LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2)

by Kristina Weaver

  “Her office is the second door on the left, just down that hall. Be nice, she’s having a rough morning. Oh, and thanks for the flowers, they really brighten this place up.”

  For a minute, I think she’s got designs on my woman’s daisies before she indicates the vases full of roses I’ve sent on previous occasions. Great, so Remy hasn’t kept any—not one.

  I just shrug with a smile and make my way down the gray hall, eyeing the color scheme with a frown. I’m painting this place tomorrow or my girl will shrivel in this heap.

  I’m a man, and usually I’d say that very little fazes me, but for the first time in a long while, I’m so bloody nervous I feel my palms start sweating and my heart rate pick up.

  Through all of my planning and carefully-thought-out moves, I never once thought that my biggest obstacle to getting Remy could be Remy herself. For a guy who knows this girl on a deep level, I think I forgot that she is by far one of the most honorable women I’ve ever known.

  And dam if she isn’t one of the most stubborn too.

  So, now that I’ve pissed her off and made her feel even guiltier about what she felt for me before the divorce, I know I’m going to have a real struggle on my hands.

  “Oh good Lord above have mercy on my needy self.” I hear the moment I step into the office and I smile at Liv, remembering having met her before.

  She’s grinning up at me, her light brown eyes sparkling as she cuts her gaze to Remy, who is currently unaware of my presence and arguing into the phone.

  “No, I will not accept that. Of course not, but that’s not the point, Jake. The girls need to attend school more regularly or they will report you. No, Jake, I do not know what that’s like because I am not a single father. I gave you the contact information for the church daycare. I don’t care if you’re not Catholic, the nuns do not discriminate. Fine, then take that risk, but I’m warning you— God he just hung up on me!”

  She’s furious, her eyes are so round and intense that I stand back and watch in amusement when she picks up something sharp and hurls it to the right without looking.

  When I look up, I laugh in a boom and have to grab the doorframe for support. The photo is almost unrecognizable it’s so full of holes, but I’d recognize that shit-eating grin anywhere.

  “Jesus, I can’t believe I was jealous!” I crow, smiling at a now scowling Remy, whose eyes are narrowed on me before a big grin curves her mouth.

  “Told ya, Marshall.”

  She had told me that I had no reason to stress about her still residing with the idiot, and I hadn’t believed her. I guess I do now.

  “Yes, you really did, didn’t you? So…am I forgiven, or would you like to torture me a little longer?” I ask, almost laughing when she looks down and spots the candy I’ve brought her.

  As I’ve witnessed on many a dinner, Remy is a total goner for anything that contains the words sugar, chocolate or peanut butter.

  “Those babies for me?”

  The darling hasn’t even spared the flowers a second glance, and I find myself giving them a jaundiced eye.

  “Always. No flowers?”

  Liv starts laughing and I pull my eyes away from Remy with an effort to look at the woman now snorting with mirth.

  “Dude, her husband used to make her arrange flowers in every room of the house. She freaking hates the things. Bring that bouquet on over here and give it to a woman who’ll appreciate it,” she purrs, batting her lashes at me with a licentious smile that makes me choke on a chuckle.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be single by any chance?”

  That gets me a snort and a snarl from Remy, and I turn to throw her a wink before giving Liv my attention again.

  “Yup, but Remy’s my pal so that’s a no go, stud. Sorry, you’ll have to do without this hotness.”

  I’m amused but keep myself in check before turning back to Remy and smiling hotly.

  “I have a friend who is just this side of anal, and I think he might benefit from a gem such as yourself.”

  “Oooh, a blind date? Sign me up, hottie, I’m not picky. Just as long as he has all his teeth, grooms regularly, and doesn’t consider farting an Olympic sport, I’m sold.”

  “He’s too uptight to pass wind, Liv, so I think you’re safe.”

  “No farting, huh? What does he do with all that gas if he’s as anal as you say?” she laughs and I look over at Remy who’s rolling her eyes and fighting a smile.

  I don’t get a chance to volley an answer back before Liv taps her chin and murmurs straight faced.

  “S’all cool. I can handle almost anything. I went out with this guy who ate garlic for breakfast, lunch and supper and apparently drank bean smoothies all day long.”

  Jesus, this woman.

  “I’ll give him your number.” I say through a huffed out laugh, noting Remy’s sparkling eyes and the way she’s biting at her bottom lip to keep from laughing at Liv’s ridiculous antics.

  “As long as I’m number one, it’s all peachy. Now give the girl her peanut butter treats and get the hell outta here. I had a rough night and need a nap.”

  God, if I didn’t already have a best friend…

  “Breakfast, Remy?”

  Her eyes freeze on me for a second, and I’m pretty sure she’s about to refuse when I see her face clear and she nods.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do kiddos.” Liv giggles, ducking Remy’s hand as I put a hand at the small of her back and steer her out.

  “Is there anything you wouldn’t do?”

  “Nope. That’s the point!” she yells down the corridor, her dark laughter following us as I lead Remy out of the building.

  Right there, I know she’s the right woman for Gabe, and I almost bust with impatience at the thought of hooking them up.

  Later.

  Now, I have a woman to seduce back to my way of thinking, and I know just how to do it.

  Chapter 8

  Remy

  The soft breeze that pours through the open windows, along with the candlelight, gives the room a magical quality. After last week's failed dinner, and then the truly perfect breakfast ‘meeting,’ Chase and I have reclaimed the amiable ease that we'd had before.

  The only difference now is that I am fully aware of his desire every time our eyes meet across the table. And God in heaven, he doesn’t miss an opportunity to let me know that he’s hard, that he’s been thinking about me non-stop, and my personal favorite and the reason I’m considering looking into a vibrator, how he described in detail how he jacked-off to thoughts of what he’s been dying to do to me.

  Just remembering makes me…

  “You look stunning tonight, Rem,” he purred, staring me down, almost daring me to withdraw my gaze.

  When I didn’t, he tilted his head to regard me and moved in for the kill.

  “I thought about you all through last night. I even took the sweater you left here to bed with me.”

  I gasped and clenched my thighs together at the thought of an item of my clothing gracing his sheets, lying across the cool cotton as he sprawled his tight body across the expanse of his bed.

  “The scent drove me mad. I shot so hard the sheets were a torture against my cock.” He whispered, licking his lips and drawing me in with nothing more than grated words and the intensity of his lust-filled gaze.

  I couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe through the need streaking through me, pressing deep into the empty ache between my legs. The rush of heat sent a gush of moisture to my sex, readying me for what I needed, what I’ve been fantasizing about since the day his eyes met mine.

  “Chase.”

  “I lay there for hours just breathing in the sweet scent, torturing myself, and imagining running my nose over your skin. When I could stand it no more I pulled the sweater over my face and closed my eyes. My cock was so hard by that time, that when I grasped my length and started pulling, I almost shot at the first stroke.”

  I almost melted into a wet puddle of need at hi
s words, my lungs constricting with every breath as he told me how he’d pretended that his hand was my own, how he’d fantasized that I would jerk him off right to the point of coming before lowering my head and swallowing every drop he had stored up for me.

  That had been almost enough to make me come without so much as a touch. And then he’d sealed my fate by telling me that he’d wrapped the soft wool that held my scent around his rod and come all over it, needing to brand some part of me.

  I can say one thing for sure, well no, two things. I’d gone home on shaky legs, afire with a raging arousal that made the slightest movement almost painful and rubbed myself to completion just thinking of the things he’d told me.

  I am now positive that Chase Marshall will not only satisfy every sexual hunger I have, but by the time he’s done with me, I will be enslaved by the man.

  “We’re celebrating,” he’d crooned into the phone this afternoon after calling me to set up a dinner date.

  I was giddy to the point of doing cartwheels by that time. My lawyer had just called and, as of this morning, I am a free woman. I am now officially Remy Harrow again, no Carson tacked on to the end, and I am free to do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want and there’s not a thing anyone else can say or do about it.

  I’d accepted the invitation and rushed home early to throw my possessions in my car before zipping over to Liv’s apartment and getting ready for my epic date.

  Now, here I am, sitting on the half patio off Chase’s bedroom, enjoying the bracing air and the ambience of the lighting while he putters around downstairs ‘getting supplies.’

  “Fuck me, you look sexy in that dress.”

  I turn and smile, feeling my nerves tighten when he strides through the bedroom and drops a covered box to the table beside me.

  “You…”

  Words fail me when I realize that he’s wearing nothing but a pair of worn jeans and an arrogant smile that’s just this side of indecent. He waits, keeping me pinned with nothing more than a heated look.

  “Open the box, Rem.”

  I obey, shutting my eyes just before lifting the lid and dropping it to the table, my pulse racing at the anticipation streaking through me.

  “Open your eyes.”

  When I do I almost faint with pleasure.

  “God help me.”

  It’s all I can get through frozen lips as I lower my hands and pull out a sheer white lace thong and matching bra that’s not a bra at all but a set of cups that will end just below my nipples.

  The underwear, if I can even call it that, is indecent in its skimpiness and I absolutely love it.

  “I want you to go into the bathroom and take a long, hot bath. Relax and enjoy it. Let the water loosen you up. Then I want you to dry off and put these on and get on my bed.”

  O.M.G.

  Now I really am nervous because it’s one thing to fantasize about a guy and rub one out imagining his hands and mouth all over my body, but it’s quite another to have him ordering me around, his instructions clear. He wants me to ready my body and then surrender myself to him.

  By lying on the bed in nothing more than transparent lace, I’m giving him permission to do anything he wants to me, and he’s warned me that the list is long and so dirty I won’t ever be clean again.

  Thoughts of getting dirty under this man make me go all liquid and hot till I realize what he'd said.

  “I, uh, bathed before—”

  “In that man’s home—in his shower or tub. I want it all gone when I finally touch you, Rem. And I can also see how nervous you are, so I’m hoping a bath might relax you.”

  Phew. Okay. So he isn’t a germ freak, or thinking I smell bad, or God forbid, telling me that I need to clean certain areas.

  Okay, okay, so I’m one of those chicks who’s paranoid about her junk. Give me a break. The one and only time Brian went down on me, he didn’t even finish and acted like it was a distasteful experience. My confidence is still a little shot about it.

  He turns around when I just nod and I gasp at the sight of his muscular back, the broad expanse covered in bright colors and dark slashes of black that make up an intricate tattoo that I can’t quite make out in the muted candlelight.

  “Wow. Can I see your tattoo?”

  He turns with a jerk and seems frozen in place before smiling slyly and wagging a finger my way.

  “You have instructions. Obey.”

  With a last slow perusal that makes my nipples bead tighter, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room, leaving me alone and so achy I practically dive into the bathroom and the waiting jet pool bath tub, my muscles aching with renewed tension.

  The bath I take is hot and filled with bath salts that smell like sweet lavender. By the time I’m done, I feel looser and a lot better. Chase was right, I needed that and not only to soothe my frayed nerves but also to give myself time to work out everything I’m feeling.

  I want him with an intensity that is shocking, and yet, for some reason I can’t name, I’m terrified too.

  Maybe it’s fear of the unknown or the fact that I’ve never felt this level of need. Maybe it’s all the anticipation I’ve built over the last month. Or maybe I’m just afraid that he’s been building this all up and will be disappointed at the end.

  Yeah, I’m an old hand at sex—bad sex, that is—being a recent divorcee, but I am not that experienced. What Brian and I had had was a lackluster sex life that was strictly a missionary quick in and out.

  I’ve never even had an orgasm that I didn’t give myself, and then I’m not sure I’d even done that right.

  This could be a disaster, and yet as scared as I am right now, I want it so badly the ache in my belly amps up to a raging inferno.

  “Rem?”

  I startle and look to the door with wide eyes.

  “Yeah?” I squeak so softly I have to clear my throat and say it again.

  “You okay in there, babe?”

  I don’t answer his softly spoken query but square my shoulders instead and stride to the door, pausing only to look down at myself again. My whole body flushes at the picture I present. My waxed peach is clear and on display through the white lace and my breasts are cupped and pushed together, a feast of golden fleshy globes and dark pink nipples that have only hardened more.

  Taking a fortifying breath, I pull the door open and step out, almost colliding with Chase. He grabs my shoulders when I take a hasty step back and steadies me, groaning low in his throat when he looks down to see my body on display.

  “Fuck.”

  The rumble that worked out of his throat is half wild, half plea for mercy and I smile, feeling my confidence take a huge leap for the better. I know exactly what he’s seeing, and from the hard glint in his eyes, I can only guess that he’s liking it a lot more than I thought possible.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  My softly spoken gratitude snaps his eyes back up and he growls again before skimming his hands down my arms, around my rounded hips and to my back, not stopping till he’s palming my ass and squeezing with a groan of delight.

  When I whimper, pushing closer he snarls and hoists me up, directing me to wrap my legs around his hips. The move brings our flesh into contact and I groan, almost wildly embarrassed to feel how wet I am with nothing more than a few heated looks and one touch.

  “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he murmurs, striding swiftly to the bed and laying me down, his fingers and hands giving me one rough squeeze before releasing me to step back.

  His eyes are hooded as he remains where he is, doing nothing but taking in the picture I make, lying on his bed, practically naked and so needy I feel my hips grind in invitation.

  “Hands on the headboard.”

  I obey and take deep breaths as he stalks to the foot of the bed and stares down at me, biting his bottom lip sensually before giving me a soft smile of comfort.

  “Have you thought about us, about this, Remy
?” he asks as he trails his hands down his torso to fiddle with the button of his low-slung jeans.

  Chapter 9

  Chase

  She is so gloriously beautiful that I almost fell to my knees and begged for mercy when she stepped out of the bathroom clothed in the racy lingerie I couldn’t resist buying for this very occasion.

  The ensemble is simple and perfect; its white scraps of lace hinting at the virginal picture I have of her until I see the clear outline of her pink puss nestled beneath the lace and the way the half cups offer her breasts to me.

  I want to devour every inch of her and use every inch of my own skin to bring her untold pleasure, but for this first time, I won’t be selfish and touch her.

  What I want to do instead is use words and raise her up to such a fevered pitch of need that by the time I sink into her welcoming sheath she’ll be so ready she’ll explode around my dick on the first thrust.

  For me, that is the ultimate pleasure, the perfect first foray into what will be an explosive sex life. You see, Remy is and always has been a very deep woman. She values words and the power they have to make or break a situation.

  So now I will use nothing but words to take her where she needs to go. With nothing but my knowledge, I will push her to the brink before enslaving her with pleasure.

  Later, when I’ve got her under my spell, I’ll indulge myself and touch, lick and taste every inch of her perfection. For now though…

  “Have you thought about us, about this, Remy?” I ask again, watching color flood her cheeks.

  She nods once and grips the headboard, her legs falling open in an unconscious plea that my mouth is aching to answer. I want nothing more than to bury my face in that hot crevice and eat her to a shattering orgasm.

  “What have you fantasized about? Have you wondered what it would be like if I put my mouth there where you ache and gush with need?”

  She swallows, nodding once and I resist the urge to do just that and slake my thirst at her swollen lips.

  “I’d open you wide, so wide I can see your opening flex at nothing and then I’d use my thumbs to spread the trembling lips of your pussy. You are so swollen, I’d have to fight to fit my tongue at your entrance.”