Novels by Edgy Rose

~ Thea's POVFor once in my life, I had decided to be the cute, soft little girl my father always wanted me to be.That might have been the biggest mistake I ever made.Fix your clothes.The words played on a loop in my head. I didn't exactly expect a kiss and a "makeup" session after he’d nearly shattered the boardroom table with my hips, but I expected... something. An explanation? A moment of shared humanity? Instead, he’d abandoned reason, spread me out like a feast, and fucked me into oblivion only to discard me like a used napkin.And I hated how much I was right about his dick. It was as ruthless as the man himself.I ran a hand through my hair, checking my reflection in the elevator glass. I was done being the nice girl. The nice girl was buried six feet under with Richard Mercer. This new version of me? She liked the way Stellan’s eyes darkened when I defied him.When he demanded I meet him after work in his car after work, I waltzed there like I owned the damn car. He was

~ Stellan's POVYes, daddy.The words echoed in my skull like I was having a goddamn fever that didn't want to let go.I sat at the head of the boardroom table, twelve of my most senior executives droning on about Q3 projections and market volatility. I didn't hear a goddamn word.All I could hear was that whisper.All I could feel was the ghost of Thea's mouth on me, the wet, skilled drag of her tongue that had brought me to my knees in my own office less than twelve hours ago.All I could see was her. Thea. Perched at the far end, legs crossed in a pencil skirt that hugged her thighs, blouse buttoned high like some innocent intern. Notebook open, pen scratching notes, her hair twisted up in a neat knot that begged to be yanked free. She looked professional and composed.My dick was half-hard just watching her breathe, straining against my trousers under the table. I shifted, gripping my pen like a lifeline, trying to focus on the numbers flashing on the screen.I was a man of disci

~ Thea's POVThree weeks.For three agonizing weeks, I'd been a ghost in Stellan Vaughn's penthouse, it felt more like a cage so high above New York, and I was his prisoner. I was a fucking adult.And for three weeks, Stellan himself had been a ghost, as if he were running away from something.After that first, terrifying night in his garage where he had given a condition that I had to be married to leave his care, he had vanished. He left before I woke up. He came home after I was asleep.The only proof of his existence was the customized black card giving me access to whatever I wanted to buy. If I were the naughty kind, I should have splurged his card to get me to see him, but instead of that, I thought of a better idea.I got an internship at his office.I thought he would particularly ignore my request, but to my surprise, he accepted it when I saw his email on a monday morning. And I hate the fact my pussy ached when I read his formal words.But I was here for a different reason

~ Stellan's POVI was fucking hard.The rain hammered the roof of my Bentley, a relentless fucking drum that did nothing to drown out the pulse in my cock. I sat in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles ached.I wanted to unzip my pants and pump my cock till I spluttered over the wheel.But I couldn't! My erection strained against my pants like a goddamn traitor. This wasn't me. I had spent my years convinced I was wired differently–men, maybe, or nothing at all. I had never felt the urge to have sex, never even gotten hard before.Sex was a transaction, a release, to me. Not this...this clawing, feral need that had me rock hard for her. Thea. My best friend's daughter. The girl I'd call "kid" when she was in pigtails, reading bedtime stories with her dad, and I would watch them at the door.What the fuck was wrong with me?I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my dick to calm the hell down. Think of something else. Anything. The casket sinking into the mud. Richard's

~ Thea's POV"Cheated on. Check. Attending your father's funeral. Check."What a load of luck, Thea. I scoffed at myself. The rain was a cold, relentless drone, drumming a muffled rhythm on the sea of black umbrellas. It was the only sound, save for the priest's hollow words, and the sickening, wet sound of dirt hitting my father's casket.Fuck. I was going crazy.My eyes were puffy, my lips chapped and pale. For all I know, I looked like a walking dead person. I had been crying all day to the point there were no tears left to shed.Only a heavy feeling in my heart that won't go away.I needed a drink.I was numb. A 23-year-old orphan, hollowed out and set adrift. My father was my only will to continue living, but where was he now?In that box. I had spent the last four years apart from my other eight years, studying abroad in London, blissfully unaware of how sick he'd gotten. He didn't want to worry me? Bullshit, how was concern any different from staring at your cold corpse?A tear