by Lulu Pratt
That scowl on her face is fucking sexy. When I take her bag to hang it up, her tempting scent curls around me.
“How was your day?”
Lilah only shrugs but the rigid set of her shoulders tells me everything I need to know.
Her usual spitfire attitude toward me is one thing, but something about her posture makes her look defeated and I want to fix it.
Don’t fucking ask me why.
She’s made it as far as the console table then turns to make eye contact with me.
“Are you ready to talk about your invest—”
With a simple placement of my finger against her lips, I cut her off. “Later. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Why? Are you going to fix it and make it all better?” she volleys back sarcastically.
Sarcasm is just one of her many defense mechanisms. It’s only been a week and she’s tried to push me away with every weapon in her self-defense arsenal.
“Maybe,” I say, giving in to the urge to cup her chin. I push just hard enough so that her head falls back slightly, further exposing her neck.
Her next intake of breath is audible.
“Talk to me,” I pry, the pad of my thumb stroking her plump bottom lip.
Lilah doesn’t shy away from my touch but she’s still tense as fuck. Heat is coming off her in waves and for once I know it has nothing to do with the damn air conditioner. She wants me.
“It was just a really shitty day,” she says barely above a whisper, leaning slightly into my touch.
“Tell me about it,” I prompt, but the spell is broken.
Aware of her vulnerability, an annoyed flash enters her eyes. Her anxious state has transformed them into a brandy color. With an irritated huff, she turns out of my embrace and begins walking away again.
“Look, I’m not going to be very good company tonight. So let’s just get this over with so we can both get on with our evenings.”
Before she can say another word, I’m on her. Turning her to face me, I swoop down and claim her lips with the pent-up energy that’s been building since I laid eyes on her.
Our kiss isn’t gentle or sweet. There is no room for bashfulness as we kiss passionately and lose track of time and place. I’m swept up in Lilah’s world and I don’t care about anything else.
She tastes like cherries, insanely sweet with just enough bite. I can’t get enough of her mouth.
As I grip her face, I hear her moans growing louder. Near the table, I push her up against the wall and trail my lips down her divine neck as I run my hands along her soft thighs.
Lilah’s head is thrown back and she’s panting against my lips. I know just the thing to relieve her tension. She needs to relax and I’m going to help get her there. Tonight is for her and her alone.
It’s got to be the most unselfish thought I’ve ever had but I don’t have time to examine myself.
“Andrew,” Lilah whispers brokenly, her chest heaving as if she just ran a marathon.
Damn, she is tighter than a drum.
“I’m right here, baby,” I tell her as my lips find hers again. With our lips locked, my hand skims up her thigh, only higher this time.
Pushing past the short hem, my fingers enjoy the silky feel of her skin before landing on the lacy crotch of her panties.
Lilah gasps when I find my mark, squirming underneath me. But it just intensifies the friction there.
“Fuck,” she breathes, her eyes closing as my hand cups her damp mound.
Even through her panties, her wet arousal soaks my fingers, proof that her body wants a release.
“I’m going to make you come,” I promise against her neck.
Her skirt is hiked up around her waist, her ass half exposed to me. Her hands are fisted in the material at my shoulders as she holds on for dear life.
As my hand moves back and forth over her pussy, Lilah starts squirming again. But with just a fraction of the effort she uses to keep me away, I’m able to spread her thighs and keep them open as I begin applying the slightest pressure to the hypersensitive area between her thighs.
“Shit,” she cries out hoarsely, her body losing some of its tension as I work diligently to bring her to release.
“You sound so fucking good. Let it out for me.”
She’s right where I want her. I don’t go beyond the barrier that her panties create. I don’t have to. With a flick of my fingers, she’s on the verge of coming and I haven’t even touched her skin to skin.
Intentional strokes back and forth speed up her breathing even more, her uninhibited reaction sending tingles up my arm.
Fuck. I want her. Bad. The bulge in my pants is raging jealously. But this isn’t about me.
I focus all my attention on bringing her to her completion. My possessive need won’t let me rest until I know that I own her pleasure.
Before I know it, her hips begin rocking into my touch rhythmically. She’s no longer trying to fight it and I smirk against her mouth before snaking my tongue around hers.
“Andrew, oh my God,” her voice cracks so she stops talking, but her message is conveyed just fine.
She’s on the brink of coming and doesn’t want me to stop. Luckily for her, I don’t plan to. In fact, I’m just getting started.
Lilah loses the ability to articulate as we both pick up the pace. Her hips are bucking wildly while my hand massages the tension away from her core. I can feel her juices leaking through the skimpy panties and onto my palm. She feels fucking amazing.
I don’t know why, but this feels right. Never in my life have I been so intent on bringing another woman pleasure without the desire for reciprocity. But something about Lilah has shaken everything I thought I believed.
Her hands tighten against my shoulder, her nails digging into me harshly as she cries out my name repeatedly. She lets out another tortured moan before falling apart all over my hand.
Seconds pass, then minutes, as the aftershocks of her orgasm ripple through her languid body. She’s turned to jelly in my arms and if I wasn’t holding her up against the wall, I’m sure she’d collapse into a puddle at my feet.
Who the hell knew it could be so satisfying to please someone else? I’ve never been more turned on.
Thirteen
LILAH
The air in his foyer is too thick to draw an adequate breath. I can’t stop panting even though it feels like I came eons ago. Dazedly, I drag my hand up to my tender and swollen lips.
I’ve never been kissed so passionately or brought to orgasm so easily. I feel exposed and raw, despite the fact that Andrew didn’t remove a single piece of my clothing.
Holy hell.
He’s still holding me in place against the wall as if he’s afraid to let me go. And for good reason. I’m having a hard time feeling my legs.
After a few moments of staring pointedly over his shoulder, I meet those ominous eyes dead on and nearly crumble. He looks ready to pounce at any moment.
Little by little, my senses return to me and shake me out of my pleasure-induced haze.
Overwhelming satisfaction courses through me, quickly followed by searing shame. I can’t believe I just let him do that to me.
Dropping my hand from my lips, I shake my head and hear him swear under his breath like he’d been waiting for this reaction, yet regretting it all the same.
“I have to go,” rushes out of my mouth jerkily.
Mercifully, Andrew steps back just enough to let me stand on my own. He watches me wordlessly, those blue eyes clocking my every move.
With trembling hands, I fix my skirt. “I’m sorry, Andrew, that shouldn’t have happened.”
Still, he doesn’t utter a word as I trip all over my tongue, stammering like an idiot. I feel my anger rising at his relaxed demeanor.
What have I done?
Without warning, Andrew pulls the same hand that cupped me so erotically to his nose. Taking a deep inhale, hunger becomes evident in his unwavering gaze.
“You smell so fucking good, C
upcake.” He breathes in my scent once again. “Good enough to eat.”
He did not just say that!
My knees nearly give out again, but I catch the edge of the console table just in time to save me any embarrassment. Not that it matters at this point. I’m mortified beyond measure at my reckless behavior.
“I have to go,” I repeat quietly, inching past him to get to the door.
I’m grateful but also a little bummed when he doesn’t try to stall my escape. He just stares at me coolly while I snatch down my bag and jostle the doorknob agitatedly. The damn thing won’t open.
Andrew appears over my shoulder without a sound and places his arm over mine to undo the antique latch holding the door in place. When he turns the knob, the door opens without protest.
Of course.
Feeling more flustered than ever, I mutter something about rescheduling our meeting before dashing out of the door. I run as fast as my feet can manage, only stopping when I reach the driver’s side door.
Pausing, I take in a lungful of the fresh night air before disengaging my locks. In the driver’s seat, I throw a furtive glance back to the entrance of Andrew’s house and see that his eyes still haven’t deserted me.
***
“Well, aren’t you just glowing?” my best friend, Charli, observes cheekily when she opens the door.
After stopping by the corner store for a cheap bottle of wine, I steered my car in the direction of her apartment. Nothing like some wine and girl talk to put your careless actions in perspective.
“I brought wine,” I announce drably, trudging inside her beautifully air-conditioned home.
I adore Charli’s place. It’s small and chic, tastefully decorated and the air conditioning works seven days a week. It’s heaven and the type of place I dream of having one day when my current financial storm blows over.
“I’ll go get us some glasses,” she says, disappearing into her kitchen.
I walk over to her plush sofa and plop down, letting the soft cushion cradle my ass. The cushions on my couch would usually just sink right along with me.
Charli reappears with a dramatic flourish, setting the glasses down on the coffee table in front of us. Seated beside me, she offers me a corkscrew to open the wine but I wave her off.
“You’re cute,” I tell her, grabbing the bottle and turning the twist top.
My friend erupts into her roaring, trademark laugh. “I should have known,” she says, giggling.
“Charli, I fucked up,” I groan, taking a long sip.
Charli studies me with that all-knowing gaze and I feel just as exposed now as I did earlier in Andrew’s foyer.
“I don’t see how,” she states, pulling a pillow into her lap. She toys with the fringes absentmindedly. “You looked pretty satisfied when you showed up just now.”
My cheeks warm at her sage assessment. “That’s not the point! He’s a client. I should have never gone there. I may have ruined everything.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He just fondled me when I was supposed to be there for a business meeting.”
Charli purses her lips and looks at me knowingly. “Come on, Lilah. Did you really think you were going to get any work done?”
She’s right but I’ll be damned if I admit it. Andrew’s intentions were evident the second he summoned me to his place. I should have put my feet down. Instead, I’d thrown my leg around his waist while he gave me one of the most satisfying orgasms I’ve ever had.
All without removing the barrier of my panties.
“I’m just worried,” I tell her, gnawing on my bottom lip. “He’s my only client and if things get any more complicated between us, he may leave me hanging and Edward will be all too happy to let me go. He’s obsessed with Andrew and if he leaves then I’ll get the boot.”
Charli’s forehead wrinkles. “Your only client? Don’t you find that a little odd?”
Shrugging, I tell her my theory. “I’m only there to prove myself so I can land this investment. I guess he figures one client is enough for that at the moment.”
Charli doesn’t comment on that but throws a new question out in the air.
“Did you ever figure out how they might be related?” she wants to know.
“No,” I frown, taking another sip of wine. “Every time I try to Google them, I go down a black hole of information. There’s a ton of information about them individually but nothing that puts them together. Not even a highbrow event they’ve attended at the same time.”
“Do they look alike?” She asks.
“Not really. The only thing they have in common is their last name, their height and they were probably born within five years of the other, like a thousand other men in this town. Other than that they’re complete opposites. At least from what I’ve observed. It’s like they’ve both gone out of their way to avoid each other. Although I could just be grasping at straws and it could all just be a coincidence.”
“Hmm,” she hums lowly before hugging the pillow to her chest. “Maybe they’re distant cousins or something.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I follow up, grabbing her remote to find something for us to watch.
I’ve already tired of this conversation and I want to forget my irresponsible behavior earlier. What better way to do that than with some trashy reality TV?
Charli gives me a pointed stare before sharing a word of warning.
“Well, with so much money involved, things are bound to get messy at some point. Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”
“Of course,” I say, nodding emphatically. Nothing is going to keep me from achieving my dreams. Too much time has already been wasted on rejections and lack of resources. It’s all or nothing from here on out.
I tell her as much.
Still watching me carefully, she only nods and turns to look at the TV.
“Just be careful.”
Fourteen
ANDREW
My hands are busy shaping the facial features of a new sculpture when the music streaming into my ears is replaced with the notes of my obnoxious ringtone.
I’m not answering that shit. Everyone who knows me knows that I don’t like being bothered. Especially when I’m trying to create. I don’t have time for the outside world right now.
Hidden away in my basement, I have no desire to interact with humans at the moment. Unless that human is Lilah Tucker.
I haven’t heard from her since she hightailed it out of here two nights ago.
I continue molding the sculpture in front of me and the music eventually stops playing again.
Agitated, I glance at the phone face up on the work table beside me. Foolishly, I hope to see Lilah’s name but the California area code catches my eye instead.
The contact isn’t saved but I know exactly who it is right away.
What the hell does he want?
Dropping the sculpting knife, I listen to it clank against the metal surface of the table as I contemplate whether or not to answer.
Fuck it.
“Hello?” I answer, smearing clay all over the screen as I drag my finger across it.
“Andrew,” comes my brother’s clipped greeting.
My free hand forms into a fist involuntarily just from the sound of his monotonous drawl.
“What do you want?” I ask, breaking the lengthy silence. I know he didn’t call me just to breathe on my line.
It doesn’t take him long to find his footing though.
“Just called to check in and see if anything’s changed since we last spoke.”
Always so damn formal. My lips quirk at the seriousness in his tone. Everything is a damn business transaction with this kid.
He wants me to join him in the family and I won’t budge.
“Still not interested in selling my soul to the devil, Teddy.”
I know he hates his childhood nickname.
I grin triumphantly when he huffs heavily over the line. Mission fucking accomplished.
“You’re such a fucking waste, Andrew. You never cared about the family legacy and you don’t respect where you came from. Dad was right when he left me to make all the major decisions. You don’t deserve a penny of your inheritance,” he spits out.
But it doesn’t faze me. In truth, our father hadn’t left it all to him. But it went to him by default when I refused to have any parts of continuing the Knight legacy. It’d never been important to me.
“You flatter me, big brother,” I taunt back, and I can almost see the steam coming from his ears through the phone.
His silence lets me know that he’s pissed and that’s what he fucking gets.
“I’ll let you enjoy your soulless work of accumulating money while I enjoy my life. Some of us have more important things to do like creating art and fucking beautiful women. You do know what a woman is, don’t you?” I ask offhandedly as I pick up my sculpting knife to continue.
“Shithead, one day you’re going to regret every snide remark you’ve made.”
Doubt it.
My brother is a fucking thorn in my side. Every time he calls, it’s for the sole purpose of “putting me in my place” and I’m fucking tired of it. I’ll never regret telling him exactly what’s on my mind.
You’d think he was a decade older than me with the way he carries himself. In actuality, I’m only fourteen months younger than his twenty-nine years.
I haven’t heard from him in over a year. For all I know he’s living it up in California after transferring our father’s company to the west coast to get in on the tech boom.
He really doesn’t occupy too many of my thoughts. We’re as different as night and day. And when it comes down to sibling bonds, ours is nonexistent. Not that I can blame him much.
Our father Andrew Knight III played a pretty big role in that. We were constantly pitted against each other and by the time we were grown and on our own, neither of us bothered to take the time to mend what would have been our relationship.
I can honestly count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen my brother in person since our mother’s funeral four years ago. My father had passed two years prior due to kidney failure and my brother disappeared like a ghost until a member of staff hunted him down to tell him of our mother’s pending funeral arrangements.
