Addicted to Mr. Parks (The Park #2) (36 page)

“Well, you should be,” Clinton chided. “One percent is too much. Can’t you even check in on one of your most prestigious companies?”

“It turned over three billion last year. These things happen.” Parks gritted his teeth. Clinton was trying to put Parks down. It seemed everything he did was never good enough. I knew how painful that felt.

“Three billion?” Clinton scoffed before knocking back another glass of wine. “Could’ve been more. Seems to me you’re being distracted. I didn’t set you up in life for distractions.”

“You didn’t set us up in life for anything.” Parks fisted his fork, his body radiating tension and anger. Getting to know Parks well was one of the finer things in my life, but his body was one thing I knew best. His temper was rising, almost tipping him over the edge. I felt it.

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have anything.” Clinton glared. “It was
me
who set you up in life. Both of you.” He turned to Jasmine. “Don’t forget that.”

“How can we forget it when you throw it in our faces every goddamn time?” It was Jasmine who flew off the handle. She pushed her chair back, threw her napkin on the table, and stormed off. Trent followed behind her.

“Jasmine,” Harriet called to no avail. She was about to go after her, but Clinton put a stop to it. “Sit,” he barked at his wife like a dog. She did as she was told and sat back down on a stiff smile. Parks shook his head at his father, who was rudely clicking his fingers to the waiter for a top up.

“What are you staring at?” Clinton snarled.

“You’re a disgrace,” Parks growled, getting up from his seat. I didn’t know where the bloody hell to look. “Evelyn.” Parks pulled out my seat for me to stand with him.

“Wade, please don’t go,” Harriet begged, and I could see the wetness in the corner of her eyes. It was only then I noticed the hidden pain etched in her expression.

“Good night, Mother.” Parks bent down to kiss her head. She closed her eyes, embracing her son, then let us leave.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

My legs were trying to keep up with the brisk walk Parks accustomed himself to as he headed for the bedroom. He was slipping away from me. I knew it wholeheartedly. His temper was taking over and washing away the Parks I knew.

He pushed open the door and let me walk in first, then slammed it shut behind him. He began pacing around the room, cursing to himself, shoving off his shirt, and throwing it onto the floor.

For a brief moment I stood frozen, completely unsure of what to do. It felt like he’d gone. Spaced out in rage and didn’t even know I was in the room with him. Originally, I thought my walls were built high, but Parks had a mountain to overcome. Well, I was ready with my pickax to climb that damn thing.

“Wade, do you want to talk?”

His head snapped to mine. The green eyes I was so used to were too dark, utterly furious.

“Evelyn, I don’t want to talk, I just want to fuck you.” Determinedly he marched towards me, smacked his lips into mine, and pushed me backwards until my back hit the bedroom wall with a thud. Wait. Shit. We couldn’t.

“Wade, my pill,” I spoke into his mouth because he wouldn’t let go.

“Fuck it. I need you. Don’t stop me or I’ll fuck you even harder.”

Well I
wanted
to be fucked harder, thank you very much. But I couldn’t. I knew his original self-controlled persona was drifting away because it had been replaced with anger. He wasn’t thinking straight. To be honest, I wish I wasn’t, either.

His tongue was plunging and twirling deep into my mouth, chasing my breath away. His lips were deliciously bruising mine, and his teeth pulling and nipping at my lips, making me whimper into his mouth.

“It’s too risky.” Panting, I tried my best to talk some sense into him, but he was gone. He gripped hold of the hem of my dress and ripped it off my body, then threw it to one side.

“Your body is mine. All fucking mine. At least no one can take that away from me.” He hooked his fingers into my thong and pulled it from my pelvis, then he made quick work of undoing my bra and discarding it.

“Better,” he growled, pushing me back into the wall, his erection pinning me in place.

“Wade, we can’t —”

“Evelyn,” he growled my name. “If you carry on telling me ‘I can’t,’
I will fucking gag you.” His hands left my arms, letting them fall to my sides, and he abruptly cupped my breasts and squeezed them. My nipples were already hard, and when he squeezed the tip of one and bit it, he had me crying out.

I pulled at his silky hair, my sex pounding to be touched. I wanted to beg him to fuck me. I needed him to, but I was being sensible. Trying, anyway.

My urge took over, and my hand plunged to his cock, needing the feel of him, but he threw himself away from me, not letting me touch him.

“Don’t. I want to fuck you. Own you. Not the other way around.”

My eyes narrowed. I was hurt and a lot confused. “Wade, what is wrong with you?”

“I need to be buried inside you. Fucking you and forgetting. Let me have that,” he almost yelled at me, looking a different man. He seemed so determined to forget his past and the haunting thoughts that drowned his mind that he couldn’t think straight. More than anyone, I knew he needed to be inside me to forget. Sex was something that was familiar, something he knew. Exactly the way I felt.

I turned my back on him, but he whirled me around by my hips and pressed his lips into my mouth so forcefully, we both fell down onto the bed. We were all licking and sucking and panting and kissing and more panting. His mouth left mine to give me a chance to breathe, nipping and skating across my jaw and down my throat. I moaned and writhed beneath him, feeling his cock pressing against my clit.

“Let me fuck you. I beg you.”

My willpower was slipping away. A sensible state of mind was no more. Instead, I was taken under the spell of a man who could hypnotise me by touch alone.

“Okay.”

Immediately, he pushed himself into me. I was so moist that his erection slid in effortlessly.

“Oh, Wade.” I felt every hard inch of his cock. Every thickening vein.

“Jesus. You feel so fucking good. You help me forget, Evelyn. You take me to your place. Let me stay there.” Parks began hammering into me at a frenetic speed, and my attempts to match his rhythm were shot to bits.

It wasn’t affectionate or loving. He didn’t watch my eyes as they rolled to the back of my head, drowning in lust. He didn’t watch my tits bounce. He didn’t talk dirty. He just fucked my body. Not letting me touch him. Not allowing me to kiss him.

My legs fell wide open aside his hips as he held on to the sheets above my head. He was grunting, panting, and desperate for air as he fucked me emotionlessly and relentlessly. Trying to bruise me, it would seem. Going as hard as his limits would allow.

“Wade. Fucking hell.” My body was being pushed up the bed. Sweat scattered over my skin and his.

“Anyone who is against us, Evelyn, is not welcome, understand?”

“Yes,” I wailed as an orgasm came without any sign of a buildup. The pleasure broke out and rippled through me, shaking and shattering my body to pieces.

Parks pulled out of me, caught my hip with his hand, and flipped me onto my stomach with skill and deep precision. He slapped my arse when it came into view and sank into me deep and hard.

“Arhh.” I buried my cries into the sheets, clawing at any part of the material I could get my hands on. He was forceful and abrupt, and I couldn’t deny it was almost pain overriding pleasure that time.

“Tell me how much you love my big fucking cock, Evelyn.” His personality shifted so quickly, I couldn’t keep up. My state of mind was a combination of confusion, pleasure, pain, and falling beyond my limits.

I didn’t answer him, so he slapped my behind and pounded into my slick state, balls-deep and hard. “Tell me!” he took hold of my hair and wrapped his wrist around the tresses.

“I love your cock,” I moaned.

“Of course you fucking do. You have a greedy pussy.” He snarled. Pussy? He’d never called it a pussy. I gulped, feeling hurt as he pounded. I could take a good hard fuck, but the heavier Parks got, the more I seemed to weaken. Pain was my pleasure, but not when I didn’t know the man fucking me.

“You are all
mine
. Mine to do with as I please.” He roared out his words, and after a few more pounds, I felt his body tense. His grip tightened on my hair, and I knew he was going to come. Two choices ran around in my mind. To pull away from him because he couldn’t come inside me, not when I wasn’t protected. Or let him come and hope to God I could get my hands on the morning after pill.

Surprisingly, he didn’t control himself and came hard and determined. “Fuckkkk,” he cried out in pleasure but also hating himself as he didn’t have the control to pull out. The warmth of his liquid poured as he emptied every last drop of himself.

When he was done, he released his grip, allowing my lifeless body to collide into the mattress. I was heaving, feeling like I was never going to catch the oxygen I so desperately needed. My eyes closed and begged me not to open up again. Jesus.

Parks climbed from the bed in silence and made his way into the bathroom. Slamming the door and shutting me out. He wanted to shut me out of his private thoughts, and I felt almost jilted because I had let him into mine. Evidently, there was a huge issue with his father. What I witnessed was that he drank too much—maybe an alcoholic?—and put Parks down a lot. The same thing my mother used to do to me. When a parent, someone who is meant to love you unconditionally, a person who you put your wholehearted trust and faith into doesn’t love you or doesn’t think you’re worthy, how the hell are you ever supposed to love yourself?

More than anything, I wanted to go into the bathroom to try and talk to him. Try and take the sledgehammer he used to break down my walls and use it on his. But for some reason, the way he used my body felt personal to me. When I was in a dark place, I had sex to numb my mind. Used the guy as an object because it made me forget. I knew it was what Parks had just done to me. He used me as an object like all the other women he’d fucked.

I understood why he did it, but I was his girlfriend. Someone he loved. That fucking hurt. And I wasn’t afraid to tell him.

As I swung my legs out of the bed, I instantly gasped, wincing at how sore I’d become. Ignoring it, though, I swiped up his shirt, pulled it on, and buttoned up the two bottom buttons. I hovered my hand over the bathroom door handle, wondering whether I should go in at all. But I had to.

My gaze scattered around the bathroom until it came into contact with Parks. He was sitting on the toilet lid, elbows on his knees and head bowed down.

He looked mentally tortured by feelings and thoughts. I felt instant sympathy towards him, but I was hurt even more.

“You just used me,” I whispered, my words trembling. I didn’t realise how much I was actually hurting until I tried to speak. “You came inside me; you didn’t stop yourself.”

“I know,” he said in a low voice, not even glancing up to look at me.

Staying where I was, I wrapped my arms around myself. “You used me like you used to fuck women to numb your pain.”

“I know.”

“You called my sweetness a pussy.” In his own words, it wasn’t just a pussy to him. It was his sweetness. That hurt. Damn right it hurt.

“I know.” The tone in his voice made my heart hurt for him.

“You know?” Of course I was starting to feel angry. Tears were falling, and I knew the tears were worth it for him, but how they got there was still fucked up. “So it’s okay to fuck me like I’m worthless? But wait, it made you feel better, so why should I moan? Is that it?”

He rubbed his face with his hands roughly before glancing up at me. It was the first time he’d really acknowledged I was in the room. I swiped at my tears as he parted his lips to say something, but his words never formed. Shaking his head on a low sigh, he bowed his head back between his legs, gripping at his hair.

His expression, his poise, his demeanour wasn’t his, and I hated that I felt so far away from him that I couldn’t even go to him and embrace his warmth. He was cold and aloof, and it made me miss the real Parks. I wanted him back.

“Talk to me,” I begged, giving up on my pesky stray tears.

“What do you want me to say?” He looked up, his arms extending out as he spoke fiercely.

“Tell me what’s troubling you.”

“Why?” his were words nasty. “So you can make it better?”

“I thought I
did
make you feel better.” Sniffling and glancing through wet eyes, I waited for his reply.

“Just go to bed, Evelyn.”

“No,” I barked. “Don’t shut me out. I don’t want you to close the door on me.”

He pushed to his feet and began walking towards me, making me step back until I was standing in the threshold of the doorway. “Then close it yourself.”

Parks left me standing in the doorway, staring at the half-open door while he stepped into the shower alone.

I reached out to the door handle about to close it, but I didn’t want to give up. Parks had never given up on me. I didn’t want to run. I didn’t want to leave him in that state of mind and do nothing about it. Running was weak, and weak was something I couldn’t be.

I needed to be with him. Needed to feel close to him. I made my way to the shower. The glass was all steamed up. I could only make out the edges of Parks’s stunning body. His hands running through his dark mane.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the glass and stepped in, joining him in the hot, cascading water. All the tense muscles in his back were fully formed and enhanced, and I wanted to kiss each one. I walked to him and pecked his back as the water fell around us, the steam misting my view. His body tensed against the warmth and affection of my kisses, and surprisingly he turned around. He took my hands, placed them above my head, and pressed them against the glass. He latched his fingers through mine to hold them up and licked across the arch of my brows, sensually slipping down my cheeks with his lips until he found my mouth.

Soft and compassionate lips melted into mine. Those lips were from the man I loved. Not the man I just saw full of temper and a lonely soul.

I wrapped my fingers into his hands and crushed my lips into his. They moulded perfectly. Like they were made for each other. We
were
made for each other. A perfect match. Somehow.

His tongue was swirling against mine, slowly and savouring. His body pressing against mine, hard and firm. When he kissed me the way he did, showing his profound need for my existence, I fell deeper in love with him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into my ear. I watched on as he turned his back on me, then walked out of the shower, leaving me painfully staring after him. He was one difficult sonofabitch.