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  “That’s impossible. I’ve restricted all entry from the property while Angelica is here.” A flex of his hand crumples the box slightly. “I’ll ask you again, where did you get this?”

  What is going on here?

  Taryn takes a step back from Murph, her eyes darting to the side. “What are you accusing me of?”

  Jaw flexed, Murph doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes out his cell phone and punches a button, holding the device to his ear. I use his momentary distraction to creep forward, craning my neck to see what is inside the box. The blood drains from my face when I see the miniature doll that looks exactly like me with a butcher knife sticking out of its chest.

  “Miller. Did you allow a messenger in to make a delivery?” Murph barks into the phone. As he listens, his eyes are narrowed on Taryn. “That’s what I thought. We discussed my theory on the way here and I’ve been proven correct. Get in here now.” He hangs up the call. “This came from you, didn’t it?”

  Taryn gives an incredulous laugh. “Me? Why would I send this to Angelica?”

  “I looked into your background, Taryn. A little deeper than before. This is your first manager position, but you used to work for a trashy online tabloid, didn’t you? You didn’t want anyone to know how low you’ve sunk in the past, so you’ve been using an alias. But you know exactly how to make headlines, don’t you? You have the right contacts to do it. This is all fake, isn’t it? You’re terrorizing Angelica just to keep her in the fucking news.”

  “No.” She shrinks into herself. “No, that’s not true.”

  “You have motive. You have opportunity.” Murph dials his phone again and from where I’m standing, I can hear the 911 operator’s voice down the line. “You're lucky I’m calling the police and not handling this myself.”

  Taryn attempts to run out the door, but my security team appears in the opening and blocks her path, one of them turning her around and securing her wrists together with a zip tie.

  Oh my God. My legs are shaking.

  It was my manager who sent those ugly messages?

  Maybe it was naïve of me…but I trusted her.

  A shudder passes through me, ice forming on my skin. And for the longest time, there has only been one person I want touching me when I’m scared. Murph. I don’t hesitate or think twice, I just run to him, tucking myself beneath his arm and letting his presence warm me. “It’s okay, baby,” he mutters into my hair. “You know I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “Everything is going to be okay.”

  I nod, turning my face into his chest, soothed by the baritone of his voice as he explains the situation to the police. It’s not long before I hear sirens in the distance, although Murph keeps me safely inside until Taryn has been taken away by the LAPD several minutes later.

  As soon as they’ve driven away, Murph lifts me against his big, hard body, urging my thighs around his waist. And he walks me across the room to a chaise lounge, sitting down on one end and rocking me side to side, begging me to stop shivering. In the beginning, it’s fear making me quake, but at some point it turns into the leftover buzz of adrenaline. The relief of being out of danger electrifies my skin and I find myself scooting closer on Murph’s lap, settling my sex on the thick ridge of his erection, moaning at his sharp hiss of breath.

  His hands lock onto my backside and he jerks me closer, growling into the curve of my neck. “No one fucks with my baby girl.”

  “Not as long as you’re around,” I whimper, grinding my hips up and back. “You keep me so safe.”

  “Always.” His hot, open mouth settles against the sensitive spot beneath my ear, his breath pelting me faster, faster. “Ahh, Christ. You’re going to make me come in my pants again.”

  “No.” I stop moving. “Inside me.”

  “Angelica,” he says raggedly. “We talked about this.”

  “No more touching, unless you’re giving me everything.”

  Though it requires a lot of willpower, I’m determined to convince him that giving in doesn’t make us evil. So I start to climb off of his big lap and he yanks me back down with a grunt. “Mine.”

  “Am I?”

  His expression holds a warning. “Angelica…”

  “If I’m yours, you better show me. I’m beginning to doubt…”

  That’s a lie. There isn’t a single doubt in my head.

  But I need to be claimed, fully and completely, so I’m playing dirty now.

  Murph surges forward, sealing our lips together in a blatantly sexual kiss, my mouth opening on a whimper and allowing his tongue to fill me aggressively, his hands pulling me closer, closer, while I attempt to get away, even though I want anything but.

  “Oh this. This is perfect.”

  A new voice in the room has us breaking apart, breaths shallow. I look over at the entrance of the studio where a vaguely familiar man is standing holding a large camera. One of Taryn’s interns hovers at his elbow, nervously waving a clipboard. “I-I’m sorry to interrupt. The photographer is here from Esquire for the shoot. But I can see we’ve come at a bad time, so…”

  The intern nudges the photographer and jerks her head toward the door, but he sweeps closer to me and Murph instead.

  “I love this concept. Beauty and the bruiser. The juxtaposition is breathtaking. Our editorial team is going to go crazy for this…”

  He’s already lifting the camera.

  Murph’s muscles are coiling, his teeth bared at the man, as blindsided by the invasion of our private moment as I am.

  “This…this isn’t part of the shoot,” I blurt in a rush, wrapping myself around Murph, instinctively wanting to shield him from the constant overexposure that comes with my fame. “This is my, um…my Murph. He’s not part of the shoot.”

  “Oh, but he should be. Together you are big and small.” The photographer slaps a hand to his chest. “Rough and polished. Fragile and fierce. It’s intoxicating! May I please just snap a few shots?”

  I start to deny the request. Obviously. I don’t want our new relationship to be splashed across magazines for strangers to speculate about.

  But…maybe, just maybe, there is a little devil on my shoulder urging me on.

  Telling me to let the pictures be taken. Published everywhere.

  There is a part of Murph that still thinks of me as his best friend’s little girl. But I’m not a kid anymore. If he could see these pictures of us, he would accept that fact. And if my father forbids a relationship between me and Murph, what if Murph listens? It would break my heart. It’s already kind of breaking now, just thinking about that possibility.

  But if I allow this not-so-innocent photo shoot…our relationship won’t be this secret thing anymore. It will be real. And I want it to be real so badly. I want it on film, so I know I didn’t imagine my dream coming true.

  Lastly, ever since Murph arrived…I’ve realized that my career isn’t what I want it to be. It belongs to everyone else. Not me. I’m just a toy. And I want to be real. I want to be raw. I want to burn it all to the ground and start over.

  “Maybe a few pictures,” I murmur, slowly dragging the tip of my tongue up the curve of Murph’s ear. A violent shudder courses through him and he lifts his hips eagerly…and just like that, we’re the only two people in the room. Sure, there is the sound of footsteps creaking in a circle around the chaise, plus the occasional flashbulb going off, but my attention is zeroed in on the man in front of me.

  “I don’t want him taking pictures of you,” Murph says, glaring at the photographer over my shoulder.

  “There are pictures of me everywhere. In various stages of undress.” I suction my mouth to the side of his neck and pull deeply. “But you’re the first man to touch me, to be with me in any of them. This is the first time a picture means anything. Don’t you want to show everyone who I belong to?” I purr in his ear, nipping it with my teeth.

  “Yes,” he rasps, his hands sliding up my thighs, around to c
lasp my backside, drawing me closer, so close that I whine in my throat, the bulk of his erection nudging my clit, then pressing hot against my sex. “I can’t help it. You’ve always been mine. Long before that night on the living room floor.”

  “Uh-huh,” I breathe, riding his lap shamelessly. “Always have. Always will.”

  “We should stop…” Sweat is beading on his forehead. “If you keep that up, you know what’s going to happen.”

  “Mmmm. What if I do this?” Making sure the photographer is behind me, I hum in my throat, leaning back and little and stripping off my sports bra, tossing it away. I let Murph look at my bare breasts, even shaking them a little for his enjoyment. “If you don’t want these in pictures, you better cover me up.”

  Nostrils flaring, Murph throws me down on the chaise, flattening me with his huge body. The flash bulb goes off and he snarls at the photographer…but his hips are pumping. It’s obvious that he can’t stop them. Each grind of his lower body against mine brings a hoarse grunt from his throat. My hands slip into the back of his jeans, nails digging into his meaty backside. Opening my thighs, I urge him on and he bucks, his expression one of pure sexual pain. “Angelica,” he pants. “Fuck. It’s going to happen again.”

  “No.” I dig my nails deeper. “Only inside me.”

  Lust wars with conflict on his face. Until finally he reaches down and unzips his jeans, shouting at the photographer. “Get the fuck out. Now.”

  Wisely, the man does what he’s told, fleeing the room and slamming the door closed behind him. And then I’m able to think of nothing but Murph. He takes up my whole world, his hand shaking as he jerks down his zipper, his extra-large shaft bounding free of its prison and dropping heavily onto my stomach. My hands reach for it automatically, stroking it with excitement and watching his mouth drop open, a groan of pure animal hunger sailing out.

  “Going to fuck you raw, no condom,” he rasps, ripping my shorts clean off in his hands. “No time to ask your father for permission. Got an impatient little pussy on my hands, don’t I? Needs this dick.”

  His harsh speech enlivens my hormones, makes me feel sinful and naughty and coveted. I love it. I love every word. “Yes, I need it.”

  He drops his chin toward my belly and before I can guess his intention, he spits on my sex. Gives it a sharp little slap. “You’re not Joe’s little girl anymore, Angelica. You’re Murph’s little girl. Got that?”

  I nod, barely able to catch my breath.

  He sprawls himself down on top of me, fitting his shaft to my entrance, sinking in the tip and humping me with a strangled sound. “You asked for it. You’re a plaything for the beast now.”

  “However I get to be yours is what I want,” I whimper, dropping my legs wider, skating my nails beneath his shirt and up his brawny back. “Please, Murph. Please.”

  Murph seals his mouth over mine, kissing me until my head spins, his tongue sinking in and out of my mouth with relish—and then there’s a growing pressure between my thighs. It gets more and more intense until I’m wiggling around, trying to find comfort, but nothing makes it subside.

  “Murph,” I gasp when he pushes deeper, deeper, impaling me to the chaise.

  “Shhh.” His hands move over me comfortingly, soothingly, traveling over the peaks of my breasts, tracing my jawline. “You’re going to get used to me, baby. I promise.” He releases an uneven exhale into my neck. “I’m sorry, I know it’s big and dirty. Just so full of come for you.”

  That admission does something to me. Makes my muscles go pliant, loose, and then I start to shift my hips, to discover the twinges of pleasure that come from being filled by this man I’ve always wanted. Needed by him. Knowing how badly he wants me in return is almost like an aphrodisiac, making the pain lessen until I can feel every ridge of Murph’s thickness inside of me. The way it beats and throbs, pulling and pushing in and out of my giving flesh.

  “You okay, Angelica? I’m dying here knowing I’m hurting you. Damn me—”

  “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” I manage, moaning when a twist of my hips brings him deeper and he hits some incredible, undiscovered place inside of me, sending little snaps of bliss along my nerve endings. “Feels so good.”

  Murph’s breath starts coming a million miles an hour. “Thank fuck,” he grits out, pinning me to the chaise and slapping his hips up and down eagerly, like a horny bear, the muscles of his buttocks tightening and loosening with every grunting pump. “Goddamn, this baby is so tight. Can barely fit it all.”

  “That won’t stop you from trying,” I whimper, turning my head to sink my teeth into his neck. Then I drop my voice to a whisper, remembering all too well what he likes, what makes him crazy for more. “You can’t help trying to get that big filthy thing in a place it doesn’t belong, can you?”

  Murph’s breath stutters out, his hands fumbling on my knees and pressing them up to my shoulders, his hips moving in monstrous thrusts that rattle my teeth and create a gathering of tingling nerves inside of me. They spiral faster with every punch of his lower body, every scrape of the chaise across the floor.

  I’m at his mercy. There’s no moving. No fighting the oncoming release for either of us. I sense that if I asked him to stop right now, he wouldn’t be capable of it…and God help me, there’s something about that pushing me closer to the drop off. I’m his toy. I’m designed to give him pleasure, always have been, and he’s finally taking. Taking. Enjoying.

  “You have a new Daddy,” he growls loudly, his hard inches ramming deep and holding, grinding. “Is that clear? You don’t call anyone else that name from now on. Not even your father. You’re my little girl. I give the pleasure and punishments. I protect you. I fix your problems and fuck you hard afterwards, Angelica. Now you just spread your little thighs and accept it.”

  It’s like an explosion going off.

  Daddy.

  Yes.

  Yes, it’s never been spoken aloud. It’s never even crossed my mind. But it’s how I’ve thought of Murph since I can remember. He’s the man in my life. He’s everything rolled into one. My lover, my guard, my everything. It all clicks into place and the tide won’t be held at bay any longer. It’s so intense that I let out a hoarse cry, the tiny muscles between my legs contracting, pulsing around Murph’s pumping arousal.

  “Motherfucker,” he groans, so loud that his voice echoes in the studio, his erection beginning to spasm inside of me. His eyes go blind and he pins me more securely, his hips slapping in a frenzy, his grip bruising on my knees. The sounds that come out of him make my pleasure more intense, make me soar higher, the bliss wrapping me up like a rattlesnake and tightening.

  “Daddy,” I whine, licking his neck, kissing his flexed jawline.

  His hoarse shouts fill the space, along with the sound of our sexes slapping together, the creaking of the furniture beneath us. Hot liquid fills me in big bursts, overflowing almost immediately and turning my thighs sticky. Until finally Murph lets out a final yell of my name, his bulk losing tension on top of me. “Jesus,” he pants in my ear. “This perfect pussy. Took me so deep. Jesus. Can’t believe it’s real. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

  “I’ve always been yours, Murph,” I breathe, stroking his face, dropping my loose limbs to his hips, my heels resting on his lower back. “Always—”

  “Open this fucking door,” comes a voice from outside the studio.

  Both of us stiffen.

  It’s Joe. It’s my father. And his best friend is still planted inside of me, semi-hard, his spend slicking my inner thighs. My gaze flies to Murph, my pulse kicking into a sprint, waiting to see what his reaction will be. I see the flicker of guilt in his expression and my heart sinks. No. No, I want him to claim me in front of my father. Not physically. This was never the plan. But I want him to say out loud to Joe that we’re together. I want him to be unapologetic about it. If we’re going to work as a couple, he’ll have to let go of his guilt. Being with me isn’t a sin. It isn’t wrong.

  If h
e doesn’t believe that, we’re doomed.

  Murph rolls off me with a curse, zipping himself back into his pants, shoving a frustrated set of fingers through his hair. “Goddammit, Angelica. You just had to tempt me. Had to shake those pretty tits in my face, didn’t you?” Eyes closed, he tips his head back. “What the hell am I supposed to tell him now?”

  My heart forms a little fissure, my throat tightening with emotion.

  Before I can second guess myself, I’m lunging to my feet and dressing as fast as I can with shaking hands, moisture blurring my vision. It doesn’t take me long to put on my sports bra and shorts, patting my hair into place. I turn on a heel and march toward the door, wanting to get as far away as possible from Murph’s indecision. Just moments ago, I’d never felt more like I belonged and every second he paces with that horrified expression, the glow fades a little more.

  A hand around my elbow stops me in my tracks. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  I rip out of his hold. “Away from you.”

  His brows slash together, a hint of panic filtering into his eyes. “There is no getting away from me, little girl. Didn’t you hear anything I said to you?”

  “Yes, I did. You’re the one who forgot what you said.”

  “What does that mean?”

  My tears start to spill over. “Figure it out. I need some air.”

  “Angelica,” he says raggedly, reaching for me again. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby. Just give me a second to figure out what to do.”

  His anguish gives me pause, but I still walk away, my chin raised. Everything has risen to the surface. My hurt over him not contacting me for a year. My frustration over being a kid in his eyes. All of it. And I just want to be alone so I can cry it out in peace.

  I fling open the door to the studio and come face to face with my father.

  Based on his ghostly coloring and inability to look me in the eye longer than two seconds, I know he heard everything. Heard me calling Murph Daddy. Moaning. Heard us making love, making promises. All of it. I can’t help but be relieved that it’s not a secret anymore, to be honest.