Free Shackled by Morgan Ashbury Page B

her head.
    “What?”
    “He left me a chunk of money, which was pretty ironic since he always maintained that I had lured his son away from him to get my hands on Craig cash in the first place.”
    “It’s always been my opinion that getting you pregnant and marrying you was an act of manipulation on Tim’s part. He wanted to pull his dad’s strings, but miscalculated.”
    “Well, I’ve set that money aside. The kids don’t even know about it. When they turn thirty, they’ll get it. Hopefully by then they’ll be established enough that kind of wealth won’t spoil them.”
    Jonathan took up his coffee cup and kept his tone casual. “It was that much money?”
    “Yes. Millions.”
    Jonathan whistled. His suspicion of Constance Wellington just grew tenfold.
    It was time to leave behind what clearly was a stressful topic for Beth, as she’d set her fork aside and was literally twisting her fingers together. While she’d been talking to him, Beth had eaten all of her breakfast. He raised one eyebrow and looked pointedly at her empty plate, and laughed when she blushed.
    “Now that we’ve taken care of your body’s need for fuel, let’s see what other needs we can address.”
    He set his cup down and held out his hand, and didn’t have to wait more than a moment for her to take it.
    Her eyes sparkled with interest, and her voice came out husky, the way he already knew it did when she was aroused. “That sounds positively scintillating.”
    Jonathan flashed what he knew to be his killer grin. “Let’s see if you still say that in a half hour.”

Chapter 8

    “Hey, Connie, do you wanna grab me a beer out of the fridge, babe?”
    Constance Wellington cringed, the nickname grating on her sensibilities. If it weren’t for the fact that Trey was young, buff, and an excellent fuck, she’d kick his ass out of her life and out of her house and clear out of the county.
    Since he was young, buff, and an excellent fuck, she bit back her scathing retort. The man wasn’t completely stupid, which meant he could be trainable. She just had to find the right tool with which to train him. She let the vision of one of her father’s golf clubs form in her mind.
    Tempting. Very tempting .
    Constance got up from the lounge chair under the shade of the umbrella and walked the short distance to the outside patio fridge. The appliance stood closer to where Trey lay, stretched out on the chaise, sunning himself next to the pool, than it did to where she’d been sitting, reading.
    She took him his beer, letting the cold condensation from the can drip onto his bare torso.
    “Hey!” He opened his eyes but didn’t go to the trouble of sitting up.
    She handed him the can, and he opened it, took a sip then set it down on the table beside him.
    “Trey, you know I loathe the name ‘Connie.’ It’s so… common .”
    Trey gave her a smile that used to make her cunt weep instantly but lately hadn’t quite managed the feat. She hated to admit it, but she was getting tired of the man.
    “I know you like to make out that you’re some high-society babe, Connie . But you’re not. Underneath your polish, you’re just another not-so-prime piece of ass, just like any other cougar.”
    Constance felt her eyes widen at the insult. Her hand flew out instinctively, ready to slap that smug expression right off his face. Trey caught her arm in mid-swing deftly and yanked, pulling her off balance.
    He’d appeared lazy and relaxed, but the man could move. Constance tried to struggle, but in no time at all, he had her on the chaise, flat on her belly while he loomed over top of her.
    He held her easily with one hand and used the other to jerk her shorts and panties off her.
    “Get off me! You son-of-a-bitch, leave me alone. I’m not in the mood, asshole!”
    “You’re always in the mood, cunt. You love cock, we both know that.”
    He used one knee to pry her legs open. Then his hand was there, on her slit, stroking back and forth, his