by Haley Jenner
His loud knock echoes through the apartment and I swallow the bile rising in my throat. Exhaling heavily, I move toward the door.
He’s leaning casually against the doorjamb, his head tipped down, my purse held in his hand. His head lifts slowly when the door opens, an amused smirk decorating his mouth.
“Oh my God, Parker.” I move forward, my hands reaching for his face and the slight discoloration of the bruise forming at his right eye socket. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Random fact, I’ve never been assaulted by a woman. Especially one that only seconds prior I was making feel pretty damn good.”
His face is a twisted mix of shock and amusement and I walk forward, into his body, dropping my face into his hard chest. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”
His large arms come around my body, his feet shuffling forward to move us into my apartment.
“Fun fact about me?” I muffle into his shirt. “I’ve never physically assaulted anyone. In my life. Accidentally or intentionally.”
He laughs, kicking the door closed behind him. “Listen, Sugar. I get that probably escalated faster than you felt comfortable. Future...” he pauses, pushing me back marginally, using a knuckle to lift my chin, allowing him access to my eyes. “Words are good. Far preferable to a knee to the junk.”
I groan loudly. “I’m so embarrassed.”
He throws my purse onto the first available surface he sees. “No need for that. I’m findin’ I’m enjoying your brand of different.”
Relief floods my body and I know that I should use this moment to come clean. To admit why I freaked so badly. But I like the way he’s looking at me. I like the genuine smile, the lack of judgment he’s offering me. I don’t want that to change. Not right now.
“Gonna taste your lips, Sugar. That cool? Or will it earn me another head-butt?”
I narrow my eyes at his teasing. “How long will you hold that against me? Just so I’m aware…”
A smugness crosses his face, a fuck-you-gonna-do-about-it smirk twisting his lips in an incredibly sexy way, a large hand coming up to grab my jaw tightly.
“Because—” I start, but he cuts me off, his mouth crashing down on mine and cutting off not only my meek argument but any thought in my lust clogged brain.
My words break off on a heady moan, his skilled tongue stroking against mine.
Like everything else about Parker Shay, his kisses are authoritative. Dominating. The way he holds me so forcefully in place. He takes ultimate control. And as inexperienced as I am, I know this is how I’d always want to be kissed. The knowledge he’d be completely in control of my body. That he’d take pleasure from me, unapologetically, while giving me mine.
His free hand finds my ass, pulling me aggressively against his solid frame. Against the swelling length tucked into his jeans.
He groans. Or growls. Or does both. The sound rough, desperate and laced with unrivaled need. Exactly like the kiss. I echo his sound with a moan, my hands clutching at his chest, working to get closer.
Pulling back, his teeth bite my bottom lip before letting go. Panting heavily, he scowls down at me, seemingly irritated by the effect of our kiss. His gray eyes darken in their craving; the carnal desire evident in the way they glow. Cavernous in their moonlit shadows, demanding my allegiance.
His hand remains tightly gripped at my jaw, his heavy breathing grazing my skin in a hot current of need. I chase his kiss, attempting to drive my face forward, my need to feel his mouth against mine almost too much.
Parker Shay is addictive. We’re barely acquainted. Still virtually strangers, but when I’m caught in his proximity, I feel powerless in my ability to refute my overwhelming need. Everything about him is fueling an obsession that no longer feels healthy. His kiss. His dominance. The thunder of his temperament. Parker Shay is quickly becoming a habit. A fixation I’m happy to find dependence on.
He may not feel healthy for my soul. He’s definitely dangerous to my well-being. But he feels good. Better than. He feels like a dream I never knew I wanted. He may not feel safe, but all I can yield is that he feels right.
He snarls at my attempt to move, but the sound isn’t hateful, it’s hot. It’s heated. It’s as needy as the whimper that escapes my own mouth.
His lips roughly caress my bottom lip. Then my top. He strokes his tongue against my top lip. Then my bottom. He bites me, his lips following the sting in a harsh touch to ease the sting. Finally, he closes his mouth over mine, giving me what I need. He kisses me severely; his firm grasp of my jaw not easing in the slightest through his attack.
Stepping from my space, his lips are the last of his body to disconnect. He’s one hundred percent immodest in readjusting himself in his dark jeans, his eyes fluttering closed in the movement.
“Kissing shouldn’t be that satisfying on its own. Fuckin’ with my head, Sugar.”
He tips his tongue out, dragging it across the wetness of his lips, an indecent grin tipping the right side of his mouth upward. Looking me over, his eyes drag along my work attire savagely. The lewd graze of his eyes complementing the salacious slide of his smile.
“You’re workin’ today.” He sounds disappointed by his statement, his thoughts clearly having wandered to alternate ways in which we could spend our day.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak; not the words or the sound of my voice.
“I’m workin’ the next few nights, so I won’t see you. Text me, yeah?” Again, it’s a statement, not a question, not a request and I find myself nodding before he’s finished speaking.
“I kiss you again and I’ll most likely find myself with a matching bruise under my left eye socket.” He winks, turning to take the few steps to my front door. “I’ll hear from you.”
I smile like a complete goof, remaining mute for fear of sounding like a total loon if I speak. Instead, I stay rooted to the spot, waving my goodbye, completely giddy that I didn’t scare him away. Not with the head-butt. Not with a knee to balls.
Parker Shay might just be as addicted to me as I am to him.
The door clicks over, Parker no longer in view and I fist pump the air, turning on my heel, my stupid grin remaining firmly fixed on my face for the rest of the day.
Nine
Parker
I stand, extending my hand.
“Appreciate your time, Parker.”
I nod my reassurance. “I’m a gin man. You promise me somethin’ good, you’re always gonna have my audience.”
Eli barks out a laugh, moving toward my office door. “I’ll organize some samples over the next week. Trial it over a few nights, let me know how it’s received.”
I nod again, flicking my hand up in farewell as he exits my office without anything further. That’s why I always make time for Eli. No bullshit. No fabricated sales pitch. He won’t come to me unless he knows I’d be interested in purchasing. He doesn’t waste my time. I respect that.
Dropping down into my chair, I rub a hand on my face, yawning loudly. Fuck. I’ve been going non-stop for going on twenty-four hours. Rocco did a no-show last night, so after only three hours sleep I was back here last night, from nine pm until now, nearing eight in the evening.
I’m fucking shattered.
I’m hungry.
I need a stiff fucking drink.
And I want Codi.
I don’t let myself read into that last one. I barely let myself admit it’s truth in the first place. I convince myself I’m horny. Which isn’t a lie. Far from it. I need inside her like I need fucking oxygen.
The way she kisses me. The sexy little moans that spill from her sinful lips. Shit, my cock’s been rock solid for six days. Six fucking days. I won’t even let myself jerk off. Fuck that. It wouldn’t satisfy me. Not the way I need it to. Not the way Codi would.
Fuck, you’d think after my last effort I’d be scared off. Jesus, the force in which her face collided with my nose. Bitch had strength like I couldn’t imagine. I’m lucky she didn’t break it. Shit, the bru
ise has only just subsided completely.
She’s hijacking my thoughts. Steamrolling every aspect of my life. And I’ve spent next to no time with her. I’ve barely touched her. Save tasting her sweet lips. Wouldn’t mind a taste of the rest of her though. I know this makes me the biggest dick on earth. I’m working through a plot to terminate this girl. To take her life. And I’m determined to fuck her before I do that. I could pretend it’s just another facet of my revenge plan. Gain her ultimate trust by making her give me access to her body. But I’d be lying and I’m man enough to admit that. Truth is, she turns me on. She’s beautiful. Like no other. She’s sweet. Like sugar. She feels good to touch and so far, I’ve only been given surface access. Fuck, I’m dying to actually touch her naked skin. To taste it. To dirty her perfect complexion with the rough splash of colors from mine.
This ain’t a long-term arrangement. It can’t be. It’s a play. A sequence of events that need to play out for Rocco and I to find our peace. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself before I’m gifted a one-way ticket to hell.
Tipping my head back, I give into my need to close my eyes. I need to go home. I need to sleep for at least fourteen hours. And I sure as shit need to stop letting Codi Rein seize my capacity of thought.
I close my eyes, letting myself drift off into unconsciousness for a few minutes, just to tide me over until I can crash out tonight.
I startle awake at the sharp sound of my office phone. I sit up, rubbing a hand down my face roughly. Clearing my throat, I retrieve the phone from the cradle.
“Parker.”
“Boss. Blondie’s back. Took her up to the VIP area, planted her at your table.”
I sit up straighter. “Blondie? You mean Codi?”
“Don’t know her name, same chick you were here with a little while back, red dress.”
“Get a waitress to get her a drink, I’ll be up in a minute.”
I replace the phone, grabbing for my cell to check any missed calls or texts from Codi, but nothing.
I stand abruptly, adjusting my clothes and sliding my cell into my pocket. I move fast through the club, bounding up the stairs, eager to see her. Mike, my security guard, nods at my approach and I slow, clapping my hand on his shoulder as I pass.
Codi’s face breaks open into a wide smile when she sees me and I return it automatically. Maybe it’s unhealthy, but I’m really fuckin’ pleased to see her.
Sliding into the booth, I pull in beside her, my arm stretching along the back of the seat, fingers ghosting over her naked shoulder. I give into my need to touch her, to smell her, dropping my nose into the smooth expanse of her neck and inhaling deeply.
“Miss me, Sugar?”
She’s dressed like sin. As always. Legs painted in acid wash jeans, a thin strip of her upper abdomen naked to the eye. Shoulders bare, a black tube top covers her gorgeous tits. Sin. Temptation. A siren of seduction and she’s fucking oblivious.
Codi arches her neckline, offering me greater access to the porcelain candy-scented skin. I take the opportunity eagerly, brushing my lips against her pulse point, feathering kisses up and down her skin.
She moans softly. “Mmm-hmm, miss me?”
I pull back, eyes falling to her parted lips. Lips begging for my mouth. I refrain, lifting a hand instead and dragging my thumb across the soft cushion. “In a way that’s dangerous.”
Her tempting lips move into the hint of a smile, the gesture showing confusion and not joy. I don’t let her read further into the insight of my psyche, my words giving away more than they should. Finally giving into my need to kiss her, my large palm cups her jaw, strong fingers pressing into the back of her skull. I pull her face to mine and she comes willingly. Moving with negative resistance; more than eager to be at the mercy of my touch.
Her mouth opens to welcome my tongue and relief coats my entire nervous system. Calming me. Unraveling the unfulfilled need coiling my body. Codi Rein is a sensory overload I’m willing to overdose on. Her taste. Her smell. Her touch. Her physicality. I’ve been dying for another taste, another touch of her and the deliverance I feel on contact is soul destroying. I’ve become addicted to her in a way that isn’t conducive to my end goal. It concerns me, just not enough to stop.
I shouldn’t need this as much as I do.
I shouldn’t crave her the way I do.
I shouldn’t want her. Not to the point of obsession.
But I do. And no motherfucker is gonna ruin that. Not even my evil fucker of a conscience.
Our kiss verges on obscene. It’s intimate in the way it flaunts our violent need. Lewd in the obvious way it should be private. But we let ourselves get lost in one another. Surrounded by other partygoers; all dancing, drinking, laughing around us while Codi and I all but tear at each other’s clothes.
The smallest moans escape her throat, the sweet vibration of the sounds swallowed by my mouth. Returned in fire with my harsh growls rippling against her tongue.
My hand twitches with the need to touch her elsewhere. To feel in between her creamy colored thighs. To feel the damp heat resulting from our lust fueled kiss.
Last time that earned me a head-butt and a forceful knee to the balls. I’m hesitant to take my chance again. Even though she’s offering up all the right signals. Clear to me that even though she wants this, us, taking it further, she has a roadblock in her brain about it. I’d long since moved past the fear she overheard Rocco and I discussing our plan of revenge. It’s something. Just not that.
Her hand skates along my thigh upward brushing against my swelling cock. Her breath stutters on contact, her lips breaking away, teeth biting into her juicy bottom lip, thighs clenching together.
I angle my body toward her, cutting off everyone’s view of my girl. Codi is unrivaled in her beauty. One of the most attractive women I’ve laid lies on and that’s on a day to day basis. But here, now, moaning, squirming in her unsatisfied need, she’s striking. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. This may have started as nothing more than revenge, but I can’t move past the fact that I’ve hit the jackpot. Men would beg, give their lives to touch someone like Codi Rein, and she’s serving herself up on a silver platter. I’d be a fool to deny myself the opportunity.
Her small, delicate fingers drift across my zipper and my eyes roll back into my skull, the pleasure I feel from the slight touch almost awkward. Her thumb and index finger pull at my zipper slowly, and I deepen our kiss, working to get as close as I can, my chaotic need for her crippling my ability for rational thought. Because I’m now one of them, a poor schmuck that would give my right fucking arm for Codi Rein to touch me. For the smallest touch of her hand across my naked cock. Stretching her hand into my boxers, her palm slides down the rigid length of my dick, cupping my balls and squeezing. Dragging her hand back upward, she feels along the tight smooth expanse of my skin.
“Grab it.” The thick, tremulous bite of my voice shows my desperation, but it fuels her.
A needy cry escapes her lips, her small hand wrapping tightly around my dick. She squeezes, and I grunt my approval. “Hard.”
She whimpers at my demand, following my instruction without hesitation.
Hidden in the dark corner of my club, concealed by the booth we’re tucked within, Codi strokes my cock. Her delicate hand moves firm and rough; grazing up and down my swelling shaft with quick and expert movements.
Maybe I’m so wound up and sexually starved that a hand job feels better than it should. Maybe it’s just because it’s Codi. Right now, I don’t fucking care. My cock is on the receiving end of the type of love it craves and I’m gonna take that.
Our lips, tongues, and teeth explore one another’s mouths in fraught need as she works my dick. I should be trying to touch her back. I should pull her onto my lap and slam her down onto my cock and let the warm, wet walls of her pussy jerk along me the way her hand is. Throw her down and power in and out of her body the way I’ve hankered to do. But I can’t pull myself away from the pleasure coursing through my v
eins.
Her thumb runs over my head on an upward slide and my hips jerk. Every muscle around my cock and balls tense, readying to blow and I groan heavily, pulling my lips back to drop my head against the back of my chair. Codi’s lips attack my neck; biting, sucking, licking, her hand never ceasing her gluttonous attack of my shaft.
Throwing my face into her neck, I bite down on the tender skin, groaning as I spill over her hand. That orgasm has been taunting me for weeks now, dancing along the precipice, daring me to give into it. To feel its sweet, unrestrained relief. Fuck I’m glad I waited. Even for it be delivered through a hand job.
“Can’t say I’ve come that hard by someone’s hand since middle school.”
She giggles, the sound of bells hitting my ears in the dark density of the club and I can’t stop the wide smile that cracks at my lips.
Tucking myself back into my jeans, I use the bottom of my shirt to clean Codi’s hand. Standing, I reach for her. “Come.”
Placing her hand in mine, she stands, moving in closer. “Where?”
I watch as she readjusts her clothes, glancing to me curiously.
“My office.” I take a step and she stops, pulling on my hand to cease my feet moving any farther.
“Can I use the bathroom?”
I glance over her face, trying to read any hesitation, but seeing none, I nod, pointing her in the direction of the bathroom. “Be quick.”
She bites her bottom lip, nodding shyly.
Leaning my ass back against the table we were just sitting at, I contemplate the humor in how blissed out I feel after going to second base. I watch Codi’s ass as she heads toward the bathrooms and consider that second base ain’t all that fucking bad.
In my insouciant state, it takes me a moment to register Codi’s path veering away from the bathroom and toward the stairs. I stand upright, watching her descend, not a single glance made back in my direction.
What. The. Fuck.
I move closer to the railing of the VIP area, glancing down on the crowded bar to follow her movements. I’m positive I pointed to the bathroom on this level. I’m more than fucking confident I didn’t direct her down the stairs. She pushes past people with intent, moving with purpose toward the front of the club and I clench my fists in anger.
