitting right. She has to stop Wanda from going into her weird mafia theories. Dahlia doesn't want to hear it right now, it's definitely not helping her nervousness.
As she's working on an arrangement for a display, the door opens and a man walks in in an LAPD uniform. He smiles at her. She spots his name on his uniform right away. L. HOSKINS.
He walks around the shop, looking at the displays with a confused expression, but she can see that he's actually watching her. She hopes he's not here to ask her about David. She can't take any more stress this week, and David is the last fucking thing she wants to think about.
"Do you need help?" She asks.
"I actually need some flowers for my girlfriend." He scratches the back of his head and laughs. "Kinda put myself in the doghouse last night."
Dahlia smiles. Wanda and Kate are outside working on bringing the arrangements in. Scott is in her office working on the website.
The second Wanda sees a cop uniform as she's carrying in a big bouquet to stick in the cooler, she glances over at Dahlia and raises an eyebrow to ask you good? Dahlia nods.
"What kind of flowers does your girlfriend like?"
"To tell you the truth, I have no idea," Hoskins laughs.
"Lillies are always nice," Kate offers. "Not that I'm trying to butt in or anything, but they smell nice."
"That's true," Dahlia says softly.
"Lilies, those are the white ones, right?" He chuckles again. There's something about his posture and the tone of his voice that seems insincere, but Dahlia chalks it up to being nervous. Maybe he's on duty and he has to get back to work.
Or maybe he's just in here because he thinks she, Wanda, and Kate are cute.
"We actually pink ones right now," Dahlia says as she rounds the counter to grab one of the bigger bouquets with lilies, lilacs, and baby's-breath. "This one. Definitely an I'm sorry bouquet."
Hoskins grins.
"All right. I'll take it. It's pretty, and it smells pretty good. You twisted my arm, uh..."
"Dahlia," she offers.
"Pretty name."
"Thanks," she replies as she carries the bouquet to the front and rings it up.
"$120."
Hoskins whistles.
"Damn. Apologies aren't cheap, are they?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"It's all right. It's worth it." He digs in his pocket for his wallet and hands her his credit card. Dahlia's phone buzzes. Hoskins suddenly seems very interested in it when James's name pops up.
[James 🖤]: Picking you up at 6:00 sharp. Got you a surprise.
Dahlia flips her phone over. Some customers are so fucking nosy.
"That your boyfriend?" He asks as she swipes his card.
Dahlia raises an eyebrow. The fuck kind of question is that? If he's hitting on her, this isn't a very good way to go about it.
"Uh, yeah."
"Guess he doesn't buy flowers when he needs to apologize, huh?"
"He's more of a jewelry guy," she replies.
"He buy you that choker?" Hoskins asks gesturing to the metal choker around her neck that James bought her. She wore it today because it made her look like a bad bitch with her Black Sabbath t-shirt.
Dahlia says nothing.
"My girlfriend was looking at one of those. They're expensive."
What is with this guy?
"Here's your bouquet," Dahlia replies as she wraps the bouquet in some pretty paper and hands it to him. "Have a nice day, officer Hoskins."
She makes it a point to say his name and he smiles at her. There's something off about this entire interaction. Dahlia has feeling he's here for another reason, but he just won't say it. Maybe that Bodecker guy sent him to keep an eye on her.
"You too, Dahlia. I'm sure I'll be back."
She fakes a smile as he walks out of the shop, past Wanda and Kate. There's something about his interest in her phone that sets off alarm bells. To say she's on edge would be an understatement. She feels like she can't escape the anxiety. Her main sources of comfort are work and James, but she can't seem to stop thinking about what happened in that car, or the look in James's eyes. It was fucking murderous. She's convinced that if she hadn't said anything, he would have followed that car and done something horrible.
She's never seen him angry like that before - intimidating, sure, but never that upset. He told her it was because he wanted to protect her, and he would do whatever it took to do that, but he also put them both in danger.
And now it's all she thinks about.
She keeps waiting for someone to burst into the shop with a gun, and every new customer who comes in immediately makes her suspicious. Do they know her? Are they here to hurt her? She's been living with her heart in her throat for six days. The only time she truly relaxes is when she's around him, or on the couch with Wanda and Basil.
She keeps expecting something bigger to happen, but the other shoe never drops. For the first time in her life, her survival instincts are working against her. The shop is calm and quiet. Scott, Kate, and Wanda do their best to distract her and make her laugh - most of the time it works. She tries to forget, but that threat is always in the back of her mind.
Wanda and Kate come back inside and lock the door, flipping over the closed sign. Hoskins was the last customer of the day.
"What was the deal with that cop?" Kate asks.
Dahlia shrugs, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Kate doesn't know about Bodecker. Neither does Scott. Dahlia wants to keep it that way.
"Nothing. All good," she replies with another fake smile. She's been doing that a lot lately.
Kate nods and they start to close up. She decided to close the shop for the weekend to give everyone some breathing room. James said it was the best strategy. Their profits are actually up for the first time in six months thanks to Scott's marketing , and they have some small deliveries to make on Tuesday when they come back before they start to really work on the arrangements for Steve's birthday.
They hang around inside once everything is shut down, cleaned, and put away. Scott is scrolling through his phone as Dahlia locks her office door, her duffel bag resting on the counter, ready for the weekend.
"Do you guys know a good place I could take Hope on a date? I mean, it's not a date, but I want it to be a date, so I want to be flashy, but not too fancy. You know what I mean?" Scott asks.
"Why don't you just ask her out?" Kate chuckles. "You're cute, she's cute, you're obviously in love with her and whenever she comes in here, she just fawns over you and makes sure you're okay. She takes care of your kid, dude. You're basically a couple."
"Except that we're not," Scott sighs. "I don't know how to get her to really like me as more than a friend."
"You could tell her?"
Scott rolls his eyes and scoffs.
"When has that ever worked on a woman?"
Kate breathes a heavy sigh. Wanda puts her head in her hands.
Dahlia blinks.
"Scott, you're my friend and my employee, so I'm going to say this with the utmost grace, but you men are dumb as hell most of the time."
"Wh—"
"Tell her, you clown!" Dahlia shouts.
"Thank you, Dahlia! Seriously, Scott, all you do is fucking whine about how much you like her. You like her instagram posts two seconds after she posts them, and you have notifications turned on for her stories. If neither of you see that you're both in love with each other, I'm going to smack the shit out of both of you!" Kate exclaims.
"Jesus, Kate, tell me how you really feel," Scott mutters.
Dahlia laughs.
"Take her to dinner - to a really fucking nice place, but not too nice, you don't want to intimidate her... and then tell her how you feel and how grateful you are for her helping you out with Cassie, for driving you around, and for helping you get a job!"
"There's a good taco place on Sunset that's really cute and has amazing food," Wanda suggests. "I would take her there. And if you don't make a move on her I will, bro."
"She will," Kate replies. "Wanda's hot. She'll snatch your girl in a second."
"Thank you, Kate!" Wanda exclaims.
"Is that Tacos Don Manolito that you're talking about?" Dahlia asks, chuckling as she gently smacks Kate on the arm. Scott looks defeated, but still open to suggestions.
Wanda nods.
"Yeah. Remember? We went there when we were really high."
Dahlia laughs. She vaguely remembers it. Blurry memories, mostly - both of them laughing and shovelling food into their mouths. They're so obnoxious when they smoke pot together.
"And I spilled a margarita on my lap?"
"Yeah!" Wanda laughs.
Dahlia giggles and Scott raises his eyebrows.
"Is it expensive?"
"Scott!" Kate yelps, smacking him in the arm. "You can't think about price, you have to think about experience! You too can spill a margarita in your lap!"
Wanda, Dahlia, and Kate throw their heads back and laugh while Scott looks anxious.
"Well, I kind of have to think about price, because I still have legal fees and shit to pay off."
Dahlia raises a brow.
"How much money do you need?"
"What?" He asks.
"How much money would you need to have a perfect date?" Dahlia asks.
Scott sighs.
"Dahlia, you already paid me for—"
"It's a gift," she replies. "Consider it a bonus for getting us so much business since you've been hired."
She has plenty of money. James pays for most of her expenses, so she has more than enough money to burn. Wanda, too. She gave some to her brother.
"Dahlia..." Scott murmurs.
"Tell me! How much?!"
"A hundred bucks?" Scott asks with a shrug.
Dahlia grins and pulls out her phone.
"I'm Venmoing you $250. You're going to have a great date with Hope and tell her how you feel! I want a text tonight telling me you're getting laid."
Scott shakes his head and blushes hard.
"Scott?" Dahlia asks. "Take the money. Take Hope out for a really nice dinner and have a good time."
Scott looks like he's about to cry. He walks over to Dahlia and flings his arms around her, hugging her tightly.
"Thank you," he whispers. "It's been a rough year and I just—"
She smiles and nods.
"I know. We love you, Scott."
He pulls away with tears in his eyes and chuckles.
"Thanks, Dahlia. I love you guys too. It's been a while since I've had a job where everyone wasn't a total asshole."
There's a knock at the door. James is standing in front of it with a small box in his hand and a smile on his face. He looks gorgeous. Dahlia hasn't seen him since their FaceTime call last night. He's shaved his full beard back down to stubble and his bright blue eyes twinkle as he stares at her.
"Does this mean we can leave now?" Kate asks.
"Yeah," Dahlia whispers. She turns to her friends. "Sorry, guys. I don't want this to be the norm, but... you know how crazy shit gets."
"It's okay, Dahl," Wanda says softly. "You have to do what you have to do to protect yourself."
They walk toward the door and Dahlia pushes it open, immediately melting into James's arms. Wanda locks the door behind her.
James kisses Dahlia on the cheek as Wanda, Kate, and Scott wave goodbye. Scott jumps into an Uber and Wanda drives Kate home in Dahlia's car. James waves at them. The atmosphere is a little tense. Wanda still thinks something's up with James, so she's keeping her distance until they figure out what's happening.
She's also pissed at him for what he did to Dahlia, but she remains cordial for the sake of her best friend.
James smiles at her, holding the box out.
"Hi. I got this for you."
"James!" She sighs softly as he puts it into her hands. "You didn't have to do this."
"Yes, I did."
He's been finding ways to apologize to her all week. Cards, lunches, bottles of wine, clothes, and now this. Dahlia doesn't even know what it is, but it says Prada on the box. She knows he paid a shitload of money for it. She looks up into his bright blue eyes and he frowns.
"I'm so sorry, Dahlia."
"James, I know you're sorry," she whispers. "I forgive you. I really do. I wouldn't have gone back to your place the day of the accident if I was still angry with you."
"Open it."
She slides unties the ribbon and opens the box. Inside, is a small gold bracelet with a tiny flower pendant dangling off of it. It's delicate and perfect. He has incredible taste. Dahlia knows this was thousands of dollars. She looks up at him.
"James..."
"Here. Let me."
He picks it up and fastens it to her wrist. The light catches it and she laughs softly.
"Rebecca picked it out for you."
"Well, if Rebecca picked it out for me, then I'll keep it."
James sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes.
"Okay, I get it. You've had enough of my apology gifts."
Dahlia laughs and wraps her arms around him, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss his jawline.
"James, one apology gift is just fine. For future reference. Unless you really screw up, in which case I'd like the twelve days of Christmas in the form of different kinds of jewellery."
He chuckles and kisses her forehead.
"I'll keep that in mind... are you ready to meet Rebecca?"
"Very." She holds up her duffel bag. "Packed for the whole weekend."
She can't help but look around. James's private security are sitting in the car parked behind his. Peter waves at her from the front seat. James cups her face in his hands.
"Good. We'll be safe, Dahlia. I promise."
"I know. I just want to be with you this weekend."
He presses his lips to hers.
"I'll keep you safe, peach. I promise. Nobody's going to touch you while I'm around."
She nods and he wraps his arm around her.
"Come on. Rebecca's waiting. She's cooking tonight."
"You relinquished the kitchen to her?" Dahlia teases as they get into the backseat of the car.
"She kind of forced me to," James confesses.
They drive toward his Malibu home. Security follows them the whole way. Peter keeps looking back in the rearview mirror.
"How was work?"
"Good. Had kind of a weird incident at the end of the day."
"What?" James asks.
"Another cop came in."
Dahlia doesn't see James and Peter exchange a look in the rearview mirror.
"Who?" James asks. She can tell he's trying to be casual about it, but he's not doing a very good job. He looks pissed off. He sounded pissed off when she told him about Bodecker.
"Uh, Hoskins."
His jaw ticks.
"Really."
"You know him?"
"I know of him, yeah."
"He said he wanted to buy some flowers for his girlfriend, but I got a different vibe from him. He kept looking over at me while he was glancing around the shop. Then, you texted me and he asked me if you were my boyfriend."
James's jaw ticks.
"Me, specifically?"
"Well, no, you're just James in my phone, but he definitely seemed interested in the text."
James is quiet for a while, spinning one of his rings around his tattooed finger. Finally, he smiles, but it seems forced. He's been off lately for the past week. Dahlia can't seem to get a handle on whatever the hell is going on inside of his head. One minute, he's showering her with affection, and the next he's on his phone - cool and distant. She's afraid to ask him about it, because he looks so fucking tense when he slips into one of his "moods."
It never lasts for long, but he's definitely keeping something from her. She tries not to think about it too much, and tries to tell herself that he still feels guilty about what happened. After all, he literally can't seem to stop apologizing to her. He's still texting her all the time, they FaceTime, he picks her up from work and calls her on her lunch breaks. He's definitely not cheating... she hopes.
James types something into his phone and then locks it. He leans over and wraps an arm around her, kissing her softly.
"I bet he was trying to find a way to hit on you because you're so fucking beautiful."
"Well, he sucked at it."
James chuckles.
"Most men do."
She links her fingers with his and looks up at him.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You seem distant."
James sighs.
"I know," he confesses, his eyes and face soft and sweet. She feels butterflies. "I'm sorry, peach. Just with Rebecca coming over this weekend, and Steve's party - he really wants us to do something special, so I'm doing my best to plan it accordingly... and then all this stuff with the hotel security system, it's just been—"
"A lot?"
"Yeah."
"And then the accident." He bites his lip. "I know I've been a little cold sometimes, but I promise, it's just stress."
She laughs as he presses his lips to hers.
"For a second there I thought you might be cheating on me or something."
His eyes suddenly look sad and he pulls away, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
"Dahlia..."
"It was just a stupid fear!" She laughs. "I swear, James."
He runs his lips along her jawline, kissing her softly. She giggles, looking over at Peter, who is intensely focused on driving. James doesn't seem to care that he can see them. Her face burns as he purrs in her ear.
"Dahlia, I am so fucking in love with you, I would never ever hurt you. I need you to believe me, peach."
Electricity runs through her veins. Every worry she has about him seems to melt away the second his lips touch hers. He makes her feel so fucking safe.
"I believe you."
"There's nobody else," he breathes as he gently sucks on her earlobe. She tries her best not to whine. She doesn't want to make Peter even more uncomfortable than he already is, but she has a feeling Peter has seen a lot worse from James.
"I swear. It's just you," he purrs. "You're all I think about. You make me fucking crazy." Another giggle as he pulls away, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I promise."
"I know, James. I believe you."
He spends the rest of the drive attached to her, almost pulling her into his lap as he showers her with kisses and words of affection in Romanian. She giggles and tells him about the rest of her day. James listens as he runs his fingers through her hair. For the first time all week, she feels really connected to him again. There's no tension, no constant apologies that are starting to make her roll her eyes, and most importantly, his work isn't keeping them apart this week.
When they pull up to his house, James carries her bags to the front door. She waves at Peter and watches as the private security car pulls up. The men don't come inside.
She follows James into the house. The smell is the first thing to hit her. Rosemary, onion, garlic... it smells incredible.
"Wow," she breathes.
"Becs is the one who taught me how to cook." James places Dahila's bag at the foot of the stairs and wraps his arms around her. She looks up at him and finally sees him fully present for the first time in a week. "I'm so glad you're here, peach."
"Me too," she whispers. "I've been thinking about this all week. I just need a fucking break from all the security and the tension, and—"
"I heard my name!" Rebecca calls from the kitchen.
"Hi, Becs!" James laughs. He kisses Dahlia's knuckles. "Come on."
They walk into the kitchen. Alpine is sitting on the counter while Rebecca feeds her a piece of meat from a fork.
Rebecca is gorgeous. She has a shock of white blonde hair and a bright, expressive face. Dahlia doesn't know why, but she expected her to look like a female version of James. Instead, she looks... really fucking cool. She's in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans. She and James have the same shocking blue eyes and sharp cheekbones.
James clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest.
"She's not supposed to eat people food."
Rebecca scoffs.
"Yeah, like you didn't give her some of your eggs this morning, asshole," Rebecca quips. She looks at Dahlia and sets the fork down, letting Alpine lick the rest of the food off of it. Rebecca walks toward her and wraps Dahlia in a tight hug.
"Hi, I'm James's much cooler, older sister."
James sighs.
"You're going to lord those three minutes over my head until the day I die."
"Damn right." Rebecca pulls away and smiles at Dahlia. "James sent me a picture of the two of you. I have to say, it doesn't do you justice. Mostly because his ugly mug is in the way."
"Jesus, Becs. Can't even go two minutes without insulting me," James mutters.
Dahlia bursts into giggles and James rolls his eyes, walking to the counter to take over cooking for Rebecca and making sure that Alpine doesn't get into the rest of the food. He picks her up and kisses her before gingerly placing her on the ground. Alpine stretches and flops over. She really is a lazy piece of shit, but James adores her.
She looks back up at Rebecca.
"It's lovely to meet you."
"You too!" Rebecca chirps. "James has told me so much about you."
Dahlia looks over at James whose cheeks are pink as he pours them all a glass of wine.
"He's told me a little about you."
"Well, I'm sure we'll get to know each other pretty well this weekend," Rebecca replies softly.
She has the same kind of mysterious that James does. Dahlia wonders if its genetic, or if it's just a weird twin thing.
"I'm looking forward to it," Dahlia says softly.
"James, I think she's the prettiest girl you've ever dated."
He grins and winks at Dahlia.
"I think so too."
Rebecca kicks James out of her spot at the counter.
"Dinner is actually ready, you guys have perfect timing. James, where do you wanna eat?"
"Here is fine. We can keep it casual."
"Good."
Dahlia watches as she serves up a plate of chicken parmesan and vegetables. She takes a salad out of the fridge and sets it down in the middle of the kitchen island. James grabs plates and cutlery and they begin to dish up their meal as they make small talk. Dahlia has always hated small talk and the beginning part of getting to know someone, but she puts up with it because it's the polite thing to do. Rebecca sips her wine.
"So, James tells me you run a flower shop?"
Dahlia nods.
"Yeah, it's uh... it was my dad's. He passed away and I took over."
"I'm so sorry," Rebecca says softly as James reaches over and rests his hand on Dahlia's knee.
"It's okay. It's what he would have wanted."
"Is that how you two met?"
"Yeah, he came in to get some flowers for—" She looks over at James, who smiles.
"It's okay."
"To take to your mother's..."
"Grave," Rebecca finishes for her. "It's okay. I know she's dead."
"Sorry," Dahlia replies softly. "I'm just never sure how to approach these kinds of things."
Rebecca smiles.
"Did he at least pick good flowers?"
"I got him to buy one of the most expensive bouquets in the shop."
"Except she undersold herself," James cuts in. "By a lot. I actually suggested they start charging a lot more than what—"
Rebecca rolls her eyes, cutting him off.
"Okay, nerd. That's enough."
James flips her off and Dahlia laughs. She never had siblings growing up, but she always wanted them. The closest thing she has is Wanda.
"They were lovely flowers," James says as he leans over to kiss Dahlia on the cheek. "She's got great taste."
"He loves to compliment himself, too," Rebecca replies. "I can tell he's talking about himself."
James stabs at a brussel sprout and pitches it at her by flicking his fork. It bounces off of Rebecca's head and rolls onto the floor.
"You fucker!" She laughs.
"Don't insult me in my home."
"I'll insult you any time I want. Asshole."
Alpine sniffs at the brussel sprout and begins to bat it around the kitchen. James sighs and slides off of his chair to pick it up and toss it in the garbage.
"What do you do for a living, Rebecca?"
"I work in IT and cyber security on Wall Street."
Dahlia blinks. That's not an easy job to get - at least it doesn't sound like it.
"Wow."
"Yeah. It's not a bad gig. Mostly teaching old guys how to rotate a fucking PDF."
"James still doesn't know how to do that," Dahlia laughs.
He takes a huge sip of his wine and rolls his eyes.
"I didn't agree to be picked on this weekend."
"Well, it's happening, buddy. Get used to it," Rebecca fires back. The three of them chuckle and Dahlia leans over to kiss James on the cheek. Rebecca continues. "Sometimes there's a security breach or some hacker and then I get to take those fuckers down. That part's cool, but it doesn't happen often. Mostly just a glorified boring office gig."
"Good benefits, though," James replies. "I tried to get her to work at the hotel, but she said no."
"Yeah, I'm not interested in looking at your fuckin' face five days a week."
"You can sleep in the garden with that attitude."
Rebecca throws her head back and laughs, reaching out to pat James on the hand.
"You know I love you, Buck."
"I do."
The rest of dinner goes smoothly. Rebecca is animated and talks so much. She's bubbly and expressive. Dahlia is used to James's intensity and brooding nature. She just assumed that Rebecca would be the same way, but boy was she wrong.
Eventually, they move into the lounge for more drinks and dessert. The three of them talk for hours - about music, art, poetry - Dahlia doesn't really get some of the conversations, but she tries her best, in between googling contemporary artists on her phone so she can at least find something to contribute to the conversation. But even in those moments, she doesn't feel completely out of her depth. She sits in James's lap while the three of them talk and laugh. It's the first time all week that Dahlia doesn't have to worry about security guards. Her anxiety melts away as she sips her drink.
She finally feels like she can breathe.
🌺 🌺 🌺
By the end of the night, Dahlia is giggly and flirtatious, resting her hand on his knee and leaning over to kiss his neck. There's not an ounce of anxiety in her body. She and Rebecca howl with laughter while Rebecca shows her pictures of James as a teenager. He rolls his eyes as he checks his phone. There's a text from Sam.
[Wilson]: Hoskins is feeding information on Dahlia to Walker. It's all in his phone. Walker knows where she lives, the car she drives, her roommate's name, all of it. Looks like he got Hoskins to tail her all week. He knows all about the security detail you hired, too. It's why he came in in uniform. Your security people had no idea who he was.
Did you take care of him?
[Wilson]: I did.
James's chest fills with rage at the idea of Walker getting one of his fucking cretins to tail Dahlia. They have to take him out soon. If James had his way, he wouldn't live past the next 24 hours, but he promised Steve a birthday present and he always delivers.
Good. Nobody fucks with my girl and gets to see another day.
Walker wanted a war, and now it's all about to blow up in his fucking face.
"James?" Dahlia asks. "You good?"
"He's probably doing business," Rebecca teases drunkenly. James knows exactly what she's talking about.
He kisses Dahlia and locks his phone.
"Sorry, peach. Just a work email."
Dahlia narrows her eyes, her cheeks pink with intoxication. She bites her lip and James has to resist the urge to grab her and haul her over his shoulder and up the stairs.
"Jesus," Rebecca whispers. James expects her to say something snarky about the way Dahlia looks at him, but she doesn't. Instead, she nods. "I should go to bed. This time difference is fucking me up. Never realized what a huge different three hours makes."
Dahlia drains her drink and leans over to James as Rebecca stretches and gets to her feet, walking to the doorway.
"I'm going to go get ready for bed." Her voice is sultry and her eyes are almost black with lust. James takes a deep breath as his stomach flips at the sight of her wild eyes and bitten-red lips.
"I'll be right up, peach."
Dahlia pushes herself up off of the couch and walks over to Rebecca.
"It was so nice to meet you!" She gushes drunkenly. Rebecca wraps her in another hug.
"So nice to meet you too, Dahlia! I'll make a big hangover breakfast for us tomorrow."
"Ugh! Yes! That sounds amazing!" Dahlia groans. They exchange another warm smile. Rebecca never got along well with many of James's girlfriends. To see her actually opening up to Dahlia is a very good sign. But she also knows how smitten James is.
Dahlia winks at him as she vanishes out the door. He hears her run up the stairs to the bedroom and Rebecca chuckles, running a hand through her hair. She turns to him and leans against the doorway.
"She's really great."
"I know."
"Don't fuck this one up, yeah?"
He hangs his head.
"Becs—"
Rebecca walks toward him. She's drunk, but so is he, and so is Dahlia. James can feel all of that emotion he's been keeping down bubbling to the surface.
"James, she loves you, and it's obvious that you're fucking crazy about her. You have to tell her the truth, or you're going to end up hurting her."
"I know. I talked to Father Paul today. I'm— I'm working on it."
Rebecca looks over her shoulder, keeping her voice hushed.
"If you really love her, you'll tell her sooner rather than later. I know you've already killed people for her."
"How—"
"I did a lot of digging into her past. It's no coincidence that her old music teacher with a shitload of assault allegations goes missing shortly after the two of you meet."
"I forget how smart you are," James sighs.
"She deserves to know the truth. You can't lie forever. What's that Johnny Cash lyric? 'What's done in the dark will be brought to the light.'"
"It's a Bible verse. Luke 12:3."
Weird that she brought that up.
"Well, Cash did it better." She taps his face. "Tell her. Sooner rather than later."
James nods.
"I'm going to bed. I'll see you both in the morning."
"Night, Becs."
She leaves the room and he hears the back door shut as she makes her way to the guest house. James puts his head in his hands and sighs softly. He drains his drink and heads upstairs. Alpine follows him, taking her place at the top of the steps to sleep. He crouches down and scratches her behind the ears.
"I love you, little one," he says softly.
She purrs and closes her eyes, curling into a ball. James never understood why she doesn't sleep at the foot of his bed like a normal cat, but she's his tiny, silent protector. She always has been.
He pads to the bedroom, unbuttoning his pale blue dress shirt. He's started wearing more color since he's been dating Dahlia. She likes the blue. She says it brings out his eyes. James pushes the door open and his jaw drops. Her clothes are strewn all over the floor and she's laying naked on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air as she rests her chin on her hand. Her mess of curly dark hair falls in her face and James feels his cock twitch in his pants.
"You're gonna be the death of me, peach."
She giggles and sensually pulls herself up so that she's sitting on her knees. James watches in awe as her hands trail up the softness of her belly to cup her breasts and twist her nipples. His heart begins to thump in his chest and he palms at his cock, kicking the bedroom door closed and locking it.
"I feel really good," she whispers, her eyelids fluttering.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he purrs, quickly unbuttoning his dress shirt and letting it fall to the floor.
Dahlia's hand glides back down her body to circle her clit.
"I'm so fucking wet," she whines. "Thought about you all week."
They've only been able to fuck once this week, and it's killing them both.
"I know, peach. I thought about you too."
He leans against the dresser watching her desperate, intoxicated fingers circle her clit.
"I've been so fucking anxious all week, James. I need you."
"You have me, doll. I'm not going anywhere." He takes a step toward her, his gaze intimidating. It makes her blush. He loves it. "Tell daddy what you want him to do to you."
She moans, her nipples pebbling and goosebumps appear on her body.
"Mark me up and make me yours," she begs.
A devilish grin spreads across his face.
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes, sir."
He takes a step toward her. His cock is so fucking hard that it hurts. She's gorgeous, and watching her hips buck desperately against her own hand is getting him more worked up than he'd care to admit. James always tries to be a little aloof during sex, but Dahlia turns him into an animal. She has ever since the night she made herself come while she was sitting on his lap. Her head rolls back and she moans softly. It's sweet and breathy. James has to resist the urge to pounce on her and fuck her as brutally as he can into the mattress. He wants to worship her first.
He lets his lips hover over hers.
"Beg me."
"Please, James," she whines as she fucks her fingers. "Please, I've been such a good girl all week. Fuck, I love you so much. I need you." A sob escapes her lips. "I need this."
There are tears in her eyes. He can't tell if it's because she's drunk, desperate to come, or her body is finally letting her release a week's worth of emotional tension.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers. He lets his lips ghost up and down her neck. "So pretty when you beg for me, so pretty when I watch you come all over my cock. Is that what you wanna do, peach?"
"Yes."
His hand slips between her legs and he slides his fingers into her dripping cunt. She drenches his fingers immediately, her slick soaking the palm of his hand as he begins to fuck her with his fingers. Dahlia has to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling over. James presses a heated kiss to her lips.
"That's a good girl for me." He curls his fingers and she keens, ripping her mouth away from his.
"Oh God!"
Her cunt clenches around him and she bucks her hips wildly. James pulls out his fingers before she can come and she howls in desperation. He grabs her by the back of her head, knots her hair in his fist, and shoves his fingers into her mouth.
"Clean me off, peach. That's a good girl." She moans and her eyes close. James bites his lip. He can feel a wet spot forming on the front of his briefs. He's aching for her. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of his mouth and stands up, unbuckling his belt. James pulls it out of the belt loops and smirks.
"Hold out your hands."
Dahlia thrusts them out without question and he wraps the soft leather around her wrists to bind them together, making sure the makeshift knot is secure.
"Lie on your back," he breathes. "Spread your legs."
Dahlia practically flings herself onto her back with a giggle and James smiles as he walks to the closet, opening it. He pulls out two small spools of soft black rope and walks toward her.
"Color."
"Green," she blurts out.
James nods and begs to tie her ankles to the bedposts. Dahlia whines and wiggles her hips as he forces her legs to spread wider. Once the last knot is secured, he takes a step back and takes off his pants and briefs, kicking them to the side. James wraps his hand around his cock and watches her as he strokes himself. Dahlia whines.
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me," she whines. "It hurts."
"It hurts?"
"It hurts."
He can see tears spilling down her cheeks and it only makes him harder. Precum leaks onto his fist. James pumps his cock faster.
"I told you you're pretty when you cry, peach. Maybe I'll tease you until you're fucking sobbing and you smear all of that mascara."
Her back arches and she manages to cover her face with her bound hands, screaming into them. James laughs. She's so easy to tease.
"James, I feel like I'm on fucking fire right now. I need you to fuck me."
He crawls onto the bed and looms over her, pressing his lips to hers. James is very careful to keep his cock away from her aching cunt. She lifts her hips in an attempt to entice him, but it doesn't work. He kisses all the way down her neck, her chest, making sure to suck and bite down gently on her nipples while she whimpers and calls him a fucking asshole over and over again. He laughs, allowing a little bit of insubordination tonight. She's earned it, and he is being an asshole. That's half the fun.
"I can't get enough of your body," he whispers as he drags his mouth down her belly. "You're so fucking beautiful, and you're all mine, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir!" She whimpers. "All yours!"
He kisses up and down her thighs, drawing this out as much as he can. James enjoys sinking his teeth into her supple skin. She's so soft, not to mention responsive. It drives him insane. His cock is dripping precum and pulsing as he wraps his lips around her swollen clit and sucks gently. Dahlia lets out a long, low moan of satisfaction and begins to grind her hips against his mouth. He could spend the whole day here, tasting her and making her come over and over again in his mouth. He knows she would. She's obedient. Perfect.
He doesn't want to lose her.
"James!" She yelps. "James, I'm gonna come! Pleasepleaseplease!"
He pulls away and she screams.
"Not yet." He slides off of the bed and unties the knots around the bedpost, leaving the ropes wrapped around her ankles. "You're going to come all over me. I'm gonna make you feel so good, Dahlia. Make you forget everything."
She nods, her lips slick with saliva and her cheeks flaming beneath the moonlight. The flush has crept down her chest, making large splotches on her skin. She's so fucking beautiful, a flame in the palm of his hand. James climbs back over her and Dahlia wraps her legs around his waist. He feels her heels dig into his ass as he lines himself up with her entrance and pushes himself into her inch by inch, watching her mouth fall open as he fills her up. This is the part he loves the most. He groans when he bottoms out. She tries to brush his face with her bound hands but she's a little clumsy. They both giggle and he kisses her fingers before she wraps her arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. James dips his head to bite into her shoulder. Dahlia screams as James sucks a deep, purple hickey onto her neck.
"You're gonna take all of me."
"Yes, daddy!"
"Good girl."
He maintains a steady pace, sinking as deep into her as he can. She keeps trying to push him deeper as their hips crash and judging by the way her cunt is clenching around him, James can tell that she's close. He balances himself on one arm while his other hand wraps around her neck tightly. She smiles as he begins to fuck her harder. He's amazed his dexterity and balance is so good after splitting all of that wine at dinner and then having three glasses of whiskey.
Dahlia makes him feel like he's completely sober.
"Open your mouth," he growls.
She does and he spits into it. Dahlia swallows and opens again. James laughs.
"Greedy girl."
He lets another wad of saliva land on her tongue and she closes her mouth, swallowing every drop. His hips go wild just watching her. He's close, his stomach knotting and his body tensing up. Dahlia keeps arching her back. Every thrust is fucking heavenly. He could watch her like this forever.
"James!"
He feels her clench around him and the knot in his stomach releases. His head drops as he spills into her, moaning her name and biting down on that same spot on her shoulder. He keeps thrusting, pushing her toward another climax. She lets out a strangled cry before her legs can't hold themselves up anymore and she flops onto the mattress. James does too. He rolls onto his side and shimmies out from beneath her tied wrists to release the bindings. Dahlia throws the belt onto the floor, flips him onto his back and climbs on top of him, her mouth crashing against his. He laughs softly and runs his hands all over her body.
"I love you," she whispers drunkenly. "I feel so safe with you."
James breaks the kiss and stares at her.
"Mi-e teamă că mă vei părăsi," he breathes.
"What does that mean?"
"You're the love of my life."
Dahlia giggles and presses her forehead to his. They roll around on the bed, laughing as they mess up the blankets. He loves her so fucking much, but all James can think about is what he's going to lose when she learns the truth.
_______
Just for those who might not know - the "poor box" is a box that people put donations in for charity. I have no idea if churches still do this or. if this is even the proper term for it because I was not raised religious. The exchange between Father Paul and James about the "poor box" and the Chivas Regal is an homage to The Exorcist, one of my favorite books of all time. There's a very similar scene between two priests that always made me laugh for some weird reason.
Mi-e teamă că mă vei părăsi = I'm afraid you'll leave me.