by L. J. Woods
With a spank to her ass, she squeals before the elevator door shuts.
When we get to the spacious white marble and shale room, I toss her on the made-up California King. But like a spring, she’s up again, headed for the door.
I block her path. “Chill the fuck out, Rose. Make yourself comfortable, you’ll be here all night.” Reaching in my pocket, I pull out the soft rope from Damien’s “gift.” “Or do you want me to use reinforcements?”
“You know, if it’s between my stalker and my blackmailing kidnapper,” she says, her eyes following the rope in my hand. “I choose my stalker. Get out of my way, Perez.”
“You’d choose a stalker over a guy you’ve known since you were a kid?”
“I don’t know you.” Her eyes narrow, glossy and dilated. “Not anymore. The guy I used to know, wouldn’t blackmail his old friend.”
“Ex-wife,” I correct her, remembering the last time we were out at this lake together. We were ten and I know it doesn’t count but the way she stalls as I give her a grin makes it all worth it.
She straightens up, a slur still on her tongue. “And, like most ex-husbands, you’re the motherfucking enemy.”
Slipping my hands in my pocket, I eye her up, still loving this new outfit only Lexi could get her in. “You usually let an enemy make you come?”
“Shows how your brain functions.” Her jaw works. “It doesn’t. ‘Cause you didn’t make me come, dipshit, my knife did.”
“Wanna try again?" I smirk. "Bet I can make you come with my hand this time. Or my mouth if you prefer.”
“Not likely.”
“Is that a challenge?” I cock a brow.
“A fact,” she retorts.
I chuckle, “You’re on fire tonight, Loca.” Tilting my chin to the cake on the kitchen counter I look for a distraction. It’s decorated with the edible equivalents of all my favourite things. Hockey pucks, bottles of scotch, music notes, and caramel drizzling down the side. “Come on, it’s still my birthday. Let's celebrate. In the kitchen.” Now that I know she’s safe with me, and far away from King and his antics, I can relax.
“There’s a kitchen?” she asks but she doesn’t look impressed. It’s that same look of disgust she’s had since she came back.
I waggle my brows. “And a hot tub on the balcony.”
“Is that where you all jerk each other off?”
It’s hard not to laugh at her response. “Nah, Johnson prefers the rooftop pool,” I shrug, locking the door behind me. “You know he’s pretty over-the-top. So, cake? Final offer.”
She holds her angry gaze on me. “No, thank you, I prefer my desserts with freedom.”
“How about this? It’s my birthday but I’ll give you a gift. Have a slice of cake with me and I’ll grant you one request. Anything.”
Her tightened lips turn into a smirk. “Fine.” Don’t know if I should regret that with the way her eyes narrow. When she starts heading towards the kitchen, I lean off the door, following that ass as she drops her coat to the floor. “You know, King says I can’t blame you guys for what your folks did but I sure as hell can. You guys have a ton of money stashed away in your little trust funds, I know because I did too.”
Pulling out some cutlery from the small hotel drawer, I lay it out. “Is that what you want, Loca? Your one request? Money?”
“I’ve learned to survive without it.” She hoists herself on the counter while I place some plates beside her. “So, thanks, but I don’t need a sugar daddy.”
With my elbows on the counter, I swing a fork out to her. “Then how about some sugar, Sugar?”
She snatches the fork out of my hand. “How do I know you’re not trying to poison me so I pass out and you can do whatever you please?”
I laugh at her wild imagination. “You don’t trust me, do you?” Taking the first bite of cake, I catch when her eyes drop to my lips. Taking my time, I pull it out slow, licking the frosting off the end. “See? Not poison. And if I wanted to do whatever I wanted to your body, believe me, I wouldn’t have to rape you to do it.”
“You guys already raped me out of a mother.”
“Jesus,” I drop the plate on the counter. “You’re really blaming your mother’s death on us?”
“Yes, because you guys did nothing. My dad reached out to your dad for help with the medical bills, and the hospital visits, but he didn’t care. You didn’t care.”
Fuck. That makes me lose my appetite. “That’s bullshit, Ray, you know I’ve always cared about you. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you go that easy.”
Her eyes lock on mine and for a second she’s that little girl again. In awe and wonder. “You guys know everything in Eden. Don't tell me you didn’t know we had to move to Shady Shores because we couldn’t keep up with the bills. We had no help. Nothing.” There’s a crack in her voice, her blown eyes blurring. “And now we have nothing, including no mother.”
“Ray … shit.” Standing in front of her, I’m lost in her gaze, feeling bad for the girl that had a family fall apart. Feeling heartbroken for the girl who lost everything. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I did, you know I would’ve done something.” Her eyes search mine, her mouth opening and closing like she wants to say something but she can’t quite figure it out. “Ray?” So that’s why she stole from us. To help her mom.
And this whole time, we've all been carrying a stupid grudge.
That’s when something wet and mushy hits my face. “Fuck you, Perez.” The smell of vanilla hits my nose, a glob of cake sliding down my cheek. Icing covers her fist, a grin growing on her face. “You look like who you are. A clown.” A laugh escapes her before I push my fist deep into the cake and send a some flying at her head.
“Fuck you, Rose.” It cuts off her laughter. But now it’s hard not to stop mine and I wish she didn’t look so cute with her nose and eyes peeking out of a mountain of frosting.
She reaches for another fistful and when she throws it, I dodge it, the cake hitting the cabinets behind me. Like a cannon, she loads up another, but I catch her hand, taking it from her and smooshing more on her face. “Who’s the clown now?” I smile, sweet frosting on my tongue.
She hops off the counter but I load up, launching cake at her as I chase her around the room. A splat of cake hits her ass and she screams before more cake comes launching my way. Ducking, I see her about to toss another, but I catch her wrist.
Backing her against the fridge, she locks eyes with mine, her breath heavy from whatever the fuck this is. It’s like we’ve let out some anger and tension on my birthday cake. And with the look in her eyes, her tongue coming between her lips, I see the next thing I’m about to let my emotions out on.
Her.
She inches forward and I close the gap, our lips mashing together in fiery need. We’re covered in cake, our kisses sweeter than heaven and when she sucks on my tongue, it’s like she wants to taste every last bit.
My chest against hers, her nipples perky through her dress, I lick away the cake from her cheek to her ear. Then I have an urge to tell her the truth. “You can trust me, Ray.”
“No,” she says but with her hands roaming my abs and chest, it’s hard to believe that. “No.” She repeats it as if it’ll hold more ground but when I look into her eyes, her lips melt into mine and fuck it. It doesn't matter. Not right now. “I don’t trust guys like you, Perez. You're rich and entitled and I’m not your toy.”
Spreading her legs with my knee, she doesn’t stop me when I push my hand between her legs. She's soaking and it's clear this girl lives in denial.
“You’re the liar, Rose,” I say against her cheek. “You trust me. With your body at least, because your pretty little pussy is way too wet for you to say otherwise.” She gasps when I stroke her slick pearl and it only riles me up more.
Spinning her around, I bend her over the counter, lifting her dress to see that perky round ass covered in cake.
Since it’s my birthday, I dive in.
A long
moan leaves her lips when I push my tongue inside her, an intoxicating mix of tangy and sweet. We grew up with world famous bakers but this beats any birthday dessert I’ve ever had. Moving my tongue up pushes the cake up her crack until it's by her small hole. Her ass. And it looks way too good not to give it a taste. Pushing my tongue inside gets her to moan for me some more and the sound is as addicting as she is.
She moves her hips against my face, her nub sliding over my tongue until I clamp my lips around it. She screams and when she yells my name, “Perez!” It makes this cake all the more worth it. I can feel her body tense before I rise, biting her cake-covered ass. “Y-you’re stopping?” Ray looks over her shoulder with hooded eyes and red cheeks.
I chuckle at that look of lusty hunger in her eyes. “I’m not done with you yet, Loca.”
Sixteen
Rayne
Christian isn’t the only guy I’ve kissed.
But he damn sure makes me feel that way. Like all the kisses before don’t matter.
All the rage I let out on that cake and his face has turned into lusty confusion.
“I hate you,” I whisper against his face, his lips on my neck as we slam into another wall. The large painting crashes to the marble before he wraps my legs around him and I’m lifted off the floor.
“No, you don’t.” And I’m worried that’s true. Letting his large hands cup my ass while my tongue slides over his doesn’t help to prove my point but his lips are like sweet, heavenly dessert and I’m starved.
I’m so entangled in our hedonistic rage that I don’t realize that we’re in the shower until my back hits the wall and warm water streams over my body. My dress lifts over my head and when I open my eyes from his spell, he stands in front of me with the showerhead in his hand.
He smirks before he shoves it between my legs, the pressure of the warm water soothing my swollen pearl. It’s hard not to buck against the patter, Christian watching me with his teeth sinking into his lip. His cock is hard in his pants and I have a show of my own, the outline pressing against his shorts.
“Thought we’d finish cleaning you up." He falls to his knees.
The mix of his tongue between my folds and the pressure of the water on my clit makes my body feel alive. My heart pumps like I'm filled with adrenaline, moving my hips against his face. Like I’m a doll, he tosses a leg over his shoulder. My thighs clench on his face, my head falling on the stone.
"Right there."
Just as I’m about to come, the room brightening around us, he lets my leg down. Spinning me around, he presses my tits against the shower wall. But the cold stone does nothing to cool me down.
Christian likes to be in control and I’m not surprised. He’s been fighting to hold onto his power since I stepped foot into Eden and now, he’s unleashing it on me. And I crave it.
He holds the showerhead right at the entrance of my ass while he flicks his tongue on my clit until I’m gripping to the stone wall for dear fucking life. I can’t hold it in any longer. Christian grunts into my folds as I hit that sweet fucking peak, the bathroom erupting into stars.
Cake washes down the drain as the world twists around me.
When he stands up, his cock is large in his hand, his release dripping off his fingers while my juices drip off his face. I'm stamping this away in my spank-bank because Christian looks like a sex masterpiece. And with how he handled my pussy, he damn well might be.
He smirks, reaching out to grab me when I realize my legs are shaky as fuck.
“Trust me now, Ray?” he asks, his voice husky, his cock hard against me and if he sticks around any longer, there’s no fucking telling what I'll do.
“Get out.” That’s all I can muster when the world comes crashing back.
He pulls his head back, his eyes narrowing but that sparkle-fading gaze tells me he’s hurt. “Didn’t take you for the hit and quit it kinda girl.”
“Just …” The raise of my voice gets his brows to furrow before I lower it. “Get out. Please.”
I haven’t even been able to process everything we talked about and I won’t be able to do that with him standing there looking like … that.
Christian mumbles, shaking his head as he exits the very spacious shower.
When he leaves, my back hits the glass, my body still shaky from the spell he worked on me. I promised myself I wouldn’t get caught up with another guy who’s wrong for me and Christian Perez is the definition of “wrong for me.”
We killed someone.
King's words make their way back into my head. A bombshell like that should be enough to stop me but here I am, riding his face to fucking glory. My hand smacks against the glass. Fucking stupid.
“You know what?” Christian comes back into the bathroom with a boom. “Bull-fucking-shit, Rose.” He points a finger at me through the glass, droplets rolling down his chiselled abs. “I wanted you the minute I saw you back in Eden and I know that you want me to. This deal aside, you know that kiss at the party was more than helping your brother. Like I know that kiss on the rink was more than keeping up appearances. And now? We just crossed a line I can’t come back from.”
Fuck. My heart pounds as I watch him pace the bathroom floor, dick swinging like a pendulum. How does he look even sexier than he did seconds ago? But he’s right, that was … intense. And I still have no words.
He carries on anyway, “I get it. You’re mad. And you have every fucking right to be, but stop acting like you haven’t been fighting this shit between us, Ray.” Stepping out of the shower, I must still be high because he’s right. Something in me doesn’t want to fight this anymore. His words slow as I leave a trail of wet footprints behind me on the shiny floor. “Let’s settle this.”
I want to. Believe me, I do, but I’m afraid of what will happen. Afraid of what this all means. So for now, I don’t wanna think. That didn’t work out, so I'll take my escape.
Him.
“Ray,” he groans when I’m in front of him again. His knitting brows tell me he’s as confused as I am and I know my hot and cold performance isn’t helping. But fuck it. I’m blaming tonight on the alcohol.
When my lips press to his, he lifts me off the ground and wraps my legs around him. Then everything in my head goes quiet again.
“You are power. Not prey.”
A loud thud follows the sound of my mom’s voice, my eyes popping open.
It’s dark, a thudding in my head telling me I did exactly that. Gave up my power.
To Christian Perez in this case. He tore me down from every inch last night and we didn’t need to fuck for me to get off on his fingers and his face numerous times. I actually lost count.
Rising in the biggest bed I’ve slept in in a while, the spot next to me is empty, crisp white sheets ruffled. My brows come together but that only makes my head hurt more. It’s been a while since I’ve touched coke and I already regret it.
With how cold the sheets are next to me, his scent still in the air, I realize ... I’ve been used again.
“Fuck. Me." A groan leaves my breath, the stale taste of alcohol still on my tongue. As I pat the nightstand for my phone, my thighs are as sore as my head, reminding me of my intoxicated decisions.
I once thought Christian was my Prince Charming. My white knight. But since I’ve been back, he’s done nothing but bully me and … get into my pants. After Ace, I should know better. But I sure as hell know how to pick ‘em.
My hand pats a remote sitting next to me instead of my phone, one I haven't seen in a while. Flicking a button, the room starts to brighten, the curtains sliding open. But the sunlight makes it all hurt even more.
Water. I need water.
It takes all the effort to push my hungover ass out of bed and when I get to the suite kitchen, the night flashes back in my mind. Christian’s tongue on mine. Inside me. In my ass. And I loved every fucking minute of it like a horny lovestruck idiot.
That makes me groan again as I use the counter for support on my way to the fri
dge. I shouldn’t be thinking about last night with rose-coloured glasses because he’s not even here. And that confirms it.
Last night meant nothing.
My eyes land on a note stuck to the stainless steel in scratchy handwriting. Pulling it from the magnet, I look around the space. It’s different than I remember last night. Less cake. Were housekeepers already here?
I’m so not used to this shit anymore.
Loca,
Thank you for an amazing birthday.
I have practice - breakfast is in the fridge.
See you at the game.
Perez
There’s a flutter in my stomach and I don’t realize how wide I’m grinning until my cheeks hurt. He hadn’t hit it and quit it at all.
Opening the fridge, a slice of Spanish tortilla sits on a plate and it looks fucking delicious. It’s an egg and potato pie I haven’t had in ages. Dad refuses to make it because it reminds him too much of Mom but I didn’t know I’ve been craving it until now. Explains the smell of melted cheese in the air though my mom would protest that addition. I must’ve passed out hard to not hear any of this.
Then it dawns on me. “Christian cooks,” I laugh to myself, another surprise slapping me right in the face. Ace didn’t cook, unless you call frozen pizza "cooking." And August? He’ll poison everyone.
After last night and this morning, it’s starting to feel more like my birthday than his. Propping my ass on the counter, I’m already replaying last night’s romp in my head as I bite into it. Delicious. The taste of bold, salty cheese sits on my tongue. Perfect, fluffy eggs. I’m not usually one for food with a hangover but this is way too good to pass up.
My mind wanders to what having this would be like all the time before I stop myself.
Easy, Ray.
While I’ve learned that Christian might not be the villain, he’s still a rich prick. Still a “King” or whatever they call themselves.
My brother’s words ring in my head. Traitor. That’s exactly what I am.
