Minute by Minute (Games & Diversions #3)

by Natalie E. Wrye

I look in Elena’s powdery blue eyes, finding mischief dancing there.

  “Girlfriend,” I finish.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers, leaning in.

  “I thought I was dead,” I hiss back. “I deserve this.”

  “The doctor told us that it was best for you not to move too much.”

  “So then stop making my dick salute you,” I murmur into her ear.

  Elena giggles softly.

  “Well, at least, dead men don’t normally have erections, so congratulations on not being a stiff,” she jokes.

  I kiss her fragrant neck.

  “Oh, but I am stiff. And there’s only one way I’d like to celebrate.”

  Foxx grimaces from the other side of the room.

  “Ok, we’re outta here,” he declares. “I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I don’t need to see any more surprises popping out of your pants, Griff.”

  “You got it!” I call after him. “No more surprises.”

  “Great,” he replies, reaching for the door.

  “I even promise not to tell you that the girl Chris is really dating behind everyone’s back is Ana.”

  Foxx turns quickly.

  Chris blushes.

  Ana runs.

  And the last word I hear before the door to my room closes is a loud and resounding “WHAT?!” as Foxx takes off in pursuit of a hastily retreating Ana and Chris who dart down the white-washed hospital corridor.

  Epilogue

  Day 192—8:05AM

  Casa de Foxx

  ELENA

  “You look like you’re going to pop any second.”

  “I’m going to pop you any second. Now, leave me alone and go get ready.”

  Kat waves Ana’s wandering eyes away, shooing her with a pearl-colored heel from her swollen feet.

  Ana yips, hopping off of the bed where she sits beside Kat, and she scuttles out of the room, a smug grin on her face—champagne-stained curls framing her lightly tanned skin.

  Kat groans, placing the heel back on the bed.

  I reach over from where I sit to help her stand, holding one of her rigid hands while the other cradles the large belly covered in white satin.

  The other new shoe I’ve bought Kat is also on the bed—along with the blue garter, Nana Natalya’s heirloom ring and a pair of sexy white fishnet stockings—courtesy of Ana, of course.

  “Ana’s right,” she comments begrudgingly, frowning sideways at me. “I do look like I’m going to pop any second.”

  “All pregnant women look like they’re going to pop at any second,” I reply laughingly.

  She gasps, gripping my arm. “What if I do?

  “What if I get to the aisle and pop? Just boom—plop out a baby right there?”

  I pat her hand with calming fingers.

  “You won’t, Miss Worrywart, and in case you didn’t read the baby books… oftentimes… you get a little more of a warning than that.”

  Kat grins at me, her slightly rounded face lighting up with more than just a pregnancy glow.

  “I hope that’s true,” she replies. “I’m just… nervous.”

  “About the baby or walking down the aisle?”

  “Both!” she says, letting me go. She wobbles over to the vanity in her room.

  She inclines the mirror so that it faces her. It reflects back a beautiful bride—a rosy-cheeked Kat dripping in her white wedding gown.

  I look over her shoulder at the amazing reflection.

  “You’re gorgeous, Kat.”

  “I don’t look fat?” she asks me in the mirror.

  “Of course you look fat. Wondrously fat and pregnant and happy and a little nervous.”

  She gives an anxious giggle.

  “Elle...” she sighs contentedly. “Thanks for being the voice of reason—even when I was pigheaded and selfish.”

  She looks back in the mirror at her belly.

  “You were right. I should have told Foxx from the beginning. It wasn’t until I was getting ready to lose it all that I’d wondered why I’d been so nervous in the first place.”

  “Hey,” I call over her shoulder.

  She glances back at me.

  “You didn’t have to be.” I say. “I was nervous enough for the both of us. What kind of big sister would I be if I wasn’t?”

  Kat grins, her blue eyes glistening as she breaks out into a watery smile.

  “Still the best big sister anyone could ever ask for.”

  I grin back, wiping quickly at a tear before it can materialize. I try to regroup.

  “So, are you ready?” I ask Kat.

  She smirks at me.

  “Question is… are you?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Griff. Marriage…” She picks up her veil, fingering the lace. “Scared you’re going to be next?”

  “Let’s not talk about that...” I try to brush Kat off, but she only laughs.

  “You talked about voices of reason. Let me be yours. You love him. He loves you. Tell him. I know you’re nervous… but you should.”

  “I’m not nervous,” I retort. “I’m resolved.” I hug a pillow to my chest on the bed.

  “Speaking of nerves,” I quip to Kat. “I wonder how our handsome groom is doing…”

  ***

  LUKAS

  The toilet in Foxx’s master bedroom flushes for the tenth time since Foxx has been in there.

  It marks only the thousandth time that he’s thrown up since he rushed into the room, his face green with anxiety and his stomach sickened by nerves.

  I’m sure he’ll deny it by the time he’s out of there, but I can’t help but laugh.

  I wish I had thought to record the sounds of retching outside the door—maybe even add some colorful commentary about how the groom was losing his breakfast the day of his own wedding.

  But alas, I wasn’t quick enough to make it happen.

  I chuckle to myself, walking away from the door to give my best friend some privacy.

  I descend the wooden staircase, taking my time as I head towards the end of the property where the wedding ceremony will be held.

  Foxx’s house has seen a lot of things—a lot of things—but a wedding was never one of them.

  Until now.

  I knock back a cold beer on the outside patio, resisting the urge to rub my chilled, damp fingers on the pants of my expensive groomsmen tux.

  I don’t need to ruin a perfect steam treatment with my condensation-covered hands.

  Besides… there are plenty of other more interesting things that I’d like to put my hands on right now.

  And every one of those things is located strategically on Elena Lexington’s curvy and beautiful body.

  I check my watch.

  Ok, I’ve given her enough time with her sisters. One hour until the wedding.

  Now, if only I can get her alone…

  I walk back inside the house.

  And to my luck, Elena is leaving her sister’s bonus room as I re-enter.

  I don’t even allow her two steps as she walks out of the door.

  As soon as she takes her hand off of the knob, I’m on her.

  I run to her side, picking her up as soon as she turns. She gasps, and I whirl her into her my arms, placing my hands under her soft and sexy ass as I carry her—bridesmaid dress and all—into the open bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway.

  “Griff,” she breathes out on a gasp. “Baby, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

  “No talking, Elena Louise Lexington.”

  I smile slowly as I sit her on the edge of the sink’s counter, shutting the door behind us.

  “You want your sisters to hear your screams?”

  Wide-eyed, she shakes her head, sending blonde tendrils flying back and forth, and I lift her peach-colored dress, sliding the softened silk up her thighs so that I can pull at the lace of her pink and white panties.

  Elena whimpers as I stroke a finger over the fabric.

  I consider l
ifting her so that I slide the nearly see-through thong off of her taut legs and past her heels.

  Fuck it. No need to.

  I inch her panties to the side, stroking her wetness with my thumb while I unbuckle my belt one-handed and go to work on the button of my pants.

  Even with eyes half-hooded with lust, Elena reaches towards me, unfastening my button and zipping my fly down.

  She releases me from my black boxer briefs and I plunge into her, taking my time to let her pussy stretch around my already “at-attention” cock before moving another muscle.

  Elena groans, and I grin widely at the look of ecstasy on her face. She leans forward, biting into my shoulder, letting her tongue lap a section of my tuxedo.

  I don’t stop her.

  So much for keeping the black tux in tact.

  I don’t give a damn. This is more important.

  With all of the chaos that’s been going on in this house today, I haven’t had one moment alone with Elena.

  Instead, we’ve been sneaking glances at one another, eyeing each other as we are pulled into two different directions by a bride and groom who are brimming with more nerves than two virgins on prom night.

  I’ve been waiting all day for this—and God, it was worth the wait.

  I start to stroke Elena’s pussy slowly.

  Knock knock.

  What the… ?

  “Is anyone in here?”

  Chris. Dammit to hell.

  “Yeah,” I call out. “Someone’s in here.”

  “Griff?” he responds. “Oh, sorry, man; it’s just that Foxx is sick in one bathroom. Kat is taking up another one, and my beautiful Ana is occupying the closest bathroom with a hair and makeup crisis. Every bathroom is taken.”

  “And so is this one,” I practically grunt. “Be out in…” I look at Elena’s face. “Ten… no, fifteen.”

  “Jesus,” Chris mutters. “I’ll find somewhere else then.”

  I let Chris walk away, and then I look back to the beautiful woman in my arms, picking right back up where I left off.

  “I thought we were done for sure,” Elena laughs softly.

  I stare down at her.

  “Done? It would take more than a weak-bladder-having Chris knocking at the door to keep me off of you.”

  I begin to slide further into the recesses of Elena’s body.

  “Or out of you.”

  Elena starts to grin, but then the smile slips away into an “O,” her pretty lips parting with pleasure as her other lips take in my cock, squeezing it and sliding against it to build us both into a frenzy.

  But the powder room is too small; it can’t really accommodate all of the positions that I’d like to twist her into right this second.

  I tilt Elena backwards, getting ready to throw her smooth ankle over my shoulder when another tap sounds at the door.

  “Chris, fucking take a hint. I said ten more min…”

  “It’s not Chris,” I hear on the other side of the door.

  I freeze.

  It’s clearly not the man that just knocked two minutes ago; it’s a woman.

  And the interrupting woman’s voice is muffled, soft—subdued… as if she has placed her lips against the very wood on the other side of the door.

  I suspect that she has… or maybe that she’s even been listening.

  And despite the amount of time that has passed between the last time I heard this familiar voice and now, I recognize the woman’s speech patterns immediately.

  If I thought our quarters were small before, I was wrong.

  My entire world has just gotten a hell of a lot smaller.

  Love Sexy Mysteries as much as I do?

  One of my favorite duets is getting bundled into one big makeover package.

  Read on for Chapter One of

  Behind the Blindfold: Volume 1

  by

  Natalie E. Wrye

  Chapter One

  The more things Change

  The moan she heard woke Saturday up with a jarring start.

  Rolling over towards the edge of the bed, she rubbed her eyes a little harder than she intended, blinking furiously to clear her vision. She reached for the alarm clock on the nightstand.

  2:00 AM.

  All was dark in her apartment. Nothing but moonlight shining through her bedroom window. She sat up straight, dazed and confused.

  What the hell is that?!

  Saturday reached for her previously discarded white bathrobe, slipping it quietly on her shoulders. She couldn’t tell if the sound was coming from inside or outside of the apartment…but she knew one thing:

  …It sounded way too close.

  She kneeled at her bedside.

  She swept her hands back and forth under her bed, finally grabbing ahold of the baseball bat that she kept stashed, and padded her bare feet out of her room and into a small hallway.

  Another moan sounded, causing her to shudder. It came from her bathroom, and the light was clearly on behind the closed door. Saturday lived alone now; no one had access to her home, except her good friend, Kara, who she trusted wholeheartedly and who was now unfortunately out of town.

  Saturday didn’t have that many male friends in the city, at least any she could really call on. 9-1-1 was an option, but whoever this intruder was might have the upper hand on her as soon as she went to dial. Sleep had fogged her brain, and she couldn’t think clearly. All she could think of was to go on the attack. Use the element of surprise.

  It certainly wasn’t her brightest idea.

  She reached for the door…and flung it open abruptly, shrieking as her druggie excuse for an ex-roommate, Kristen, almost jumped clean out of the foam-covered bathtub. Her blonde head was scarily reminiscent of a bobble-head, as she grasped aimlessly around for support to stay upright. Saturday watched her struggle without lifting a finger to help. Saturday lowered her raised bat with a sigh of relief and frustration.

  Typical.

  This was a common experience that Saturday knew all too well. Kristen must have wandered over here in a spaced-out fog following one of her usual drug binges.

  Six months had passed and Kristen hadn’t changed one bit since she moved or, rather, was unceremoniously kicked out of Saturday’s apartment. Episodes like this had become a weekly routine in their household. Saturday had had enough of rescuing Kristen from whatever God-forsaken place she had wandered into following her most recent bender.

  After suppressing thoughts of actually using the bat on Kristen, Saturday repossessed her secret copy of the apartment key and half-dragged her towel-clad, soapy ex-roomie down the hallway and out of the door.

  It seemed as though Kristen decided that she would take a relaxing bath in Saturday’s garden tub in the middle of the night. Honestly, Saturday wondered why she hadn’t suspected Kristen from the start. Despite her addiction, Kristen was damn resourceful; she could’ve really been something in life if the drugs didn’t always incinerate her memory.

  Knowing Kristen, she had probably just simply forgotten that she wasn’t Saturday’s roommate anymore, despite half a year’s passing. It was the primary reason that she was Saturday’s ex-roommate.

  Aside from the drugs and constant stupor associated with it, Saturday had to admit: on some level, she sort of envied Kristen’s nonchalant way of living. Before Saturday scared her half-to-death, Kristen had been enjoying what Saturday could only guess was a luxurious bath, as evidenced by the loud moaning. Saturday could not remember the last time she had a chance to sink into a hot bath.

  She was always on the go: working as an art gallery tour guide and serving at a trendy restaurant in Manhattan just to make rent. Life was a blur of 6-minute lukewarm showers (it took about 5 for the hot water to even kick in) and brisk walks from job to job. She absolutely adored her position at the gallery, and constantly imagined different ways to get involved in art full-time. As of yet, not a single one of those plans seemed remotely possible.

  Kristen wouldn’t know about this
life if it bit her on the ass.

  She was a spoiled rich kid, only settling to room in Saturday’s tiny (but clean) apartment because her parents instituted an allowance for her that cut into her cocaine stash of cash.

  And that moaning…did Kristen have to be over the top with EV-ERYthing?

  Despite her annoyance, Saturday chuckled to herself as she pulled back the covers and climbed back into bed. It had been so long since Saturday had done ANY type of moaning.

  Her thoughts now taking a different direction, Saturday lay back on the bed and untied her white robe, letting it fall open. She needed a release…badly, and it had been entirely too long since she had one.

  Her last relationship was over a year ago, and though Charlie was a good friend, the threads that connected them were like silly string. They hadn’t had what she would call a “true bond” – no ties strong enough to make their romantic involvement last.

  She lowered her hands down to her hips, ready to start stroking the sensitive nub between her legs when she decided against the straightforward approach. She figured it best to let her hands take the scenic route.

  Saturday brought her hands back up to her hair, threading her fingers across her scalp. She splayed her fingers, spreading them across her neck and over her constricted nipples, cupping each breast as she massaged.

  She did her best to pretend the hands belonged to some faceless man, some man whose only desire was to draw sounds and sensations of pure pleasure from her.

  Her fingers continued their leisurely trek, finding her center warm and slightly damp. As her two fingers made their way inside, Saturday extracted that moan that she was looking for, relishing the feel of the tiny pressure that she was building.

  In. Out. In. Out. Ohhhhhhh.

  Once the sensation reached peaking levels, Saturday increased the intensity of her motions, letting herself touch the crest and tumble over, gasping as she fell back down to neutral.

  She removed the robe completely this time, tossing it on a nearby chair. Saturday sighed contentedly, pulling the covers up to her naked breasts. She let her fingers roam over to the far side of the bed, briefly wishing that she had someone there to occupy it.