by Marie James
I keep my eyes on him as long as I can, watching his face while he watches my working fingers, but when that ball of fire in my stomach travels lower and explodes, pulsing out the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life, they flutter closed.
After several gasping breaths and formulating the words I plan to use to beg him to join me on the bed, I reopen them. My doorway is empty, and he’s gone. Almost like he was never there in the first place.
Chapter 17
Flynn
I fucked up.
I fucked up.
I fucked up.
The words play over and over in my head as I pace back and forth in my room. If I keep this up, I’m going to wear a hole in the damn overpriced plush carpet. But it’s not like the Blairs don’t have the funds to replace it.
I’ve done a lot of stuff in my life. I’m no novice when it comes to spending time in the bedroom, but I can’t recall a single thing more erotic than what I just witnessed. Remington coming on her fingers while I stood watching? Best thing to ever happen to me.
With a harsh hand, I smack my forehead. Not the best. I have to pretend it didn’t even happen.
Never happened.
Never happened.
That’s my new motto.
Thinking about it would only lead to me going right back in there.
I ignore my erection, ignore the scent of her filling that damn room, and ignore the incessant urge to go back in there and make her come again.
I didn’t want to touch her—I mean I did, but it didn’t seem right at the moment—didn’t want to make things more awkward between us than they were after I kissed her lips. But I don’t think things could get any worse. Hell, the only thing left is knowing what she looks like coming with my cock inside of her.
Just picturing it in my mind makes me groan.
“Didn’t happen,” I hiss out loud, knowing I have to convince myself.
I’ve got one foot metaphorically inside her fucking bedroom already, two fingers inside the pinkest pussy I’ve ever seen before in my life—or maybe my tongue. There’s no doubt that she’d taste amazing. The way her fingers glistened, the way her core pulsed so hard, I could see the movement across the room.
This is going to be my end.
Fantasizing, imagining what she’d look like splayed out like the best gift in the world is one thing. Watching her take herself over the edge is something that will be burned into my memories for a lifetime. Do I even want to forget? Hell no, but it’s the only choice.
Her birthday party is coming fast. If she behaves like she has been this week, maybe I can convince Deacon to talk to the Blairs into hiring a less invasive company to come keep an eye on her. Staying here is going to lead to one thing, and that’s her on her back begging me to thrust harder. It’s complications like that no man needs in his life.
Unable to stay this close to her, I grab all of my shit, stuffing it into my luggage, and leave the upstairs. I shove open the door to one of the staff bedrooms and toss my suitcase and duffel to the floor.
My skin itches, the minimal distance I’ve managed is still too close. The scent of her is inside of me, taunting and teasing me to go to her. My cock refuses to flag, regardless of the attention I’m denying it. The damn thing has never been so stubborn before.
Never—not ever—has a woman made me this insane. Not even the one that cost me the job at the Bureau. I thought she was my downfall, the reason my life took the turn I never anticipated. She’s got nothing on Remington Blair. Nothing on the sight of her in that fucking bed. Jesus, she took off up the stairs like her ass was on fire.
I only followed to make sure she was okay. She was more than okay, legs open, fingers circling—
“Fuck!” I roar, gaining control mere seconds before punching a hole in the wall.
It’s a game, right? It has to be. This is what she does, isn’t it? She teases and taunts, seduces the men hired to watch after her. But to what end? To get them fired, replaced? Is she hoping to end up with one that will just turn a blind eye to her erratic behaviors?
Considering the possibility that what just happened was all a damn show, that others have seen the same thing I just witnessed makes my blood overheat.
But she didn’t taunt and tease me today while we watched television. She had sat on the couch, maintained the distance between us, and fidgeted like she couldn’t stand to be near me. She didn’t utter a word yesterday either for her after-birthday party declaration of who she plans to spend the night with—me.
“God if only,” I hiss, giving in and gripping my cock over my sweats. “No. Fuck, no. Get a grip on yourself, Coleman.”
I huff, my hand actually squeezing my dick. I release it with a jerk of my hand, opting to scrub my hands down my face.
A quick, very cold shower doesn’t help, even though I refuse to jack off. Giving in to that is the first step in giving in to her, and I’m too damn close to the edge already.
I don’t bother drying my hair before leaving the room and heading to the security office, only to stop dead in my tracks.
“You look like shit.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Is she keeping you up all night?” I turn my head, ignoring Ignacio and glare at Gaige.
“She hasn’t snuck out in a while.”
I’ve never really been a violent man, only using force when necessary, but there’s something about the guys being here a day early that makes me want to start swinging. I should be glad to see them, knowing they’ll be the distraction I need to put some distance between the succubus and me, but more than half of me is a little bitter about the interruption.
See? A man crazed for a woman is a very dangerous thing. It’s like I’m drugged, intoxicated on her and ready to bite the head off of anyone who steps into the path of me getting to her.
“So you’ve been staying in and keeping her busy?” Both Ignacio and Gaige chuckle like school children at Quinten’s words.
“You guys are missing out!” I spin around, my mouth hanging open as Finnegan walks up behind me with a chicken drumstick in his huge paw. “Margarita is an amazing cook.”
He takes another bite, smirking as he chews.
I spin and glare at Ignacio.
“What? Look at that innocent face. I couldn’t say no.”
“Dick move of you to even suggest not letting me come,” Finnegan says, his accent as heavy and thick as the shove he gives my shoulder as he pushes past me to plop in the office chair.
“The gang’s all here,” Gaige says as he rubs his hands together.
“For work,” I remind them, sweeping my eyes to meet each pair in the room. “A day early.”
“Are we interrupting your plans?” After Deacon, I used to consider Ignacio my closest friend. It looks like that’ll be changing.
“No,” I hiss.
Get out of my head.
“The party is tomorrow night. I didn’t think Deacon would send nearly half his team out here a day early,” I mutter.
“Half,” Quinten says with a wide knowing smile.
These fuckers know me too well. They know I’m pissed they’re here. They gossip like adolescents, so they all know I kissed her. They know I wanted to come home, at first because my training is wasted on chasing a girl all over town, and then because resisting her is nearly impossible.
“Half?” I ask Quinten. There are ten active BBS members. Four are in front of me, and I make five so I guess that math is right after thinking about it.
“What did I miss?”
My jaw clenches, and I don’t bother to look behind me.
“I didn’t even have to flirt with Margarita to get a sandwich.” Brooks slaps me on the back as he shoehorns his way into the tiny office. “Cushy life, man.”
Five men stare back at me, all blinking slowly with mirth filling their handsome features. Yes, fucking handsome. I can admit it. Looks are the very reason I didn’t want them here, especially Finnegan with the accent and Brooks with enou
gh charisma to charm the habit off of a nun.
“Calm down,” Ignacio says when I just stand and glare. “Wren found out that your girl—”
“Not my girl,” I growl.
“Your client,” he corrects, “is planning a little pre-party here tonight. Deacon suggested we come early to make sure things go smoothly.”
“Not your girl?” Finnegan asks, licking the chicken seasoning from the tip of one finger as he watches me. “So, she’s single.”
His eyebrows waggle up and down comically, but I don’t find a single thing funny about any of this right now.
“Stop.” Ignacio slaps him in the chest. “Can’t you see his head is about to blow?”
“I’m sure that’s not the only thing that’s gonna blow soon,” Brooks whispers purposefully loud enough for the entire room to hear.
“Hey guys.” I freeze at the sound of her voice, knowing if I turned around my very poorly kept secrets and desire will be evident on my face.
“Hey,” Brooks says, and I watch as his eyes go up and down, and up and down.
Ignacio keeps his eyes on me, gauging my reaction.
“Did Margarita make sure you got settled in okay?”
“Yes,” Gaige answers, his throat working on a swallow.
I still can’t face her, but she’s close enough that the flowery scent of her bodywash fills my nose. She’s not touching me, so I must just be imagining the heat of her skin along my side.
“Gaige and I are staying here,” Ignacio adds. “Quinten, Brooks, and Finnegan will be staying in the city.”
Thank fuck for small favors. I may actually get some sleep tonight, knowing those assholes will be miles away.
“Very good. Let Margarita know if you need anything else to make your stay more comfortable.”
Her hair brushes my arm when she walks away, and I’m unable to resist looking at her. I turn, knowing I’m going to watch the swish of her fabulous ass, only to find her sauntering away in nothing but a thong bikini bottom.
“She’s got great tits,” Finnegan whispers.
Ignacio barely catches me before my fist can connect with his smiling freckled face.
Chapter 18
Remington
“Off-limits,” I hiss when I notice Sasha’s eyes following one of the Blackbridge guys as he crosses the room.
“Why?” she whines.
“They’re working.”
“To keep us safe.” A slow smile spreads across her face as she brings the straw of her drink to her mouth. “Imagine how safe I’d be if he was in bed with me.”
“Yeah,” I huff. “I bet you’d sleep like a baby.”
“Oh, Remington. There would be no sleeping going on.”
“Enough. You’re being weird. We see hot guys all the time.” I sweep my arm toward the half dozen guys, some I’ve never even met, playing volleyball in the pool. They’re all tan, leanly muscled, with white gleaming smiles. All of them fake, looking for a good time, and someone’s coattails to ride on either for an opening into the industry or someone to buy all the things they can’t afford themselves.
Makes me sick, just like the taste of this disgusting drink. I set the watered-down slush on the table beside the lounger I’m on, but that leaves me with nothing to do with my hands, so I pick it right back up again.
“Those guys?” Sasha asks. “Gross. Two of them have tiny dicks, and the one with the big dick doesn’t know how to use it.”
I chuckle at her assessment. “You slept with the three of them?”
My eyes skate over the group wondering which is which, loving that she can be so sexually free.
“No. Not a chance. I’m not going to waste my time with tiny peen. If I’m going to add a notch to my bedpost, it’s going to be worth it.” She glares at the one blond in the group. “And I’m not even going to count him. If it doesn’t last more than five minutes, it doesn’t count.”
I choke on laughter, biting the tip of my straw to keep from drawing attention. I don’t mind people here, and I really like having the noise and activity, but I’m in no mood to socialize in a group. Sasha is fine, plus after another drink, she’ll wander away in search of her good time for the night. She better heed my warnings and stay away from the BBS guys, especially Flynn.
“Who is that guy?” She angles her head at Ignacio, the man with the sexy Latin accent, tan skin, and bedroom eyes for days.
He’s chatting with a girl I don’t know, not necessarily flirting, but she must not understand. I know the occasional nibble on his bottom lip looks like he’s hitting on her, but I’ve been watching him for a while, and he’s not paying much attention to the girl. No, he’s watching Flynn scowl in the corner.
The guy I can’t get off my mind—no matter how hard I try—is in his normal uniform of dark slacks, but at least he’s gotten rid of the button-down shirt in exchange for one that clings to his muscles in the humidity surrounding the pool.
“Remington?”
“Hmm?” I pull my eyes from the scowling man and look back at Sasha.
“Do you know him?”
“That’s Flynn. He’s part of the security detail.” I’ve already told her this once, but she’s been throwing the drinks back for the last two hours, so it’s no surprise she’s already forgotten.
“No, the one over there?”
She points back to Ignacio who notices us looking at him. I grin when he winks, and it transitions into a low chuckle when a growl comes from the other side of the room. I don’t have to turn my head to know Flynn is the one who snarled.
“Don’t know,” I lie. “Must’ve come with someone else.”
Flynn told me, after practically dragging me back upstairs and forcing me to put a top on, that several of the guys were going to be casual around the pool and he, Brooks, and Finnegan were going to be more visible.
Casual means Ignacio, Quinten, and Gaige are in board shorts. The first sight of them with their shirts off made me wonder if six-packs are a BBS requirement, and if so, these men passed with flying colors. Holy muscles, do they have them in spades.
“Does she think she actually has a shot with him?”
“Do you know her?” I don’t know why I’m engaging in this conversation with her. She’s going to turn bitter, hating any woman she sees as standing in the way of something she wants. I’ve been on the receiving end of that ire more than once, and as I sit here and watch Sasha’s face transition from playful and flirty to something resembling irate indignation, I question why I decided to invite people over in the first place.
Maybe it has more to do with having six smoking hot guys piled into my house and being unable to keep my eyes off Flynn.
I know the rules. I know what the contract says that he had to sign to work for my family. I’ve used it more than once to get assholes fired. I don’t want him fired, not that my parents would know a single thing if it’s something I plan to keep away from them. Plus, I haven’t done that in a while. Phillip was genuinely not interested, and before him, I was practically jailbait. I wanted them gone, not in jail for touching a minor. I’m a selfish bitch, but I’m not psycho.
“Leave her alone.”
“Look,” she snaps. “He’s not even paying attention to her.”
“He doesn’t want you either.”
As if on a swivel, her head spins around. “Excuse me?”
I shrug. “He doesn’t want you either.”
My pulse speeds up as I keep my voice calm. Confronting her has the potential to go very badly. Sasha Davenport has the unique ability to be such a diva that she has no problem drawing the attention of every person in this room by losing her shit. Decorum doesn’t come into play—even though she’s a guest in my home—when she gets her feathers ruffled.
“Hey, birthday girl.” Sasha’s eyes narrow, and thankfully it’s because her attention has been pulled from me to the guy who just settled into the lounger on the other side of me.
I turn, my fake smile growing wider, fa
ker when I see it’s the blond guy from the pool. At least he knows this is a pre-birthday party. Others I’ve known for years haven’t even mentioned it, asking where the bar was the second they stepped in the house.
“Remington,” I say, offering my hand and pulling it back after only a couple of seconds of contact with his.
“Preston.” His smile is wide, if a little shy.
He has to be new money. He doesn’t have that cocky air of entitlement to him yet. If anything, he seems a little in awe of being here, and I find myself growing to enjoy his company as we sit silently, watching the guys continue to hit the ball around the pool.
“You left the condom wrapper on the floor,” Sasha says, her voice so close to my ear it startles me.
I have to pull my head back in order to not smack our cheeks together when I turn to look at her. She’s glaring at Preston, leaning into the space of my own lounger.
“That’s disgusting,” she adds.
His cheeks turn pink. “S-sorry. That was rude. I didn’t see a trashcan.”
“It’s in the—”
I drown them out, grimacing when Kyle walks across the pool deck. I swear he acts like he’s on a camera reel in slow motion with the way he tosses his hair back and forth like some damn Disney prince. Does he think all eyes are on him?
He circles around the lounger, not interrupting Preston who is taking a verbal lashing from Sasha and leans over the back of mine.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
I tilt my head up to look up at him, and of course his eyes are on my chest and not my face.
“Kyle,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Wanna go someplace a little quieter?” His finger trails down my arm, cold chills—and not the good kind—sweep down my arms. “We could—”
Kyle yelps, and I sit up quickly, stopping the argument between Preston and Sasha as I spin around to see what’s going on.
Flynn shoves Kyle into Brooks’ chest in a practiced move before he lifts me up over the top of the lounger like I weigh nothing.
“What the hell are you doing?” All the air leaves my lungs when he tosses me over his shoulder and carries me away from the pool.
