by S. M. Soto
“Baz, stop,” I hiss.
“Sorry, man.” Trent chuckles, out of breath. “I couldn’t keep her off me.”
“Stay in your fucking lane, Ainsworth.” Sebastian pushes off Trent, and with rage like I’ve never seen before, he grips my hand in his and starts dragging us away.
I have to run just to keep up with his quick, angry strides. We make quick work of gathering my clutch before we’re outside, heading back toward Dan, who’s already waiting in the car. It’s like the man knows when Baz will summon him.
My stomach ties itself in knots over the whole situation. I don’t want him to be angry with me, and I sure as hell don’t want him to think I wanted Trent to kiss me because I didn’t. My lips are still crawling.
“Baz, please slow down,” I pant. He doesn’t listen. “I didn’t want him to kiss me. I promise you. I didn’t initiate anything. I came out of the bathroom, and your friend Marcus was there, then Trent was there. Everything happened so fast, and I was looking for you, but I didn’t see you. I should’ve pushed him away harder. I’m so sorry,” I ramble on, trying to hurry up and say my piece before he likely tells me to shut up. “You have to believe me,” I pant. “I would never ever—”
“I believe you!” he snaps, and I’m stunned silent.
Baz helps me into the car and then slams the door behind him. The anger radiating off him is tainting the air in the enclosed space. I feel it dousing the air. My heart is banging in my chest, and I keep fidgeting, uncomfortable with the angry silence.
“Dan,” Baz growls. My brows furrow, but understanding dawns on me when the partition slides up, giving us some privacy. I had no idea there was a privacy screen in here, but I guess if he is going to yell at me, a little privacy is necessary.
“Look, Baz …” I start but trail off at the dark expression on his face. The muscles in his jaw are jumping as he grinds his teeth together.
“On your knees,” he orders, and the grit in his command has me freezing, my eyes widening.
“W-What?”
When our gazes collide, a delicious shiver runs through me. The stirrings of desire tug low in my belly, and my breath catches. I’ve never seen Baz look at me with such a dark, prominent desire. He shifts himself on the seat, leaning back against the leather so causally and lazily as he spreads his legs, staring me down with a challenge in his eyes.
There’s only a slight pause on my part before I drop to my knees before him. The carpeted floor digs into my skin and bone, but I bear it all. Some part of me should feel disgusted, angry at the callous demand for me to take him in my mouth, but I’m not. Far from it. Just the thought of sucking him off has me soaked. Anything to get Trent’s taste out of my mouth. What better way than to replace it with Baz’s.
My shaky hands fumble with his belt to free him from his slacks. He doesn’t offer any help. He just watches me lazily with that same darkness brewing in his eyes. I can tell he’s barely restraining himself.
When his hard cock springs free, my lips part automatically. I’ve never wanted to take anyone in my mouth more than I do right this second.
“Suck me.”
The blatant command in his tone has my pussy pulsing with desire. Swallowing thickly, I wrap my palm around his thick girth. The veins are straining, and his tip looks angry. I take him in my mouth, pressing the flat of my tongue along the bottom of his cock as I slide down his velvety length and back up. With each stroke and lick, I take even more of him. I can’t help the moan that vibrates in the back of my throat when my lips press against his flesh.
I suck on the tip, working his hard length in my hand as I go. When I glance up at him through my lashes, any semblance of calm he had snaps. A growl reverberates in his chest, and he grips a handful of my hair in his fist, working me over his length. Grasping my head with both of his hands, Baz fucks my mouth. He does it with so much force, I gag each time his tip jabs the back of my throat. I hold on to his powerful thighs to keep steady.
“Just like that, dirty girl,” he praises each time I deep throat him. “Take it. Take all of it.”
My eyes start to water, and as much as I’d like to tap out, I want to satisfy Baz, especially after what happened in there. I want to make him come. It’s almost as if he can read my mind, and he knows that’s what I want because he suddenly yanks me up by my hair. It’s not painful, but there’s just enough bite to it that I wince, and my pussy floods with moisture.
We’re suspended there for a beat. Me, on my knees before him with his hand firmly wrapped in my hair. Him, with his cock standing proud and angry, coated with my saliva. We stare into each other’s eyes, and I can see the war he’s waging. I can still see the anger in his eyes, but I swear, as I look at him, I see something else, too.
“Ride me, dirty girl.”
I don’t waste a second. My core throbs arduously as I push off the floor and climb onto his lap. We haphazardly toss the train of my dress beside us, so it’s not in the way, as I place each knee on the outside of his thighs. His long shaft bobs thick and heavy between my legs as I work my nude thongto the side to expose my center to him.
His hands grip my hips, and without warning, he yanks me down, slamming inside me to the hilt. I toss my head back on a groan, and it takes my body a few seconds to grow accustomed accommodate to his length. I’m so wet, he slides in without any restraint. I feel incredibly full. So full, I can’t seem to catch my breath.
The pads of his fingers dig into my hips, urging me to move. I place one hand on his shoulder, and the other I wrap around the headrest for leverage as I start working my hips up and down, riding him. Baz relaxes back against the leather seat, watching his cock disappear inside me. He licks his lips, his eyes darkening with lust at the sight of our bodies connecting. I twirl my hips in circular motions, rubbing my clit against him as I go. I can feel the orgasm building, threatening to pull me under.
Sliding my hand up from his shoulder to wrap around his neck, I try to bring his mouth to mine as breathy moans escape my lips, but Baz won’t budge; instead, he watches me. He watches my expressions as I fuck him. He watches our bodies. His eyes flick to my mouth, and I lean in, trying to kiss him again, but he fists my hair, tugging my head to the side and trailing a path of scorching hot kisses down the slender column.
“Baz,” I beg. When his thumb starts stroking my clit, I’m on the verge of tears. It’s all too much. In this position, with me holding all the power, the penetration is deeper. I feel so full—I can hardly breathe. “Kiss me, please,” I pant, trying again, but all Baz does is continue his path down my neck.
I start to grow frustrated as my orgasm threatens to barrel into me.
Why won’t he kiss me?
As if he can read where my mind is going, he grips my hips, and suddenly, I’m airborne, then I’m on my back, lying sideways against the seats. He drives back inside me, hovering over me as he fucks me. I’m no longer able to hold back my moans. They’re loud, echoing around us, bouncing off the leather and glass.
“Whose pussy is this?” Baz growls out, pounding me into the seats. I open my mouth to answer, but a squeak escapes instead. I’m unable to form words. His hand glides up my body and rips the strap of my dress off my shoulder, baring my breasts. He groans in frustration when he realizes I’m wearing pasties over my nipples. “I said. Whose. Pussy. Is. This?” he grinds out, enunciating each word with his rough thrusts.
“It’s yours,” I whimper. My eyes flutter closed, the stirrings of my orgasm so close.
“Say it again. Tell me who you fucking belong to, Mackenzie. Tell me you understand.”
“It’s you!” I scream as the orgasm barrels into me. Tremors wrack my body, and my eyes slam shut. Bursts of color brighten behind my lids, and the euphoria takes me on a high I’ve never been on before.
I’m gasping for breath, clawing at his arms and shoulders as though he’s my lifeline and anchor to the present.
As I come down from my orgasm, Baz jerks above me, coming insid
e me. Realization starts to settle into my lust-fogged brain, and I tense. My chest tightens when I open my eyes and find him staring down at me, with that blank expression on his face.
He was punishing me. That’s why he wouldn’t kiss me.
He’s punishing me for letting Trent get that close. For letting Trent kiss me.
I have every right to be angry, and I am, but not as angry as I am with myself. I’m in over my head. There are too many of them, and this is getting confusing. My heart and mind are at war, entangled with this man and his friends. I want to throw the whole investigation away and build this—whatever it is—with Baz, but I owe Madison something. I owe her an explanation. Even if she’ll never hear it, justice needs to be served.
Silently, we both right ourselves. I fix the strap of my dress, covering my breasts and the lower half. Baz tucks himself back into his slacks and runs a hand through his hair, looking as calm and collected as ever, as if he didn’t just fuck me senseless.
Baz may believe that I didn’t want Trent to kiss me, but he’s still punishing me. He’s cold and distant for the entire ride back to the resort. He makes excuses, saying he has work to do, but he tells me one of the security guards will take me up to the penthouse, if that’s where I want to go.
He doesn’t kiss me again for the entire night. And I feel the effects of it in my heart. With tears in my eyes and an icy chill in my chest, I watch him drive off to God knows where.
The second the car door slams shut behind Mackenzie, I rake an agitated hand through my hair, tugging on the ends until the slightest pang stings my scalp. If Trent had kissed any other woman, I wouldn’t be bothered. But it wasn’t any other woman. It was fucking Mackenzie—the one I can’t seem to get out of my head at all hours of the day.
I wake up and think of her; I’m at work, and I fucking think of her. She’s fucking invaded every part of my life, including the resort I’ve built from the bottom up. Having her so close at all hours of the day drives me insane. She fucking drives me insane. I’ve never felt this inane need to own someone or be near another woman like I do with her. And Trent, that fucking bastard, knew what he was doing tonight. They all did. Nothing has been the same since the night of the club opening. The guys have all felt the shift.
Mackenzie’s shoulders droop as she walks through the entrance. My gaze follows her in that golden, form-fitting dress that hugs her curves to perfection until I can see her no more. I shouldn’t have let her leave like I did. I shouldn’t have let things go on the way they did either. It wasn’t her fault that Trent kissed her, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to punish her. I wanted her to forget the way his lips felt. I wanted to replace it all with me. With my mouth on her skin, with the way I fuck her. I wanted to be the only thing in her orbit, the only man on her mind because God knows she’s the only woman on mine.
“Where to, Mr. King?”
With my gaze still fixed on the opaque glass doors of the resort, I say the one place I know they’ll all be.
“The Kings. Pull up in the back. I’d like to keep my presence a surprise tonight.”
The second I push through the door of the loft above the club, I spot exactly who I came here to see. With a range of contradictory emotions rolling through me, I walk inside as calm and aloof as ever, eyes trained on the bastard with the blond hair and green eyes. Rage boils in my gut, and before I know it, I have my hands balled into fists, and I’m across the room, taking a swing at Trent.
He doesn’t have enough time to dodge the blow. My fist collides with the sharp line of his jaw, causing his head to snap to the side at the force. I jab with my left hand, landing another blow to his face, just for good measure.
There’s shouting, and the rest of the guys jump into action, trying to pull me off Trent, but I grip onto the lapels of his tux and use it as leverage to slam him up against the blacked-out glass that overlooks the dance floor of the club.
“If you ever try any shit like that again, I promise, I will fucking end you. Understand me?”
Trent grimaces from the pain, and a trickle of blood drips from one nostril as he glares at me, a fire brewing in his eyes. “Your heart has gotten involved, Sebastian. This isn’t like you.”
“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me, Ainsworth. Remember that.” I shove away from him, taking a much-needed step back to catch my breath and calm the violent storm swirling inside me.
When I glance around at the rest of the guys, they look wary. In all our years of friendship, a woman has never gotten between us. I’m not letting that happen today—it’s not worth it—but I’m also making it known.
Mackenzie is off-limits.
Scarlett is off-limits.
Whoever the fuck she is—She. Is. Off. Limits.
I narrow my gaze, focusing intently on each of the guys. Marcus has his arms crossed, scowling at me. Zach is helping Trent stand upright, patting him on the back as though he’s a fighter who just lost in the ring and needs a pick-me-up. Vincent remains seated on the couch, just as he was when I first walked in. He’s sipping from a crystal tumbler, watching with a bored expression.
“She’s off-limits. I don’t care if it’s against the rules. I don’t care if you don’t like it. Fuck with her, and we’re going to have problems. We clear?”
“When the fuck did you become top dog?” The contempt in Zach’s voice can’t be missed.
I narrow my gaze, grinding my back teeth together to stave off the anger surging through my body. Taking a threatening step forward, I keep my voice low and even.
“I’ve always been top dog, and I’ve always been the one in charge. Let’s not forget that. You all came to me, remember? I fixed your problems, and now, you’ll do whatever the fuck I say because I’m in charge.”
The silence that ensues is almost stifling.
Remaining unbothered by their anger, I cross the floor toward the bar and make myself a drink. Popping the button loose on my tux, I take a seat on the open chaise across from them, waiting to see who will speak up next.
“We had a plan, Seb. You gave us your word.” It’s Vincent this time, just barely restraining himself.
I lean back against the leather, making a show of crossing my ankle over my knee. I take a long, hearty sip from the tumbler and pause, just to bring my next words home.
“You still have my word. But this little game is mine to play, and if you guys don’t like it”—I make a show of looking them all in the eyes—“then there’s the fucking door.”
Slowly, my words sink in, and the tension in the room dissipates. Marcus takes a seat on the chaise next to me, and Zach calls one of the security guards on the lower level who’s ready to bring a slew of wanting women up for the night. The only one who is still stewing in the corner is Trent. He’s openly glaring at me, even after the women are brought up. A pair take a seat on each side of him; one woman kisses his neck, and the other strokes him through his slacks.
I raise my near empty tumbler toward him in cheers, which only serves to piss him off more. He grips both women aggressively and drags them down the hall toward one of the open rooms. Marcus stands beside me with a gorgeous, billowy redhead attached to his side. He pauses just before departing.
“You’re poking a bear with Trent. I’m telling you, man,” Marcus warns.
I shrug. “He’ll learn his place. Eventually.”
Marcus shakes his head, humor lighting his features, but even so, I still see the worry in his eyes. “Find anyone down there who caught your eye?” he asks, referring to the women down in the club I’d consider bringing up here to fuck. I shake my head, making no move to get up.
“Not yet.”
Little does he know, only one woman has caught my eye and been able to keep it, and said woman is back at my resort.
The next morning, I wake to light shining in through the suite windows. I was so upset last night I forgot to draw the curtains. I decided after what happened, space would do Baz and me wonders.
> I need time to think, time to get my head back on straight because it seems whenever I’m around Baz for too long, I start to forget why I’m truly here. I start to believe what we have is real, and that can’t be true. Because if it is? That would make me a liar and a failure, and I refuse to be either.
After showering, I head straight for the steel safe in my suite. Entering the code, I pull out the paperwork and my laptop inside. My hair is still dripping as I scatter everything out across the bed, trying to make sense of it all. I have articles from my sister’s death, the botched court proceeding that followed, and everything else in between. I didn’t learn anything new at the gala—nothing I could use against any of them. Raking my fingers through my hair in frustration, I nibble on my thumbnail. It’s a horrible habit I’ve had since I was a child.
Getting up from the bed, I start to pace. I need to try harder. I have to somehow patch up this issue with Baz and get him to willingly bring me around his friends. Then and only then will I be able to get them to change their minds about me.
Right now, I’m a threat. It’s obvious they don’t like the idea of Sebastian getting serious with a woman. That would threaten all their fun.
I suddenly stop my pacing and pick up the picture that brought me here. The one with the Savages. The only ones missing from the photo are Marcus and Baz. An idea suddenly takes form in my brain.
I wasn’t playing smart enough before.
But I am now. It’s time to play hardball.
Even though I probably should’ve spent the night up in the penthouse and waited for Baz, I dress quickly, hoping I’ll still be allowed up there. We didn’t leave things on the best of terms last night.
I just needed the night to clear my head and remember what I’m really doing here. I hope he’ll understand. With the dress from last night slung over my shoulder, I head to the top, using the fob he gave me, and instead of walking right in, I knock on the door.
