And then there were her brothers. Rain adored them, and they adored her, but there was this odd phenomenon that played out whenever she involved her brothers in her affairs. It was this maddening hive mentality where one brother felt compelled to involve a second and a third. By the time it was said and done, Rain’s small problem was much larger simply because her brothers swarmed around her like angry, overprotective bees.
Vaughan was slightly better than the rest, giving her credit for having a brain and knowing how to use it, and because of it, he was the closest thing she had to a best friend. It was pathetic to think about.
And he’s no good to me right now, either, because Mama’s pissed at him, too.
Crapsicles. Pardon my Fre— Oh fuck that, too.
Footsteps from the hall saved her from having to mull her dearth of personal relationships. Her hand braced the kitchen bar as the door swung open, and her tall, lean friend—well, more than a friend if what she’d told the press was true, and she probably should have checked with him before throwing him to the wolves—was shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the back of a barstool.
“I should have asked you about the thing. In the car,” she said.
“Hmm?”
“I said we were seeing each other. To the press. I should have discussed that with you. It’ll be everywhere tomorrow.”
“You could have told them you were using me for sex.”
For a heartbeat, she thought he was serious, but then he flashed a smile over his shoulder. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but she appreciated the effort all the same. She closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around his trim middle to squeeze.
“We are seeing each other, aren’t we?” he asked, one of his hands sweeping across her forehead to tuck her hair behind her ear.
“I think so.”
“And you’re not going back to Connecticut tomorrow?”
“No. God, no.”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Are you still hungry?”
“No. Are you? You didn’t get anything at the burger place.”
“Not much of an appetite.” He nuzzled at her hair and then pulled away, his shoulders drooping. A trip to the sideboard, a glass of something gold that smelled like gasoline, and he was on the couch by the fire, his free hand stroking Freckles’s ears. He sipped his booze, winced, and shook his head. “I let Amanda go. I’m sorry she complicated things.”
“Oh, Sol. You didn’t have to do that. My mother’s bossy and annoying. I blame her far more than the desk girl.”
“Yes, I did have to.” He swirled his glass, watching the liquid rise and fall before taking another sip. “I don’t have many close friends. Cylan. Brutus. Maddy. The only one I see with regularity is Cylan. Brutus is the family lawyer and hops between here, Dallas, and Chicago. Maddy’s off wherever it is Maddy—she’s my ex-wife. I’ve mentioned her before?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Rain settled in beside him, her hand resting on his knee. She wasn’t terribly surprised he’d been married before; he was significantly older than her and had a lot going for him. “It’s nice that you’re still friends.”
“It is. Maddy’s a whirlwind. I wouldn’t be surprised if your family runs in similar circles. Madeline Roussoux? Her father made mountains of money in Silicon Valley in the early nineties. He died in an accident some years ago.”
“Oh! I . . . yes. We’ve met.” Rain had crossed paths with Madeline a few years back, at a Saks Fifth Avenue party in New York City. She’d commanded the room from behind a piano, singing and drinking champagne, her adoring audience hanging on her every move. She was all curves and flowing hair, a brunette beauty plucked from a 1930s Hollywood movie set with a new millennium backdrop.
How do I compete with that? My ass has a side of ass with extra ass on top.
“She’s pretty,” Rain admitted, feeling . . . inadequate? Deflated? Something. “And sang well.”
“She’s lovely in many ways, but we had a disastrous marriage. We were—are—much better as friends. But, the point I was making is my friends are, Cylan notwithstanding, scattered. The people in this hotel are like family to me and I just . . . Amanda was here for four years. I talked to her almost every day. If she’d needed money, I would have loaned it to her. She didn’t have to sell out to your mother and she chose to. It feels personal, like I invested in her far more than she invested in me. If that makes sense.”
I don’t have any friends, either.
Maybe that’s why we get along. We’re both lonely and swimming in people.
She dropped her head to his shoulder. They sat in silence save for the incessant squeaking of Freckles chewing on a rubbery toy. Sol picked it up and threw it, watching the dog chase after it into the bedroom. Unfortunately, Freckles was far too lazy to fetch it more than a few times.
Sol’s face remained stoic.
I want him to feel better.
How do I . . . oh. Well. I could do that.
She tilted up her face to kiss his ear. He lifted the drink to his lips, pausing when she snatched the lobe between her teeth and tugged. A hint of good cologne, something spicy and musky, hit her nose. I want to roll in his scent forever. She nuzzled, then sucked, her hand sliding from his knee to his inner thigh and squeezing.
“Kitten.”
“Yes?”
“Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Maybe? Is it working?”
“Fantastically.” He drained the glass in one go and reached for her. His hands fastened around her waist and guided her over to straddle him, her knees to either side of his hips. His hands coursed over her back, along her spine, and down to her ass. He grabbed two big handfuls and squeezed, the twinge reminding her that he’d spanked it raw only a few hours ago.
I liked that far too much.
She rocked down at him, leaning forward until her breasts mashed against his chest. His heat felt good against hers. Everything about him felt good. She smiled and reached for his short ponytail, taking out the rubber band so she could thread her fingers through the silky strands.
“I like your long hair. It’s so pretty. Mother wouldn’t approve at all.”
“Good.”
She laughed and he attached his lips to the base of her throat. She squirmed and ground down on him, searching, searching. There it was. Hard dick, beneath her, rising to the occasion as his hands slid around to her front. Over the curve of her breasts, lifting them, his thumb and forefinger searching for the peaked nipples beneath dress and bra. He pinched so hard that she sucked in a breath, wincing.
I’m trying to make him feel good. He’s making me feel good.
“I want . . . to . . . let me?”
He lifted his face from her neck. There was no smile, but he was so intent on her, so utterly focused. She felt like the only thing in his universe. His hand slid between their bodies, not to touch her, but to unbutton his pants. The zipper was jerked open. Her breath hitched as he pulled himself out, long and thick for her before she’d even properly touched him.
“Go.”
Her hand closed around his cock, stroking the shaft, from base to tip and back again. He throbbed hot, and she swept her thumb over the sensitive tip, eliciting a groan. She moved in close, closer, nose nudging his, her mouth and his a breath apart. Her delicate fingers explored his cock, finding the veins and tracing. Hard and soft all at once, she worked him faster, up and down, feeling him swell in her palm.
For me. For me.
Thinking about her effect on him made her wet, and she dared to kiss him, her tongue slithering over his. He teased at her bottom lip, his teeth snagging it and biting down. It hurt, but then he was sucking the sting away, and she moaned before pulling back and dropping to the floor in front of him, her hands on his knees, sliding up and inward. His dick
rose proud before her face, the tip gleaming with his earliest cum. She’d only done this once before, and there was the fear in the back of her mind that she wouldn’t be good enough, but she’d try, for him.
He reached down to angle his cock at her face. She craned her neck, tentatively licking his head, gathering his salty taste on her tongue. He hissed and that was all the encouragement she needed. Her lips parted and took him in, her tongue cradling the length as she bobbed her head forward.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
She did. His brow was furrowed, his lips parted, breath coming fast. His right hand moved to the armrest of the couch, fingers digging in. The left formed a fist on the cushion beside him.
“Keep looking at me. Now suck.”
I am in way over my head.
And yet she sucked, oh, she sucked, bobbing her head down, his hot dick stretching her mouth wide as it coursed over her tongue. She never looked away, not when he hit the back of her throat. Not when she pulled back with a lewd slurp and felt the saliva pooling at the corners of her mouth. She worked him slow at first, delighting in his groans and subtle twitches and how she swore she could feel him thickening between her lips, but as his breathing got harder, she worked faster. She fucked his cock with her mouth, a rhythmic suck-slap rotation echoing every thrust of her head.
“I’m not going to come in your mouth, kitten. Not this time.” His hand lifted to her hair, twining it around his fingers as she pumped him. She could feel the spit dribbling down her chin, but she didn’t stop, nor did she look away.
He thrust his hips at her face, stabbing at her gag reflex twice. Seeing her wince, he jerked away, forcing his cock from her mouth with a wet pop.
“Into the bedroom,” he snarled. “Take your fucking clothes off.”
SEVENTEEN
ASK FOR LIPSTICK on your dick, ye shall receive.
It’d felt fantastic to be in that hot recess. He loved the way her lips stretched around him, her cheeks concave with every suck. It was fucking hot, and he couldn’t wait to . . . what? Fuck her? Yes, that was obvious, but he liked surprising her. He liked taking it that extra step.
He pulled off his shirt and stalked her through the suite, appreciating that she hadn’t waited until the bedroom to remove her dress. It lay in a crumpled pile just outside his door. She was unfastening her bra when he walked in, and he practically purred as her hands hooked in the sides of her panties and drew them down her thick, shapely legs.
“Turn around,” he said, letting his pants drop to the floor. He stayed in his boxers, his cock peeking out from the front flap to zag across his thigh. “I want to look at you.”
The panties were nudged away with a delicate toe and she spun. It was a moment that seared into his memory. She was short in stature, yes, but solid, broad across the shoulders with heavy breasts, rosy nipples dark against her creamy skin. A wasp waist over hips to die for. So much hip, so much ass curving down to thick thighs that had looked amazing next to his ears. A golden triangle of hair pointed the way to her plump, pink lips—they glistened already, and he wanted to dive between them, but not yet. He was still looking at her, appreciating her. Little hands, little feet, a mane of wavy golden hair, and dainty, doll-like features.
She was a Disney princess compacted to barely more than five feet tall with a killer set of curves.
And for now, at least, she’s mine.
He practically tore off his underwear.
“On your belly on the bed, hands behind your back.”
She crawled onto the bed and she . . . waggled? Yes, it was a waggle. She sauntered her way to the middle of the mattress, her ass swinging back and forth like a peachy pendulum. Giggles bubbled from her lips. She was growing more confident under his tutelage, it seemed, and he smiled, gaze affixed to the pear shape of her lower back and bubble butt.
“Something funny, kitten?”
“No. Not at all. I just . . . you look so serious and you have a boner. It’s . . . I don’t know.”
I can’t laugh. It’ll ruin the effect.
Fuck, she’s funny.
He quirked a grin.
“They’re not mutually exclusive, seriousness and boners.” He wandered into his closet and opened the third drawer in his bureau. Toys upon toys. Silk ropes, a spreader bar, leather cuffs, gags, dildos, plugs, four different types of lube. If she saw his collection she’d probably run away screaming, so he’d introduce her to it slowly, over time.
And then I’ll make her come her brains out with all of it and it won’t seem so scary anymore.
He snagged the leather cuffs.
“Ass up,” he instructed, approaching the bed. She started to climb up onto her hands and knees, but he tutted at her. “No, just the ass. Keep your face on the bed.” She did as she was told—such a good girl—her tits pressed against the mattress, that luscious rump ready for him, her hands clasped behind her back. He dangled the cuffs over her pretty face.
“I want to cuff you and fuck you. What do you think, kitten?”
“I . . . yes.”
“ ‘Yes,’ what?”
“Yes, please.”
“ ‘Yes, please’ what, kitten? What do you want? Tell me.”
She sucked in a breath, color flooding her cheeks. She wasn’t used to the dirty talk yet, and he kind of adored her for it. It was incredibly hot to hear her fumbling her way around the words just to please him. “Cuff and fuck me. Please.”
His free hand snaked out, a finger running between the lips of her pussy, from hole to clit and back again. Wet already. She was so easy in some ways, so amazingly accommodating. He felt like he’d won the fucking lottery as he clasped the leather cuffs around her tiny wrists.
He toyed with her slit, smearing her juices all over as she cooed her pleasure.
“Are you wet?”
“. . . Yes.”
“Hot?”
“. . . Yes. I’m hot.”
“How hot?” He punctuated the question with a smack to her flank before climbing up onto the bed behind her. His cock ached. He wanted to stuff her full and fuck the shit out of her, until she was wilty and creamy and plugged up with his cum, but not yet.
Not fucking yet.
“I . . . it feels good. You touching me.”
“Where am I touching you?”
“My pu— Pussy.”
“That’s right. Your pussy.” He crawled in behind her splayed knees, still toying with her. One finger slid inside her recess, swirling around, and she whimpered. He added a second and she arched back at him. That was a sign she could take a third, so he fed it to her, slowly, stretching her out and covering his fingers in her sweetness. “This pussy. My pussy.”
“Y-yes.”
“Is it mine, kitten?” He pulled his fingers almost out before sliding them back in, working them deeper, angling them at her sweet spot. Finding it, he felt her shiver, and he shoved her full, raking over that feathery patch of nerves. Her eyes closed and her lips parted, breath coming faster. “Is this Sol’s pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“It’s Sol’s pussy. Fuck. Yes. It’s yours. Please?”
“Such a good girl.” He pulled free of her and reached down for her pert, throbbing clit, giving it a fierce and thorough massage. Back and forth, stroking it with his fingertips, his hand covered in her juices. She mewled at him, enjoying it, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. At the base of her throat, her pulse danced.
He pulled away from her, intending to fuck her doggy style, but no. Something wasn’t quite right. He gently pulled on her hips to flatten her on the bed.
“Down, kitten. There we go. Easy.”
Quickly she was prone, her legs parted, but he pushed them together tight, dropping his knees outside her thighs. His left hand steadied his weight as he hovered over h
er, his chest above her cuffed hands. His right hand guided his cock to that sopping pussy. He nestled in against her, smearing his tip in her wet. She squirmed beneath him as much as her pinned position would allow.
“Do you want this?” He teased at her hole, dick sliding over it before poking at her greedy clit.
“Yes, p-please. Fuck me.”
She sounded so breathless, so growly. Part of that was the position, but part of that, too, was her desire for him. Her body’s need for his body. He answered that need by sliding into her with one smooth thrust. She grunted and then shuddered. She was impaled, completely, and he spread his knees out to either side of her body and sat up, his hands grabbing her ass cheeks, her cuffed hands curled and resting on the small of her back. She couldn’t look back to see him, but he could see her—the sweet profile, the crease in her brow, the sweat sparkling along her hairline.
“I’m going to make you my fuckpet,” he announced, pulling back only to shove into her again. Her ass naturally lifted with the thrust, so he did it again. And again.
Fuck, she’s tight.
“Are you my fuckpet, Arianna?”
“God, yes. Please . . . fuck me.” Her voice broke and so he slapped his hips at her, balls deep now, every inch he had stretching for her core. Her walls spread around him, coating him in her juices, every pullout revealing his glistening shaft. He worked her harder, faster, fingers digging into her meaty ass.
“Say you’re my fuckpet. I want to hear it.”
“I’m going to come,” she said instead, rolling her face down, mouth muffled in the bed.
“No!” He stopped pumping her and she sobbed in despair, as if stilling his thrusts had physically wounded her. “Ask my permission first, sweetheart, and tell me you’re my fuckpet.”
“Please. Please let me come.” Her head reared up, that glorious hair spilling across the sheets in a splash of gold. “I’m your fuckpet. Your whore. Anything. Just please. Please, Sol.”
Oh fuck.
He sprawled on top of her, his weight balanced on his elbows to either side of her back. He pummeled her with his dick, their bodies smacking against each other. Squelching noises echoed from her cunt as he pistoned into it, using her hole for both their satisfaction. Her voice lifted, her pleasure mounting as she moaned beneath him, her ass rolling up at him in lewd invitation.
The King of Bourbon Street Page 12
