Addicted to Mr. Parks (The Park #2) (25 page)

My face was a playful expression of shock. “You’re asking my permission?”

“What do you think?” He laughed, nuzzling into my neck and kissing at my collarbone before sliding into me. “You’re so special,” he whispered. I looked up into his green eyes. They were vivid, soft, and heavy with emotion as he invaded me sweetly, taking his time. What he saw looking up at him was his reason to exist. Similarly, I was looking at him the same way. I was addicted to him. To his sex. To his voice. His looks. His attitude. I was addicted to everything Wade Parks. When I was with him, butterflies took residence in my stomach. Fevered heat spots would scatter across my skin. My smile would widen, and my heart would pound. He was my addiction. I knew that for sure. What I also knew for sure was that he was an addiction I was never going to give up. Ever.

We began to unlock our hunger for one another, grinding at an equal pace, kissing intimately.

“You’re my favourite place,” he breathed. “Let me lose myself in you.”

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else,” I told him as he consumed and captivated my place all night long.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Morning came upon me in no time. The sun had replaced the rain, and there was the most handsome, stunning face lying next to me. Sharing the same pillow.
Heaven.

“Morning, Princess.” He smiled, his eyes remaining closed.

“Shall I make breakfast?”

“No.
I’ll
make us breakfast.”

It was rather nice to have a man that never wanted his woman to do anything for him. Except maybe suck his cock and fuck. But not the simple things like cooking, ironing clothes, domestic things. On the other hand, I liked to cook, and I would have loved to cook for Parks, but he would never let me. I was the woman, and he was the man, and the man took care of the woman. That was his silly theory.

“Stay in bed. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Can’t I—?”

My words were squashed by his finger on my lips. “No, you can’t.” Parks jumped off the bed and made his way out of the bedroom, strutting that firm, outstanding arse of his.

After a couple minutes of rest, I sprang up in bed, panicking. “Parks,” I called to him from the bed. I knew he could hear me, but he was choosing to ignore me. “Parks,” I yelled louder. Nothing. Then it hit me. He was so bloody difficult. “Wade,” I called, rolling my eyes, frustrated that he’d won.

“Yes?” He entered the room within a second and sexily leaned against the doorjamb.

“I have nothing to wear.”

His devilish smirk told me he knew all along. “I left your belongings in the car.”

I frowned. “Can I have something of yours to wear, then?” His shirt would be fine.

“No,” he said point-blank. “I want you naked.”

“Just give me a shirt.”

“No.” His green eyes were humouring me.

What?
“Listen, I’m not strolling around this house bollock-naked.”

Parks perched on the edge of the bed, shaking his head at my comments. “Evelyn, unless I’m missing something, you don’t have a pair of bollocks.”

“Well, ‘vagina-naked’ doesn’t sound as good.” I grinned.

He uncharacteristically rolled his eyes. “Nothing that involves you using crude words sounds good.”

Crossing my arms, I acted offended. “I do not use crude words.”

Parks laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Tell me some.” I pouted.

“I would if I wanted to spend the next couple of hours doing just that, but I would rather spend it having breakfast with my naked girlfriend.”

“Your bullock-naked girlfriend,” I pointed out annoyingly, which seemed to do the trick.

“Evelyn,” he said my name exasperated, dropping his head. “Go put on one of my shirts.”

“See, that wasn’t hard.”

He left me in the bedroom so he could go tend to breakfast. I brushed my teeth quickly—using his toothbrush—washed my face, combed my hair, and pulled on one of his shirts.

Making my way into the kitchen, I heard the song
“
Ordinary Love” by U2, and Parks was humming to it. Watching a control freak not be so freakish made me smile. He looked relaxed, carefree, as he made breakfast at the oven with the windows wide open in front of him looking out at the sea and letting the sun shine in.

Parks must have felt my presence, because he turned, leaning back against the counter. His hair was a dark, dishevelled delight, sexily falling across his forehead. His body looked the ultimate male model in black boxers, and his greedy gaze leisurely roamed over my body.

“Ready for breakfast?”

I couldn’t help but fall weak at the knees when he flashed me a wide, adorable smile.

“Hmm.” Humming my appreciation, I slid down into the chair Parks pulled out from the table for me. Already on the table was orange juice, watermelon juice, fruit salads, and yogurt with berries and muesli.

“Don’t panic, that’s for me. I have yours cooking.”

I knew I could smell bacon, but knowing all about Parks’s dietary rules made me think my nose was deceiving me. A few moments later, he carefully placed a plate onto the table in front of me. “A full English breakfast for my princess.” He kissed my temple and slid onto the chair next to me.

I grinned. “It’s perfection on a plate.”

“It’s a heart attack on a plate.” He frowned, pouring Greek yogurt onto his berries.

I scoffed, cutting up my bacon. “Just because you’re a posh git.”

He almost choked on a berry. “A posh git?” He did that English accent of his, which made me swoon.

“Yes.” I chuckled with a full mouth.

We ate in silence, giving each other tender glances now and again and listening to U2. When we were done, his smartphone began to ring from inside the bedroom. Of course he ignored it like he often did when he was with me, but I told him to go and answer it.

“Do you mind?” He was apologising, but I understood how busy he was. Still, that didn’t mean I wanted to share him. I never wanted to share him. I shook my head and dipped my fried bread into my tomatoes. He kissed my forehead, then headed into the bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, he still wasn’t back from his call. I sat at the table twiddling my thumbs after I cleared the dishes, then he arrived back in the kitchen, his hair askew as if he’d been pulling at it.

“Something wrong?” I frowned.

“Work. Come here. Let me fuck you.”

Whoa. I had no time to ask another thing. He ripped off the shirt I was wearing, lifted me onto the table, and fucked me good and hard until he was rid of his stress.

***

Parks had to take care of business when we arrived home late Sunday afternoon, so instead of lounging around the apartment, I decided to go visit Steph.

I changed into ripped jeans, a white shirt, and heels and stalked into the office to inform Parks about my plans. His gaze drifted up from his computer screen, where he’d stopped vigorously typing. It hit my face, soft and warm, but when he saw what I was wearing on bottom, he glowered.

“Your jeans are ripped.”

“They’re meant to be.” I chuckled.

“But I can see the tops of your thighs, Evelyn. Which means so can other men.”

“I’m going to Steph’s. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He pushed to his feet and made his way towards me with determined strides. When he reached me, he bent down and ripped the hole in my jeans, making it even bigger.

“Now you can’t wear them.”

I remained gobsmacked, immobilised, and fucking pissed off. “You’re insane. I can’t believe you just did that.”

“
I
can’t believe you think I would allow you out with the tops of your thighs on display.” He turned his back on me, shoulders intensely flexing as he walked away.

Reasonably, he was in a foul mood because his work was stressful and he’d been taken away from me for a few hours. Unreasonably, he was taking it out on me.

“These jeans are from the wardrobe you gifted me with, dumbass.”

He froze on the spot, taking a moment to turn and face me. His eyes were brimming with cold, calm rage when he did. “Did you just call me a dumbass?”

Oh shit.
“Well, you stocked the damn thing.” My heart was thrashing against my rib cage. The look in his eyes was far too familiar. It was the one that came just before a spanking.

He crooked his finger, speaking low and menacing. “Come here.” The power and command in his voice pulled out a submissive side of mine that I loved coming out to play.

I began to walk backwards, my feet working slowly. For every step back I took, he took a step forwards.

“Don’t make me chase you, Evelyn, because if I do, your punishment will enhance.”

“Maybe I want it to enhance,” I breathed. My steps suddenly ran out when my back came into contact with the wall.

Seeing his chance, Parks charged at me. Mercilessly, he turned my body around and pushed my front into the wall. My cheek pressed up against it. A gasp heaved out of my mouth, my body already aching and wanting. Parks pressed himself into me, keeping me from moving. His whispers tickled at my ear. “You love to push my buttons, don’t you, Evelyn?”

My breathing was heavy, my words gasping. “You know I do.”

A wry grin tugged at his lips as he pulled down my jeans just enough to expose my backside in white French knickers.

My hands were sandwiched between my chest and the wall, and Parks’s strong front pushed into my back. He circled my arse with his palm, caressing for a moment, then he swept it back into the air and brought it down with a smack. My body pushed into the wall from the sweet blow, my low groans telling him how much I enjoyed it.

“Tell me how much you love to be punished, Evelyn.” Before giving me chance to reply, he pulled his hand back again and swept it down onto my flesh with another slap.

“Oh God,” I moaned, clenching my eyelids shut. When the sting left my cheeks, the pleasure of how it felt, of how it made Parks’s lust ignite, made me yearn for another.

“Tell me.” His demand sounded as though he pushed it through gritted teeth as he spanked me again.

“I love it when you punish me.” And I did. Even if I didn’t necessarily agree with what he was punishing me for.

“Of course you do. Tell me you won’t wear something like that again.”

“I thought this was because I called you a dumbass?” I gained another spank for answering back.

“Both,” he snapped out.

The sensual rubbing of his palm on my backside in between spanks felt so good. He luxuriated in the feel of my arse and from the way it looked. It was on the rump side, I agree, and it turned Parks on immensely. He always told me so.

“I’m sorry for calling you a dumbass, but like hell are you telling me what to wear.”

Another slap had me wincing.

“Excuse me?”

“Fine. I won’t,” I told him. Obviously lying. He knew perfectly well I was a glutton for punishment and I’d never learn my lesson if it meant me never receiving spanks.

“Good girl,” he breathed. His tone was enigmatic, excitable, and brewing with lust as he turned me around to face him. “Get changed.” He kissed me once more and went back to his desk. I childishly poked my tongue out at him when his back was turned and headed to Steph’s—in the ripped jeans. Of course.

Cleaver drove me to Steph’s, and as soon I let myself in, I heard my best friend wailing. Without hesitation, I made my way into the living room and noticed the sounds were coming from her bedroom.

“What’s happened?” My concern grew when I saw her sprawled across her bed looking drained and paler than usual. Something wasn’t right.

“I’m pregnant, Evey. And I don’t know who the dad is,” she blurted out straightaway.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped, my hand covering my mouth in shock, which made her burst into a fresh batch of tears. Surprisingly, she edged towards me and threw her arms around my neck. My arms tensed, my body went ridged, but she needed comfort.

After around fifteen minutes of holding Steph as she sobbed and snorted, I pushed her away and spoke seriously. “Look, you only slept with Julian the other day, Steph. If you’re further gone than that, then it’s obviously Mathew’s.” The look she gave me told me she’d been sleeping with Julian for longer that I thought.

My eyes rolled within an inch of their life. “Fuck’s sake.”

“I’m so, so stupid.” Again, she burst into tears, so I took my smartphone out of my pocket and called Parks.

“Are you on your way home?” he asked straightaway. Normally, I would have wished I was on my way home to my addiction, but this time Steph needed me more.

“Actually, I’m going to be spending the night with Steph.”

There was a pause. “Why?”

“Because she needs me, Wade, so now is not the time to act infantile. I was calling you to ask if you could bring me some work clothes for tomorrow.”

He was sulking. I knew he was. But the urgency in my tone told him I wasn’t playing around. “I’ll be right over.”

I hung up so I could tend to Steph. “Come on, let’s get your face cleaned up, get into PJs, and put a film on.”

“
Magic Mike
?” She sniffed. Oh God. Channing flaming Tatum.

“
Magic Mike
it is.”

Leaving Steph go get changed, I read the two text messages I’d received. They were from Tabby, the first asking when our girly night was going to be, the second asking how myself and Parks were. Her interest in him was more than unusual, but I didn’t read much into it.

Deciding I would text her back another time, I shoved my phone back into my pocket, then got distracted by a knock on the front door.

“Everything okay?” Parks’s concern was heart-warming. Well, at least he wasn’t sulking.