Misadventures with My Ex

by Shayla Black

  Knowing he touched me much deeper is bitterly disappointing.

  “Eryn, honey…” West calls from the other side of the door.

  Even the sound of his voice wrenches my chest and dredges up fresh sobs. “Go away.”

  “I’m never going to do that.” I hear him sigh. “Not again.”

  Everything in his voice tells me to believe him. I’m annoyed by how badly my heart wants to. My head relays another message entirely, one I wish I’d heeded when I first met him: He’s not for you. He’s better than you. He’ll never love you.

  But like an idiot, I let myself believe back then.

  Eventually, I forgave myself for being young, gullible—and okay—overwhelmed by the amazing sex. But I know that old saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

  There will be no shaming me again.

  I need to get my shit under control. And I need to plan ahead so that next time West touches me, I’m not blindsided by all these unresolved feelings.

  I drag in a shuddering breath and will my tears away. Carefully, I craft a reply, intentionally misunderstanding what he said. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Today was just a long day. I need a shower and some sleep. Tomorrow you’ll see a whole new me.”

  To head off any further discussion, I flip on the shower in the giant walk-in. While the water heats up, I grab a tissue off the vanity, staring at my mottled cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Hell no. When Weston Quaid sets eyes on me again, I’m going to be cool and collected.

  After blowing my nose, I step under the hot spray. I ribbed West about the decor of this place because most of it is hideously overdone. But the bones of the penthouse—and this bathroom—are the stuff of fantasy. The views from nearly every room are stunning. The ceilings are interesting, either coved or coffered. If the carpet was replaced, the furniture swapped out for something simpler, the ornamentation stripped, and the wall treatments scaled back for simple paint, this place would be ideal—for entertaining, for living, for enjoying family. Even for raising kids.

  Was he thinking of any of those things when he bought a penthouse this huge? Was he thinking of me—of a future—at all?

  Nope, not going there.

  I stick my head under the spray and recite a dozen go-to affirmations in my head about how strong and independent I am, about how I’ll never let this man take advantage of me again.

  Once I’m scrubbed from head to toe, I wrap a towel around my hair and giant bath sheet around my body. Then I stare at the door. He’s on the other side, waiting. I know it. I feel it. And the longer I hide in here, the more he’ll be convinced that I’m vulnerable to him. Afraid of him.

  Fuck that.

  Sucking in a fortifying breath, I open the bathroom door. A cloud of steam rushes out with me. And just as I thought, West is waiting about two inches from the portal, concern all over his face.

  “Honey, talk to me.”

  “Nothing to say. A great orgasm on top of a long-ass day and a lot of stress lately… But don’t worry.” I wink. “You’re great for relieving tension.”

  I breeze past him and head for my suitcase, praying my explanation will shut him up.

  I should have known better.

  He follows. “You connected with me.”

  “Well, you did have your penis inside my vagina, so…yep. We were definitely connected. Good observation.”

  As I bend to unzip my big suitcase, West grabs my wrist and tugs me upright. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “If you’re looking for something deeper than genital penetration, you’re talking to the wrong girl.”

  West stares, watching me as I jerk free and paw through my clothes, looking for a nightgown and my toiletries. Finally, he cocks his head. “So this is how you’re going to play tonight? We had a meaningless fuck and now it’s over?”

  Shit. He’s gathering his thoughts, preparing an argument. If I don’t stop this, he’ll throw my stupid emotional outburst back in my face and use it as “evidence” to point out that I still have feelings for him.

  “It doesn’t have to be over…” I drop my towel.

  His eyes go wide. His cock begins to swell and stand up.

  Gotcha!

  “In fact, I’m more than ready for round two, babe.”

  Before he can say another word, I take the situation—among other things—in hand, stroke his cock a few times, then sink to my knees. By the time I’ve wrapped my hands around his thighs and fastened my mouth on him, he’s too far gone to do anything except let out a strangled gasp, thrust his fists in my hair, and start calling out for a higher power.

  Over the next pleasurable while, I bring West to the brink of climax multiple times, then scale him back before release—all while doing my damnedest to ignore how his taste and musky scent affect me. Soon, he’s growling and demanding and promising me all kinds of retribution. I ignore that and focus on precisely how to take him apart.

  After all, he did the same to me.

  I cup his balls, stroke my way up his shaft, run the edge of my teeth over the sensitive head, then suck him deep with a groan I know vibrates all the way down his length. Finally having power over him is heady.

  Giving him an epic blow job arouses me, I admit. I’m human, and West is hot. But this is exactly how I want him—hard, gasping, wanting, and powerless to stop whatever I’m heaping on him.

  He climaxes with a throaty shout, and I swallow him, laving and licking and savoring my triumph.

  West staggers back to the bed. “Holy shit…”

  I rise to my feet and give him a tight smile. “Like that?”

  “You know I did.” His eyes are nearly rolling back into his head from exhaustion. “Not the point…”

  I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s nearly eleven p.m. After two orgasms, I think I’m pretty safe putting the proverbial fork in him, so I’m all too happy to tuck him in.

  “It seems like I filled the role of mistress pretty well this evening, Mr. Quaid. I hope you’re pleased. But you have to be at work tomorrow, so I should let you get your rest.”

  “You sleep beside me,” he manages to growl out.

  But I hear exhaustion tugging at him. In another ten seconds, he’ll be in dreamland.

  “I’m right here.” I lie beside him, doing my best to ignore the ache twinging again between my legs that I fear only he can put out. I’m stronger than it. Mind over matter. I will survive and all that. “Nighty night.”

  WEST

  “You’re packing up at”—my brother glances at his cell phone—“four fifteen? You never leave before seven, but you’ve run out of the office early every day this week like your ass was on fire. What’s up?”

  Leave it to Flynn to ask questions I’d rather not answer.

  It’s been five days since Eryn moved in as my mistress. Five days where I’ve spent every working hour wishing I was home with her. Four nights where she’s managed to outwit and outmaneuver me for control. I’m determined that on this fifth night—even if it is a Friday the thirteenth—she will not blow-job her way out of letting me possess her body and penetrate the armor around her heart. Tonight, I’ve got to do better.

  “Nothing,” I lie casually.

  “Really?” He raises a brow and shuts my office door, enclosing us in privacy—a must since we’re both convinced Mom and Uncle Eddie have spies everywhere. “I thought it had something to do with the fact that you’re with Eryn again.”

  I sigh in frustration. “Gen told you?”

  “Of course. You know how she is.”

  “I really need to teach her the concept of keeping a secret.”

  Flynn’s face softens. “She worries about you. We both do.”

  “It’s not necessary. I’m a big boy.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings.”

  “Of course I do, but I’ve learned how to deal with them. Does anyone else know?”

  “Neither of us has let anyone else in on the news.”

>   “Thank you.” Honestly, I don’t think either would betray my confidence. Both of my siblings are on my side and would never use Eryn against me. They want me to be happy. I want the same for them.

  “So…how are things going with your ex?” Flynn asks.

  “Rocky.”

  “Eryn doesn’t want to work it out so you can get back together?” When I shake my head, he scowls. “Then why is she with you? For the money?”

  “No.” I rush to calm his anger. “C’mon. You’ve met her. You know she’s nothing like your ex.”

  “True. Besides, you’re too smart to fall for a gold-digging snake in a tight dress. I was the idiot who let Tawny lead me around by my dick.”

  “Funny you should mention that particular problem…”

  “Eryn is leading you around by yours?” Flynn raises a brow.

  “Every damn night. I don’t mean to let her, but the moment I get home, she’s naked and waiting and she’s so, so good on her knees…”

  My brother laughs. “She found your Achilles’ heel, huh? I get it. But if she’s not after money, what does she want?”

  “To fuck me out of her system. To get revenge for walking out on her.”

  He winces. “Ouch. Can you really blame her?”

  “No, but I also can’t let her get away again. She’s the one. I just have to convince her of that.” I sigh and sink into my chair. “First, I have to stop letting her attack my fly the minute I walk in the door and sucking out all my good intentions.”

  “That would help. Have a strategy?”

  “Restrain her?”

  Flynn seemingly considers the suggestion. “Would she go for that?”

  Given the trust she doesn’t have in me right now? “Probably not.”

  “Unless you want your reunion all over the tabloids, you shouldn’t take her out. Mom would find out about Eryn in seconds.”

  And that would get ugly.

  “That can’t happen, not until I can manage the fallout.”

  As soon as I do, I will happily shock the family with my intentions.

  “What are you going to do? Between her and Uncle Eddie—fucking climbers—they’ve got you by the balls. Unless you don’t mind Mom finding some new and creative way to make Eryn’s life unlivable.”

  “I mind very much.” I rise, pace. Yes, I made Eryn attending a family dinner a condition of our contract, hoping more than believing that I could clear an easy path for her in my future. “I’m still thinking of a way to handle Mom. Do you know what Eddie is up to?”

  “Besides peddling his usual song and dance about how he’s the oldest living Quaid male so he should be running the show?”

  “That’s not going to fly with the board, and he should know that.”

  “You act like he’s sober enough to process reality.”

  “You’re right. My bad.” My father’s younger brother started partying in college and apparently never stopped. He even found a wife who loves to get sauced as much as he does. They’re codependent enablers, and they will never change. “But since he’s called for a vote of no confidence next week, he’s clearly more determined than ever to seize the company.”

  Flynn nods. “I think he realizes he’s getting older and you’re doing a stellar job. If he doesn’t talk the board into giving him a chance soon, he’ll lose the opportunity forever.”

  “But, as far as you know, he doesn’t have a specific plan?”

  “Not that I can tell. He’s schmoozing board members with linen-tablecloth lunches and expensive bottles of booze. I would hope most of them are smart enough not to fuck with their bottom line.”

  So if all remains status quo, the vote will go down this time just like the last. And that will take care of Eddie.

  My mother is a completely different issue. She’s determined to marry me off to a woman she chooses, one with the right pedigree who will be the perfect corporate wife, bolster my image, and make everyone in the family more money—especially her. No matter how many times I tell her that’s not happening, she still persists, ever ready to blackmail me.

  Miriam Quaid has never been a particularly warm human being. I don’t know what my father ever saw in her. Since he died when I was in third grade, I can’t exactly ask him. For years, I’ve wished she would remarry and start caring about something other than Quaid Enterprises. But she’s proven again and again that she’ll let no one come between her and her bank balance.

  Flynn approaches and claps me on the back. “I’m heading out to New York this weekend. There’s a…distraction I’d like to visit. While I’m there, I’ll work on Mom. You concentrate on Eryn. And see if you can figure out what Eddie is up to, maybe pay the board members who might be wavering a visit to check their pulse. Have any ideas on how you’ll handle the pair of vipers when the vote comes around?”

  I nod. “Maybe it’s time to get drastic where Mom is concerned. Being nice hasn’t worked.”

  “It’s never going to,” Flynn seconded. “We sound so bent, plotting against the woman who gave birth to us.”

  “Those people don’t know how self-serving she is.” I rake a hand through my hair. “I miss Grandpa.”

  “I miss the old man, too. It doesn’t seem like he’s been gone three years…”

  “As of next week, yes.” I sigh.

  Missing the old man and mourning him is something else that weighs on my mind, along with end-of-year financials, the upcoming board vote, my mom, my uncle…and Eryn. Always Eryn. I can’t let her slip through my fingers.

  “I’ll let you get home.” Flynn nods as he steps toward the closed door.

  “Any advice?”

  “To keep her from controlling you by your dick?” He shrugs. “I finally just had to cut Tawny out of my life altogether. I had a million reasons to, so it wasn’t hard. You’re in a different spot. My best advice is to stay one step ahead of her. You know that…but I’ll bet the wrong head has been doing your thinking lately.”

  Yep. “Thanks. I’ll give that some thought.”

  “Have a good weekend.”

  I wish him the same, then he’s gone.

  As my brain churns with ideas, I wave to my assistant, head out of the office, then hop in my Porsche. As I sit in a bitch of a traffic jam, I make a few phone calls until a great plan comes together.

  It takes forty-five minutes to travel a few miles, but that’s the Strip on a Friday evening. The bright side is, it’s two minutes until six when I walk in the door.

  Predictably, Eryn is waiting—naked except the cupless underwire bra necessary to support her lush tits. She’s on her knees, looking at me with hunger in her bright eyes. “Welcome home.”

  When she reaches for my zipper, I grab her wrists and tug her to her feet. “It’s good to be home. New rules for the weekend, honey. No more blow jobs.”

  She pales. “You love them.”

  “I do, and you know it way too well. But I haven’t had a chance to feast on your body in days. Hell, I haven’t even been inside you except your mouth. That changes tonight.”

  She jerks out of my grip. “But—”

  “No buts. Did you bring a dress?”

  “One. You said we’d be having dinner with your family.”

  “Eventually, I hope so. For now, put it on.”

  “But—”

  I place a finger over her lips. “No more questions. Oh, and don’t bother wearing panties beneath that dress. You’re dessert.”

  Then I send a greedy smile in her direction and disappear into my bathroom. When I emerge from the shower and don fresh charcoal slacks and a white dress shirt, the door to Eryn’s bathroom is closed. I frown. She spends a lot of time in there. In fact, most of the time—unless she’s blowing me.

  That’s going to stop this weekend, too.

  The sound of the penthouse’s doorbell chimes through the place. I rush to the foyer and open the door to see a pair of waiters in white coats and tails rolling a cart off the elevator. “Good evening, Mr. Quaid.
Where would you like dinner?”

  I show them to the dining room. As I walk past the kitchen, it smells faintly like Eryn has been cooking. I rush to the stove and lift the lid off the pot. Some sort of chicken in a light wine sauce. I hope it will keep. Tonight I want her to enjoy what I’ve ordered just for her.

  Ten minutes later, the fussy table I can’t wait to get rid of is set to perfection. Candles are lit, the wine is resting, the silver-domed dishes look elegant next to the crystal glasses and crisp napkins. Behind me, I hear footsteps and whirl to get a look at Eryn.

  I nearly swallow my tongue.

  Her dress is red. Not a cheerful party red, like Christmas is just around the corner. But a blood red. A sexy red. The color of her flushed lips when I kiss them until they’re swollen. The little sleeves rest off her shoulders and hug her arms. A crisscross of the satin clings to her breasts, then ends with the gather at her waist, encircling her where she’s smallest. The skirt flares out gently and ends just above her knee. Matching lipstick, inky curls framing her face, and black peep-toe heels complete the ensemble.

  “You look stunning,” I manage to say.

  She casts her gaze down for a moment, like she’s not sure how to take my compliment, then looks up at me through the thick fringe of her lashes. She’s not flirting, but the effect is a tease. My cock jerks in anticipation.

  “Thanks,” she murmurs. “You had dinner brought in. I cooked—”

  “I saw. Will it keep until lunch tomorrow?”

  She nods. “What did you order?”

  I pull out her chair. “Sit down and you’ll find out.”

  Eryn glances at me suspiciously as she complies. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m here to serve you, remember? I pleasure you, feed you—”

  “And derail me from having any sort of meaningful interaction with you.” At her grimace, I sit beside her and take her hand. “Of course I figured it out. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “I’ll be happy to try harder if my performance isn’t good enough.”

  She’s tossing the arrangement I dreamed up back in my face and trying to make me lose my temper. She’s clever…but I’m not about to let her derail me.