Pretty and Reckless Read online

  “When we met, it was because your mom was paid to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear?” My stomach dropped in disgust. I didn’t want to hear about my dad being fucked, and I most definitely wished I hadn’t heard what he’d just told me.

  “You’re lying.” He had to be lying.

  “It was my birthday and my dad bought me a hooker. That’s right, your mother was a paid whore and she was damn good at it. She fucking excelled at fucking. But she wasn’t like any hooker out there. She was exceptionally beautiful, striking. She catered to me the entire night like I was her king. So I rented her the next night, eventually becoming a regular customer until I finally begged her to quit that life and be my wife. Your grandfather was furious and cut me off. I gave up everything for her.”

  He took another long drag of wine and I knew where this was going. Like me, my dad couldn’t stomach talking about problems without having a high. “But I had to have her. I loved that woman more than I loved breathing. She was my everything. I took her off the streets and bought her everything she could ever want. I worked my ass off to give her the life she dreamed of. And you know what she gave me in return?” He paused, taking another drink. “She went out and fucked around. She fucked my best friend.” He snorted, his eyes slamming shut. “And my own father.”

  “You’re lying,” I repeated, trying to wrap my head around what I’d just been told. That wasn’t my mother. She wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t this horrible person he was describing.

  He looked at me with sorrow. “I wish I was.”

  “If you hate whores so much, why did you marry her?”

  “Because I loved her. She promised me she’d change, but she couldn’t stop. She loved that life.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  His eyelids squeezed shut before he looked at me with distraught. “I would never, never hurt your mother. I loved her and she left me. I was pissed, but I could never hurt her.” His hand lightly hit the table. “I fucking loved the stupid bitch. She ran off with another man and ended up getting herself killed. I heard she was tricking on the streets. She craved the nightlife. She couldn’t let it go. She left me and ended up dead. Do you understand why I don’t want you out there? I couldn’t save her, but I’ll be damned if I let you turn out like her. You have her blood in you. If you ever went on your own, you’d do the same thing. I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose you. You’re all that I have left.”

  I stared at him speechless. My mind rambled with questions, but my mouth wouldn’t open. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? He’d never opened up about her.

  I took a few deep breaths before I choked up the nerve to speak. “I’m not like her, dad.”

  “I can’t trust you. I trusted her. I did everything to make her change, but that wasn’t good enough. She ended up back with her pimp and he stabbed her fifteen times before throwing her dead body on the side of the highway.”

  And there it was, the truth about my mother. She was a hooker, a whore, and she was dead because her pimp killed her. I no longer had an appetite. I needed a drink.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “You say you don’t want me to be a whore, but you let guys screw me for business deals. Isn’t that the same thing?” I didn’t want to say it, but in reality, he was my pimp.

  “There’s nothing for you to get. It happened a few times, Elise,” he said, motioning to the waiter for the bill. “I wish you’d just forget about it and move on.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ELISE

  “You look lonely over here, can I buy you a drink, gorgeous,” the raspy voice asked from behind me, breaking me away my thoughts of misery. All I could think about on my way to the bar was what my dad had revealed. I’d had this stupid, ignorant misconception of my mom being this wonderful woman who’d been destroyed by my father. But I had it all wrong. It was the other way around. She’d destroyed him. He was the way he was because of her. Her selfish actions caused him to hate the world and me. I detested her for that.

  My dad didn’t mutter another word to me on the way home. I stripped off my clothes as soon as I walked through my front door, changed into a black form-fitting dress and snuck out into the night. I’d go crazy if I didn’t get out of there.

  The guy slid into the bar stool next to me without waiting for my answer. A salacious smile was on his face when I finally turned to look at him. His smoky brown hair was style into the perfect Ivy League haircut, showing off his clean and shaven face. He was sexy, with his broad chest and defined muscles. I was certain he’d been physically active his entire life, but with something more along the lines of tennis or rowing. He looked slightly younger than Weston’s age, probably around twenty-four.

  He was exactly my type, or my old type, considering I was crushing on my shrink who wore glasses and dressed like a hobo most of the time.

  “I don’t know, can you?” I fired back, wrapping my hand around my glass and taking a drink.

  He was the fifth man who’d offered to buy me a drink tonight. The other four had bailed after discovering I wasn’t going to let them into my panties.

  “Can I buy you a drink,” was the laziest pick-up line in the history of pick-up lines. It was the polite way of asking if they could get you piss drunk and then fuck you in the backseat of their car. It was a sleaze-ball move. I mean, what’s easier than paying a few bills for a drink? It was cheaper than dinner and a movie, and usually ended with a better bang. Literally.

  He signaled to the bartender. “Another of whatever the lady is drinking,” he told him. The brooding bartender, who looked at me more and more strangely with each drink purchased for me by a stranger, followed his instruction.

  He swiveled in his chair and rested his elbow on the bar to look straight at me. “Do you have a name?”

  “I do,” I replied, raising a brow.

  “And what might that be?”

  “Elise.”

  He shook his head, rubbing his hand down his smooth cheek and pausing a moment like he was giving great thought to his next move. “Elise, that’s a beautiful name,” he said, disappointing me with his lack of creativity.

  I shrugged. “It was a birthday present.”

  He laughed, his bright white teeth glowing in the dim lights shining from behind the bar. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  “There’s really not much to tell.”

  “I disagree. You’re a gorgeous girl sitting alone at the bar on a Thursday night looking pissed off at the world. There’s a story to tell. There’s always a story.”

  There was a story, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be hearing it. “Nope,” I said.

  The bartender set my drink down in front of me. “Let me guess,” his finger went to his lips. “A break-up?” I shook my head. “A fight with the boyfriend?”

  I shook my head again. “No boyfriend.”

  “Your girlfriend in the bathroom getting fucked?” Another shake. “Or did she bail on you to get some dick?”

  I shot him an annoyed look and he laughed. “No friend getting rammed in the bathroom.”

  I’d actually called Holly to come out with me tonight, but she said she wasn’t going out if Quinton couldn’t come, and that wasn’t fucking happening.

  “So no boyfriend or friend? It’s probably not smart to be hanging out at a bar alone.” I watched him slowly slide the rim of his glass along his lips, take a heavy drink, and then set it back down onto the bar. I gulped. Damn this guy was good. I was sure he had girls begging to sleep with him.

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” I blurted out, not wanting him to get his hopes up.

  “Well, that’s a bummer,” he replied, his smile wider. Damn, I was stupid. I’d been promoted from an easy lay to a challenge now. “How about you get to know me before you make that call.”

  “I don’t want to know you.”

  “Give me five minutes.” He continued, not giving me a chance to tell him to fuck off. “I’m Vincent Malone, it’s nic
e to meet you.”

  I rolled my eyes at the mention of his name. He wanted his notoriety to get him laid. His family owned an international beer distribution company, along with a few sports teams in the state. They were loaded. They were old money.

  “I’m sorry, but your name is not so beautiful,” I said, bluntly. I’d actually slept with two other Malone’s. They were his cousins, brothers, or something like that, and nothing to brag about. They were all about themselves in the bedroom.

  He downed the rest of his drink. “Oh come on, don’t use that against me.”

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked curiously.

  He nodded his head and a twinkle of amused interest flashed in his eyes. “I do.”

  “And?” I pushed.

  “You’re supposedly the out-of-control daughter of Clint Parks. But I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t see any erratic behavior here. I’m waiting for you to get on the bar and start dancing in that short little dress you have on, or do body shots off of me. Which I can arrange, by the way.”

  “So is that why you approached me? You know who I am and my reputation.”

  “Probably,” he answered, truthfully. I had to give him credit for that. “At first I wanted to see what all the hype was about, but now I’m intrigued by you for some reason.”

  “I intrigue you?” I repeated, with a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t even know me. I’m still not going to sleep with you, even after hearing your last name.” He grinned, like he thought I was playing. “So please, stop with the ridiculous pick up lines.”

  “You don’t know if that’s what I want. I haven’t said anything to you about getting into your pussy.”

  “I know that face. Your entire family makes that face when they want their dick sucked.”

  “Wow, that’s embarrassing. I’ll be sure to never make this face again.”

  “Yeah, I’d be embarrassed too.”

  “Wow, you didn’t want me to judge you, yet you’re doing the same to me. I promise you, I’m nothing like my family in and out of the bedroom.”

  “Too bad I won’t be finding out.”

  What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I jumping at this guy’s advances? Why wasn’t I opening my legs wide as a sign I wanted his hand there? He’d be the perfect screw to get my mind off of Weston.

  “You sure about that?”

  “I am.”

  He groaned. “Alright then.” He tucked his hand into the inside of his pocket and pulled out a business card. “If you ever change your mind, call me.” He handed it over. “You’ve got something to you Elise Parks, and I’d be very interested to find out what that is.” He threw down a few bills onto the bar before leaving.

  “Wait,” I said, turning around in my chair.

  “Yes?” He asked, a smile tugging at his lips. “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind?” His smile dropped when I shook my head.

  “Can I get a ride?” I asked, giving him a hopeful smile. It was freezing outside. I didn’t want to walk home and hailing a cab sounded like a painful job at the moment.

  “You fucking serious?” He asked around a smirk. “Is this a game? You want that ride to come back to my place?”

  I bit the edge of my lip. “Can I get a ride home?”

  He looked at me in shock. “You just turned me down,” he said, throwing his hands out. “Therefore, I need to find another way to get my frustrations out.”

  “Ugh, whatever.” Typical. Like all of the other men who’d left, he was just looking for his next fuck. The embarrassing thing was that I used to fall for it.

  “But I will tell my driver to take you.” He pulled out his phone. “He’ll be out front waiting for you whenever you’re ready. It was nice meeting you, Elise. I hope to see you again in the future.” With that, his back came into my view while he walked through the crowd to find his next conquest.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ELISE

  I stumbled into my bedroom, tripping on my heels, while I fought with myself to kick them off after Vincent’s driver dropped me off. I used my dresser as leverage to clumsily shed my clothes, nearly falling on my face in the process, and then finally threw myself into bed. I snatched up my phone, swinging my legs back and forth along the foot of the bed, while listening to the ring tone in my ear.

  “Wes! My friend! My boy!” I shouted into the speaker as soon as he answered. My head swirled while I crawled up my blankets on my hands and knees to grab the vodka bottle on my nightstand. I’d been sipping on it while I got ready.

  “Elise?” He asked, irritated. I glanced over at my alarm clock and noticed the time. Well, fuck, time flies when you’re getting wasted.

  “That’s me,” I yelped, around a giggle. What the hell? I wasn’t a giggler. I swirled my tongue along the rim of the bottle and took a quick drink. “You know,” I said, excitedly. “I forgot how much I love vodka. Vodka is seriously my best friend. If I could, I’d marry vodka and we’d have beautiful little vodka babies.”

  “Fuck me,” he groaned. Fuck him? Oh, I would’ve gladly participated in that activity. “You’re wasted.”

  “Sure am,” I chirped, hiccupping, and then taking another drink. “And I’m just getting started.”

  Okay, just getting started, was a bit of an understatement, but I’d needed to erase all of the bombs that had been dropped on me earlier today.

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “I know today was hard on you, but you should’ve called me before drinking yourself into a stupor.” He was going to hang up on me. No one ever had fun being the sober person dealing with the drunken asshole. I’d personally never been in that position, but I was sure it wasn’t a good time.

  I felt like a child being scolded while I played with the bottle in my hand. “You have no idea what today or tonight was like for me,” I stuttered out. “No fucking idea.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me about it?” His voice turned gentle and therapist Weston was emerging from the shadows.

  I took a deep breath before telling him. “My dad talked about my mom tonight.” My words mixed together, sounding like one. “She really is dead. All along, I thought maybe she’d be out there looking for me or waiting for me to find her. But nope, she’s really gone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You know what’s funny, though? She was a whore, just like me,” I said, in amusement, and took another drink.

  “I honestly don’t think that’s true or funny,” he replied, his voice flat.

  “She’s a whore! I’m a whore! We’re all whores!”

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You’re not a goddamned whore, but you’re acting like an idiot right now. Get your ass to the kitchen and drink some water.”

  I swung the bottle back and forth in front of me, watching the liquid splash together in fixation. “Nope, if it ain’t vodka, I ain’t drinking it.”

  “Get your ass in the kitchen or I’m coming over there and doing it myself.”

  I perked up, my back going straight along my headboard, sparks drumming through my body as a sly smile spread over my lips. “Oh really? Then come right over,” I told him, playfully.

  “I’m hanging up now,” he said, clearly catching onto my intentions.

  “Wait,” I said, rushing my words out. “You told me to call you if I ever needed anything.”

  “I’m beginning to think you misinterpreted the meaning of that.”

  I didn’t misinterpret shit, but I had no problem acting like I did. I leaned sideways to carefully set the vodka bottle back in its place. I coasted along my sheets, feeling the Egyptian cotton trail my skin, and made myself comfortable.

  I exhaled a frenzied breath as I slowly extended my hand down my belly, stopping at the hem of my boy shorts. Was I really about to do this? Yes, I fucking was.

  “I need something,” I said, my voice raspy.

  “And what is that?”

 
“An orgasm.”

  And it was confirmed. I was truly bat-shit fucking crazy. I was attempting, yes, seriously attempting to seduce him. I wanted to fuck him over the phone. I really wanted to fuck him in person, riding his cock until I got what I needed, but phone sex would suffice.

  It was wrong, I knew that, but I hadn’t been able to get Weston out of my mind since the night he’d cut my dress off of my body. I’d lie in bed, re-living that night in his bathroom, and touch myself to the copious illusions of what could’ve happened. I visualized my hands as his, pleasuring myself until I contracted against my fingertips.

  He cleared his throat. “And I think it’s time for us to say goodnight. Drink some water, take two Advil, and call me in the morning.”

  The room started to spin, the alcohol mixing with the thrill of what I wanted, and I slowly began to massage my clit. “Men wanted to fuck me tonight, but I didn’t give in. I didn’t go home with one. You want to know why?” He stayed silent on the other end with the exception of his heavy breathing. “Because I wanted you to be the one who got me off. I didn’t want some random guy from the club playing with my pussy. I wanted it to be you.”

  “Take a cold shower.” His voice strained with confliction.

  “Any other options more enjoyable?”

  “Relieve yourself. You have fingers and I’m sure a vibrator somewhere around there. I can’t help you with your problem.”

  “I’m not asking you to touch or fuck me. I’m asking you to talk to me.”

  The taste of vodka swept through my mouth while I worked myself with my fingers, playing with my tiny nub, and my urge for him to give in elevating. I needed more, but I was patiently waiting for him to join me before I went any farther. I wanted him to do this with me.

  “Isn’t that what your job is?” I asked. “Isn’t that what you ordered me to do? Talk to you when I wanted help with my problems?”

  I bucked my hips forward when I buried my hand into my panties. The drama from the night began to fade away when I felt how wet I was as I caressed my slit.