Hot Shot (The King Brothers Book 3)

by Teagan Kade

  Phoenix reaches over and takes Weston’s shoulder from the backseat. “We’ll be just fine. And thanks.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  We get out, Weston leaving in what seems like a bit of a rush.

  “You good?” Phoenix asks me, squeezing my hand.

  I look at the area under the bridge where barrel fires are already being lit. “I’m just pissed we’re here with nothing to hand out.”

  Phoenix leads me to my car. I open the door and lean against the top frame of it. “Why don’t you come back to my place?”

  He looks hopeful. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Look, I’m sorry for lashing out at you the other day. I didn’t mean it, I was just… You know.”

  I don’t want to derail what’s been a fairly productive day by diving into the whole basketball thing. “Apology accepted, and I want to thank you,” I prod him in the chest, again always surprised how freaking hard it is, for bringing light to the situation here. I know you’re probably going to cop some heat for it.”

  “Heat?” he laughs, reaching to stroke my cheek. “I bring the fire, baby. Not the other way around.”

  I have to laugh back. “You’ve been watching too many motivational videos, but I do appreciate it, honestly.”

  “I know,” he smiles, the back of his thumb brushing the corner of my lip and undoing me in new and profound ways—not that this is the time nor place for sexual escapades as much as I’d like a roll in the hay or, ah, dirt.

  “Where would I be without you?” he asks, eyes glinting from a car passing on the hill overhead.

  “For one, probably not out here on the wrong side of town freezing your ass off after spending half a day in jail.”

  “For you, I’d spend an eternity behind bars.”

  I laugh aloud. “With only Mrs. Palmer and her five daughters to take care of you? I don’t think anyone’s worth that.”

  “You are,” he says, tone even and steady. He holds my gaze.

  “There’s only been one other person in my life who told me I was worth anything, and he’s definitely not as dreamy as you are.”

  “Gordy? I don’t know. Get him off the pastries and onto a treadmill and I might have a bit of competition.”

  I slap at him. “Stop it. You guys are going to have to get along if you want to share me.”

  The smirk follows. “Who said anything about sharing?”

  He kisses me then and the warmth creeps upwards from my toes, pooling between my legs and fanning out until I’m pretty sure I’m going to start melting this car door down.

  I pull away. “Come on. Follow me home and maybe we can discuss it further… naked.”

  “I like the sound of that. Will there be food?”

  “Mmm,” I tease, slowly lowering myself into the driver’s seat and closing the door, “Depends if you’re looking to eat or dine.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  PHOENIX

  I’ve never been this buzzed waking up in the morning. Caught between the curtain and the window, a square of light has fallen on Heather’s sleeping face and I don’t know if there could be anything more beautiful.

  Her eyes flutter open slowly. “You’re still here,” she mumbles, smiling.

  I place my head down on the pillow beside her. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

  “Mmm,” she purrs. “You better start paying board then.”

  “I’m fresh out of cash, sorry.”

  I’ve come to recognize the grin of mischief that follows our flirty back-and-forth. It pulls her mouth slightly to the left, her lower lip rolling out. That’s all it takes to get me hard.

  She rolls onto her back and lifts her knees, the whisper-quick sound of her panties passing over her legs. She takes her hand from under the cover, dropping the panties between us and spreading her legs under she sheets. “Better get to work then.”

  “With pleasure.”

  I lift the sheet and get onto my stomach, hooking a leg over my head and parting her with my fingers, the sheet creating a giant soft-box that’s turned her sex a tinted, coral pink.

  “Wet already,” I note, her body bent like an archer’s bow in response. But it’s when I place my mouth on her, my tongue pressing deep into her core, she loses it completely.

  She grips onto the sheets, pulling them tight in her fingers. Her moaning turns animal, buttocks pulling taut together as I ease a finger inside her pussy.

  I reach down and start to stroke my cock while I lick at her clit. The mutual pleasure tangles and weaves together, makes me falter when I realize I don’t know what to do next.

  “Uhhhh, God,” she moans, twisting on the bed like she’s possessed, not even my lips enough to exercise the demon within.

  She goes tight and slack, her sex mirroring her body, drawing in and releasing my finger, letting it glide easily within her heat and wetness.

  “I want you inside me.” Her voice is suddenly so quiet I almost miss the instruction.

  I let go of my cock and take hold of her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and throwing the sheet over my head until it falls over her back like the sash of a pageant queen.

  I take a pillow from the floor and stuff it under her stomach, add another until the two hemispheres of her ass are round and ready before me, the fuzzy peach of her pussy on full display.

  It’s not worth wasting a second more. I have to be inside her.

  I kneel between her legs and take hold of my cock, place it against the wet patch seeping from her sex and add pressure until I sink in, all ten inches disappearing.

  She groans aloud, fingers clawing up more sheet, head lolling forward until it doesn’t look like she has one at all, only the angel wings of her shoulder blades remaining.

  I stroke into her slowly, want to take my time and eke out as much pleasure as I can. I run my hand up her back and down, let my fingers grip and pull at the fleshy mound of an ass cheek, drawing my hand back and swiping upwards with a sharp thwack.

  She grunts and grinds back against me, clearly taken by the sudden change of tack. I give her other ass cheek, the same treatment, a wonderful blush spreading across her skin to match the pastel lips I’m sinking my cock into.

  I’ve had my fair share of sex, but there’s something intangible here I can’t put my finger on, an emotional connection that makes even the simplest of sexual acts extreme.

  “Yes,” she moans. “Just like that.”

  I lower my hips a little and rock up against the roof of her sex, know I’ve hit the right spot when her legs spread wider and she reaches between her legs to play with her clit.

  Her fingers brushing the shaft of my cock, her ass laid out before me… I don’t want to come this fast.

  I spank her again, harder now and lean over her back, pulling her hair together into a ponytail and fisting it there between us while I fuck her properly.

  The moaning’s replaced by a simple uh-uh-uh of pleasure each time I drive inside her, the wet chorus of the act loud in the room, echoing off the floorboards and walls.

  I pull her hair harder, force her head back and eyes to the roof. I don’t hold back any longer, my hips swinging like a battering ram and driving my full length into the hot cornucopia of her sex, sluice and thrust until her syllables string together and I can’t imagine it’s more than a few seconds before she comes.

  My own orgasm builds in my balls, that familiar grab and release starting between my legs that signals the point of no return.

  I let my free hand grip an ass cheek, use it for leverage to hammer into her hot pussy.

  The syllables have become a low and building moan, a mere vibration that builds and builds, thrums through her entire body.

  I let my hand fall between her buttocks, a stiff finger poised at her asshole.

  Her own hand works faster against her clit in response and I know what I must do.

  Her asshole opens fractionally, and I take my cue, sliding that stiffened digi
t deep into the fiery channel beyond. It tightens against me immediately, drawing my finger to the second knuckle.

  “Oh… Go…. Hel…” But she can’t seem to get a full word out, each caught in a panted gasp.

  I slam my cock forward and her hand works in a frenzy below, holding firm while she comes. I let go of her hair and her head falls into the pillow, the deep bellow that follows muffled and lost.

  At the first contraction of her pussy, I lose it myself, bent over her back, my finger in her ass and filling her with hot release.

  It’s endless, the push and pull, the trigger-finger flush of climax that follows.

  She seems to come again when I slide my finger from her ass, jerking forward and holding herself.

  I fall back on my haunches, my breathing slowly returning to normal. “How’s that for payment?”

  She slumps and rolls over onto her back, rocking forward and separating herself. “Let’s just say you made quite the deposit.”

  *

  We have sex. We bake. We make jokes about my brothers. It’s been a very long time since I was this happy, this inspired to do anything. Before long it’s three PM.

  We’re sitting folded together on the couch watching some god-awful French movie from the sixties when Heather turns to me. “Don’t you have that auction thing with Bria?”

  Fuck. I’d forgotten all about it.

  I get up and start collecting my things. “Yeah, about ten minutes ago.”

  Heather turns her attention back to the TV, one of those old CRT boxes I thought had been relegated to museums by now. “Better get going.”

  “I promised Alissa I’d head over and tie up the auction loose ends, should probably thank her for everything she’s done.”

  “Just steer clear of my father.”

  “Will do,” she replies.

  Keys and jacket in hand, I come up to the back of the couch and kiss her on the top of her head, draw in the freshly shampooed scent of it that’s going to send me out the door looking like I’ve got a tentpole in my pants. “Wish I didn’t have to go, wish I could stay here all damn day and not to do damn thing except make you come.”

  “But duty calls,” she finishes.

  “That it does.”

  It’s painful to leave, takes me a second to muster the energy not to call Bria up and tell her I’m sick or out of town or something other than ‘I do not want to spend my afternoon with you’, but Heather’s right. Duty calls and Bria paid good money for this, which is, yes, going to a good cause. The least I can do is show up.

  *

  The same hesitation returns as I make my way into the basketball arena at Crestfall. It’s state of the art owing to the insane money poured into this place, brand-new digital scoreboards and PA system, a freshly waxed court so shiny you’d think it was a mirror. And that’s when I get my first shock.

  Bria’s standing there in the middle of the court with her hands behind her back. Her hair’s up in a high ponytail, a tartan skirt hitched up so high it’s almost a crop top. The boob tube she’s wearing isn’t much better, her tits practically seconds away from a jack-in-the-box reveal.

  I glance down and realize I see right between her legs, a hot pink thong wedged somewhere up there.

  Fuck me.

  There was a time not long ago this obvious shit would have had me on game, but now I want to turn around and throw up. How the fuck did I ever find this shit attractive?

  She spins around on the spot, skirt flying up. “Like what you see?”

  I state the obvious. “You dressed for sport or seduction?”

  She kicks her heel up. “Aren’t they one and the same?”

  God, get me out of here.

  I give a dull laugh and head to the sidelines to wheel the ball rack over to the top of the key. I take a ball and bounce pass it to Bria, but she makes no attempt to receive it, instead letting it bounce by and cat-walking her way over to me.

  I take another ball and hold it in front of myself. “Had to admit, thought your coordination would be a bit better than that given you’re a cheerleader.”

  Her lips press together into a tight pucker, eyes dropping past the ball in my hands. “Ball play isn’t really my thing. I prefer to go straight to the scoring.”

  I toss the ball to her and this time she catches it, looking at it like it’s an alien artefact. I ignore the innuendo, nodding to the ring. “Go on then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  She puts a throw up but it’s the worst throw in the history of throws, utterly fucking pathetic.

  I toss her another ball. “Come on. I’ve seen five-year-olds shoot better.”

  She tosses the ball back. “Wouldn’t you prefer to do something else?”

  She’s getting too close. I run away down the key and leap upwards for a quick dunk, dropping directly underneath the board and waiting to see what she’ll do. Sure enough, she does that stupid walk again, hips swaying as she walks over.

  “I like it when they play hard to get.”

  I send a wrap-around pass and this time she catches it with both hands.

  “See?” she smiles. “Now imagine what else I can do with these hands.”

  Why doesn’t she just come out and say it? I think.

  I walk in a wide arc around here. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t interested in playing basketball at all.”

  She gives a light laugh, placing one foot in front of the other, looks like she belongs in a Britney Spears video. “The game? It’s okay, I guess. The players? Those big, strapping players like yourself? That I enjoy.”

  I’ve made my way back to the rack, selecting another ball and sending it up for a three, a swish of the net confirming it’s hit home.

  Bria stops stalking me, changing tack. “What’s up with that girl I’ve seen you around with?”

  I play dumb. “Girl? You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “H-something… Hannah, Henrietta…”

  “Heather,” I correct, knowing full well Bria knows her name.

  “Yeah, Heather,” she spits. “What’s her deal?”

  “Her deal?” I’m trying to be diplomatic here, but this whole come-on thing is starting to piss me off. “I don’t know if it’s any of your business what her deal is or isn’t.”

  The façade drops and the real Bria emerges. “I think she’s a bleeding heart that’s not doing anyone any good, least of all you. You deserve someone better.”

  I resist the temptation to send the next ball on a one-way trip to rearrange her face. Easy, I remind myself. “I think she’s doing a lot of good for this town in an area most people want to ignore. If you think that makes her a bleeding heart, that’s fine, but I’m proud she’s that way.”

  My defensiveness only gets Bria’s back up. “You cannot seriously want to be with her. She’s trash. She works in the campus kitchen, for crying out loud.”

  I’d like to really amp up here, speak my mind, but Bria’s not worth it. She’s trying to bait me but all she’s going to get is truth. “Heather’s seen and done more in her life than you could manage in twenty.” I send out a chest pass as hard as I can, Bria only just getting her hands up in time to deflect it. “I think we’re done here.” I turn around but stop, holding a finger up. “And you know what? I think I’m done with basketball too.”

  “What?” comes the cry of incredulity.

  I start to smile, speaking to myself. “Yeah, fuck it. I’m done with the whole thing, so I guess you wouldn’t want me anyway, right?”

  There’s no reply.

  I start to walk away. “Nice seeing you, Bria.”

  “I want my money back!” she shouts. “You owe me.”

  My hand moves to give her the bird, but I figure silence will be worse.

  I think I hear her stamp her foot… which only makes my smile grow.

  Fuck her. Fuck everyone here who thinks the way she does. Can’t they see what’s happening outside these silver walls? Are we that blind?
<
br />   It’s only when I’m outside I realize that a) I meant what I said one hundred percent, and b) I probably shouldn’t have announced it to the biggest gossip in Crestfall first.

  Unease grows, replaces my smile fast with the knowledge of how quickly things spread around here. One call, one text, and Bria could have the word out in seconds. I don’t know why, but I check my watch. Fuck, it could already be in motion.

  I pull out my cell, but as of yet there are no messages.

  Dad.

  Shit.

  I start to run towards my car, know I have to reach Dad before the news does, and it has to be face-to-face. The old man won’t believe it otherwise.

  I could deny it. That would be easy, but I’m sick to death of easy, of letting others control and influence my life.

  It’s time I took hold of the reins.

  It’s time I took back what’s mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  HEATHER

  It is the dictionary definition of a perfect day at Stone King’s mega-mansion. Cotton ball clouds sit overhead, reflected in the surface of the pool.

  A staff member in all white approaches with a silver tea tray, placing it down on the small table Alissa and I are seated at. The lavishness is almost too much to bear.

  “Thank you, Edwardo,” smiles Alissa, helping him with the tray.

  That speaks a lot to her character. Most high-flyers I know wouldn’t acknowledge ‘the help’, let alone remember their name. I recall Phoenix discussing Alissa, how she came from nothing, how she “got lucky” with Stone, but I think it’s more than that. Everyone underestimates her, but not me.

  It makes me question if Phoenix and I could ever make a real go of it given the massive differences in our world experience. But he has shown me a different side of himself. I was blindsided by that, I’ll admit it. Never in a million years would I have expected someone like him to not only fall for me but become so invested in my interests and values. I don’t want to take too much credit, but if I can make a difference in a King, perhaps there’s hope for the world after all.

  Edwardo goes to pour, but Alissa takes charge instead, filling my teacup. “I hope you like Tieguanyin. It’s named after the Iron Goddess of Mercy, a Buddhist deity.”