The Kane Series Boxset

by Stylo Fantome

  “Are you busy right now!?” Tate burst out, weaving through the afternoon lunch crowd.

  “Yes. What's up? You sound like you're jogging,” he told her.

  “I almost am, I'm walking through downtown. How busy? Can I come over?” she asked.

  “Not a good idea, sweetie. Is it an emergency?” Ang asked. She finally stopped walking and dragged herself out of the flow of people, over to a building. She leaned against the wall.

  “Kind of.”

  “What type of emergency is a 'kind of' emergency?” he asked.

  “I met with Jameson today. He wanted to have a 'talk' with me, at his office. I just left,” she spoke softly into the phone. Ang started laughing.

  “Ooohhh, it's that kind of emergency. I can't fuck you right now, kitten. Normally I jump at the opportunity to fulfill your needs, but I'm prepping for filming right now,” he explained. Tate rolled her eyes.

  “It's not like that, I pretty much argued with him the whole time,” she snapped at him. Ang snorted.

  “And you love to fight. Exactly how wet are you right now? On a scale – like, pleasantly aware? Or need to lose your underwear?” he asked. She chewed on her lip and looked down at herself.

  Definitely the latter.

  “Could your film use an extra today?” she managed to laugh in a quiet voice.

  “Oh, babe, you've really got it bad. What's the big deal? You want him, go get him. I've never seen you hold back from any guy. Why this guy?” Ang asked. She shrugged.

  “Because, he's Jameson Kane. He's like my worst nightmare and my biggest dream, all rolled into one. Because if he wants me, and I don't want him, I win – but if he wants me, and I sleep with him, he wins,” she babbled.

  “Baby, the only thing you're losing out on is good sex. Why does it have to be a competition? Play together, then everybody wins,” Ang suggested.

  Tate stared out into the street. She had been thinking of it as a competition – Jameson had used her once, and she wanted to get back at him. But Ang was right, once she wanted a man, she didn't hold back. And she really wanted Jameson. She had to reconcile that in her mind, or make the two opposing thoughts work together some how.

  “Maybe you have a point,” she mumbled.

  “I'm almost always right, babe. Think of it as closure. Or make-up sex. Or oh! An anger-bang, getting back at him for making you feel bad! You do love angry sex,” Ang reminded her.

  “God. What if I sleep with him, though, and it's horrible? Or weird? Or he, like, falls in love with me?” Tate asked, chewing on her lip.

  “Jesus, when did you turn into such a girl? The way you describe him, the man sounds incapable of having bad sex – or falling in love, for that matter. Just make sure you don't lose your heart. Big, bad, demons don't marry little girls,” Ang warned her. She laughed.

  “I'm not even sure I have a heart to lose anymore,” she replied.

  “It's there. Buried underneath piles of used condoms and Jack Daniel's bottles, it's in there somewhere,” he assured her.

  “You're gross.”

  “Look, I gotta go, sweets. Pedro's all lubed up and ready to shoot. Go have nasty, hot, sex with that man. Make him worship the ground Tatum O'Shea walks on. You know, be yourself. Then walk away like it ain't no thang. And then give me all the details. Take care,” he instructed her. She groaned.

  “You can't just leave me like this – what do I do? Do I go back there? Do I wait for him to call me? I don't know how to be like this,” she whined. Ang started laughing.

  “Oh jesus, you really are strung out for him. What I wouldn't give to be with you right now, you'd probably let me do all those things to you that you normally won't let me,” he laughed.

  “If you come get me and save me from the big, bad, demon, I just might,” she told him in a breathy voice.

  “Stop it, no teasing me. Seriously. Just do whatever feels natural. If you want to call him, call him. If you want him to call you, wait. If you want to show up at his office wearing nothing but a trench coat, send me pictures. Ciao for now,” he prattled off and then the phone line went dead.

  Tate huffed out a breath and stared down at the blank screen on her phone. She needed a plan, if she was going to do this – Jameson Kane got under her skin, ripped her apart. She needed some stitching in place, before she dealt with him. She wanted to sleep with him, wanted him to want her like he'd never wanted any woman ever before, wanted him obsessed with her. But she also wanted to be able to walk away whenever she wanted; which she would do, whenever she got bored. Just like he had been able to do with her.

  It's still a game, and I am going to win.

  Her phone suddenly rang in her hand, startling her. It was the temp agency calling.

  “Hi Carla, I know about the spa, I was going to head there in a little bit,” Tate assured the woman.

  “This isn't about that – we've had another request for you! Pretty impressive, Tatum. Kraven and Dunn Brokerage called, they need a data entry clerk. Heard you were good. It would have the potential for long term work!” Carla was excited, her voice even breathier than normal.

  “Thanks, Carla, I'll think about it,” Tate responded through clenched teeth. She listened to the woman babble for a while, then made her goodbyes.

  She squared her shoulders and headed back to Jameson's building. While she was in the elevator, she hurried to slick on some lip gloss and ruffle up her hair. Then she smudged her eyeliner a little, to give her eyes a darker, sexier look. She had looked polished earlier. She wanted to look a little messy now. She strode onto his floor and right past his secretary, who yelled at her as Tate burst into his office.

  “My, that didn't take very long,” Jameson laughed, hanging up a phone that had been pressed to his ear. Tate shut the office door on the squawking secretary.

  “Why do you want me to be your data entry clerk?” she demanded.

  “Because if you're busy with all those pathetic little side jobs, it'll make it harder for me to turn you to the dark side,” he teased. She walked up to his desk.

  “I'm not about to take a job just so you can try to have your way with me in some shitty cubicle,” she informed him. He quirked up an eyebrow.

  “You'll let your friend fuck you in an alley, but I can't sexually harass you in a cubicle?” he asked. Tate actually laughed – she couldn't help it.

  “Look, if you want to see me or whatever, then come see me. You know where I live, you know where I work. I don't need to work in your office. I've played the secretary that the boss is fucking – it isn't fun. Most office women have very sharp insecurities and don't take kindly to the slutty new girl,” she told him. He shook his head.

  “I don't want to have to track you down at every ridiculous job you have; bicycle tours? You've gotta be shitting me. I want your schedule clear, so I can see you whenever I want,” he informed her. She crossed her arms.

  “For someone who doesn't want a girlfriend, sounds like you plan on spending an awful lot of time with me,” she pointed out. Jameson finally stood up.

  “I just want to get to know you, mostly in the naked sense. You're the one who keeps bringing up relationship status. I'm telling you, right now, that will not happen, so don't get your hopes up,” he said, his voice serious.

  “So what, you just want me to work in your building, hiding in some dark corner, like a dirty secret? Not very enticing,” Tate told him. He shook his head.

  “Not at all. Like I said, I would just like you ... available to me, whenever I want,” Jameson tried to explain. She shook her head.

  “Well that's impossible. I have to work. I live in the real world, Kane, I have to make money, I have to pay rent.”

  “And I'm offering you a job here,” he responded.

  “I am not going to work here. Besides, I love the bar, I would never leave it,” she said.

  “So quit all the temp bullshit, the tours, the dog walking, ice cream trucks, drug running, and whatever else you do,” Jameson sugge
sted.

  “And live off three nights a week!? I make pretty good tips, but I'm not quite there yet,” Tate laughed. His eyes were starting to get hard, she noticed. It was a look she hadn't seen in a long time, but she remembered it well.

  “Then just work here,” he said again. She shook her head.

  “No. I'm not doing that,” she replied. He rolled his eyes.

  “You know what? Fine. I'll pay you. For every day you miss out on a job because of me, I'll fucking pay you for it,” Jameson snapped out. Her eyebrows shot up.

  “You'd pay me, to miss work, just so you could hang out with me and potentially have sex with me?” she clarified. He nodded.

  “Definitely have sex, and yes, if that's what it takes.”

  “That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You're gorgeous and rich – you could probably find women who would pay you to have sex with them,” Tate pointed out. He finally smiled again.

  “Gorgeous, huh. Flattery will get you nowhere with me. And I make more than enough money, I don't want to get paid to have sex,” he replied.

  “But you don't mind paying for it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You don't find that strange? Paying someone for sex?”

  “I find it exciting.”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “But if I let you pay me, and we have sex, that would make me a whore,” she laid out the points bluntly. He shrugged.

  “Do you really have a problem with that?” Jameson asked.

  Tate had walked some fine lines in her adult life, done some things she wasn't 100% proud of, but she had never turned tricks. She liked sex, liked to use it as a weapon sometimes, but never to get paid. One time, when she was around twenty-one, she and some friends had been hard up for a good time. She wound up blowing a guy for some coke, and she'd felt guilty about it for days.

  Was it still a game, or was it just being a whore? Fine lines were so hard to see. She was scared of what would happen to her if she stepped over that line. How far down the rabbit hole was she willing to fall?

  “I'm not sure. I think I do. I'm not some prostitute. You can't just pay me, and then I have to fuck you whenever you snap your fingers, or blow all your friends in a circle jerk,” she told him. He laughed.

  “Well, I don't normally attend circle jerks, so you should be fine on that point, and I wouldn't even have to pay you, and you'd still fuck me whenever I snapped my fingers,” he countered.

  One point, Jameson Kane.

  “Two thousand dollars,” she blurted out.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I quit all my other jobs – except for the bar. That means all my days will be free, I'll be 'available to you' virtually every single day. My salary for that is two thousand dollars, a week,” Tate informed him. He narrowed his eyes.

  “Five hundred dollars,” he counter offered. She shook her head.

  “Don't insult me, Kane.”

  “One thousand.”

  “Call me when you want to play for real,” she started to walk away. He grabbed her arm.

  “One and a half,” he offered, an evil smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She gave the sweetest smile she could manage back to him.

  “Two and a half,” she amended her original price. His smile spread to the rest of his mouth.

  “Deal.”

  “I'm not some street corner whore, either. I'm getting paid to be available to you – not spread my legs whenever you're in the mood. You had better respect that, or I'm gonna Taser you in the balls,” Tate warned him.

  “Kinky.”

  “I'm fucking serious.”

  “I would never force you to do something, if you really didn't want to do it. But, you can't be a tease. I think you're hot, Tate. I can remember how hot you were, and when I decide it's time for us to sleep together, you better not pull some bullshit and try to stop it from happening,” Jameson told her.

  He's going to decide when it's time?

  She smirked at him. He really didn't know her at all. She stepped up close to him, pressing her entire body against his front. She ran her hands over his chest and was pleased to feel solid muscle underneath his shirt. Of course, his frame had looked good under his expensive suit, and she remembered him having a good body seven years ago, but it was nice to have it confirmed. She moved her hands under his jacket and around to his back. She purred low in her throat and rubbed herself against him, leaning into place a long lick against his throat.

  “Do I seem like a tease?” she asked, her voice husky.

  She felt his hand work its way into her hair, and then he was jerking back, hard, forcing her to look straight up at him. She didn't make a sound, refused to let him see any kind of surprise or fear or want on her face. Just looked at him with hooded eyes as he held her head in place. He looked almost angry. She had gotten to him, ruffled him a little.

  Point to me.

  “You look like a girl who doesn't know she's playing with fire.”

  “You're a sucker, you know,” Tate laughed, shaking herself away from him. He let go of her hair. “I could be horrible in bed – I could just be blowing smoke up your ass. Or maybe I'm too kinky for you, who knows. How do you feel about inflatable sheep?”

  “They pop too easily,” Jameson responded. She burst out laughing.

  “You know, Kane, we might just get along,” she snickered.

  “I was thinking that myself. Maybe buddies is the right word. We should have been friends a long time ago,” he said. She nodded.

  “Maybe. But if things hadn't happened the way they did, I wouldn't be this person. You wouldn't want to be my friend,” Tate pointed out.

  “This person was always inside of you, maybe I could've helped bring it out sooner,” he replied. She shrugged.

  “Pointless now. So, buddy, what would you like to do now? I do a good walking tour of the Harvard Yard,” she offered.

  “Is it better than your blowjobs?” he asked. She thought for a second.

  “Probably not. I mean, it's a pretty good tour, but sucking dick is, like, my specialty,” she replied in an overly-serious, sarcastic voice. Jameson laughed.

  “God, I hope so. Call that salon, tell them you won't be coming in today. Call your temp agency, too. What was the figure we agreed on? Two-thousand dollars?” he asked, making his way back behind his desk.

  “Two thousand, five hundred,” she corrected him.

  “Clever girl. Now get out of here, you've wasted enough of my time and some of us have real jobs – not all of us can be whores. Be ready at eight,” he instructed her.

  “What's at eight?” she asked.

  “You're coming over to my house.”

  TATE WENT FOR DRINKS with Ang first, to steady her nerves. She let him prattle on about his porn shoot, then she spilled all the details on her dirty banter with Jameson. Ang had her repeat the “punish your mouth” story – it was one of her favorite parts, too. They agreed that she should play it cool, just see what Jameson's deal was, what he was thinking. And then she could pounce. Blow his mind, see if he was able to blow hers, and then they would go from there. While drinking, she got a text from Jameson, giving her his address.

  “You're so tense, it's hilarious,” Ang laughed, massaging her shoulders while they waited outside for a taxi.

  “He makes me nervous.”

  “Did I ever make you nervous?”

  “Of course you did,” Tate replied.

  “Really? You never acted like it,” Ang pointed out, moving around to stand in front of her. She guffawed.

  “Ang – you're frickin' gorgeous, and the first thing you ever said to me was 'you've got the perfect look for facials, wanna do porn?'; of course you made me nervous!” she chuckled. He shrugged.

  “Well, you always seem so comfortable around me. You never get all stupid and brainless, like you are for him,” he replied. She smiled and pressed her hand against his cheek.

  “Oh my god, Ang, are you jealous?” she as
ked. He tried to pull away and she put both hands on his face, following him as he moved backwards.

  “Shut up, you stupid cow. Go fuck your abusive billionaire, have a blast,” he snorted, batting her hands away.

  “You'll always be my fave, you know that. C'mon, we can go have a quickie, real fast,” she laughed, backing him up against a wall. He grabbed her by her wrists.

  “I'm not jealous, Tate,” he said, staring down at her. She stopped laughing. Ang very rarely ever said her name. Baby, honey, sweetie, kitten, fuck-bunny, everything under the sun – when he said 'Tate', she knew it was time to listen.

  “What's wrong?” she asked. He sighed, pulling her hands to his chest.

  “Look, I'm very excited that you're going to be fulfilling a fantasy tonight,” he said. She went to argue, but he squeezed her wrists. “I just want you to be very careful.” Tate frowned.

  “I'm always careful, you know that,” she replied, but he shook his head.

  “It's all fun and games with the two of us, but this guy is new – he can say whatever he wants, but he doesn't know you like I do. The way you've talked about him ... sounds like running with scissors. Play with him, hurt him, let him hurt you a little, but be careful,” Ang instructed her.

  “You've been psyching me up for this for the last couple days, and now it sounds like you're trying to talk me out of it,” she told him. He shook his head.

  “No, I want you to have fun – but only fun. You've got this look in your eye, and it spells trouble. You think you're playing a game. Don't lose to him.”

  The cab driver whistled at her, but Tate stayed were she was, blinking up at Ang. He was staring down at her, his eyebrows drawn together. Not a natural look for him. She smoothed her fingers across his forehead and down the side of his face. She felt so comfortable with his skin, like it was her own.

  “I never lose,” she said with a smile before giving him a quick kiss. Ang rolled his eyes.

  “That's the worst part about you, you know. You think you're winning, when really you're always losing,” he replied, then spun her around, smacking her on the ass.

  She stumbled to the cab and got in the backseat, waving an arm out the window at him. He waved back before wandering back into the bar. She frowned after him. He had never shown concern like that before, and he had been present for many a pre-date-jitters drink. She hoped it wasn't jealousy. She couldn't handle that, not from Ang.