by Megyn Ward
“Jesus...” I feel his tongue flick over my nipple and I whimper in response when it slides into the valley between my breasts, licking lower and lower until his shoulders are pressed into the space between my thighs, his mouth so close I feel his warm breath against me. “I want to taste you, Kylie.” He leans into me, his shoulders pressing harder as he runs his tongue down the inside of my thigh. “I want you to come in my mouth.”
“Yes,” I moan when I feel his mouth against me. His tongue licking the hot, swollen seam of my pussy. “Ohmygod, yes.”
Hands slide under my ass and lift me to his mouth and he locks it around me, licking and sucking my slick, tender flesh until I’m writhing beneath him, begging for release.
“Zach...” I say his name again and this time it’s in a tone I don’t recognize. A voice that doesn’t belong to me. Reaching down, I cup a hand around the back of his head, pulling me against me. Needing more, the orgasm baring down on me making me shameless. “Please, Zach. I need—”
Forearm braced under the curve of my ass, he frees an arm and moves it between us. Mouth latched around the top of my mound, he licks and sucks my clit while he strokes his fingers into me again. I look down to find him watching me while he fucks me with this mouth. His fingers thrusting and pumping into me. The moment our eyes meet, the heat in my belly starts to spread, tightening along the length of my spine, tingling along my skin.
Chapter 25
Zach
This wasn’t the plan.
The plan was to find her, apologize for standing her up and offer her a very lucrative dive job. So lucrative she couldn’t say no, no matter how much she hates me.
When I saw her, plans changed.
Or rather, plans took a backseat to the fact that, watching her all night, trying to find a crack in the wall she’s built around herself, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with her.
I know that’s supposed to scare me. I know that I’m a guy and that falling in love is something we’re supposed to avoid at all costs but I’m also a guy who spent seven years of his life in a committed relationship—at least on my end—and the last eighteen months fumbling around in the dark, drinking and fucking his way through what was shaping up to be a pretty miserable existence.
Meeting Kylie turned the lights on.
Watching her shlep drinks for guys like me—rich, entitled dickheads—while fending off roaming hands and lewd comments and knowing that just a few days ago, I was one of them did something to me. I can’t say it made me a better person but I can say it made me want to be.
And that’s a problem because I have to be that guy if I’m going to get out from under Jonas and my father.
Don’t you mean if you’re going to dump Kylie, fuck Liesa and then dump her on camera and generally be the biggest douchebag that ever lived?
Fuck my life.
Taking my mouth off her might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life but I do it. Have to do it.
Just like I have to do what comes next.
Moving her panties back into place, I pull the skirt of her dress down over knees and sit up, turning my back on her to look out over the dark water. I listen to her, her breathing evening out. Returning to normal. I want her to sit up and scoot down the sand to sit next to me. Put her arms around me. Kiss me.
I’ve only known her a few days but I already know her well enough to know that’s not going to happen.
Good. Makes the rest of it easier.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
“I have a proposition for you.” I say it to the water in front of me. Wait for her to sit up before I continue. “More of a favor, really.”
“I’m listening.”
I finally force myself to turn and look at her over my shoulder and I instantly wish I hadn’t. I wasn’t lying before. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “I need a divemaster.”
I watch her brow furrow for a second like she’s not getting what I’m saying to her. “I don’t work at Dive Love anymore, remember?” Her tone sharpens a bit like she’s remembering my part in getting her fired. “But I can talk to Mike. Maybe he can—”
“I need someone freelance—not affiliated with a shop.”
“Okay.” She scoots closer to me but doesn’t try to touch me and even though I wish she would, I’m glad she doesn’t because if she put her hands on me, I’d probably abandon my entire future so I can fuck her right here on the beach. “I can talk to Blake. He has—”
“No.” I shake my head. “It has to be you.”
Her expression softens for just a second before it slips into something a little more guarded. Wary. “Why?”
Shit.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I can’t do it.
Jesus Christ, I can’t do it.
But then I do.
“Because I’m taking Liesa Temple diving tomorrow so it needs to be a private dive.”
She frowns. “I still don’t understand why it needs to be me.”
“When I told her I knew a dive master and mentioned it was you, she remembered you from the elevator.” I run a hand over the top of my head, barely curbing the urge to yank my hair out of my head. “It was the only way she’d agree to go out with me.”
The wariness on her face slides away, replaced by something that makes my gut clench.
Comprehension.
She looks away from me, down the beach, moonlight glinting off the whites of her eyes and for a heart-stopping moment, I think they’re tears. I think she’s crying but when she looks back at me, her eyes are hard and dry. “So, you used me to score a date with Liesa Temple.”
“Yes.” I make myself say it because it’s true and because having her angry at me is so much easier than knowing I might have hurt her.
“And then you tongue fucked me on the beach so I’d agree to lead your diving date.” It’s not a question. She says it like it’s a fact and I want to deny it. Tell her she’s wrong, but I don’t.
“You’ll be paid very well.”
She lets out a sharp bark of laughter like I just made a joke. “I don’t want your money.”
I believe her. For the first time in as long as I can remember, a woman tells me she doesn’t want my money and I believe her. “No.” I shake my head. “I’m going to pay you.”
She laughs again, pulling herself out of the sand to stand over me. “I didn’t say you weren’t going to pay me.” Her silhouette looms over me, blotting out the moon. “I said I didn’t want your money.”
Confused, I scramble to my feet to look down at her. I don’t like the expression on her face. Hard. Angry. Calculating. “Then what do you want?”
“Jonas Knightly.”
What? I let my gaze roam over her face, looking for an explanation. “I don’t—”
“It’s pretty simple, Zach.” She brushes her hands over her skirt, loosening the sand that still clings to it. “You have access to Jonas Knightly and I want it.”
I think the way she snuck into his offices. Seemed so upset when threw her out. How she lied about being there because she wanted a job. “Why?” Now it’s my turn to ask questions.
“None of your business.” She crosses her arms over her chest and sets her shoulders. “That’s the offer. Take it or leave it.”
I want to leave it. Tell her no. That I can’t give her what she wants. Not because I can’t, but because I don’t want to. I don’t want her anywhere near him. Not because I’m afraid she’ll tell him about us, but because I’ve heard stories about him.
He likes young girls.
The younger the better.
My answer must show on my face because she shakes her head and sets her jaw. “No Jonas, no dive.”
No Jonas, no dive.
No dive, no Liesa.
No Liesa, No money.
I don’t care.
I feel my jaw set and my head shake.
No.
“I’m going to get to him eventually.” She tips her chin
, her glare pinching into me. “At least this way you get what you want along the way.”
What I want?
This isn’t what I want.
Not even close.
“Okay.”
“Great. Meet me at Spotter’s Bay tomorrow at two o’clock.” She drops her arms and takes a step back. Away from me. “Now take me home.”
Chapter 26
Zach
I didn’t sleep.
Didn’t even close my eyes.
I lay awake all night wondering what a young woman like Kylie would want with an old man like Jonas Knightly. Every scenario I worked up in my head was more disturbing than the last. I mean, shit—the man is old enough to be her father.
When you’re rich it doesn’t matter how old you are.
I think about her friend Diana. The gold digger vibe I caught from her. They usually travel in packs.
Yeah, but Kylie’s made it pretty clear she isn’t interested in money.
No. She made it clear she isn’t interested in your money. Maybe that’s because she’s got her sights set on a bigger fish.
Jonas Knightly isn’t a bigger fish.
He’s a fucking whale.
Sick to my stomach I roll out of bed. Force myself into the shower. Make myself get dressed.
Another day, lost in paradise.
I text Liesa and tell her I’m on my way to get her for our dive trip. An hour later, we’re bouncing along a back road, the afternoon sun burning haze off the ocean as it swayed in an aqua pool on Spotters Bay.
Liesa’s dressed in strapless sundress over a swimsuit. A lot of guys would be happy to change places with me right now. Happy to spend time with her. Get paid five million dollars to fuck her.
I’m not a lot of guys.
She hasn’t said much since I picked her up at her house on the canal. She looks nervous, her fingers knead each other in her lap.
I cover her hands with mine. Hers are cold and clammy. “Are you nervous?”
She gives me a stiff smile. “Maybe. A little.”
I pat her hands. “Kylie is really good. She’ll teach you everything you need to know. And I’ll be there with you. It’s going to be fine.”
I pull my car off the road and onto a sandy roadside spot behind a beat up Hyundai. “This is the place.”
The jungle closes in around a narrow sandy path leading toward the water. If you didn’t know where to go, you’d never find it.
Liesa grits her teeth and takes off down the path, flip-flops smacking against her heels, leaving me to gather her towels and sunscreen. I trot after her, trying to keep up.
Kylie busies herself closer to the water. Dive gear lines several towels in the sand. Liesa strides toward her. Hearing us approach, Kylie stands up and puts her hands on her hips.
She’s wearing a turquoise swimsuit covered with a long sleeved rash guard. She eyes Liesa for a second before, bending over to the gear. Selecting a wetsuit she holds it out to Liesa. “I didn’t know what size you’d wear so I brought three. I’ll take the others back to the shop and charge you for what you keep.”
Liesa takes the suit and looks at. “How cold is the water?”
Kylie grabs a set of white fins and shoves them at Liesa. “Not cold, about 82 degrees. But when you’re starting out, it’s good to be warm.”
Liesa nods and takes the offered fins. Kylie keeps selecting gear and handing it to Liesa until Liesa can’t hold anymore.
“Forget it.” Finally, Liesa lets it all drop back to the towel. “I can’t do it.” She whirls around and starts for the path back to the car.
I grab her arm. “Hey. Wait.”
She pulls away. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to dive.”
Liesa stares at her feet so hard I look down. Red polish flakes off her nails. That surprises me. On the show, she’s over-the-top picky about her appearance. “Red? I thought your color was Fantasy Peach.”
She wrinkles her forehead in annoyance. “What?”
I point to her feet. “Fantasy Peach. There’s that one episode where you pitched a fit to your mother because she wore your signature color that everyone associated with you, and she promised to never wear it again.”
Her face blanks then she nods. “Oh. Right.” She curls her toes and burrows them into the sand. But I distracted her enough that she lost her momentum. She frowns at Kylie.
For her part, Kylie isn’t doing a lot to promote the lesson. She plops down in the sand and rests her head on her knees, gazing out at the ocean as if she couldn’t care less about the lesson.
Liesa considers Kylie. “I don’t understand it,” she says, her voice lowers a few levels and she almost seems like a regular person. When I met her in the elevator, we really connected on that spiritual level, you know?”
I nod like I understand. “Sure.” My mom is into this woo-woo bullshit and I’ve learned over the years that it’s best to just play along.
Liesa folds her arms. That sparkly persona fades even further. “But today, her aura is like all black or something.”
Don’t roll your eyes.
“You read auras?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I get these feelings, you know?”
This shit keeps getting better and better. “...and your feelings are telling you that Kylie is a bad person?”
“No, not really.” She taps a finger to her lips. “But I feel like she’s hiding something.”
Maybe the fact that we’ve been fucking like bunnies?
“What’s she hiding?”
She rocks back and forth, still eyeing Kylie. “I have no idea.” She laughs. “Maybe that’s why I feel such a connection to her.”
“Because you’re hiding something?”
Her attention jumps to me, as if she’d forgotten I was here. “Me? Of course not.”
Something’s not tracking. “But you said you have a connection to Kylie.”
“Oh, I definitely do.” All of a sudden, TV Liesa is back, all tinsel and fluff. “We’re like sisters in a past life or something. I pay attention to the messages the Goddess sends to me.”
The Goddess.
Right.
Liesa invokes the Goddess and messages from the invisible realm in almost every episode. I take hold of her arm again. “I think the Goddess is telling you to trust me.”
She whips her gaze from Kylie to me.
I’ve gone too far. “And Kylie. Trust us to help you get over your fear of water.”
“Okay...” With heavy feet she let me drag her back.
Kylie twists around to look at us. “Are you ready?” Her voice sounds cold.
Chapter 27
Kylie
The rustle of feet in sand scratch my ears.
Shit. They’re coming back.
I should be glad because leading this dive is going to get me what I want. It’s going to get me into a room with Jonas Knightly, but glad is the last thing I am right now.
Right now I’m surly and pissed and maybe a little bitter.
Nooo, you’re a lot bitter.
And jealous.
Don’t forget jealous.
I’d spent all morning psyching myself up for this shitshow.
It’s not like he declared his undying love for you. So, you fucked a few times. Big deal. You knew from the get-go that someone like Zach was nothing more than a two-legged mistake. Don’t get all pissy because he proved you right.
And I was getting what I wanted.
I was going to get close enough to my father to extract DNA, even if that meant snatching the hair out of his head and running like a maniac.
That alone is worth the humiliation of being the hired help on Zach’s date with Celebutant Barbie.
I’d managed to pretty much convince myself of it too—and then they showed up. Him looking ridiculously hot in a pair of low-slung board shorts and a soft cotton T-shirt. Her too pretty to be real—so pale and delicate and dainty I have the irrational urge to smack her.
It al
l went downhill from there.
After her little fit, I expect Liesa Temple to be a pain in the ass. I’ve taught diving to lots of people and I know how intimidating some of the skills can be, especially learning to take the mask off of your face underwater, put it back on, clear it, and resume diving. Even seasoned swimmers sometimes panic when they have to close their eyes underwater.
Far from the patient and gentle way I usually tried to teach the class, I rush through the skills, giving her abrupt instructions and getting irritated when I have to demonstrate everything twice.
After a couple of hours on the beach I decide she’s ready to get into the water. I have her take her vest—the BC—that holds the tank and all the tubes that attach air to her regulator. By attaching the BC to the tank and securing the lines, air can be pumped in to inflate the BC. By adjusting the air in the BC, a diver controls their buoyancy. Neutral buoyancy, the art of floating at the same depth without effort, is an acquired skill.
Zach drags his gear to the beach and leaves it near the water’s edge before hurrying back to us to heft all three heavy air tanks to the water. I supervise while Liesa dunks her BC into the ocean to wet it before sliding it onto the tank and securing it. With minimal help, she succeeds in getting it hooked up. Zach and I help her into the BC and leave her sitting in the sand at the edge of the water, holding her fins and mask.
We both shimmied into our BC’s avoiding eye contact before helping Liesa stand and start walking along the sandy shore into the water.
“How are you doing?” Zach asks her.
Her face takes on a deathly pallor. “Okay.” Her voice comes out a weak croak.
I stop. “You don’t have to do this,” I tell her. I’m being an asshole but that doesn’t include forcing someone who is obviously scared shitless into the water, no matter how much I want to see her fail.
I expect her to throw one her epic fits. The few times I’d walked through the TV room at the sorority house when her show played, Liesa was wailing at some petty slight, screaming at her mother for not getting her the baby blue BMW instead of the awful white one that would ruin her life forever, or she was screeching at the cook for buying the wrong kind of sliced chicken for her low carb wrap.
