by Lili Valente
Inclined to agree with her, but trying to be strong, I stand, running a determined hand through my hair and tucking my shirt back into my pants. “Don’t worry. I’ll go check the dining car. Sometimes they have toiletries for sale behind the cashier’s desk.” I lean down, pressing my lips to hers, moaning as the taste of her kiss and her pussy mingle in my mouth.
“Hold that thought, beautiful. I’ll be back before you can get those panties on so don’t even try.” I turn and bolt out the door, worried that if I look back at her, I won’t be able to resist pushing her onto the bed and making her come on my mouth all over again.
Out in the hallway, Patrice is nowhere to be found, which is probably good because I’m not sure I have the self-control to refrain from offering her a one hundred dollar tip in exchange for begging, borrowing, or stealing me a condom. I hurry down the deserted hallway and through the door leading into the dining car. On my way to the cashier, I casually grab a napkin from the dispenser on an empty table and wipe my face. I’m inclined to enjoy pussy on my face for a few minutes after the main event, but considering my mission, it’s probably best if my chin isn’t glistening.
I spot what looks like a full arsenal of personal products behind the counter and my whip-tense muscles begin to relax. But when I ask the doughy-faced cashier for a box of condoms, he informs me that they’re out.
“Out,” I echo, my dick insisting my ears must have heard incorrectly.
“Yep,” the man says, looking at something on his computer screen. “We should have some more in by Friday.”
Shooting him a look that I hope makes it clear how little fucking good a condom on fucking Friday is going to fucking do me, I thank him and start toward the bar at the back of the train. By the time I make my way through twenty-five cars of squalling children, bickering old people playing cards across the aisle, and an entire car of overgrown frat boys on their way to a bachelor party, I’ve lost what’s left of my sense of humor.
Hearing the bartender inform me that they don’t carry condoms, but that I “should try the dining car,” is enough to make me want to put my fist through the nearest wall.
“You sell liquor, which loosens inhibitions,” I force out through a tight jaw. “Shouldn’t you, in good conscience, also sell condoms?”
The man shrugs. “We didn’t have sleeping cars with private rooms until a few months ago. It wasn’t much of a problem before.”
“But now it’s an epidemic,” the man’s female counterpart offers as she refills the ice bucket, her upturned nose wrinkling until I can see far more than I would like of her nostrils. “Think about that, man. Think about a dozen nasty strangers doing exactly what you’re trying to do on that same bunk. If that doesn’t kill the mood, I don’t know what will.”
With a grimace her way—I don’t care if a hundred nasty strangers fucked on that bunk, I still want to be balls deep in Penny on it more than I want to draw my next breath—I turn and make my way back to our private car. I arrive to find Penny’s panties no longer around her ankle and the woman herself tipping back a half empty glass of champagne.
She hiccups as she lifts a tortured gaze to mine. “Nothing, right? I figured you’d struck out or it wouldn’t have taken so long.”
Miserably, I nod, too distraught to form words just yet.
With a commiserating wince, she takes a second glass of champagne from the small table set into the arm of her chair and holds it out toward me. “Here, take this. It might not drown your sorrows, but it dulls the pain. A little.”
I sit down hard in the chair across from her and lean in, taking the champagne as I assure her, “As soon as we get to Southampton, I’m buying all the condoms. All of them.”
“Every single one,” she echoes.
“Every fucking condom in town.”
She nods seriously, her eyes sparkling as she adds, “And if that’s not enough, we’ll drive over to the next village and buy all the condoms there.”
“Hell, yes, we will,” I say, grinning in spite of myself. “Because I need to fuck you Penny. I need it like I need air. I need it as soon as physically possible.”
“Me too.” Her smile fades as she glances toward the door. “But I’m not sure I’m going to be able to face anyone else riding in this car. I’m going to have to wait until they get off and scurry out with my head hidden under my scarf.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, sipping my champagne.
Her lips pucker. “I was busy having an out of body experience so I don’t quite remember, but considering how raw my throat feels, I’m pretty sure I screamed. Didn’t I?”
I don’t even try to keep the smug, or the wicked, from my grin. “Like you were on fire,” I confirm.
And if I have my way, it won’t be long before she’s screaming again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The train pulls to a stop in Southampton a little after two o’clock in the afternoon. Having convinced Penny that getting condoms ASAP is more important than her shame over being overhead mid-orgasm, I hurry her out of the sleeping car ahead of the rest of the passengers, settle her at the edge of the platform with our bags at her feet, and promise to be back with provisions so fast she’ll never know I was gone.
I’m already jogging away, headed for the mom and pop shop across the street, praying to all the gods in the known universe that they’ll have a box of condoms for sale when a male voice calls out Penny’s name.
I turn to see a man about my age with a five hundred dollar haircut wearing a lobster print button down shirt lift a hand to Penny. “Hey! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
One look at Penny’s expression and I immediately reverse direction.
Her eyes are saucer-sized, her lips are working their way into a horrified “O”, and her already pale skin has gone alabaster white. Though arsenic white might be a better description. Alabaster is too pretty a word for the deathly absence of color stealing across Penny’s features. She resembles a vampire caught out in the daylight, seconds from exploding into flames, and is clearly in need of an immediate intervention.
“What are you doing here?” the man asks with an uncomfortable laugh as he starts across the platform toward her. “Anastasia said you weren’t due in until tomorrow afternoon.”
Penny’s mouth opens and closes like a very beautiful, very pale fish, but no words come out. She looks like she’s about seconds from fainting at Lobster Shirt Guy’s feet.
I jog faster, determined to reach her before she collapses.
No matter what was causing her distress, I would have run to her rescue, but it’s especially important right now. I didn’t have a chance to do my usual background check on the ex I’ve come to torture, but there’s no doubt in my mind that this douche canoe is Phillip. This human skid mark with the feathered haircut, offensively preppy clothes, and pitying expression on his admittedly handsome-as-shit face is the person who broke Penny.
I hate him on sight.
Which makes it a pure pleasure to wrap my arm around Penny’s waist and draw her close, pressing a kiss her cheek. “Sorry, sweets. The station shop didn’t have anything that would be good for a migraine. Let’s get you to the cottage to lie down and I’ll run out and get whatever you need.”
“Oh, it’s okay, I can make it to the cottage.” Her hand fists in the back of my shirt and holds on for dear life.
She’s trembling and all I want to do is sweep her into my arms and carry her as far away from this Shitlord as possible, but she’s not here to run. She’s here to face her demons. It’s just bad luck that this one squirmed out of the woodwork while her guard was down.
“I just hate to see you in pain.” I cup her face in my hand, meeting her panicked gaze, willing her to see that she doesn’t have to be afraid. I’m here and I’ll stay glued to her side until she’s strong enough to tell Phillip to go straight to hell and rot there. “I’d take the migraine for you if I could.”
“I know you would.” Gratitude and affection
fill her eyes as she brings a palm to rest on my chest. “But I’ll be fine.”
She takes a breath, her lips curving in a clearly forced smile as she motions toward the human spunk bubble. “Bash, meet Phillip Davies, the groom. Phillip, this is Bash Prince.”
“Sorry. I didn’t see you there. Nice to meet you, Phillip.” I turn my head, fighting to keep my contempt for this fucker from showing on my face.
If he sees that I’m angry, then he’ll assume Penny has told me about his betrayal. Furthermore, he’ll assume that she was sufficiently damaged by the things he did to her to get her new lover pissed at her old lover, and I refuse to give him that power or satisfaction.
For the purposes of our work here this week, Penny mentioned the story of her ex-boyfriend hooking up with her mother in passing during one of those “my family is weirder than your family” conversations. We discussed it briefly and moved on. It was barely a blip on our relationship radar and had completely left my mind until Penny asked me to be her date to this wedding.
And as for Penny, I make her so happy she doesn’t have any room in her heart to hold on to bullshit from the past.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Phillip says, a calculating look in his eyes as he shifts his gaze from me to Penny and back again. “Glad you’re here. Penny didn’t mention that she was bringing someone.”
“Initially, I had a business conflict.” I offer him an easy smile. “But I canceled my trip. I couldn’t stand to be away from Penny for four whole days.” I hug her closer to my side, casting a loving glance down at her upturned face.
“Of course,” Phillip says, but I don’t miss the skeptical note in his voice. “Anastasia will be thrilled to hear you’ve got a plus one, Penny. We can see about getting you and Bash settled into one of the rooms in the guesthouse. We were going to put you in your old room, but a twin bed won’t work for two.”
“Thanks, but we won’t be staying at the house.” I smile harder. “We’ve booked a cottage nearby. We didn’t want to make any extra work for the busy couple on their wedding weekend.”
Phillip waves a hand through the air, seeing my smile and raising me a breezy laugh. “Oh, it’s no trouble. We’ve hired extra staff. And I know Anastasia will want to spend some quality time with you. She’ll be thrilled to learn that Penny has someone special in her life.”
On the surface, the comment is genuine and polite. But somehow he manages to hit “special” in just the perfect way to make it sound like I’m a not-so-bright child who still needs help blowing his own nose that Penny has adopted out of the goodness of her heart.
This douche is good. I didn’t anticipate such a formidable opponent, but I’m not intimidated. I thrive on a challenge. And you know what they say—the bigger the prick, the more it hurts when you cut their dick off.
“And I can’t wait to meet Penny’s mother.” I make sure to hit “mother” in a way that will remind Phillip he’s banging someone old enough to have squeezed him out of the pussy he’s sticking his pecker in every night. “I’ve heard so many fascinating things about her. But it’s too late to cancel the cottage reservation and we’re looking forward to some alone time. You know how it is.”
“Of course I do.” Phillip’s smile becomes a smirk. “I know exactly how it is.”
Penny’s breath rushes out with a soft, shocked sound and it’s all I can do not to grab this dick nugget by the front of his stupid shirt and shake him until his too-white teeth fall out of his head.
Penny was right, he is a master of subtext, and the subtext right now is that he had Penny before I did. And not only did he have her, but he had her harder, deeper, and better because he had her before she was shattered. Before she was scarred and cast out of her own family by a mother who cared more about Phillip’s dick than her own daughter.
There is no remorse in his pale green eyes, no regret. There’s only a sociopath who wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants to marry Penny’s mom and move on with his life while retaining bragging rights as the only man Penny loved before she was too broken to love anyone in that same, innocent way again. He stole her innocence and hope away and the man is proud of it.
It’s so low, so ugly and selfish, and so not at all what a woman like Penny deserves, that for a second, my character slips.
My gaze narrows and how much I want to hurt him comes flooding into my eyes.
Never in two years of staring down cheating, lying, wife-beating, life-ruining sons of bitches have I ever wanted to punch someone as much as I do right now. And I don’t want to just punch him once. I want to keep punching him, slamming my fist into his face again and again until he isn’t capable of making a smug expression for a damned long time.
Instead, I tighten my grip around Penny’s waist and nod as pleasantly as possible. “Well, good. I’m glad we understand each other. I look forward to learning more about you, Phillip.”
“Same here.” Phillip’s smile spreads to take up more real estate on his face until he’s grinning like the cat that gave every dog in town a bad case of crabs. “Talk soon Penny. We’ll see you at the shower tomorrow, I assume?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Penny’s voice is still faint and weak. “Unless I can’t kick this headache for some reason. I have the worst migraine. So if you’ll excuse us, Phillip, we’re going to head out.”
“Of course.” Phillip’s brow knits in an excellent parody of real concern. “Take care of yourself, Peeps. Hope you feel better soon. I’m so glad you’re here. Can’t wait to catch up.”
And then the sewer-sucking slime ball has the gall to lean in and press a kiss to Penny’s forehead. I’m so stunned there isn’t time to shift her out of the way. He darts in and out, striking like a snake, leaving Penny wide-eyed and pale all over again.
I nod again, just once.
That’s it.
That is the last bit of evidence I need to seal his fate.
“See you soon,” he says, smiling pleasantly as he circles around us, calling out to someone else farther down the platform.
“Not if we see you first,” I call after him in a jovial tone before adding beneath my breath, “you nasty, petty, lobster shirt wearing son of a bitch.”
“It’s my fault,” Penny whispers, her hands shaking as she hitches her purse over her shoulder and reaches for the handle of her roller suitcase.
“That was not your fault.” I scowl down at her, wondering if I need to shake some sense into her while I’m shaking Phillip’s teeth loose from his smug, evil head. “That was your horror show of an ex being horrible.”
“No, not that. The shirt.” Penny sniffs as she tilts her head down, sending her hair falling around her face. “I gave it to him for his birthday. He used to say it made him think of me every time he put it on.”
And then her shoulders start shaking and crying noises begin to drift from behind the curtain of her hair and I know I have to get her out of here before Phillip sees. If he witnesses her falling to pieces after the first battle, it’s going to make it impossible to win this war.
Wrapping my arm around Penny’s shoulders to conceal as much of her as possible, I grab my garment bag and briefcase and haul ass toward the rental car office at the end of the next block. I hustle my sniffling companion along beside me, feeling like absolute shit, hating myself for not finding a way to spare Penny that hellish interaction.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had a client break down after a confrontation with an ex, but it’s the first time it’s hurt this much.
At that moment, I silently promise to make this revenge as brutal as possible. Penny might not want the full Magnificent Bastard package, but she’s going to get it. Phillip the shit stick deserves nothing less.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
From the text archives of Sebastian “Bash” Prince and Penny Pickett
From Penny: Are you still alive?
Please respond to this text before tomorrow morning or I’m going to call the police. In an entire year
of being your assistant, you’ve never gone more than forty-eight hours between e-mails.
It’s been eighty-three. I’m starting to worry…
A lot.
Bash: Hey. checks pulse Yep. I’m alive.
Penny: Okay…
Are you all right?
Bash: I’m fine. It’s just the anniversary of something I would rather not remember. Put me off e-mail—and life—for a while.
Penny: I hear you. I have one of those anniversaries. They stink.
Is there anything I can do to help?
Bash: Nah. But thanks for checking in on me.
It’s nice to know that if I fell in the shower and broke my neck, my body would be discovered before it had decomposed too badly. I don’t want to deprive all the ladies of an open casket funeral.
Penny: Not funny, Bash. At all. I don’t like funeral jokes.
Do you need someone there with you?
Bash: Why? Would you come over if I did?
Penny: If you’re as deep down in the despair pit as you seem, then yes, I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes. Thirty-five if I hit the trains wrong.
Bash: Wow.
You really are worried about me, aren’t you?
Penny: Yes, you jerk. Now promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid before I get there.
Bash: You’re worried for nothing, buttercup. I’m not that far down the pit, not even close. As much as I would love for you to come over, I can’t let you come because you’re scared.
I don’t like scaring people for no reason.
Especially people I like.
I’m fine and will be back to normal by tomorrow morning. I promise.
But if you would still like to come over, I’ll give your name to the front desk and leave a glass of wine on the counter for you.
Penny: Are you sure you’re okay? You swear you would tell me if you weren’t?
Bash: Yes, I swear I’m okay and that I would tell you if I weren’t.
Does this mean you aren’t coming over?
Penny: Well, it is pretty late…
