Empire of Lust: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

ONE YEAR LATER

During all my time as a criminal defense attorney, the media’s “Savage Devil,” and the law circuit’s untouchable god, I’ve never failed to read anyone’s motives.

And yet, the current situation is making me draw a blank that I’ve never experienced before.

Worst part, I don’t think my usual solution of punching or intimidating it until it resolves itself is going to work this time.

“Maybe we should get a psychic,” I announce to Nate and Gwen while we sit in my living room.

Or they’re sitting. I’m pacing like a caged big fucking animal and flipping my Zippo manically.

Martha, who brought fresh drinks, gives me an “Are you out of your mind?” look, then leaves.

Nate rolls his eyes, stroking Gwen’s hand that’s on his lap and I can’t even put myself in an “I’m going to kill the daughter-stealer” mood. “For your crazy?”

“For your upcoming murder,” I shoot back.

“Just go talk to her, Dad,” Gwen says, obviously the voice of reason in this whole situation. “Mom locked herself up in your room and has refused to speak to anyone for two hours now. Surely you know how to get her to talk.”

That’s the problem. I don’t think I fucking can—not in this situation, at least.

It’s the first time Aspen has pulled away from all of us, Gwen included. The same Gwen that she treats like the apple of her eye and always dedicates time for.

Not that I’m jealous of my own daughter or anything.

Fine. A little.

But I digress.

In the time Aspen and I have been married, she’s never been like this. It’s been exactly a year, because I sure as fuck married her the week after she accepted the proposal. What? I couldn’t have her change her mind the next time we got into an argument.

And we have those a lot, so I wasn’t going to take the risk. Therefore, I made her a custom ring with a rare rock that matches the color of her eyes and changes under the sun.

We had a small ceremony and she wore this simple white dress that still makes my dick hard whenever I think about it.

Needless to say, I fucked her while she was in it, then outside of it more times than either of us could count.

Our professional life has been smooth sailing, aside from our special flavor of debates that Nate doesn’t care for and Gwen has the audacity to call “cute.”

Nothing is cute about this situation, though, because for the first time in ever, Aspen refuses to talk to me.

“Just go, Dad. You’ve got this.”

At least one of us believes that.

Gwen gives me an encouraging smile and crosses her fingers as if that will magically solve this.

Whatever the case, I slip my Zippo back into my pocket and ascend the stairs to Aspen’s chosen tower.

It’s just our room, but the fact that she’s made it a point to not allow anyone near her today after kicking me out this morning makes it seem like a witch’s coven.

I slowly open the door, half expecting her band of vigilantes—mainly Caroline, Martha, and Gwen when in the mood—to jump me, half expecting Aspen to finish the job.

Surprisingly, she’s not in the room. The bathroom door is closed, though, so I assume she changed locations.

I try the handle first, but the door is locked, so I tap on it, channeling the nonexistent gentleman inside me. “Aspen…open up, sweetheart.”

“Go away,” her muffled voice comes from inside.

“Not until I know what’s wrong with you.”

“Leave me alone, Kingsley!”

“Aspen,” I grit out, then force my voice to calm down. “I’m being nice here, so come out and talk to me. Don’t force me to bring this door down.”

She doesn’t reply.

“You asked for this.” I step back to break the thing off its hinges.

The sound of the lock tripping comes first, followed by the small creak of the door.

Aspen comes out, still wearing the blue satin gown from last night that molds against her gorgeous curves.

Her hair spills like red lava over her bare shoulders that are filled with red bite marks.

So I lied. Just because I married her doesn’t mean I’ll stop marking her whenever I fuck her.

There’s this constant need to put my hands on her, to chain her to me for eternity, so there’s no way out, no matter how much she tries.

She’s a witch, after all. Not only did she cast a spell on my soul, but she also imprisoned my heart and enchanted my brain.

I study her worn-out face that’s so pale, it could compete with the white tiles and force myself to ask with a calm tone, “What’s the problem?”

She releases a shaky breath that stabs straight through my chest.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, Aspen.”

She remains silent, but her lips tremble. And Aspen doesn’t fucking tremble—at least, not outside of when I’m fucking her brains out.

Jesus Christ.

“Is it cancer or some medical shit?”

She shakes her head.

“Did you lose a case and you’re blaming yourself for it?”

“No.”

“Did your father possibly rise from the dead? Or is it your mother? Maybe my mother? Did Susan show up from whatever hole she’s begging from and bother you?”

“No,” she says with slight exasperation.

“Now that the most unlikely is out of the way, let’s move to the more likely. Did you find out about the thugs I had Nicolo kill?”

Her eyes widen. “What thugs?”

“It’s a no then.”

“What thugs did you have killed, King?” she asks in that determined tone that gets my dick fucking hard.

“The ones who beat you up per your father’s orders, of course. I couldn’t have them roam free after they hurt you.”

“Are you a brute?”

“I’m way fucking worse when it comes to you, sweetheart. You know that, I know that, and whatever is bothering you will know that when I destroy it. Now, spill. Is it Gwen? She’s right downstairs worried as shit about you, by the way. Did you by any chance find out your family has a genetic disease that will kill you when you’re a hundred years old?”

“No, you asshole. I’m pregnant.”

I’m about to tell her another batch of crazy theories running through my head when I finally circle back to the words that came out of her mouth.

“Did you just say you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah.” Her shoulders drop. “And I shouldn’t be. I’m on the pill, for God’s sake. But I felt weird yesterday and went for a checkup, and the doctor said I’m six weeks pregnant.”

I rake my eyes over her again. No wonder she’s been glowing lately. My dick liked to think it was because of how much cum he’s filling her with.

“Are you healthy?”

“Is that all you have to say?” She lifts her chin. “This is all your damn fault, you bastard. Once again, you had a fast swimmer that couldn’t even be stopped by birth control.”

“My dick is pleased to be up for the challenge.”

“That’s not a compliment.” She touches her hair, then her neck. “I shouldn’t be pregnant. I don’t know what to do about this. What will Gwen say?”

“Considering she married my best friend while I was in a coma, Gwen’s say in this should hold no importance. Besides, this is between you and me, sweetheart.”

“Do you…want this?”

“Do I want my baby inside you? Of course I fucking do. But not at the expense of your mental and physical state.”

She steps toward me. “Aren’t we too old for kids?”

“No one is ever too old for kids. Thirty-six is not old, sweetheart. It’s mature.”

“What if…what if I want this? I want to do it properly this time.”

“Then we’ll do it properly. This time, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

She throws herself against my chest and I wrap my arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “I bet you’ll look sexy as fuck while you’re pregnant with my baby.”

“Stop it,” she chastises with a smile in her voice, then looks up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being the father of my children.”

“I would have no other mother for them. You’re mine, Mrs. Shaw.”

She pulls me down with a fistful of my shirt. “And you’re mine, Mr. Shaw.”