Dirty Deeds

by Lauren Landish

  I rush back to the bathroom and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the undies I’m wearing today and I’m not wearing heels, but it gives me an idea. I come back out, spreading my arms and twirling a few times for Brianna. “How do I look?”

  Brianna’s eyes go wide. “I think you know how you look.”

  “Good,” I say with a naughty grin, the plan cooking up in my head on the fly, “because I’m going to wear this tomorrow to meet Oliver.”

  Brianna looks at me like she’s about ready to call the psych ward. “Seriously? You just said you weren’t going to sleep with him, but then you’re gonna wear something like that? Don’t make me say what that dress is screaming. Not with Rafe around.”

  I make a face, wiggling my butt in Bri’s direction as I check myself in the mirror. I know the heels I need to wear with this. They’d make me . . . oh, yeah. “I’m not gonna sleep with him. But two can play his game.”

  “Right,” Brianna says. She grins as she gets the point of my plan. “You’re going to grab the bull by his horn.”

  “More or less,” I say as I place my hands on my hips, admiring the dress that hugs my curves like Saran Wrap. Oh, I most certainly fucking will.

  Oliver

  “Remember,” I tell Tony as we pull up to the curb of the airport. I hired a driver again, both for convenience and to make sure Tony and I can talk. “Don’t pull any bullshit while I’m gone or you’re going to find your ass and your head meeting.”

  “Relax. I got it,” Tony says, annoyed. “You’ve only said it a hundred times before.”

  “Good. Take care of Mom. We’re all she’s got,” I remind him, more gently this time. “She needs us.”

  “Damn, Oli, you’re just leaving for a week. Not a lifetime,” Tony says with a grimace.

  We pull up in front of the airport, and I offer Tony my hand as we come to a stop. “Take care. I’ll be in touch.”

  Tony shakes, and I’m encouraged. He’s got a man’s grip. I get out of the car and grab my bags out of the back. With a wave, I slap the hood and watch the car take off.

  I stop and look around. I got a text from Gavin this morning telling me that Mindy would be here before I was. But she’s nowhere in sight.

  I wait five minutes, and I’m about to pull out my phone when Brianna rolls up with Mindy, the sunroof down on her convertible. She gets out of the car and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. She’s wearing dark shades and a tight body-hugging red dress. She might as well be wearing nothing at all.

  Blood pumps furiously to my cock as it instantly hardens. Good thing I’m wearing a sport coat.

  “Hey, Oliver,” Brianna greets chirpily as she gets out of the car. Mindy pretends she doesn’t notice me, walking around to the side and bending over to get her bags out of the back, giving me an unrivaled view of her ass. I’m pretty sure she’s doing it on purpose.

  I swallow hard as fire runs through me. I see her toss a little glance behind her and then quickly look away as she slowly pulls her bag. I knew it—she’s doing this shit on purpose.

  Okay, Princess, you wanna play? Challenge accepted.

  “Hello, Brianna,” I say politely, trying to keep the strain out of my voice. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever. Gavin’s a lucky man.”

  She walks over, gesturing at me with a smile. “Looking good yourself, Mr. Fiancé. What is that, Gucci?”

  I chuckle. “Thanks. I figured I’d play the part. Mindy’s supposed to have this stud of a date, so I dressed down a little.”

  Brianna chuckles, then leans in to whisper to me. “Thank you for doing this.”

  I shake my head. I still don’t get why this charade is needed, but whatever. “It’s no problem. I think it’ll be fun,” I say, trying to restrain a grin from spreading across my face.

  Brianna gives me a measured look, and I wonder how much her husband has told her about me.

  “I think that’s it,” Mindy says, pulling our attention to her. She has a small hoard of luggage. She’s packed for a month, not a damn week. “So where’s the redcap?”

  Brianna winks at me and stands on her tiptoes to pat me on my shoulder. “Take care of her for me, okay? She can be a handful.”

  I give her a polite nod. Regardless of the dirty things that dress makes me want to do to Mindy and her body right now, I can tell Brianna cares about her a lot. “I’ll do my best.”

  There’s a twinkle of mischievousness in Brianna’s eyes when she turns away, and something tells me that she’s laughing at an inner joke. Something tells me Mindy’s got something up her sleeve.

  “Bye, trick,” Brianna says to Mindy, giving her a hug. “I’ll miss you, even if it’s only for a week.”

  “Bye, hussy,” Mindy says, delivering a quick peck on her cheek. “Please control your language around my little Rafealicious while I’m gone. It’s really getting out of control. I’d like to know someone’s raising him right.”

  Brianna turns to me, a mock scowl on her face. “You know what? I take that back. Have your way with her.”

  Mindy gawks, then laughs defensively. She wasn’t expecting that one. “Oh, come on, you know I love you!”

  “Nope, not listening,” Brianna says, sticking her fingers in her ears as she walks around and jumps into the driver seat. “I hope you get hogtied and covered in honey!”

  Oh, the ideas that brings to my mind. Mindy blushes too but waves it off with a laugh. “Whatever!”

  “That’s right!” Brianna says cheerfully. She starts up her car and gives us both a playful wave. “Bye, Felicia!”

  She drives off, leaving Mindy looking almost shocked. “I’m so gonna kill you when I get back!” Mindy yells at the fleeing car, flipping the bird.

  I chuckle at their antics. I don’t know if they’ve always been this way. Gavin says that his wife used to be pretty shy, but she could have fooled me.

  When Brianna is gone, I walk over to Mindy. I look her up and down, letting my eyes tell her just how much I like it. “Dressed for the weather?”

  She looks down at the dress before giving me a saucy grin and putting on a terrible Scarlett O’Hara fake accent, teasing me again. “This little ole thing? I just threw it on.”

  Painted it on is more like it, I think, checking her out again. “It looks good on you,” I admit, but not offering too much. I’m not going to let her think she has power over me and think I’m going to obey her little rules.

  A blush comes over her face and she looks away. “Thanks.” She turns back around a moment later. “Can you get my bags?”

  “Just a second,” I tell her, holding in my grin. I pull out a black velvet box from my pocket, raising an eyebrow. “You’re missing something.”

  “What is that—” she begins to ask. Her breath catches in her throat as I open it to reveal a platinum engagement ring with two stones, emerald and diamond to match our birth months. Gavin was helpful. “Oh, my . . .”

  I lean in close, pressing my body into hers, letting her feel my cock pressing into her side and whispering in her ear. She’s trembling already, and I feel confidence returning. She’s so going to be mine.

  “For you,” I say, meaning both my cock and the ring. I pull away a second later, grinning at the effect my moves have on her. “I’m sure it’s just the right size.”

  She’s red in the face and her chest is heaving as I take the ring out of the box and place it on her finger. A perfect fit, of course.

  “Why—” she begins to say breathlessly when I step away, staring at the ring as if it’s magic, and she’s not sure if it’s good magic or bad yet. “How did you . . .?”

  “The details don’t matter, Princess,” I tell her. “We’re supposed to be engaged. How would it look if you show up without an engagement ring?”

  She looks like she wants to say something, but she knows I’m right. “You’re right,” she mutters so low I can barely hear her. “I guess I didn’t think about that. Where’d you get it?”

  I wink at her
and throw her words back in her face. “That old thing? Oh, I just found it lying around somewhere.”

  I hold in my grin as she scowls at me and I call the redcap for her bags. We check in the airport and walk through the terminal. On the way to the plane, she says very little. I try to keep my eyes off her tight curves, wanting to keep the little edge that I’ve got.

  But by the time we board the plane and get in our seats, some of her spark has returned. We’re flying first class, of course, and she knows as she slides past me to the window seat exactly how much her ass is in my face. The flight attendant brings us some pre-takeoff drinks, and she turns to me, raising her glass.

  “This ring is beautiful,” she says, her shoulder brushing mine as she leans slightly in to toast me. Up close, I can smell her perfume and it smells like heaven. Running her finger along the band, she chuckles as she checks out the stones. “Nice bullshit story about where you got it though. So, you’re a May baby?”

  “I am,” I admit. “Figured it’d help you remember.”

  “Nice idea,” she says with a chuckle. “So where’d you get it?”

  Damn, she really wants to know badly. Well, it won’t hurt to tell her. “I got it from Feinberg’s in the middle of town. He’s got a good selection of stuff.”

  “It must’ve been a small fortune,” Mindy says, biting her lip unconsciously.

  “It wasn’t cheap,” I confirm. Actually, Feinberg will let me bring it back, minus a thousand bucks, but Mindy doesn’t need to know that. Besides, the ring looks good on her hand.

  I clear my throat as the plane begins to taxi. “So what’s this place like?”

  “Summerfield?” Mindy says, looking out the window for a moment. “It’s a rich bay town, sorta like the Keys or Martha’s Vineyard. Oh, by the way . . . for the next week, your name is going to be Harold.”

  “Harold?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You must be fucking kidding me.”

  “You got a problem with that?” Mindy asks in challenge. “Seriously, it’s what they’re expecting.”

  “I’ll go by Oliver,” I say firmly. “There’s no way in hell I’m answering to Harold.”

  “But . . .” Mindy says, stopping when I shake my head.

  “We’ll say Harold’s a bad joke of a name you gave me. For something being especially . . . hairy.”

  Her mouth opens and shuts like a fish and I hold in a grin.

  “Nothing wrong with being called Harold,” she grumbles after a moment, having to get the last word in. “I had a goldfish named Harold. By the way, did you rehearse the names?”

  “I looked at it a little.” To be honest, I couldn't focus much on anything but Mindy.

  She sucks in a breath, frustrated. “Okay, let me give you some tips. Mother can be bossy. She’ll try to run all over you. Grandma pretends to be dumb, but don’t let it fool you—she’s as sharp as a tack.”

  “Anything else?” I ask. Sounds like Mindy’s not going to be the only fun I have this next week.

  “Listen to me and follow my orders and you’ll be fine.”

  I have to grin. She should know by now. “What did I tell you about that, Princess?”

  Mindy hums and turns back, her hand brushing her cup and dumping half a Sprite with ice in my lap. “Oh, Harold, I’m sorry!” she says with an overly dramatic gasp.

  Before I can react, she gets a napkin and dabs at my crotch. Her strokes barely brush the top of my dick, and it twitches, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the two layers of fabric between me and her soft fingers.

  I grab her hand a second later when the shock wears off, putting it firmly in her lap. “I got it,” I say. “You should be more careful.”

  My cock is straining against my pants so much it hurts. She was intentionally brushing her hand up against my cock. My cheeks are flaming, and I have to use the photo book to hide my crotch as the plane makes the final turn and starts down the runway, accelerating into the air.

  “I really am sorry,” Mindy says with faux sincerity as we reach our cruising altitude. “I so didn’t mean to do that.”

  Yeah, right. The little triumphant smile I see on her face says it all.

  This is fucking war.

  Mindy

  My heart pounds in my chest as the limo rolls to a stop in front of Wentworth Estate, parking on the circular driveway. It’s like something out of a storybook, or maybe even a painting. Lush green grass is perfectly trimmed on the huge manicured lawns. Three statues adorn the lawn, all of them classically-themed pieces, one of them of a man on a horse. If I remember what Mom told me, it’s supposed to be a Wentworth who won the Congressional Medal of Honor back in the Civil War or something like that.

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathe, momentarily stunned.

  “It’s nice,” Oliver agrees.

  For some reason, his lack of gushing pisses me off. He sounds so casual about it all.

  I’m still smarting over what he did. Pushing his body into me when he gave me the ring, intentionally pressing his big, hard . . . wait, what am I thinking? I shove the thought away, my face turning red.

  Jesus, will it ever stop?

  We’re not even a day in and I can already cut the sexual tension with a knife. My body is on hormonal overdrive, and I’ve still got six days, eighteen hours, and too many damn minutes before we’re done with this charade.

  “You okay?” Oliver asks, seeing my trouble. “Did the plane ride upset your stomach or something?”

  I wave off his concern, not letting on to my desire. I can’t let him know just how much he’s affecting me. “You can save the hero act for a bit. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

  The corner of his lips curls up into a grin and I grit my teeth. I got the last laugh on the plane, but somehow, I know he has the upper hand now.

  “Hey, don’t worry about me,” I say. “Remember the back story?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Oliver says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t understand yet. Mom and Grandma both have minds like tape recorders and the cross-examining skills of a lawyer. They’ll tear him apart if he starts screwing around. “You only said it a million times on the way over here. We’ve been together a year. I walked into your coffee shop and told you that you were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Short and sweet.”

  A flush comes to my chest. The words sound nice even though they’re fake. “Yeah, something like that. Don’t forget about you dropping to your knees when I said yes.”

  Oliver’s smirk turns into a genuine smile, and I feel my flush deepen. “Don’t worry,” he says, giving me a reassuring, smoldering look. “They’re going to buy every word. We’ll see about going to my knees though.”

  Somehow, his words don’t give me comfort. It’s like everything he says has layers of meaning, and no matter what, my mind wants to think of sex. Like him covering my body in kisses and being on his knees, his lips . . .

  The door opens and the driver, an old man named Sam, stands ready for us. “The Wentworth Estate. Please watch your step on the gravel, Miss.”

  I step out, relishing the cool breeze that blows in lightly from the east, caressing my soft flesh as I take in the scenery. It’s a beautiful day with sunny, clear skies, the large French Provincial mansion looming against the azure sky. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d be amazed.

  “Don’t worry about your bags,” Sam says when Oli makes a move to grab them out of the back of the limo. “The house staff will get them and make sure they’re delivered to the proper bedroom.”

  Oliver gives me a look. “The house staff?”

  I just shrug. I knew John had money, but I’ve never cared enough to find out exactly how much. I was expecting a nice big house, not a damn castle with house staff. “I’m just rollin’ with it.”

  “If you’ll come with me,” the driver says.

  Sam leads us to the cobblestone walkway that leads to the huge double-door entry of the mansion. As we head up, Oliver places his hand on the small of my back. Warm
currents begin to ripple out from his touch, and I squirm on the inside, flustered.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth, alarmed by what his touch is doing to me. How am I supposed to share a bedroom with this man for a whole week?

  “Being your fiancé,” he whispers back, grinning at me. “Come on, Princess. Let’s meet the fam.”

  He says it so sweetly that I almost wish it were true for a second. A part of me likes being on his strong arm, though I’d never admit it to him.

  By the time we reach the double doors, my forehead is dotted in sweat. My heart is pounding in my chest like I just sprinted a half-mile or something. Truth be told, I'm overcome with sudden anxiety.

  Too late to worry now, I realize as Sam puts his hand on the twin handles of the front door. I’m in too deep.

  The large door springs open before the driver can turn the handles, and out steps my mother with a small barking dog, a fluffy white Pomeranian at her side. Sam springs out of the way, pretty spry for a guy his age, which is a good thing or else he’d get run over.

  “Mindy, my darling!” My mother sings, stepping forward with her arms outstretched. The woman is practically dripping in diamonds, with a matching necklace, bracelet, and earring set over top of her white brocade dress that flows down her body all the way to her ankles. “It’s been so long!”

  “Mom,” I say as we embrace. I smell her perfume, and it smells expensive as hell. “I’ve missed you.”

  I pull back and feel tears forming in my eyes as I survey her. Her face looks different from when I last saw her. The wrinkles that had begun to show around her eyes are mysteriously gone, along with her forehead wrinkles. It’s a little weird, and I wonder if Mom’s just feeling youthful from love or if she had a little help from Botox.

  “You’re lookin’ good. Not as good as me, but you’d do just fine in a singles bar on Ladies’ Night.”

  My mother laughs. “Yeah, well, that’s in the past for me. You look good too, honey. I never could have worn a dress like that at your age.”

  “Who’s this little lady?” I say, gesturing at the dog who’s running circles around our feet, barking and carrying on in an attempt to deflect attention away from my dress. I feel nervous enough feeling Oliver’s hand still on my lower back. I can’t decide if I want his hand higher . . . or lower.