A perky blonde in a cheerleading uniform pops over and lands in front of Cruise. “Oh my God, it’s you!” She bounces in her ruby slippers like they’re on springs. “You probably don’t remember me.” She zigzags her finger over his chest, and I waste no time in smacking her away. “Thanksgiving Day.” She wrinkles her nose. “I guess technically it was night.” A stream of high-pitched laughter bubbles from her. I’m well aware Cruise once bedded his way through Garrison, so it doesn’t surprise me that we’ve run into one of his former mattress-mates. He was pretty prolific before we got together. But for this bimbo to bring it up in front of me really rubs me the wrong way. “Anyway, so which one of you is responsible for the book?” She looks from him to me. “By the way, I think it’s genius. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life—and the sex!”
“Oh!” Crap! “It was nice seeing you, Pen!” I yank Cruise along until we’re all the way to the opposite end of the room, and lucky for me I spot a long hallway that, hopefully, will lead to indoor plumbing.
“Do you know what she was talking about?”
“The little lush back there?” I wave her off. “She was so toasted I can still smell the vodka on me just from standing next to her.” I shove a fistful of hair up my nose and whimper.
“I thought she said something about a book.” He shakes his head.
“No, she said look. She asked which one of is responsible for this look.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “She was mocking us for our noncostumes. And rudely, so soon after reminding you about your Thanksgiving feast.” I shudder as the words leave my lips.
Cruise tightens his arms around my waist and gives a little smile. I can tell he enjoys the hell out of my jealous side.
“I promise, I have no memory of it.” He dots my lips with a kiss. “You’ve wiped every other experience I might have had right off the map. There’s only you, Kenny Jordan. For the rest of my life, my body worships at one altar and it’s right here.” He runs his hands down my back until he rounds them over my bottom.
My insides burn with heat to have him.
“Well, it’s your lucky night.” I nibble on his earlobe, and he gives a soft shudder. “Because I’m not wearing any underwear.”
“Shit.” He pulls me deeper down the hall, past the long line of bodies waiting to use the facilities, and stops abruptly.
I jump to his side, only to find Morgan with his hand buried in Cruise’s chest as if he’s blocking his path.
“Where you kids off to?” He gives a disapproving smirk, and I can see his dimples digging in, even in the dark.
“None of your business,” I say, removing his hand from my future broom’s chest. “Notice how we weren’t asking where you went.”
“That’s because it’s pretty obvious I was in the bathroom.” He glares at Cruise. “And it’s pretty obvious where you’re going, too.” He butts into Cruise’s shoulder violently before stalking back to the party.
“Ignore him. He’s clearly wasted.” I try to pull Cruise farther down the hall, but he’s immovable as stone. “Come on.” I nod toward a row of closed doors. “I want you to come—with me.” I tweak my brows, proud of my play on words.
“Mmm . . .” Cruise’s entire body vibrates with that moan, but he doesn’t budge.
I lean in close to his lips. “I’m not wearing underwear.” I hiss the reminder like a threat of vaginal proportions.
Cruise touches his hand to his forehead for a moment. “And we’re out of here.” He pivots in the other direction and speeds us to the exit.
“What the hell?” I say, just as a live band starts up in the common room, nearly blowing my eardrums and the roof off simultaneously. Gah! I recognize that horrid screeching as the same violent guitar strumming that rips through the neighborhood every single night at the B and B.
“It’s them.” Cruise looks like he’s ready to break more than a pair of drumsticks. His gaze shifts away from the band momentarily. “I’ll be right back.”
“Forget them. The last thing I want is you in jail on Halloween.”
He shakes his head, never taking his eyes off the band. “Look, I’ll meet you out front in five minutes. I promise, no one gets hurt tonight.”
“Fine.” We part ways and I walk out onto the porch, bumping into a pair of familiar-looking witches—Lauren and Ally.
“Here’s the rest of my coven.” I snatch off my hat and run my fingers through my hair. Ally’s face is covered in a light-blue glow, and she too has opted for a little black dress. Lauren is in full theatrical regalia—wart and all.
I spot Cal and Morgan on the lawn, knocking back a couple of beers.
“The next installment runs tomorrow.” Lauren gives a devious smile. “I have a feeling ‘The Naughty Professor Does Chocolate’ will get delicious reviews.”
Ally twitches in her heels. “Lauren let me sneak a peek. You guys really are wild.”
“Were.” I make a face as I glance over my shoulder and spot Cruise with someone dressed as Cruella de Vil. Whoever the skank is, she’s conveniently draped herself over his shoulder.
Who’s that girl he’s talking to? Probably another past conquest taking him down memory lane. I bet she’s propositioning him into making a few new memories right this minute. God, what if she’s talking about the book? And here I haven’t told him anything yet, and deep down I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. She wraps her arms around him tight before he pulls away and wisely maneuvers around her. Ha! Nice try, hussy, but I win. “Anyway”—I turn back to the girls—“I tried to seduce him and incite some frat house shenanigans, but he’s insistent we drive home.”
“He won’t do you at the Greek, huh?” Ally teases. “I suggest you invoke a serious punishment for turning you down. I think a paddling is in order.”
“I doubt that’s necessary. Life seems to be doing enough of its own punishing lately.”
Ally cuts a look to Lauren. “What do you think?” She kicks Lauren in the shoe. “It looks like she can use a pick-me-up.”
Lauren shakes her head a little and grits out a smile in my direction.
“What is it?” This isn’t the first time Lauren’s acted strange. “You’ve been keeping something from me, haven’t you?” Oh God, Lauren isn’t the type to keep secrets. This must be huge.
She glares at Ally like she’s ready to slit her throat, before turning to me. “The Naughty Professor is doing well.”
I glance around for Cruise. Suddenly it sounds as though we’re exchanging international secrets.
“How well?”
Lauren presses her dark-crimson lips together. “I may have neglected to mention that I’ve been selling outside of Sorority Net.”
“Oh? Like Fraternity Net?” I groan. “Am I going to have every pervert on the planet after me? Wait . . .” I shake the thought away. “Guys never read that stuff the same way. Girls read it with heart and emotion, and guys see it as filth and perversion. Oh God! I’ve been writing porn!” I bring my hands over my head and stomp in a circle.
“No, you haven’t.” Lauren administers a much-needed smackdown. “You’re writing a love story—your love story. Remember? It just so happens to include a few . . . okay, many open-door scenes.”
“That’s right. We were all made with open-door scenes.” I breathe my way through the trauma.
Ally steps in and cradles my cheeks in her hands. “Kendall, you and Cruise are epic. Word on the street is girls want to be you. Well, Penny Whoredon.” She gives an impish grin.
“So that’s the big news?” I look to Lauren. “You unleashed me on the male population as well?”
“No, that’s not even true, is it?” Ally jabs the green witch next to her.
“All right.” Lauren shakes her wand at Ally. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to add any pressure to the situation”—it comes out like a scolding—“but . . .” She turns her gaze to me and grins, causing the layers of green make-up around her eyes to crack in a thousand tendrils. �
��No, there is no Fraternity Net. God knows if there is, there’s no book board—picture-book board, maybe.” She shakes the thought loose. “I’ve put you on traditional sites. Your sexy stories are chart toppers, and another hit or two could . . .” She presses those blood-red lips together again, and I’m tempted to whack her over the head with her wand.
“Could what?” I shake her by the shoulders.
“Could land you a spot in USA Today.”
“The newspaper?” I’m confused. “Why is the media involved? This isn’t a federal issue, is it?”
“No, it’s a book issue. I’m talking bestseller list.”
I suck in a lungful of cool night air and accidentally inhale something the size of a moth, but I really don’t care because . . . Oh. My. God. USA Today!
“No.” I shake her by the shoulders.
“Yes.” She grabs hold of me and throttles me right back. “Here he comes.” Lauren straightens and pretends to smooth my dress. “Use the paddle with the spikes.”
“I have a paddle with spikes?”
“What’s spiked?” Cruise rubs his cheek against mine, and I almost have a Cruisegasm as his stubble rakes across my skin. Nothing feels better than that sexy slow burn.
“The punch Pen’s serving.” I give a little wink to Lauren and Ally.
Cruise buries a kiss next to my ear and whispers, “There’s something I’d like to spike.” His hand drift up my thigh and his fingers quickly brush over my bare bottom. Cruise wraps an arm around my waist and says a quick good night to Lauren and Ally.
I turn back to say good-bye and note Cruella has emerged with a douche bag attached to her side, whom I recognize as Rutger. I do a double take at the skank covered in the dalmatian-print coat, and the devil herself bleeds a black smile right in my direction—Blair Lancaster.
Just what the hell was she doing touching my Cruise?
Cruise
The bed-and-breakfast is hopping. Cars line the periphery as if they’re serving free food and booze inside, and they probably are. I know the Plague has momentarily left the building, because they’re at the frat house we just left.
I’ve given up trying to talk sense into Lisa, aka the-one-who-got-under-my-skin, and have also given up on procuring legal counsel in an effort to boot them the hell out. I’m going to have to do it myself, but not before I enlist the help of Cal, the pal who got me into this mess to begin with. But that good time’s not happening tonight. Tonight is about Kenny and me. She almost had me falling to my knees right there at Sigma Phi, but Morgan the moron catapulted out of the woodwork and employed his cock-blocking skills. Who am I kidding? He’s right. I need to grow up and stop treating Kenny like a sorority house discard. She’s going to be my wife—she’s already my life. I need to start treating her with a little respect.
I come around to Kenny’s side and settle my arm around her waist as we walk up to the porch.
She leans into me and purrs. “You ready to have the time of your life, Professor Elton?”
Kenny licks her pretty pink lips, and my hard-on and I both say, “Yes.”
I hardly have time to unlock the door before her hands are plucking off my shirt.
“What should we do tonight?” She stares off with a blank look in her eyes, and for a second I wonder if she’s even talking to me.
I wave my hand over her face and pull her in. “What do mean, what should we do?” I swipe a kiss over her neck. “We should do each other.”
“Oh, right.” She brushes it off, casual as swatting a fly. “I was thinking action—role-playing. Gah! I almost forgot.” She runs to the bedroom with her hands in the air, and instinctually I scan the vicinity for vermin.
“What?” I follow her over, only to find her digging through the menagerie of shopping bags that have amassed at the foot of our bed.
“This.” She holds up something long and wooden with studs poking from the back. “And this.” She then holds up a smaller, svelte version lined with fur.
“Are we playing racquetball?” Not that they look like paddles, they sort of . . . Oh fuck, they do.
“Not unless you’re volunteering the balls.” She glances down at my crotch and I’m suddenly fearing for the boys.
“Whoa.” I hold up my hands for a moment. It’s almost as if, now that I’ve confined our satisfaction to the bedroom, Kenny is about to sexually combust from the pressure. It’s as if all of my irresponsible screwing has hardwired her to crave the twisted, the perverted. I’ve inadvertently created a kinky Kenny. “What’s with the weaponry?” Truthfully, I’m afraid to ask.
She lets out a dark laugh and her hair falls over one eye, giving her that vexingly sexy look that reduces me to a drooling dildo. If Kenny Jordan wants to paddle my balls across the room a couple of times, then by God I’m going to let her.
“Where do you think we should play this game?” She slinks over with her hips swiveling, her full lips parted and waiting.
“Right here, baby.” I unbuckle my belt and slip it off. I’m just about to toss it to the side when she grips my wrist.
“You might want to hang on to that. I have a feeling we’ll be needing it.” She glances around with a disapproving look. “This won’t do. I don’t think Molly will be back tonight, so we could try the living room.” She struts right out the door and I follow.
Crap. “You never know. And with my luck she’ll be hauling the rest of her professors with her, and I damn well better like it.”
Kenny shakes her head and points a finger out the door. “I’ll grab a blanket in the event we want to lie down.” She snatches the afghan my grandmother made right off the couch. “Do we still have those chains?” She tilts into me without the slightest hint that she’s teasing because, dear God, she’s not.
“Are we going camping or to bed?”
“Oh please.” She glances at the ceiling as she speeds past me to the fridge. “You sound like you’re eighty. This is us, Cruise.” She holds up a can of whipped cream. “That should do.” She hitches her finger in my belt loop and pulls me toward the door. “Now let’s find a really romantic spot.”
“Kenny.” I pull her back, hardly able to control my laughter. “It’s freezing out. Even the trick-or-treaters have abandoned the effort.” I cup her face with my hands and gently pull her in. “I promise you, we can have just as much fun, warm, between the sheets.”
Her eyes enlarge into the shape of full moons, and I’m pretty sure I just said the very words that have the ability to push her over the edge. Kenny seems to be allergic to the sheets as of late.
She opens the door, letting in a cool tail of wind that whips right through the tiny cabin, evidence that I’m right.
“Out.” She holds up the thorny paddle, and I’m quick to comply.
“I’m not wearing a shirt,” I tease as she gently pats my ass with the studded device.
“You’ll be wearing less than that in just a few minutes.”
“Did you just do a costume change? Because I’m liking this dominatrix side of you.”
“You’re the alpha male and don’t you forget it.” We head out into the dark night. The bed-and-breakfast glows like a pumpkin, and appropriately so on this All Hallows’ Eve. Groups of girls take turns breaking into cackles. They’re probably laughing at what an idiot Cruise Elton turned out to be. I’d laugh, too, if I didn’t want to cry like a pussy first. Kenny pulls me along until we’re tucked behind the B and B, with a tall row of pines buffering us from it. A stream meanders near us, bisecting the property all the way past the old mill, where it takes a turn before hitting the highway.
“You rescued me, you know that?” I stop short of the edge of the property. Kenny bites her lip while offering that shy, sweet smile, and a fire rakes through my bones. I want her right now—to hell with her sexually oppressive brother.
“How in the world did I rescue you?”
I run my hands up her legs and warm them between her thighs. “You helped me find my way back to who I was. W
hen you came into town a year ago I was lost, meandering in a sea of faceless girls.” I press a kiss against her lips and swallow hard. “You released me from that bondage. Not one of them had anything I needed. It was you I was looking for all along. When you walked in that room, it was like a light went on and I knew I was supposed to be with you.”
“That was beautiful.” Kenny’s lips quiver as she blinks back tears. “Thank you for that. You know”—she glances down for a moment—“you’re the first person who really showed me what love is. I mean, of course Morgan loves me, and my mother. But with Mom it was always work and men first. And with Morgan, well, he was too busy looking out for me to understand that I didn’t need his protection as much as I just needed him. But it’s all better now.” She wipes the tears away quickly. “I’m standing with the right person—the love of my life.” Kenny wraps her arms around me and buries her face in my chest.
“So”—she pulls in and takes a deep breath—“did I hear you say bondage?” That wicked gleam returns to her eye. Kenny plucks the belt from my hand and leans against the tree. “Go ahead—tie me up.” She thrusts it back into my hand, and I reluctantly wrap the belt around both the trunk and Kenny.
“Tell me why we’re doing this, again?” I whisper in the event I lit a fuse, and I think I may have.
“Cruise.” She takes a breath and a plume of foggy air escapes her mouth. “This isn’t about us. It’s bigger than us. Just get with the program already and spank me.”
I tuck my head back a notch. “If it isn’t about us, who is it about?” I’m almost amused, but equally frightened at what we’ve become.
“It’s about us, the ‘bedroom’ us. Professor Elton . . . you know . . . Now tell me how naughty I’ve been.” Her shoulders wiggle, giddy with the idea.
“You have been naughty.” I gently bite her lower lip, then pull it out as far as it can go. “So very, very naughty.” I run my hand up her heated thigh and land in that sweet spot between her legs. My eyes close for a moment in appreciation of the fact she’s gone commando for the occasion. I blink back to life, pull my hand free, and unbuckle her from the tree.
Someone for Me Page 19
