Craved By The Guardian: The HEA Collection Read online

  CRAVED

  BY THE GUARDIAN

  HEA Collection

  Rena Marks

  18+ ONLY

  The story depicted here is intended for mature audiences. It most likely contains coarse language and highly graphic depictions of sex acts meant to titillate and excite the reader. All copulating characters are 18 years or older.

  That being said, have fun!

  CRAVED BY THE GUARDIAN

  Rena Marks

  The definition of guardian is defined as a person who looks after and is legally responsible for another. When I think of my billionaire guardian, I think of my hot, sexy jailer. My warden. The cage may be gilded, but still…I’m trapped within the gold.

  I’ve settled for a poor substitution—his son, Jordan. Even knowing Jordan’s faults, I refuse to admit that I close my eyes and pretend he’s Nico instead.

  What I don’t count on is Nico noticing me. I especially don’t count on his unmanageable fury when I accidentally encourage my boyfriend and his fiancée. Or do I?

  Nico scorches with heated rage at the betrayal and now he expects me to replace Stephanie. It is futile to resist.

  But then Jordan returns.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Next Up:

  About the Author

  Other Works by Rena Marks

  Prologue

  Nico:

  My flight to the States was smooth enough, but then again, that is why I purchased my latest toy. Another jet. She’s a smooth baby, my latest love—if I was honest, she ranks higher than my current girlfriend, Christianna.

  In fact, it is time to close that door. I’ve had enough women to know the signs—the jealousy, the petulant pouting that is so unsexy. Soon tear-filled demands will begin. Best to end it now, though I can’t help but feel a small shred of regret. It’s quickly squashed though, as I’m well aware of the manipulations that will begin.

  My driver opens the door and I hurry inside the building, where Ms. Savannah Jackson awaits.

  “Nico!” Her eyes light with genuine pleasure.

  I kiss both cheeks of my American friend—who started as a casual business colleague a couple years earlier. The tiny lines around her eyes crinkle a bit more than they did last time I saw her. But Savannah is a woman content within herself. Even in the line of fashion modeling as she is, I do not think she will bow to the insane American demands of looking twelve when one is seventy-two.

  “The show has just begun. I have so much to share with you regarding marketing your product line,” she begins as we take the stairs backstage. The lighting is dim in this section of the building and as we turn the corner into a large, barren room, my heart stops.

  “Mon Dieu.”

  A child, her frame small enough to be around seven years of age, stands in the center of the room, watching fearlessly as we approach. She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever encountered, with pale blond hair I’ve only seen adult women mimic from a bottle. She has a tiny pink bow mouth, a button-nose, and large grey-green eyes, the depths of which contain an awareness the rest of us aren’t privy to. She wears a pastel green dress; an exquisite little doll.

  Her eyes meet mine and I’m struck by the depths of intelligence in her face. She can’t be as young as I thought.

  My breath freezes in my solar plexus. I know this child who is not a child, but an adult lost in the body of a girl. She feels as familiar to me as my own son, Jordan, who waits for me back at home. Jordan will be as entranced as I am with this tiny, living doll. He is barely twelve now, but I know he will protect her as I will.

  “Felicia.” Savannah’s voice is as kind as it normally is with me—unusual in the fact that she does not show kindness in her line of business. “Where is your mother, darling?”

  “I do not know, Mrs. Jackson.” The child clasps her hands in front of her and bows her head slightly, the lace of her lashes sweeping down to cover the intellect in her exotic eyes. She is even more of a wonder—she looks like a child and speaks as a full grown adult. I wonder if she has ever been a child. One who plays in the mud. I think not.

  Savannah’s lip tightens. “We’ll find her. Felicia, meet my dear friend, Nico.”

  When Felicia smiles at me, instant love whops me in the gut. I know instantly there is nothing I wouldn’t do for this girl.

  Savannah hears something while I’m entranced with Felicia because she frowns suddenly and snaps her head around. A woman turns the corner, smoothing her clothing as if she just had a romp in the back rooms. She stops when she sees us, and a gleam enters her hard eyes—eyes that are a shrewd mockery of Felicia’s. Her hair is dyed to match the child’s, but she’s not fooling anyone. Truth be known, a woman of her age would look softer by going a shade or two darker. Still, she’s beautiful in a predatory mode. The way that I am used to.

  Nothing stands in her way as she approaches me, ignoring Savannah, which is a mistake if her gamble to ensnare me doesn’t pay off. If I do not pay her any attention, Savannah will kick her to the curb for her insult.

  “Nico Barreau? I am Babbette Shannon.” Her voice is purposely husky and the hunger on her face is one that I’ve seen often enough, despite my younger years. It’s a hunger I’ve grown up with from the opposite sex, whose indecision to professed love wavers between me and my family money.

  “Hmm,” Savannah sniffs, her tone changed. “Babbette is Felicia’s mother…and manager.”

  It is then I realize—to get the child, I must go through the mother.

  A cunning enters me. One shark can sense another, and I will do anything to get that child. To keep her safe.

  I bow over Babbette’s smooth hand, kissing it softly. “Tu as de beaux yeux.”

  She titters, because my sincerity rings true. She does have beautiful eyes, though not as beautiful as her daughter’s. Never as beautiful as her daughter.

  Chapter One

  Felicity

  Thirteen years later…

  Nico deliberately steps into my path. The bastard is pissed. His fiancée left him because I accidentally let it slip that my boyfriend—his son, Jordan—found her sexy.

  Ex-boyfriend. Now, it seems, the two of them are together.

  But Nico doesn't care. His French ass is just after revenge. He hates me for being dumped on him. Why do I stay? I have no other choice.

  Nico's my guardian. My warden, though my cage is gilded. A brooding billionaire—my mother had married him for his money. As soon as she had a nice, fat bank account, she left him,—and me—for the Bahamas and another man. A colleague of Nico’s, as a matter of fact, which had to be humiliating as hell.

  “A word with you, ma petite. If you please.” His voice brooks no argument, and he takes my elbow as he maneuvers me into an open room, like an errant schoolchild.

  Thankfully I'm wearing long sleeves. They save me from having to endure his touch.

  “What is it that you need, Nico?” I ask. “I'm in a hurry. I'm meeting Jordan.” I hope that by throwing his son's name in, Nico will think twice but he never even blinks.

  “How lovely you look again today. So fresh and pink. This will only take a moment, ma cherie.”

  He always reduces me to feeling young and gauche.

  “Perhaps later? I don't have time right now.”

  “You don't understand, do you? I am your guardian, Felicia. Make a moment,
for I want you.”

  Surely I heard that incorrectly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I wish to get to know you...better.” He extends one finger, intending to trail it alongside my arm.

  This is a new horror, even for him. “I'm not interested,” I say, backing toward the door before he can touch my bare skin.

  “Halt,” he commands in a harsh tone.

  My feet instantly stop of their own accord, as if he owns my body. Adrenaline surges at the thought of incurring his wrath. Not that he's ever targeted his wrath toward me, but still, there's always a first time.

  “You dare to refuse me?” His voice drips icy sarcasm. I briefly wonder how angry he still is over Jordan and Stephanie, because the change is instantaneous. “You know of my appetites, Felicia. You caused me to lose the person matched for me in that department. Now, I will need a replacement.”

  My body is paralyzed. My breath is coming in short, harsh puffs, three inhales to one exhale. How can I pacify an angry whips-and-chains kind of guy?

  And I know this about Nico. He's had numerous girlfriends besides Stephanie and made no secret of his perverted desires.

  My muscles tremble with exertion while I fight against his command. I think about turning to run toward the door, but panic floods through my useless limbs. I know the consequences of my actions. After all, I'm employed by Nico, I live with Nico, the very food I eat belongs to Nico, the air I breathe belongs to Nico.

  He merely laughs at the catch in my breath. “Did you wear long sleeves so I would not caress your skin?”

  My lips move of their own accord and I'm unable to lie. “Yes.”

  “Remove your blouse,” he whispers. His tone is soft...and dangerous.

  “I don't want to, Nico,” I plead. But my breathing speeds up. Do I dare expose myself to my stepfather? Nico is pure dark lust, a tightly honed, muscle-bound body. I can't help but dampen my panties, much as I fight it. Much as I hate it.

  “You do not get a choice, Felicia. This will happen; you will replace Stephanie. However, for your first experience with me, I will let you make this choice: pleasure or pain.” His smile looks evil. “Both will be beneficial for you.”

  I want to tell him to go to hell, but my mouth refuses, opening and closing on desperate gasps. Traitorous hands move stiffly up to the buttons of my blouse. My fingers fumble as I fight against knowing right from wrong, but he is just too strong. Fear overrides my anger, leaving frozen ice crystals around my heart along with numbing terror.

  I force myself to remain calm, to think rationally. What am I doing? Surely I am not unbuttoning. Stop it, I chant to myself. Stop it, stop it, stop it.

  But my traitorous fingers continue the process. Each button slips from its tiny loophole until the material parts and slides from my shoulders. I stand, clad only in my pink silk bra, feeling vulnerable and ashamed of myself but unable to even hang my head. My nipples stand erect, betraying my lust. My breathing is deep, and my breasts rise and fall with each inhalation.

  “You're beautiful,” he says, his voice rich, smooth, and thick with longing. The way I’d always wanted to hear it directed at me.

  If I close my eyes, I can pretend the voice belongs to Jordan. My mind continues to rationalize the situation, even though I'm perfectly aware that Jordan's off with Stephanie. Still, I'd take him back in an instant if he'd come back. It wouldn't be the first time. I grew up with Jordan, he was my lifeline in a strange new world my mother had thrust me into—and then disappeared.

  “Come to me,” my stepfather commands.

  My insides tingle and liquid gathers, wetting the walls of my sheath. No longer surprised, I tear my eyes from Nico and look down at the shine of the marble floors. I take a step forward. Because now I know the source of my fear—the knowledge that I may like it.

  Sex.

  Naughty, lusty, ass-spanking sex. The kind I imagine Nico has with his never-ending stream of girlfriends.

  “That's it,” he cajoles, pleasure lighting his voice. “Closer to me, mon trésor. I long to taste you.”

  Panic floods me. Adrenaline surges again through my arms and legs. I try to turn and flee, but the rest of my body is still frozen in place, all except for my traitorous feet that are practically begging to move forward. And my traitorous pussy, which tingles in anticipation of Nico's charms.

  I try to force my legs to move backward, but inch by inch, step by step, they do their own thing. Not moving in the direction my mind screams but toward the masculine voice that controls me with his sex-infused accent.

  I have seriously underestimated his anger. I silently curse myself. He is Jordan's father. What did I expect but incredible charismatic strength? Jordan is a mere boy compared to Nico. And still, look at how whipped I am over Jordan. To the point I've lost all my self-worth, and am willing to take him back instead of conjuring anger over his betrayal as a normal girl would.

  I stand before Nico, silent and wide-eyed, trapped in my own frozen body.

  He reaches toward me and my mind twitches in a silent flinch. But it's just a lock of hair he seeks. He twirls the curl between his fingers. It’s a pale, flaxen blond and appears even lighter against the tanned deliciousness of his skin.

  “So soft. Silky. You will bring me much pleasure, sweetling,” he says, his beautiful voice mimicking but making a mockery of Jordan's. My love.

  I close my eyes, wanting to tremble but knowing my frozen body cannot. He ever so gently brushes a finger along the side of my cheek. A new urge comes over me; I want to turn into the warmth of his hand, to beg for more of his caresses, to be his favorite pet.

  And pets he has. I counted numerous women until he’d decided he'd marry Stephanie. Apparently, things weren’t completely smooth between them or she wouldn’t have decided Jordan would make an easier conquest.

  But these couldn't be my wants. I love Jordan, even though he's lied and cheated on me. Numerous times. Don't I?

  I grew up with Jordan. He's all I've known since my mom took off to the Bahamas with Nico’s billionaire friend who owns oil, and left both me and Nico's son behind. Jordan was two years older than I—but only nine years younger than Nico. He was his sister’s son—and Nico was his only living relative when his sister was killed in a car accident. My mother had whispered affectionately that Jordan was a spoiled brat—but I’d only seen a lithe, tanned god. A dimple in his chin, soft midnight hair, a sweet smile always reserved for me as he’d tucked me beneath his arm and pronounced me his.

  “You're so incredibly soft, so warm. It's been so long since I've had a new woman, one who needs introduction to the pleasures of my world. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest decision to work like a beast and ignore my fiancée, but I won't make the same mistake twice. How sweet will you taste, I wonder? I sense something else there, something not totally experienced. I can hardly wait to find out what it is.”

  Oh, little did he know. I always refused Jordan's cock, so I'm technically a virgin, though we did have plenty of fingers inserted and lots of hot tongues in the past. That's one of the reasons Jordan made off with Stephanie. She had no such reservations, especially since she was fucking his father.

  But something always made me hold off.

  Nico is so near that I feel his breath against my temple. My body straightens, and my breasts tighten. I'm torn between disgust and lust. And yet, my traitorous nipples harden.

  “Do you want me, Felicia? I smell your desire. I shall bed you one day also, not just dabble in foreplay. Not today, though. There's no time. But one day.”

  His exotic voice sends shivers down my spine, raising hundreds of goosebumps on my exposed flesh. He caresses my skin, running a finger down my arm.

  “Answer me, sweetling.”

  I have no choice, no will, no place to go. I'm forced to comply with whatever he wants me to say. But my traitorous body knows otherwise, and the thrill of sexual discovery is right there at the edge of heat between my thighs. My lips part on a moan as I fight against
answering what he wants, but it is inevitable. I whisper, “Yes.”

  He presses his lips to mine and I realize vaguely, this is it. There's no going back. This is Jordan's dad. I've never kissed him like this, not in this sexual way.

  Lust whips through my body at the feel of his lips, lighting my nipples, my clit on fire. His lips are smooth and firm, sensual as they raze mine, separating my lips long enough for his tongue to possess me.

  A moan escapes me, and he swallows it whole. He swallows me whole.

  Vaguely, I sense Jordan coming. It's the pattern of his gait, the I-wait-for-no-one walk of expensive leather shoes on polished marble floors. His footsteps sound louder as he approaches from further down the hallway. He can't possibly make it in time to catch his father kissing me. Not if Nico doesn’t want it.

  Nico pulls his lips just the slightest hair's breadth from mine to murmur, “Your knight arrives. Turn for me, Felicia. Face the door so that he may see you first when he enters.”

  My body obeys. Part of me feels relief at not having to face Nico any longer, not having to return his kisses, to admit to the lust that threatens to consume me. Another part feels dread over the sight that awaits Jordan because Nico is definitely in charge of my desire.

  A lust that Jordan can never quite ignite.

  The small relief turns to horror when Nico unsnaps my strapless bra, lets it fall, and cups my breasts, covering them as if I’m his property.

  At this point, I know there's no Jordan left. Nico is all I want. Lust pools deep in my pussy and I'd like his cock to stroke me to relief.

  “Jordan,” Nico says mildly, his hands covering my breasts as I stare straight ahead, unable to control my rising lust at the thought of someone—anyone—watching.

  Chapter Two

  “What the fuck?” Jordan's voice is raw.

  I don't care. Jordan has done this to me countless times. How dare he act as if he's hurt? As if he’s the victim, the injured party? I’ve gone through this over and over—and always with Nico’s dark gaze watching. Always, I lifted my chin as if the hurt didn’t exist. For Nico.