“You have to blow it, Scarlett.” Kennedy smiled at me with laughter in his eyes.
My blood grew hotter than the flame and I silently counted backwards from ten to avoid stomping my heel onto his foot beneath the table. That or digging my nails into his thigh.
“This is awesome.” Carey picked up his glass.
“Blow it out first.” Paolo wagged his finger and then set about pouring the Malbec. Kennedy waved away the chance to sample it.
“Come on.” Kennedy raised his glass and I took mine. “May we never get what we deserve.”
“I’ll toast to that.” Carey laughed and clinked glasses before blowing out the flame and downing his drink.
I stared at Kennedy, who put his drink on the table as he waited for me to drink. A dare was in his eye, his posture, the tilt of his neck.
“Dick,” I said under my breath. I blew it out and tossed it back, the liquor bitter and delicious on my tongue.
Kennedy followed suit, downing his and slamming the glass on the table. “Fuck yes. Another round?”
“No,” I said at the same time as Carey said, “Yes.”
Kennedy gave me a look and jerked his chin at Carey.
Against my better judgment, I acquiesced. I didn’t factor in that I might be drunken collateral damage to my plan of getting Carey tipsy, but I wasn’t going to let the momentum go to waste. “Okay, fine, yes, another round.”
Paolo grinned and took off to the bar before returning with three more shots that we made quick work of. I’d had a small lunch, and the alcohol hit me fast. After a few minutes of Kennedy and Paolo chitchatting, my cheeks warmed and a light sweat broke out across my forehead.
“Is it hot?” I asked, and slipped my jacket off. I wore a dark blue, button-up top, the material silky against my overheated skin. Gripping my lapel, I pulled the fabric away from my neck and fanned it so air wafted down my chest.
“It is now.” Carey grinned at me.
I should have scolded him, but any words I tried to make turned into giggles.
“I love Malbec, don’t you?” Kennedy picked up his glass as Paolo set down a basket of baguette and butter.
“I’ve never had it.” Carey lifted his glass and took a sip. “Damn, it’s good.” He took an even bigger swallow.
“Scarlett. Aren’t you going to taste it?”
At that moment, I was certain that Kennedy Granade was stupid like a fox. He may have been working with me toward the goal of getting Carey drunk enough to agree to find Fluffy, but Carey wasn’t Kennedy’s only target. There may as well have been a bull’s-eye painted on my panties.
I smiled and kept my hands in my lap. “I wouldn’t want to overdo it.” Did I just slur my words a little?
“Oh, come now, Carey and I are drinking. Then again, I guess if you can’t handle it . . .”
I straightened my back and met Kennedy’s stare. “I can handle it.”
“Yeah?” He downed his glass in three big swallows. “Prove it.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Come on, Scarlett. Show Kennedy how you’re the chick off Indiana Jones who can drink anyone under the table.” Carey grabbed a piece of bread and narrowly missed the butter before trying again. At least he was getting drunk.
“I don’t cave to peer pressure.” I lifted my chin, trying to keep the air of superiority I’d learned at my mother’s knee and wielded like a weapon ever since. Problem was, I could feel the giggles rising in my chest again.
“You drink, I drink. Come on.” Carey lifted his glass, his boyish grin resurfacing.
“God, you two are the worst.” I sighed, already defeated. But I had no problem losing this battle if it meant I’d win the war. One more glass, and Carey would be eating out of my hand—unless I was passed out on the floor. “This is the last one. Come on, bottoms up.” I grabbed my glass and drank it down as Carey matched me.
We plopped our glasses back on the table and I wiped my mouth with my napkin.
“Now it’s a party.” Kennedy poured another round with a steady hand.
I ripped a piece of bread from the baguette and slowly ate it, hoping it would soak up some of the liquor in my stomach.
“Let’s get to know each other better.” Kennedy grinned. “Scarlett, tell us about your first time.”
I spat the bread out on a particularly unladylike guffaw. Putting my hand to my mouth, I closed my eyes. Somehow, my vision still swam even in the dark. Kennedy and Carey laughed. When I opened my eyes, Carey was leaning over toward me.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to share.” He shook his head in a conciliatory way, his eyes half closed.
A bright flash of lightning hit nearby and the ensuing rumble of thunder shook the silverware and had the chandeliers tinkling. The rain pelted down outside, the street dark and gloomy while we were warm and safe inside the posh restaurant.
“In that case, let’s start with something easier then. Carey, tell me your hacker name.” Kennedy didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the alcohol or the storm, his eyes bright.
“Oh, come on. I know you know.” Carey glanced from me to Kennedy.
Kennedy widened his eyes, giving a look of innocence. “No, I don’t.”
“You didn’t tell him?” Carey asked me.
“No. It’s your secret to tell, not mine.” I sipped my Malbec, the thought of not drinking any more alcohol suddenly a preposterous one.
Kennedy rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. “This is going to be good. I can feel it.”
“Drumroll, please,” Carey directed, sloshing his wine over the edge of his glass as he gestured at Kennedy, who dutifully began drumming on the table with his long index fingers.
“My name was . . . Gorepheus.” Carey tipped backed his glass as Kennedy stopped the drumroll.
“Are you shitting me? You’re the Gorepheus? The hacker who shut down the U.S. government for three entire days with a never-ending Rickroll?”
Carey grinned, his cheeks red from wine or embarrassment, and pulled up his shirt sleeve. There, in wavy ink, was Gorepheus’s online signature—a red pill with blood leaking from it. “That was me. That’s why the U.S. government keeps a close tab on my activities and calls me in to work for them all the time. And, sometimes, I get to freelance for beautiful attorneys with the nicest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” He patted my knee under the table and rested his hand there.
I snorted and tried to frown at him as I pushed his hand away.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Carey grinned and drank some more.
“Trying wha—?”
“Nothing.” I kicked Kennedy’s foot to shut him up. He must have seen my tiny act of violence as an invitation, because he reached under the table and gripped my knee, squeezing lightly. I knew I wouldn’t be able to dislodge him as easily as I had Carey, so I just let him play his game while I played mine.
“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.” I placed my hand on Carey’s forearm, and he leaned toward me a little. “I’d never be able to get through all the computer mumbo jumbo if it weren’t for you.” I rubbed his arm back and forth.
Carey shifted in his seat and Kennedy moved his fingertips under the hem of my skirt. I ignored the tingles rocketing up my leg and focused on Carey.
“It’s not that complicated. Not for me, anyway. Here, hand me your phone.” He smiled and scooted his chair closer to mine as I grabbed my phone from my purse and slid it to him.
Kennedy’s fingers crept higher, his index finger teasing along my inner thigh to the point where I had to clench my eyes shut and open them again to focus. He only smirked at me as Carey cozied up at my side.
Carey took my phone and tapped through menus and screens so fast that I was lost. I was lost anyway, because Kennedy’s fingers were making me stupid. I clamped my knees shut, trapping his hand between my legs and not letting him go any farther.
“Look.” Carey handed my phone back to me. The screen showed a series of locations, my personal information
, and credit cards. I scrolled down to see even more identifiers, including my social security number and bank accounts.
“This is in my phone?” I kept scrolling, deleted photos and messages popping up.
“Everything you’ve ever done is right there.” Carey put his arm around me. “You just have to know where to look. That’s what hackers do. We look for things, find things that are hidden or that people think are destroyed. Nothing’s ever destroyed. Even if you smash a hard drive with a hammer, it can be put back together. Data can be found.”
“Is that the hacker code or something?” I leaned into Carey, snugging under his arm. Kennedy inched his fingers higher and dug into my thigh, trying to pull my legs apart. Asshole. I kept them glued together, though there would be fingertip bruises on me the next day.
“No, just facts. Now I know where you live.” He snorted and took another sip. “I already knew that, though.”
“That’s kind of stalkerish.” I giggled, but couldn’t tell if it was a real giggle from the alcohol or just the part I was playing.
“A little.” He shrugged.
“Do you think it will be as easy to find Fluffy?” I held my breath.
“No, he’s a tougher quarry.” Carey spoke easily, unaware I was leading him down the path he’d shied away from before.
“But you’re Gorepheus, the biggest hacker in the world.” I batted my lashes at him and gripped Kennedy’s wandering fingers before they reached my panties.
“Could I find him? Of fucking course. I could find him in a heartbeat. It’s just Discord. I don’t want to find them.”
“I understand. I do.” I leaned my head on his shoulder and arched my back a little, jutting my breasts out. “I want to keep you safe. I just need to get some info on the hack at Rhone so we can get this case going. Can you help me?”
Carey’s eyes darted down to my breasts, my nipples pearling from the attention. “I—I guess . . . Yeah. Yeah, I’ll talk to him, okay? Tomorrow, when I’m thinking clearly.” He grinned and leaned closer, like he wanted to kiss me.
“Granade, is that you?” A woman walked up behind Kennedy and draped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing into the back of his head.
I gawked at her. She was tall and thin with an impossibly large chest and long blond hair.
“Oh, hi there.” Kennedy patted her on the arm and she stood straight and walked around to the empty side of our table.
“Aren’t you a sight. Still one big, fine man.” She smiled, her red lipstick giving her more of a joker flair, in my opinion.
“Thanks.” Kennedy smiled and gave me an uneasy glance.
Another alcohol giggle escaped me. “Oh, by all means.” I lay my head on Carey’s shoulder and stared at Kennedy. A flame of jealousy licked around the edges of my mind, but I stomped it out. This was Kennedy Granade, a womanizer through and through.
I bet he didn’t even remember her name. “Introduce us to your friend.”
“Okay.” He forced the words through the fake smile. “Scarlett Carmichael and Carey Fellowes, this is . . .”
“Gina Rae. You remember me. From last year’s Rex Mardi Gras ball? You wore black, I wore, well—” She looked down with a demure smile. “—eventually I wasn’t wearing much.”
“Oh, classic Kennedy. Am I right, Carey?” I snuggled even closer to him. He trailed his fingers up and down my arm.
“I wouldn’t really know since we only just met, but maybe?”
“I can assure you this is his MO. He has a reputation.” I waved my hand for emphasis, though I almost knocked my glass over. “Did you know that, Gina Rae?”
“Not really, but it’s well deserved either way.” She put a hand to her waist and glanced at me and back to Kennedy. “Can I speak to you for a second? Alone?”
“Don’t let me make it awkward. I have to go to the ladies’ room anyway. Not an issue. You two chat it up.” I dislodged Carey’s arm and stood with a wobble. “You all behave while I’m gone.”
I took a step and stopped to steady myself, then another and another until I felt like I had the wavy floor almost under control. I may have had my feet into a lockstep, but my head was in a jumble. Though my desire to snipe at Kennedy wasn’t new, the feeling Gina Rae evoked in me was. I wasn’t the sort to lie to myself. I was jealous. Like a total moron. Kennedy wasn’t going to change his ways, and did I even want him to? No. We were going to work this case and go our separate ways.
I straightened my back and followed a waiter’s instructions to the ladies’ room. It was divided into two sections, with a sitting room and an area with several stalls. White tiles covered the flower in an art deco pattern and the walls were done in a magnolia paper.
I stumbled forward and caught the edge of a deep blue fainting couch before righting myself and walking to the nearest, largest stall.
The bathroom door opened behind me as I fiddled with trying to slide the lock closed. The lock flew out of my fingers as the door swung open and Kennedy blocked the way. His dark eyes pierced me, glaring down as his body took up every inch of free space around me.
My knees went weak and I backed into the wall, the coolness of the tile so different from the heat of my skin.
“Get out.” I couldn’t stop the quaver in my voice.
“I don’t think you want me to.” He advanced.
I brought my hand up to slap him, but he caught it and pinned it to the wall next to my head.
“What was that in there with Carey?” He pulled the door shut behind him before turning to me and putting his other hand on the wall next to my head.
“Are you kidding? What was that in there with Little Miss Gina Rae?” I simpered her name and hated myself for sounding like a high school mean girl.
“That was a year ago. Carey was tonight.” He glowered, crowding my space. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I needed him to contact Fluffy. I got it done. Besides, it’s none of your business what I do. And you also had no right to touch me like you did. We’re colleagues. Anything more would be improper. Now, let me go.” I returned his glare, but when his eyes flicked to my lips, my breath hitched.
“You didn’t like it when I touched you?” He leaned closer, his skin radiating the same heat as mine. The air between us was overcome with anticipation as he increased the pressure on my wrist.
“I didn’t give you permission—”
“That’s not what I asked, Ms. Carmichael.” Closer still, his eyes bored into me and I pressed as far back into the wall as I could go. “I asked if you liked it. Did you?”
“No,” I breathed.
He moved his right hand to my neck, his fingertips ghosting along my skin. Could he hear my heart thumping against my ribs?
“You sure?” He ran his fingers down to my chest and to my collarbone, pushing my shirt away from my shoulder as he went. His eyes were so intense, his pupils wide as he looked nowhere but at me.
“Y-yes.”
He moved closer, his lips at my ear. “I think you liked it.”
“No.”
He slid his fingers down my chest, over my breast, past my stomach, and to the hem of my skirt. “Tell me to stop.”
“Stop.”
He pushed my skirt up and shoved his knee between my legs.
“Kennedy, please.” I closed my eyes and gripped his shirt with my free hand. I wanted everything his raspy voice suggested, but I shouldn’t.
When his fingers made contact with my panties, I jolted.
“So fucking wet.” His lips tickled my ear as he rubbed his fingers back and forth across the soaked fabric.
“Don’t. We can’t.” I pushed against him, but he fastened his lips to my neck right below my ear.
Slipping his fingers around my panties, he stroked my clit, and I moaned.
“Fuck, Scarlett.” His voice was a gravelly growl against my skin.
“We can’t.” I panted. “We can’t do this.”
> “You want this. Your eyes, your hot pussy, everything about you tells me how much you want this. Tell me no and I’ll stop. Go ahead. I’m listening.”
He pinned me with his gaze and cocked his head to the side, listening for my protest. I should have said no, told him to stop, and walked out of there. Instead, I silently begged him to keep going.
He laughed, low and sultry. “That’s what I thought.” Sliding two fingers between my folds, he sank them inside me and bit down on my neck at the same time.
“Kennedy!” I dug my nails into his chest as he worked his fingers in and out.
“Your pussy is so hot and wet right now that I could slide in and fuck you up against this wall, have you screaming in no time.” He licked down to my collarbone and nibbled.
I held on to him, given up to the feeling of his fingers inside me, the tension coiling in my pussy as he stroked me. He released my wrist and used his other hand to grip my knee and lift my leg, opening me more to him as he fucked me with his fingers.
“You make me crazy.” He moved back to my neck and kissed up my jaw before looking me in the eye.
He slid his fingers out and went back to my clit, swooping and circling until I arched into him, my hard nipples rubbing against his chest. His strokes drove me to the edge, and I couldn’t look away.
“Please, please . . .” I didn’t know what I was asking for. I just needed a release from the hold he had on me. I closed my eyes, so ready to come from his touch.
“Eyes on me. I want to see you.” He stroked me faster as I obeyed, opening my eyes. His brows were drawn as he rested his forehead against mine. “I want you to come, Scarlett. I want you to admit you want this. And I want you to know I was the one who did it to you in a bathroom in a restaurant full of people.”
His words turned me on even more, making the buildup unbearable as I rocked my hips against him. He sped his pace, squeezing my clit between his two fingers.
“Tell me you want it. Tell me perfectly proper Scarlett Carmichael wants to be finger-fucked like a hot slut.” His words should have made me angry, but they only made my orgasm approach at a faster clip.
Total D*ck (Bad Bitch #3) Page 5
