Not Allowed

“I’m not supposed to speak to you Mr. Grey.”

Vaughan grinned, wolfish and charming. They’d all said that. Did Jonah and Velvet sit these girls down for a talk when they reached puberty and forbid them to speak to him? Did they wrap it up neatly with the birds-and- bees discussion? ‘When a man and a woman love each other very, very much… and stay away from Vaughan Grey!’

“You look like a young woman who doesn’t always do what she’s supposed to.”

Most girls got a little moist when he said that to them, smiled a coy little smile and got a little breathy. This one just stared him down. He raised his eyebrows slightly. Maybe this one wouldn’t be so easy to lure into his bed.

“I don’t want to sleep with you.” She told him plainly.

He couldn’t help chuckling. What a spitfire. Her sisters had been nearly as eager as their mother had been to spread their legs for him. In truth, even though he’d delighted in the task he supposed it had been a bit too easy, a little too formulaic. He smiled again, a touch rueful. He liked a challenge.

“Been talking to your sisters, hmm?” He swirled the ice in his glass, but he didn’t take his eyes off her face. She really was quite lovely. She was delicate like her mother, pale, flawless alabaster skin save for a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, but those only made her look more delicious, he decided. Petite, peaches & cream, a red-brown hair color that might have looked mousey on some girls but just looked fresh and natural on this one, and, yes, those damned purple eyes.

Vaughan felt a familiar flip deep in his belly and he let his grin widen. He couldn’t wait to fuck her. He wanted to watch those violet eyes wash over with desire for him, make her keep them open when she sucked his cock, wanted to watch them widen in surprise and pain when he slammed himself through her virginity.

Her father’s eyes.

She didn’t return the smile. Those eyes were skeptical, wary, but not at all afraid. Foolish little girl. She had her father’s arrogance.

“I know all about what you’ve done with my sisters, yes.” She answered. A note of something close to curiosity colored her haughty words, though, and Vaughan Grey was a skilled enough hunter not to miss it, subtle as it had been.

“I trust they were pleased with their experiences?” He leaned back against the leather cushion of the booth, confident and easy.

She shrugged, non-committal.

But he knew she was lying. Those hungry sluts had been bragging. He was sure of it.

“You’re a dangerous man Mr. Grey.” The girl said, looking away from his smugness.

The thought tickled his fancy and stroked his ego.

“Your father tell you that sweetheart?”

The girl’s face changed and her body went rigid. He’d hit a nerve. Vaughan’s eyes narrowed but he held his tongue, waiting to see how the little thing would respond.

“I’m not an idiot Mr. Grey.” She hissed, still not looking at him. “You fucked all three of my sisters, took their virginity, and you’ve been fucking my mother since before I can remember—“ now she fixed him with a white-hot glare. How had she known about his affair with her mother? “I don’t need my father to tell me to stay away from you, sir, I am capable of thinking for myself.” She made a move to get up but Vaughan caught her wrist.

She went still. He’d expected her to pull away, maybe make a scene, but she went still.

“Please, don’t go away in a huff.” He said mildly, masking his accelerated heart rate and rapidly working mind. She pouted a little. She didn’t like being treated like a little girl. She preferred him taking hold of her wrist, speaking to her with barely-concealed sexual predation, preferred him when he intended to seduce her?

Vaughan let out a low whistle. This one was something else.

“Come now, let me get you a drink.” She raised an eyebrow. She was fifteen. He smiled. “I mean, we’re practically family, after all.” He gestured for a waiter.

A peculiar look crossed her face, one he couldn’t quite place and then she laughed. “Just because you knocked up my mother does not make us related.”

Vaughan shrugged. “I’m your brother’s father.” He reminded her, throwing back the last of his drink as the waiter approached.

“You’re hardly more than a fucking sperm donor.” She corrected blithely.

The waiter hesitated, staring at and trying not to stare at the young lady. Vaughan laughed at the boy’s dismay. “Another for me and—I’m sorry what did you say you wanted?” It was a challenge. Would she rise to it and order liquor or would she be a good little girl and order a soda? He and the waiter watched her expectantly.

Her lips parted in a small ‘o’, but she cocked her head to the side and with a slight spark in her eye she addressed the waiter: “I’ll have a rum and gingerale with lime.”

Vaughan grinned. Both. What an amusing little vixen.

“Dark rum or—“

“Dark, but not spiced.” She responded before the nervous boy had the chance to finish his inquiry. The young lady was a cool liar and knew her liquor well enough to sound like she’d been ordering it for years. Vaughan managed to drag his eyes off her long enough to nod to the waiter, indicate that they’d completed their order and that he should indeed fetch this obviously under-aged lady the beverage of her choice.

Vaughan fought the urge to compliment her. She didn’t like being treated like a little girl. “An interesting choice.” He commented wryly. “Most young ladies seem to go for frozen drinks—daquaris and mudslides.”

She rolled her eyes. She saw through him.

He wondered if she’d ever even tasted the drink she’d just ordered or if she’d overheard it at a cocktail party and fished it out of her memory for the occasion.

“I’m blackmailing your mother.” He told her, staring her down. Her eyes widened. It was so sickly satisfying that she had those eyes. “That’s why she sleeps with me.”

“You mean it isn’t because you’re so damn irresistible?” She mocked.

“Well, I’m sure that doesn’t hurt.” He wore a small, playful smile “After all, she always leaves my bed soundly fucked, and—“ he added silkily, “I didn’t have to blackmail your sisters into bed.” He enjoyed the expression that stole across her face.

“No, I suppose not. “ She replied, thoughtful. “And you were kind enough to pay for Gennie’s abortion so I guess you must be a swell guy after all.” She flashed him a humorless grin. It looked feral. He sucked in breath.

He hadn’t paid for any abortion, but he didn’t let his face betray his surprise. Maybe she was playing him? He’d prayed, if you could call it that, on several occasions that Velvet would get with his child again and Jonah Delaney would have to suffer the indignity of raising another one of his bastards, but he’d not given much thought to impregnating one of the girls. It was a brilliant idea—but really it would be best if it were this one, the youngest, Daddy’s little girl, the last of the Delaney Virgins.

“I’m a man of principle.” Vaughan purred and after a tense moment the two shared a laugh. He could tell she liked him despite herself. She liked being flirted with. She wanted to be treated like a woman.

“So I’m to be the last trophy, is that it?” She played with the small square napkin on the table, ran her finger around the perimeter, her eyes were sharp and clear and fixed on his.

“Save the best for last, as they say.” He saw no point in trying to deceive her. She obviously saw him for the monster he was and yet she was still sitting here, waiting for her rum drink, playing the game.

She gave him a mock nod for the compliment. “They’d be right.”

His mouth fell open before he could master his shock. What a perfect little Lolita. Snapping his mouth closed he realized the girl might not be a virgin afterall, a sour thought, but there might still be the prospect of getting her pregnant. Charges of statutory rape and child molestation nagged at the back of his mind but he ignored them when she casually adjusted her already form-fitting top for his benefit.

If he was a predator then what was she? It wasn’t every day that Little Red turned the tables on the Big Bad Wolf.

The waiter arrived with their drinks, and while he looked distinctly uncomfortable serving the Rum & Ginger Ale with Lime, he did so mutely and without fuss.

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand Mr. Grey.” Viola Delaney dipped her slender fingers into the tumbler before her and fished out the slice of lime. He watched the rum and ginger ale glisten on those fingers and felt an over whelming urge to scoot himself closer to her, to lick the rum off those fingers. She squeezed the lime, letting the juice trickle down her fingers and into the glass, muddying the drink with pulp and citrus before releasing it and pushing the spent lime to the bottom of her tumbler with the tiny plastic stirrer. He followed her still-wet fingers as she brought them to her lips. She knew he was watching.

She smiled as she oh-so-innocently licked the tartness from her fingers. She didn’t play it up, she didn’t have to, the act itself was enough to make him hard beneath the table, she didn’t need to push the envelope any further.

“I think you understand a great deal more than people give you credit for, Miss Delaney.” His voice was suave, only a hint of the huskiness he felt edged through. He took a long, slow, sip from his own glass, watching her over the rim. She was trying not to smile, trying not to let him know how much fun she was having. But, as much as she played at being a practiced courtesan she was still a fifteen year old girl; she may not have been a virgin, but she was still green. A natural, maybe, but still a novice.

“I just don’t understand why, after years of pre-meditated and despicable crimes against my father—“ He lowered his glass, his face stern. She lifted hers and took a sip from the slim straw. “Well, I guess I don’t understand what you get out of it…”

His shoulders relaxed. Precious little thing. He opened his mouth to speak but she was quicker.

“Oh I understand the satisfaction it must bring you to fuck-him-over, time and time again, don’t get me wrong.” She stirred the ice in her glass idly and shrugged casually. “It must be very empowering to best a man you hate. To fuck his wife whenever you feel like it—the wife he ‘stole’ from you in the first place.” She glanced at him and she knew she’d caught him off guard, and she smiled. “And I get how incredible it must have been to fuck that man’s daughters too—take their ‘innocence’.”

Vaughan sighed. He had the uncomfortable feeling of being trapped. He loosened the tie at his throat in a lazy, non-chalant way and had another sip of his drink.

“And obviously I’m the last of the Delaney girls, the final conquest—“ she continued. He remained stoic and let her monologue. “I see you for the Victorian archetype that you are, sir.”

He smiled then. He liked this little minx. She was making his afternoon difficult. But he liked her. He’d assumed all teenagers were fairly vapid, and his years of experience had done nothing to contradict that assumption. He’d been counting on a cock-hungry little rebel who wanted to be naughty and break rules and get fucked. The freakish little thing sitting across from him was something else entirely.

She was damaged goods, Vaughan recognized, somewhere deep in his gut he could sense it. She was a monster of his ilk. And he liked her.

“I didn’t hear a question sweetheart.” He said in a low, smooth tone when she’d fallen silent.

She sucked on her straw for a moment, obviously lost in thought. “Well, if he doesn’t know you’re doing any of it, if he isn’t aware that you’re besting him and fucking him over in all the most devastating ways a man could be fucked…” Her voice trailed off. She’d just landed on the answer.

Vaughan Grey had been playing the long game. He’d been patient and clever and held his tongue for years and years and years. She’d seen him as the melodrama archetype, the mustachioed villain with the cape and the wicked designs, but she’d underestimated his will power. Most people did. It was an effective façade.

He played the part of an instant-gratification-seeking play-boy. He fucked strings of easy women, drove fast and flashy foreign sports cars, drank too much at social gatherings, got into physical altercations, gambled, smoked, and was raucous. He wanted people to believe him thoroughly shallow, as empty headed as the platinum blondes he frequently wore on his arm. A man’s man, a man about town. He existed as a cliché and loved every minute of it because underneath he was enjoying the long, slow burn of a cruel and unrelenting revenge. His very favorite hobby, his pet obsession was the careful and deliberate dismantling of Jonah Delaney’s perfect little world.

But in order to get the most out of it, he’d decided long ago, he’d need to be very careful with when and how Delaney learned the truth. If the man discovered the semi-annual rendezvous Vaughan forced Velvet to make with him then perhaps Delaney would have enough sack to simply divorce the bitch and then Vaughan’d be out his sport, his blackmail funds, and his revenge plot.

He waited, lurking in those Victorian shadows for Delaney’s eldest daughter to grow up. Hed sometimes wished that he had an appetite for little girls, but he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at most of them in that way until they reached about fifteen. So he watched, waited, occupied himself with making Velvet his whore and interfered with Grey’s upbringing just enough to nettle Delaney, remind the man who the boy’s real father was.

And when Avalon Delaney reached sixteen she’d turned into quite a stunning young woman and Vaughan was grateful he’d never managed to do anything to her as a child. It was far sweeter to know that the girl offered up her body freely, gave herself to her father’s nemesis out of lust and needed no forcing. It was after he fucked that first girl, after he’d had her trembling in his arms, writhing beneath him, moaning and begging him for more, after he’d fucked her and watched those violet eyes burn with hunger for the orgasms he gave her that he knew he’d want to have all of them.

And to do that he would have to delay the moment Jonah discovered his unforgiveable trespass with his daughter.

He’d enjoyed teaching Avalon about love making. Introducing her to every pleasurable activity he could dream up. He relished the thought of marking her as his for the rest of her life, knowing that all lovers after him would be measured by his standard.

And he’d enjoyed breaking her heart when he’d tired of her, when she’d started to get too infatuated, too obsessed. He had enjoyed the tears, the broken sobs, and even the screaming fit she’d thrown. She was so much like her mother. He’d fucked her one last time, then, when she was a sobbing, weeping, scratching mess. He’d fucked her up against a wall, thrown her over the kitchen island and fucked her like a whore. He’d made sure she’d come, and then he’d pulled out and spent himself all over her naked body. Then he’d told her to get the fuck out, he was done with her.

Thinking about it now made his cock ache.

And the twins? Fuck. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able to pull that one off, especially if their elder sister had been vengeful and bitter for the two years that followed their torrid affair. And he’d assumed he’d have to seduce them both separately, play one off the other in a careful and delicate dance.

But they surprised him by being eager for his seduction. Perhaps their sister had told them about his skill in the bedroom? He had no clue, really, nor did he care to root out their fevered reasoning, but those pert little redheads had demanded their first time be together, with him, and he’d been more than happy to oblige them. Their affair lasted almost as long as the first one had but there were no tears at the end of those few months, no scenes. The twins had had no illusions about the nature of their arrangement and when they were sated they broke it off with him. Occasionally one or both of them would find themselves at his place again for a no-strings-attached-fuck every now and then, and everything seemed marvelously copacetic.

The twins had been so fabulous and fun he’d actually been a bit let down that there was yet another girl to go. He’d have almost died happy after those few months of underage threesome fucking.

But then, he hadn’t ever really met Viola Delaney, didn’t know what a perfect final course she’d make. Now he licked his lips and finished his drink. She was going to be delicious.

“Another drink?” He asked, gesturing again for the waiter.

She swallowed and her eyes came back into focus. She wore an expression that betrayed her temptation. She’d thought she’d known what she was up against, but now, as Vaughan watched, she was figuring out that she’d underestimated him.

“It will kill him.” She said quietly and his gut clenched at how young she suddenly sounded when she dropped her confident sex-kitten veneer.

The waiter hovered at the edge of the table. Was the young lady about to cry?

“Two more.” Vaughan spoke calmly, as though the young woman in his booth did not look as though she were about to unravel.

The waiter backed away a few steps before taking his eyes off the pretty young woman in despair.

Vaughan weighed his options. None of her sisters had seemed to give any thought to how their actions might affect their parents, beyond the notion that they were doing something naughty, getting away with something tantalizingly forbidden. And they knew him to be their mother’s ex-husband of course, but that hadn’t seemed to bother them much, maybe it even fanned their desire.

But this one looked fairly devastated. Grey’s forehead wrinkled and he spun his tumbler on the table between his hands. She really was Daddy’s little girl. He’d watched the two of them together over the years and he’d marked the way Jonah seemed especially protective of this one, particularly fond. Apparently the feeling was mutual. Shit.

Why had she come? He wondered. Why had she agreed to meet with him, if she’d known? There must be something she wanted to get out of this, some reason Jonah’s precious pet would lower herself, put herself in harm’s way despite knowing how her father would react if he discovered the transgression.

Something elusive was tugging at the corners of his mind, insinuating and vague, but Vaughan couldn’t make any sense of it.

“He won’t have to know.” Vaughan lied calmly.

Viola looked at him, unflinching. “Please, Mr. Grey” she said witheringly “give me some credit.”

He smiled.

She remained grim.

“Then throw a drink in my face and scurry along dear, “ he growled warmly “just don’t waste my time.”

“Perhaps I shall, when the waiter returns with a fresh one.”

His mouth twitched with amusement. They stared at one another, each sizing the other up.

“What do you want, Miss Delaney?” Vaughan asked finally, deciding his usual games wouldn’t work with this one. He was older than he looked, old enough to be her, Christ, to be her grandfather. He was, if he were to be honest with himself, growing weary of all the games. He held his breath and hoped she’d be honest.

The trouble was she didn’t look sure of whatever the fuck she wanted.

He felt a pang of something akin to pity. Then the drinks arrived. The waiter was stonily silent. Vaughan had the urge to lean over and cup the girl’s tit just to see how this gallant fellow would react.

Instead he waited for the young man to put the drinks on those ridiculous cocktail napkins and depart.

“I mean, you opened with a non-starter, correct?” He pulled his drink toward himself. “You refused my advances before I’d even begun.” He waited to take a sip. He wanted to watch her with her lime again.

She ran an index finger over the ridge of the lime slice but didn’t move to squeeze just yet.

“You’d begun.” She argued. “You’ve been looking at me since I was eleven.”

He cleared his throat and scratched a spot on his temple. Son-of-a-bitch, but this girl was sharp.

“A man would have to be dead not to notice you Miss Delaney.” He countered smoothly.

“If I don’t sleep with you, how will you achieve your endgame?” She ignored his come-on.

He couldn’t wait for her to squeeze her damn lime any longer. He lifted his drink to his lips and took a healthy sip before replying.

“Well obviously without you the set is incomplete-“ he conceded “But nevertheless I believe the impact will still be pretty fantastic.” He was full of shit. It had to be all of them, all of Jonah Delaney’s women, or he’d been wasting his time.

She could smell the bullshit. But she only smiled and played along. “Sure, sure.” Finally she took up the lime and squeezed it, massaging all the tart sweetness into her drink. He wondered how many rum-and-ginger-ales-with-lime it would take to get her a shade more pliable. He slid a little closer and stretched his arm across the back of the booth. She raised her eyebrows but chose not to comment. Instead she continued: “It will still be pretty devastating when he finds out about Ava and the twins, “ she was all business. “And learning that his beloved wife has been unfaithful time and time again for the entirety of their marriage will really wreck him.” She finished stirring the pulp into her ice, buried the lime at the bottom of the tumbler at locked her gaze with his. “But that’s not enough, is it?”

He held her penetrating purple gaze and moved closer still. She didn’t move away, she let him advance. When he was close enough, eyes still locked to hers, he casually let his hand drop blow the table. With all the arrogance that had made him infamous he placed his hand on her bare knee, his hands wide and strong on her delicate leg, his pinky finger under the hem of her skirt. He felt her flinch beneath his hand, felt the involuntary little jump and the rise of gooseflesh, but she held her eyes defiantly steady, willing herself to accept his hand there.

He broke their gaze to casually scan the restaurant for any signs of a captive audience and with his free hand he lifted his glass to his lips again. She was still as a statue, save for her breath, which was now coming a little more shallow, a little more quickly.

He slipped his had upward with skill and ease and stopped only when his middle finger came up against the soft cotton of her panties. Then he looked at her. He was trying to gauge what color they’d be. On one hand he liked to think they’d be virgin white, but as he studied her face, studied the way her lips had parted slightly and the pulse jumped at the base of her throat, he’d have put all his money on black.

“It would seem such a shame to come up short.” He breathed, close enough now that he could whisper it in her ear. She kept her face turned out, toward the restaurant. He nibbled her ear and heard her suck in a tiny breath. But she didn’t move to stop him. Didn’t move perceptibly at all, except Vaughan suddenly had more access to her under the table. She was no virgin. And she wanted him to finger her beneath the table in the restaurant.

Sliding the soft cotton to one side Vaughan let a finger slide inside her and she reacted only by lifting her drink and taking a sip. He smiled and kissed her neck where it met her shoulder. He moved the pad of his thumb onto her clit, and she tossed her hair behind her shoulder, cool and collected above the table, hot and wet and eager below.

“I don’t want to sleep with you Mr. Grey.” She said, her voice not betraying a hint of the excitement he could feel thrumming inside her.

“No?” he asked languidly. That was some poker face. And some nerve. He had three fingers in her cunt and his thumb on her clit and she had parted her legs for better access.

“No.” she repeated, and took another long sip from that sexy little straw. She licked her lips when she’d finished, letting him see her perfectly pink little tongue, before curling her lips into a kittenish smile. “But I am going to do it anyway.”