by Colet Abedi
“This is heaven,” he says as he eats in happiness.
I pick up the pasta and offer him some. He puts a generous portion on his plate and settles in.
“Eat your fish before it gets cold,” he scolds.
I sit down and play with my food. I’m so waiting for him to ask me about Tatiana. How come he hasn’t?
“Mind if I watch the news in here too?” Jamie asks politely.
“Of course not,” I say.
He flips the TV back on and watches in silence. I narrow my eyes at him.
What is this? Why isn’t he asking? Is playing me?
He either doesn’t care or he’s just smart enough to play like he doesn’t because he knows better. If I were to bet—
He’s definitely smart enough.
Chapter Nine
Jamie
I’m too fucking smart to fall into this trap.
I’m no dummy.
Wylder is just waiting for me to ask what happened in the Jacuzzi with Tatiana. The visual she put in my head is like a scene from a porno. Any man with half a dick would be hard at the thought.
Strangely, I’m not.
I’m actually annoyed Tatiana would even try to go there. She has a reputation for being bisexual and a bit promiscuous, but I wouldn’t think she’d hit on my girlfriend. Not that I blame her. Look at Wylder. She’s fucking hot.
I keep my eyes glued on the news. There’s a hurricane hitting the Carolinas, and every newscaster is outside battling the storm. It’s like watching a real-life disaster flick.
“Come. On.” Wylder can’t help herself.
I turn my gaze toward hers. Her golden amber eyes narrow at me suspiciously, like she knows my game.
“What?” I ask all wide-eyed and innocent.
From the look on her face, I don’t think she’s buying it.
“Why aren’t you asking me what else happened?” she finally asks because I just know she can’t help herself.
“If you want to tell me, you will.” My voice is nonchalant. “And I’m not surprised Tatiana wants you.” I put a spoonful of potatoes in my mouth.
“You’re such a lying sack,” Wylder says in disbelief. “You are dying to know what happened!”
“If you insist,” I say.
There’s a long pause before she can’t hold back anymore.
“Tatiana wants to have a threesome with us.” Wylder’s gaze stays pinned on mine. She’s looking for a reaction, and with this new development, I’ll give her one.
“I’m gonna have a talk with her.” I mean it. What the fuck? She needs to stay away from my woman.
My woman.
Who would have thought I’d ever become such a goddamn Neanderthal? But Wylder brings out a side of me I never even knew existed. The thought of her with anyone—anyone of any kind or sex—makes me crazy.
Makes me see fucking red.
I must look as mad as I feel because she holds out her hand like she’s trying to stop me from doing some evil deed and shakes her head in concern.
“Please don’t.” Her voice sounds worried. “That would be really embarrassing.”
“Why would that be embarrassing?” My voice is hard.
“Oh, I don’t know…” She begins in a sweet, innocent voice, but then it takes a turn for the worse, and she lets out all of her anger. “She mentioned you have the reputation of being Mr. Threesome, so you really shouldn’t be too surprised she’d want in on the action.”
My gaze flickers back toward the television screen.
“You have nothing to say?” she asks, taunting me.
I can’t tell if she’s angry or if she’s—
She punches me in the arm. She’s definitely angry. I turn my gaze back toward hers. I want to kill Tatiana Marcus and her big fat mouth.
“What would you like me to say?” I ask calmly.
“Deny it?” She’s got a crazy look in her eyes. It turns me on. I’m ready to fuck her again. Wylder continues with her rant, completely unaware of what I have in mind for her—and soon. “Or say: ‘Yes, I happen to like fucking two, maybe three… even four women at a time—’”
“Four is pushing it,” I can’t help but say with a devilish smile. I just want to see a reaction out of her. Yeah, so what? I feel like I’m the one who’s been Mr. Emotional since we got back together, and she’s been Mrs. Apa-fucking-thetic.
I get what I want.
Her eyes practically bug out of her face, and she looks like she wants to kill me. I try my best not to laugh.
“You’re a man-whore,” she hisses at me.
“Was,” I say as I cock my head to the side to study her. “Instead of being irrationally angry, you should appreciate my vast experience.”
“And why is that?” Fire shoots out of Wyld’s eyes.
“You’re the recipient of all the knowledge.” I give her a big smile. I think I need to remind her why my experience comes in handy now—and only for her. “I think you’re pretty damn lucky.”
“You are the most arrogant man I have ever encountered.” She puts her plate on the table. “I can’t believe you’re not denying—”
“Would you rather have me lie?” I ask her with some heat, annoyed she can’t seem to get past how many women I’ve been with. “I can do that, Wyld. I can tell you a ‘poor little me’ story about a guy who’s gone to bed at eight every night like a good little boy, and who’s just been waiting for the right woman—”
“To rock your world,” she says, finishing my sentence in a condescending way, mimicking my exact words from the show. “I watched your interview on Craig Williamson.”
“Oh, I know,” I say with an amused smile and then I tell her the obvious. “Considering where you and I met, I’m surprised you are acting like this.”
That causes her to pause.
“What do you think goes on in that club?” I ask in a low voice, my gaze flickers across her face and rests on her mouth. It opens on command, like she’s having a moment.
I want that mouth wrapped around my cock.
“I know what happens there.” She blushes. I put my plate on the table and down the rest of my wine. I give myself another healthy pour.
“That’s right.” I explain to her like I’m talking to a kindergartener. “Fucking. That’s what happens. Lots of it. In every which way. With whomever and however many people you want.”
I watch her flush in embarrassment.
“And guess what, Wyld,” I tell her honestly. “Like I told you before, I’ve done a lot of fucking. With a lot of women—and only women, in case you were wondering—and I wouldn’t take back any of it.”
Her mouth drops open.
I almost feel sorry for her, but I’ll make it up to her—in bed.
“Awesome.” It’s like she doesn’t know what else to say. I continue to stare at her. God she’s fucking hot right now. Her hair is in a disheveled mess on top of her head, and her beautiful face is scrubbed raw of makeup. She looks like a fresh flower, ready to bloom under my fucking body.
“I’m going to shower,” she suddenly says and stands rather nervously. “I need to clear my head.”
The tie on her robe loosens, exposing a healthy amount of her bikini-clad breasts. It’s just enough skin to tease and entice.
And I’m more than ready to go.
She grabs her glass of wine and rushes out of the room. I almost feel sorry for her again. Almost. I have years of experience on her, but if one thing’s for certain, Wylder Buchanan can definitely hold her own.
I wait a few minutes for her to get into the shower and comfortable, then I grab the remote and switch off the television. I think it’s time for a friendly, sexual reminder how much my experience can come in handy.
I take off my shorts and make my way to the bathroom. I see Wylder’s hot profile through the glass. The water rushes down her naked breasts and body, her beautiful face lifted up to the stream, letting it just pour over her.
I’m hard as a rock.
I open the door to the shower and step inside. She looks at me with wide eyes, but she’s not surprised to see me. I know she’s still processing everything that just happened and what I said.
Talk about a hot Hollywood minute.
“Can we kiss and make up?” I ask her.
“I’m kind of tired.” She says this, but I watch how her eyes flicker down toward my cock and linger longer than necessary. When she meets my gaze again, she’s practically panting. She’s a bad girl who needs to be tamed.
“That’s too bad,” I say to her, shaking my head. “Then I’ll just help you get all cleaned up for bed.”
Wylder’s eyes go wide and she takes a step back from me, but Jamie, the big bad wolf, is not going to let her get too far. I grab the soap from her hand and lather it up. I start cleaning her body, moving my hands in slow motion, enjoying the smooth lines of her skin and memorizing the perfection of her ass and breasts, the lean, long muscles, and her perfect pussy.
I massage her entire body from the neck down, and in no time her eyes are closed, head’s fallen back, and mouth is open. She’s pretty much gasping in pleasure. She might as well have an orgasm. She looks how I feel.
“Turn around,” I whisper.
She opens her eyes, and they’re cloudy with desire, but she does as she’s told. As the water streams around us, I lift her hands and place them against the white marble wall of the shower. She’s going to need to lean when I’m done with her. My hands are still soapy, and I lean into her from behind, pressing my cock against her ass. My hands move over her breasts and pluck at her nipples before one hand grabs a mound and massages, while another makes a lathery path down to her pussy.
My fingers move over her clit.
I rub her softly at first, then work her until she can’t help herself anymore—until I know all she needs is me… inside her.
“Jamie,” she moans as her head leans against the wall. It turns me on even more, making me want to pump into her from behind.
But not yet.
I slip two fingers inside, and I’m not surprised at how easily they glide in. My head falls into the sweet dip of her neck, and I kiss her there as I continue to work her.
“I need you,” she moans.
My hand cups her pussy, and my fingers rhythmically move in and out.
“What do you need?” I whisper against her neck as the water rains down on us.
“You,” she says. “Jamie.”
I pull my hand away, and she whimpers in protest. I turn her around and hold her hands up against the wall as I look down at her passion-etched face. She’s biting her lower lip like she’s trying hard not to cry out in need.
“Open your eyes, baby,” I command as I push my cock against her stomach.
She moans in appreciation. She wraps her hand around my shaft and squeezes just enough to make me clench my teeth in agonizing pleasure.
She does as she’s told though.
I cover her hand with mine.
“Do you know what this is, Wyld?” I ask her in a raspy voice. There’s only so much a man can take.
“Your cock,” she tells me, meeting my gaze.
“It’s just yours now, baby,” I tell her. “As long as we’re together, it’s just yours.”
I let her see how fucking serious I am.
And then I plunge into her sweet, wet pussy and work her until we both scream in orgasm.
Ho. Fucking. Ho.
Christmas is here.
Chapter Ten
Wylder
Kerri waves at the security officer as we pull into her parents’ palatial home in Bel-Air.
It looks like a château in France. It’s unreal. The first time I set eyes on it, I’m pretty sure I was stunned into silence for a good hour or two. At the time, I knew Kerri was rich, but I didn’t know she was B-status—a.k.a. next level.
“Mom’s got some drinks ready for us,” Kerry says as she pulls her Range Rover Sport into the circular driveway. “We’ll have to sit with her for max half hour, then we can go unpack in the guesthouse.”
“I’m good with whatever,” I tell her because I’m just happy to be with her and not at home. Speaking of home…
My mom’s called twice, and I haven’t called her in over a week. It’s the longest we’ve ever gone. Why? Jamie Donovan of course. He makes me forget about real life and lets me live in make-believe.
I’ll call her when we get settled in the guesthouse. I know she’s really upset I’m not coming home for the holiday, but I’m not, and she can’t change my mind. I’m actually relieved I don’t have to sit through whatever drama she’s going through with my dad, and I definitely am not in the mood for hearing any story about some new woman my dad happens to be cheating with. No thank you.
We enter through the enormous double doors and walk into a home that looks like it was featured in Architectural Digest. The white limestone floors are wide and long and lead out into an open veranda overlooking an enormous estate. The furniture is decadent, each piece probably worth more than an entire year of my salary—which isn’t much, but still. The artwork is exquisite, and I’m sure if I look up a few of the artists’ signatures, I’ll fall over in shock from the price tag.
Kerri and I walk out onto the veranda. A large glass table is set under the arched cover with heat lamps going as well as blankets on the chairs. There are mimosas waiting as well as a beautiful cheese-and-meat platter. Kerri’s mom is her thirty-year-older twin. She’s beautiful and always put together to the nines. In the entire summer I spent with them, I never saw a hair out of place. She’s a quintessential trophy wife, but she’s not what you’d typically expect. She’s actually super cool, and I really like her.
She rushes to Kerri and hugs her tightly, then comes to me and gives me one as well.
“I’m so glad you’re joining us for the holiday, Wylder,” she says warmly. When Kerri told us, both Jonathan and I were so pleased. We’re happy to have you.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Harrington,” I say politely.
“Is Colt here yet?” Kerri asks curiously. She leans over and grabs a handful of grapes and starts popping them in her mouth.
“He won’t get in until midnight,” her mom says. “He had to stop over in New York for a quick meeting.”
Colt is Kerri’s brother. He runs their father’s business with him and travels all the time. In fact, he travels so much that I’ve never actually met him in person. I’ve only seen his picture and heard his voice on the phone. And, no big surprise, he’s a golden Adonis.
“Have a seat, girls,” her mom says as she motions toward the table. “Give me your keys, love, and I’ll have Edward take your bags to the guesthouse.”
Kerri gladly hands them over.
“You’re so thin, Wylder,” Mrs. Harrington says, looking me over.
“Ohh.” I look down at my body. I mean, I have been having a lot of sex. “I know. I should eat—”
“Oh no, honey,” she says with a shake of her head, eyes glinting in appreciation. “I like it.”
I laugh out loud, and Kerri joins in. I forget how obsessed everyone in LA is with being super thin—especially the trophy wives, otherwise known as ladies who lunch.
“So how’s work, girls?” she asks as she hands us both top-heavy mimosas. She looks at Kerry.
“Work’s as shitty as expected, considering we’re treated like dirt,” Kerri drawls and takes a long sip.
Mrs. Harrington watches her daughter with hero worship. “I can only imagine.” She cuts a slice of cheese. “Everyone knows how much you guys are taken for granted.”
She puts the cheese in her mouth. I’m surprised she’s even eating that.
“What about your love life? You guys meeting any boys?”
“Wylder’s got a boyfriend,” Kerri says, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “That’s kind of news.”
“I want to hear everything about him!” Her mom leans in with excitement.
I could kill Kerri.
“It’s Jamie Donovan.” Kerri finishes with a wink.
Dead. She’s dead.
As expected, Mrs. Harrington looks at me with shock and some awe. “He’s gorgeous,” she says to my surprise.
“Mom!” Kerri exclaims and throws a grape at her. “You’ve got dad.”
“I have a pulse, honey,” she says unashamed. “And he really is a good-looking man.”
“I’d have to agree with you.” I laugh, then proceed to give her broad-stroke notes about our relationship: we’ve been dating for a short while; and we’re just having fun; it’s nothing serious.
I kind of feel like I’m not really being truthful to Mrs. Harrington because even though it’s been a short time, it sure feels like something more than it is now.
The more time I spend with him, the more I get sucked into the Jamie Donovan black hole, and it’s not a bad place to be. Unfortunately, he left town for the full four-day holiday. He flew him and his sister on a private jet back east to spend it with their parents and aunts and uncles and cousins. He begged me to come along, but there was no way I was going. No way. Since I couldn’t tell him my real reservation—meeting his family, which seems too fast—I just told him I’d promised Kerri months ago I’d spend Thanksgiving with her, and it was something we both had planned for. It was kind of true, but not really. Kerri could care less if I went home with Jamie. In fact, she asked me if I was going and was surprised I had turned him down.
For a second, I thought she wanted her place to herself for her and the mysterious Trouble who I had yet to meet, but she told me Trouble was going up north to visit family in San Francisco.
“All right ladies, dinner is at eight, and your dad invited Mark and a few other of his business associates, so unfortunately it’s not going to be casual,” Mrs. Harrington informs us. “I’ll need you to dress up a bit.”
“Drag,” Kerri mutters in annoyance. “We’ll just have dinner at the guesthouse then.”
Her mom shakes her head. “Your father will be disappointed.”
