The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play Book 3)

by B. B. Reid

  To think it had almost made it inside where it should have been.

  Rushing across the room, he slipped it over his neck without checking to make sure it was clean.

  Guess he’s given up caring. Climbing from his bed, I made my way to him and took over tying it when he fumbled one too many times.

  “Is today important or something?”

  “No.” He blew air from his nose before mumbling, “My uncle texted and said if I’m not on time, he’s sending you home.”

  My hands paused from knotting his tie. “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said as he took over, wrestling the knot I’d made up to his neck.

  “Maybe he’s right. I probably should go home.” And never ever be seen again. I stepped away from Jamie while avoiding his gaze. “There’s some stuff that I need, and I have to talk to my mom.” I couldn’t put off facing my parents forever, and Jamie, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t shield me from that unpleasantness. I had to learn to stand on my own again. I had to be the girl that Jamie and I had both fallen in love with.

  “You’re not going back there.”

  “I wasn’t asking your permission.” I had my back turned to him as I scanned the messy room for my clothes.

  “If your legs still work enough to carry you through that door, then maybe I didn’t fuck you hard enough.” Jamie’s chest was suddenly pressed against my back as he toyed with the hem of my tee. “Is that it, Barbette?” Slowly, he lifted the T-shirt, letting the soft cotton brush against my thighs until my bare ass was exposed to the cold air blowing through the vents. “Do you need more?”

  His hand pressed into my back and bent me over his bed before I could respond. I was lying flat on my stomach, my ass and pussy completely at his mercy. “Stop trying to distract me with your dick, Jameson. It’s not going to work.” I could hear the sound of his belt being undone and then his zipper lowering.

  “Let’s be honest…”

  I looked over my shoulder in time to see him tear open a condom wrapper and sheath himself.

  “It usually works,” he boasted.

  I moaned as he slowly sank himself deeply. I still wasn’t used to his monster cock, but my pussy couldn’t seem to get enough as it welcomed him with a tight grip and a sloppy wet kiss. “You’re going to be late,” I tried to reason as best as I could. It felt like the air had been stolen from my lungs.

  “Then we’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he answered as he fucked me with short, hard thrusts. “I really don’t give a fuck.”

  “This can’t be healthy,” I whined. “We need to talk about our issues.”

  “So talk,” he encouraged.

  Unfortunately, he chose that moment to hit a spot deep inside of me, and the only thing I could say was “Harder.”

  Fuck it.

  There was nothing either of us could say that would change the way we felt. We’d loved each other through the good and the bad—even when we didn’t want to.

  Jamie suddenly leaned over, one hand planted on the bed above my head while the other lovingly moved my hair from my face. “I’m listening,” he insisted as he stroked me.

  It was much too late, however. I was no longer capable of cognizant thinking. The only thing that mattered was getting more of his cock as deep inside of me as possible and maybe keeping him there. Sensing my thoughts, Jamie ruthlessly pounded me into the mattress until I came, all the while insisting that I had his full attention.

  “Oh, my God! I love you!” I blurted just as my orgasm rippled through me. Even as the pleasure nearly blinded me, I realized what I’d done. I pounded the mattress with my fist and wasn’t sure if the scream that ripped from my throat was from pleasure or frustration. Maybe both. I’d meant it when I’d said I loved him, but I wasn’t supposed to say it yet. Not until I was certain I could stay.

  God, I can’t do this to him again.

  Jamie pressed gentle kisses to my shoulder soothingly as I rode the wave, and when I finally settled, he pulled out of me. Out of breath, I could do nothing but listen to the water run after he disappeared inside the bathroom. When he returned, he gently turned me over, then cleaned me up with a warm washcloth. I stared at his cock, now tucked inside his pants but still very much hard.

  “You didn’t come.”

  “Perceptive.” His tone was clipped, making me wince.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  Jamie had told me he loved me two days ago. Surely, he’d be happy to hear it back finally? The truth was, I’d loved Jamie from the very first, and I never stopped. It no longer mattered that I hadn’t been ready to tell him. He deserved to know.

  Jamie leaned over me, and I closed my eyes as he pressed a kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you later.”

  Was that sadness I heard in his voice? I went to grab him, but he was already gone. My eyes flew open in time to see the door shutting behind him. My mind raced to replay everything that occurred after I’d uttered those fateful words, and then I gasped.

  Did he know I hadn’t wanted to tell him?

  Feeling my aching heart reaching out for Jamie, I grabbed his pillow, pushed my face into it, and screamed.

  When it came to Jamie’s heart, it seemed I was fated to always do the wrong fucking thing.

  “Are you sure about this?” Four asked as I dismounted from her bike. The ride over had been both exciting and harrowing. I was already eager to do it again.

  “No.” I looked at the house where my childhood and the most precious parts of me were stolen. “But I have to.”

  Especially now more than ever.

  Once I get the evidence I needed, I could make Jamie see why I hesitated to tell him. Maybe he thought I hadn’t meant it or that I did mean it but didn’t want to be with him. Whatever was going through his mind right now, I was determined to nip it in the bud as soon as possible.

  I wasn’t going anywhere, and Jamie was mine.

  Four peered at the house behind me, probably hoping to reassure herself that no one was home. “Maybe I should come inside with you.”

  I immediately shook my head. If I put Four in danger, Ever would never forgive me. He’d be pissed enough if he knew that I was here. I was sure he’d side with Jamie about me not coming back. I knew it was a huge risk, but for Jamie, I’d do whatever it took to keep him.

  “You should go,” I said as I handed her the open-face helmet she called number six. I liked that it was red, shiny, and had Hellfire written on the side in white. She wore number thirteen. Another open-face that Ever had gifted to her this past Christmas. He’d designed the skull on the back with high, purple pigtails and in black grunge underneath the words Ever’s Wild Thang, giving it a Harley Quinn vibe. “If my father comes home early and he sees you, he’ll know I’m here. I can just ride my bike back.”

  “But—”

  I quickly shut her up by pressing my lips against hers and laughed when her eyes widened before blinking rapidly. When I pulled away from our awkward kiss, she watched me in that same curious way Jamie had when we were in Atlantic City.

  “I don’t know why I was ever worried about you and Ever… you seem more attracted to me than him.”

  Winking, I turned and walked away. It was true I had a bit of a girl crush on Four, but who wouldn’t? She was strong, badass, and reminded me so much of the girl I used to be. After eighteen years, I’d finally found a female I could call my friend.

  I also realized that perhaps I was being a tad overzealous about that and should chill the fuck out.

  Girl or not, Ever wouldn’t hesitate to kick my ass if he thought I was poaching on his territory, and I didn’t need his emotionally fragile cousin getting the wrong idea either. Jamie was who I wanted. He was more than just the person I’d fallen for. He was my soulmate.

  I was surprised to find that my key still worked. The moment I stepped through the door, I heard the roar of Four’s motorcycle as she raced away and let out the breath I’d been holding.

 
The last thing I wanted to do was put my newfound friends in danger. I didn’t know how far my father would be willing to go to keep me here if I was caught.

  So I guess I better not get caught.

  Deciding not to leave anything up to chance, I checked all the rooms before retracing my steps back to my father’s office. Every Monday, my mother had her grooming appointment, and for as long as I could remember, she never missed it.

  I pushed into my father’s office, knowing it wouldn’t be locked. It wasn’t that Elliot Montgomery had nothing to hide. He simply had no fear of his wife and daughter ever stepping out of bounds.

  Well, today’s the day, asshole.

  I took in the dark oak of his large desk, the matching wood-paneled walls, the plush furniture, and the remaining antiques he hadn’t sold off yet. This was the place where he’d spent so much of his time discussing selling me like I was his prized cow. All so he could keep his pretty things.

  Sauntering over to the statue that was probably worth a hefty penny, I lovingly ran my fingers over the marble before sending it crashing to the wooden floor.

  Whoops.

  I lifted the Japanese vase my father could never resist showing off to his guests. I could remember him mentioning that he’d won it at an auction for over seventy-five big ones. So beautiful. Such a shame that it didn’t go with the décor.

  Clumsily, I let it slip from fingers.

  There were a few first edition classics, each worth over ten grand, but I couldn’t bring myself to destroy those, so I grabbed the crystal decanter of red wine and one of the glasses on the shelf underneath. Sadly, when I went to pour, I missed the cup entirely, spilling red wine all over the rug that set my father back forty grand.

  By the time I was done, my father’s office had looked like a tornado was let loose inside. There wasn’t a single thing of value left to sell.

  Satisfied, I sank into the desk chair and typed in his computer password. I bet he had no clue that I knew. Or maybe he did and figured I’d never put it to use—such arrogance.

  The first thing I pulled up was his email. My stomach turned when I saw the many recent emails he’d sent bragging about me to his friends, golf buddies, and even some of his business associates—most of whom had sons and… some who didn’t. Gross.

  In all of them, he’d attached various photos of me while boasting of my docility and subservience. I was relieved to see that some of the men hadn’t taken the bait and steered the conversation away to safer waters while others…

  I took a deep breath, fighting the rising bile.

  The men without sons had asked if I was pure. The ones with sons expressed interest in the hopes of forcing them to settle down. Countless had wanted to know if I was fertile.

  And my father had answered them all with gusto.

  Tears ran down my face when I came across the email from Mr. Portland:

  I have it on good authority that your daughter is no longer spoken for. I’m hoping it’s not too late to make an offer. This family has suffered enough shame thanks to my daughter. I will not allow my faggot son to embarrass me further.

  I quickly closed out the email, unable to stand anymore.

  Oh, Jason.

  I waited for shock over the news that he was gay to come, but now that I had confirmation, I realized I’d always known. I used to think he’d been a sore loser whenever he’d storm away after losing a wrestling match with Ever or Vaughn, but one person hiding a crush definitely recognized another.

  And just as he was going through a confusing time in life, his sister—his twin—had killed herself, and he believed one of his best friends to be responsible.

  Two wrongs never made a right, but I understood now more than ever why he was being a giant asshole and hoped that it wasn’t too late for forgiveness. We might not ever be able to trust each other again, but maybe we could all come to more than just a reluctant truce.

  None of us are innocent.

  A ping drew my attention back to the computer screen. In the right-hand corner was a notification for an incoming email to my father’s business account. Without a second thought, I opened it and saw that the head of Human Resources at MontGlobal had sent it. Apparently, an analyst was suing the company for wrongful termination after reporting “questionable accounting practices” to both my father and the CFO.

  I searched the analyst’s name in my father’s inbox and saw ten different message threads dating back six months. The analyst had been trying to understand the reasons behind all the unapproved bonuses, loans, and extravagant company spending. For example, why had MontGlobal footed the bill for my father’s summer home in the Hamptons? The same one my father had recently sold.

  There was also mention of angry investors requesting a detailed account of how exactly their money for all my father’s “groundbreaking” ventures was spent. My father had blown off every one of the analyst’s concerns and had even mentioned providing him a hefty bonus to reward him for his thorough attention to detail.

  I couldn’t claim to be well-versed in corporate lingo, but that sounded an awful lot like a bribe.

  One that the fired analyst obviously hadn’t taken.

  Charles Dennis, MontGlobal’s Chief Financial Officer, had been cc’d in every email, so I searched his name in the inbox. Surely, he noticed.

  I frowned as I opened email after email.

  Not one of their conversations mentioned the analyst’s concerns.

  I stared at the screen for a few seconds before my disbelief turned to suspicion. Switching back to my father’s personal email account, I searched for Charles Dennis but found nothing in the inbox. Maybe he’d deleted them?

  Checking the archived folder, my eyes bulged with disbelief.

  Jackpot!

  The two men had been arguing back and forth for weeks. I couldn’t read each thread fast enough.

  For years, my father had been stealing money from his own company, namely investors, and he and Charles were in on it together. It seemed as if my father selling off everything had been his attempt to put the cookies back in the jar before anyone noticed. Charles, dear that he was, had been trying to get my father to understand why the idea was ludicrous. Especially when there was a trail of crumbs my father had left leading right to them. Apparently, my father got greedy and gone rogue, and now both men were fucked.

  Doing a happy dance in my father’s chair, I printed off the emails, including the ones my father had been sending to his friends in an attempt to sell my wares. I had no idea whose hands I needed to put this evidence in, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to start with the SEC.

  Just in case, I forwarded every one of the private emails exchanged between my father and Charles to every member of MontGlobal’s board, along with the investors who’d been swindled. I’m sure they’d know exactly what to do. After logging off, I rifled through his desk drawers, hoping to find more evidence. In the very last drawer, I found something better.

  A loaded Smith & Wesson.

  Grabbing the emails, the gun, and a couple of the first editions—I was a fool but not a damn fool—I headed upstairs.

  There was no tinge of regret as I stepped inside my bedroom and looked around. The luxurious room with it’s white, pink, and gold décor had been designed for someone of value, but for years, my parents had made me feel anything but precious to them.

  If I had one wish, it would be never to see this room again.

  Grabbing the designer tote I’d used for school, I dumped my findings inside and shoved aside my nightstand. Lifting the plank, I smiled when I saw my journal, the gold bangle with its cheeky inscription Jamie didn’t think I’d notice, and the harmonica resting safely inside. There was nothing else here that I gave a damn about.

  My finger had just wrapped around the items when a familiar voice sent an eerie chill down my spine.

  “I knew you’d come home.”

  Scrambling to my feet, I found my father standing behind me.

  Blocki
ng the door.

  His expensive cuff links gleamed in the light as he reached behind him to close my bedroom door. “I hope this means you’re ready to do what must be done.”

  Fear stabbed my skin, wanting to creep inside my veins, but without a second thought, I shoved it aside. It took a long time for me to find my voice, but when I did, I was proud to hear how strong it had gotten.

  “That will never happen.”

  “Oh, yes, it will. Do you really think I’ll let you leave?” Whatever his intentions, he was certainly doing a great job of upping the creep factor. To the world, my father was a stunningly handsome man, but to me, he’d always been the ugliest monster.

  “Let me pass.”

  “Or what?” he challenged as he pressed in closer. “You’re all alone. That tattooed punk isn’t here to save you. What are you going to do? It’s just you and me, Barbette.”

  My breaths came harder and faster with each step he took. My father was stronger than me and probably faster. What could I do if he grabbed me? I wouldn’t be able to fight him off or outrun him.

  “I’ve got a buyer lined up. He wasn’t my first choice or even my third, but he’s willing to pay. You’re even friends with his son, so I suppose you should be thanking me.” He actually smiled as if he’d done something kind.

  “You suppose wrong. I’m not marrying Jason.”

  He paused, his eyes flashing with surprise. “Who said anything about Jason?”

  It was my turn to be confused, though I didn’t let it show. If not Jason, then who? Just as quickly, I decided it didn’t matter. Perhaps my father was just surprised that I knew more than I should. “Well, then whoever,” I snapped. “I don’t care because I’m done taking orders.”

  “Ah, but think of your mother and the consequences if you don’t do what I say.”

  “You can’t hurt my mother if you’re behind bars. Can’t spend all that money, either.”

  It occurred to me that this was the longest conversation I’d had with my father in years. Probably since the day he told me that he’d be marrying me off.