by Tara Brown
“Andy, introduce me to your friend.” The blonde spoke from behind me. Her shrill voice clawed at my flesh as she talked; I’d know her voice anywhere.
“Ashley Jardine, this is Caitlyn Landry. Ashley’s an old friend from Oxford. And Cait is an old ex from a time when I was sexually confused and thought I liked soulless girls.”
“Andy.” I scowled, trying not to laugh while defending the horrible person who was feigning hurt feelings, like she had any.
“That’s fine, Andy and I go way back.” She offered a tiny manicured hand. “Cait.” She smiled, batted her lashes, and acted demure.
“Ashley.” I shook her hand, not kissing it. I could tell from the way she had it out, she thought she was the bloody queen.
“English. Where from?”
“Warwickshire. Stratford-upon-Avon.”
“Oh, near Shakespeare’s birthplace?”
“It is his birthplace,” I corrected.
“Right.” She laughed delicately. What a phony. Like she had me convinced she was a flower petal with all her silky femininity. As if I couldn’t see the claws and fangs and horns.
A blind man wouldn’t even have found her attractive. Maybe especially not.
She was a man-eater.
The worst kind of person.
I was never going to be able to keep this up. My only saving grace was that Andy said she would love a grumpy-guy-at-the-bar act, and if I could pull off one impression in front of this girl, it was that one.
“And you’re here visiting the Kennedys? Are you a relation?”
“No.” I gave Andy a look as he slunk off with the Sarah girl we were talking to earlier.
“How long are you in America for?”
“The summer. I decided sort of last minute to come. Andy said he was housesitting and would love the company.”
“Oh, right, the Weinbergs. Yes, of course. So cold and dark, that house. Don’t you think?” She slid an arm into mine, prancing me around the party, talking to me hypnotically, like she wanted me not to notice that I was on display. She was showing everyone she’d claimed me.
But I noticed.
“It is a weird house. The view is bizarre. No view from the main floor. Just dunes.”
“Exactly.” She smiled wide and laughed like I’d said something funny. She slapped my chest lightly, leaning in. “You’re funny.”
“Not really.” I shrugged. I had to date her, but I didn’t have to be nice to her. In fact, the more like dry toast I was, the more likely she was to cheat sooner. Maybe even slum.
“Cherry left,” I mentioned. “Did Rachel say anything to you?”
“Yeah, said she was feeling awful. Poor thing. Cherry is such a funny girl. I adore her. Poor thing just got dumped by her boyfriend,” she lied. “She really needs this selection.” She acted like she was doing Cherry a favor, pointing to a guy I assumed was a male model. He was jacked. And handsome in a way that could make me sexually confused. The blank stare on his face as he spoke to three girls said a lot about him. He was bored, or he was forced to be here, like me.
“I’m going to give Cherry him, since she’s sick and missing selection. He’s amazing. Total gentleman. Handsome. Wealthy. Well connected. All the things Cherry’s looking for in a man.” She smiled coyly. “I mean, aren’t we all?”
“I guess so.” I was boring myself.
She giggled again as an alarm went off in her pocket. “Oh, time to pick.” She opened her eyes up wide, staring into mine, like she was again hypnotizing me.
“Okay then.” I patted her on the arm and walked away. Andy was dying laughing, pretending to be talking to Rachel, but I knew he heard us.
“Gentlemen, it’s time for you to leave. Thank you so much for trying out this year. I wish you all the luck in being picked. Good night. Ladies, please stay for selection.” She pointed to the door of her massive mansion, offering me, specifically, a little wave.
I followed Andy out, desperate to get to the Kennedys’ and find Cherry.
“Oh, man, that was amazing. She was really working you, and you looked like you might die any second.”
“I was dying. She’s crazy. You can smell it on her. That’s the kind of girl who cuts your balls off in the night because you wronged her in some small way. Can we go to your house? I think we should go see if Cherry’s okay,” I said as I found Hans and jumped in the car.
“Of course,” Andy agreed.
We waited in a massive backup for the limos to leave the party, and when we finally got onto the main road leading to the Kennedys’, I was desperate to get to the house.
“Cherry was a mess tonight.” Andy lifted an eyebrow. “I want to be pissed at her for almost ruining the plan, losing it. But at the same time, I’m pumped she’s finally getting angry and losing her mind. She needed to. She’s been like a ginger zombie Barbie for a long time.”
“I just hope she’s okay.” I tapped my foot.
As Hans pulled to a stop, I dove out, rushing for the house.
Ella was walking with her phone and a cookie, dressed in pajamas and sporting a weird look when I burst in, not even knocking. “Where is she?”
“How should I know?”
“You picked her up.”
“I left her on the road. She was being nuts.”
“Seriously?” I turned and ran back to Hans. “Can you drive me around? Cherry’s out there somewhere.” My heart was racing. She was upset and likely all alone in a dress on the side of the road.
“Of course.”
I jumped in the front seat, giving Andy a look. “I’ll meet you back at the Weinbergs’. I need to make sure she’s all right.”
“Okay, man. I’ll take my car over. Thanks, Hans!” He waved and walked inside.
They were so nonchalant about the fact Ella had left Cherry on the side of the road.
We drove for hours up and down the road until finally we came upon her.
She was sleeping on a park bench. I hated her brother and her sister for a whole minute as I leaped from the car, gripping her to me and lifting her delicately from the cold bench. She looked intact. No wounds or blood or signs of a struggle.
What kind of family did that sort of thing to each other?
Who were these people? Maybe it was a good thing I was here. Cherry needed someone to care about her and get her through this. I couldn’t justify taking twenty thousand to teach some rich bitch a lesson, but I could justify it to help another one learn to see herself the way I saw her. This girl—she was worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AN INDECENT PROPOSAL
Cherry
I woke to warmth. It surrounded me, wrapping around me as breath tickled my cheeks. I snuggled into it, expecting one thing but getting another.
I thought for sure I was in bed with Griffin and he was spooning me.
Instead someone else whispered, “Cherry. You have to grip my neck to sit up.”
My eyes shot open, and I saw a face I didn’t know, not at first. My body went to pins and needles. My lips parted to scream. His hand covered my mouth, and he pulled back, shaking his head.
“Don’t scream. You’ll wake your mom up,” Ashley whispered. “And I really don’t like your mom.”
“Where are we?” I glanced around, seeing the interior of a car. I was in a car. Whose car?
“We’re at your house, parked out front. Hans and I have been looking for you for hours.” He sounded annoyed, which was worse with his accent.
“You don’t have to keep talking like you’re English.” I yawned and wondered what kind of dream this was.
“Well, thing is, this is my actual accent. I sound American because I make myself talk like that. You’re sleepy. I already told you, I do it to try to blend in. This is my normal relaxed way of speaking. So, I hope you don’t mind that I’m going to continue talking naturally after just saving your bloody arse from the middle of suburban hell.”
“Whatever.” I blinked and tried to get my bearings.
I gripped him and sat up, eventually standing on shaky legs and waiting for my body to get signals from my brain to walk inside.
“It’s not whatever. You were sleeping on a bench. You’re lucky it was me who found you. Your family is insane. They left you out there.” He paused on our walk to the house. “We need to finish our conversation. I think you’re misunderstanding me.”
“I don’t want to.” I rubbed my eyes, regretting it the moment the sting of mascara filled a watery eye. “I want sleep.” As far as I was concerned, I was still sleeping.
“We will later then. Let’s get you inside.” He led me to the house.
At the front door he tapped lightly, still holding me. I let him. Not just because he was warm and I was freezing, but also because there was a chance I might sway and fall over. I was practically sleeping on my feet.
“No one’s up, except poor Hans. The man must be exhausted.” I glanced back at the sun just starting to lighten the day. It had to be five in the morning. I reached forward and opened the door. “We don’t lock it.”
“That’s nuts.”
“We have a gate and a guard, and we live in the safest place on earth.” I gave him a weird look. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You mean rescue.” He softened, and the worried stare changed to relief. “Have breakfast with me.”
“I’m sleeping through breakfast.”
“Brunch.”
“No.” I didn’t even know why I was saying no at this point. I was being difficult on purpose. I hated that he was right about me, and I was punishing us both like a child.
“Dinner. Coffee. Snack?” He cracked a sleepy smile.
“Just come inside,” I relented, speaking with a frog in my throat; likely he’d jumped in during my park bench nap. I grabbed Ashley’s hand, leading him into the house. I closed the door and crept across the great entrance to the rounded double staircase. We hurried upward, him tugging slightly, like he wasn’t sure about this at all.
When we got to my room, my wing of the third floor, I pulled him in and closed the door. Light filtered in by the sides of the curtains, giving us just enough to see each other’s faces.
“Just stay with me. I don’t want to talk about it all. Just stay,” I whispered.
Today, I would start making decisions for myself. And it all started with taking a brooding, pain-in-my-ass, sexy-as-hell, Scottish-English-American god to my bed.
He scowled, like he had things to say, but he kept them to himself.
We stared at each other, the tension so thick I could taste it. It was aftershave, beach air, and attraction that had started the moment two sets of eyes met in front of a pastry display.
“I like you too. And you’re right about me.” I dared to take this a little further. He moved like he was going to kiss me, but I turned and pulled him to my bed. He kicked off his shoes as I dragged off my dress and climbed into the cool sheets in my undergarments. He slipped his pants and shirt off and climbed in after me, wearing his underwear and nothing else. I rolled away from him, letting him drape himself over me, and closed my eyes.
The pillow and the sheets and the comfy bed were nothing compared to the warm body pressed against me.
Sleep came hard and fast, probably because I was already sleeping.
This had to be a dream.
There was no way I’d said he was right about me aloud.
Chapter Twenty-Five
HOOKER
Cherry
I didn’t dream, or remember dreams, and I didn’t toss or turn. I fell asleep with Ashley pressed into me, and I woke that way.
I recalled dragging him in here, half-asleep and not wanting to be alone, not wanting to be away from him after the weird conversation we’d had. I felt differently about him being here now.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want him in my bed, pressed against me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the feeling of his arm draped across me or the way his breath felt against my ear. It wasn’t that I was disappointed in my decision.
It was that I needed more.
I liked all of this, but I wanted so, so much more.
Feeling brave or stupid or adventurous or a combination of them all, I trailed my fingers up his muscled arm, noting he’d placed his hand in front of me on the bed and wasn’t actually touching me except where our bodies met.
He was a gentleman, and it made me smile.
I’d invited him into my bed.
I’d taken most of my clothes off in front of him.
I’d essentially given him permission to touch me.
And yet he didn’t.
Maybe because he hadn’t gotten actual spoken permission.
I liked that too. It was as if I had some control over what he did and didn’t do. It was a new feeling for me.
Reaching down, I lifted one of his thick fingers and pulled his hand back, not leaving the embrace but dragging the hand across my body, forcing him to touch the soft skin of my ribs, right below my bra.
I made him rub my skin until he did it on his own, caressing me in a place where people didn’t often touch. Guys our age always went for breasts and ass and areas of stimulation. But feeling the fiery touch of a half-sleeping guy on a delicate spot like my bare ribs was magical.
His breath quickened as he pressed himself against me more, his exhales tickling my ear and the firmness of him crushing against the back of me. His fingers dug in, needing more from the tiny place I allowed him to touch, trembling as they fought against the cage they were trapped in.
I pushed my butt back, meeting firmness I’d already noticed. He woke the way most guys did, jacked with testosterone.
He groaned, rubbing himself on me as his fingers made a daring journey south, tiptoeing to my stomach, before he placed a hot, flat palm there and pulled me back into him even more.
His breath became grazes as he ventured from my ear to my neck, blanketing the curve with kisses and warmth.
My breath changed as I opened the space for him, allowing his face in fully. A soft moan escaped my parted lips as his hand continued to creep lower. He didn’t dare go under the clothes; maybe that wasn’t what this was about. Maybe we were just touching and teasing, and it wasn’t going to lead to anything else.
I moved my legs a little, allowing him access, granting him permission to touch the place I suspected he desperately wanted to put himself.
He traced the soft area, gently massaging and tickling until I was the one moving, I was the one forcing his fingers to touch and rub faster, firmer.
My eyes didn’t open, my mouth didn’t close, and his fingers never entered me, but I was already close. Close to being louder than I should have been at my parents’ house. Close to taking the rest of my clothes off and letting him ravage me. Close to saying things I couldn’t take back, dirty things I had never said before.
He pressed a little harder, rubbing my clit like he had one too and knew exactly how it needed to be touched. As everything in me pulsed, I tensed and rode the waves he was making, creating heat and pleasure.
Sweat popped from my pores as gasps became moans and breath became words, whispers of more and faster and push.
I finished orgasming and landed back in reality and awkwardness, twitching and shaking my head in disbelief. What was I doing? We hadn’t even gone under the clothes yet. We hadn’t even kissed.
We hardly knew each other a week, and here I was having better nonsex than the actual sex I’d had over six months with Griffin.
I contemplated turning over, facing Ashley, rectifying at least the kiss.
But he whispered something and did the last thing I ever expected. “Say yes.” He dragged my underwear down as he spoke. I didn’t turn over or kiss him or move.
Instead I whispered back the thing he requested. “Yes.”
He pressed his body against mine again, only slightly altering our position, dragging my butt back more.
My heart fluttered as I wondered what I’d just said yes to. His cock answered
the question as he dragged it between my lips, lifting a leg to gain better access, testing the lube I’d made—that he’d helped me make. He pushed himself inside of me, feeling like too much for a second. I clung to my pillow, trying to relax against the invasion and exploration until we were both comfortable.
My pussy clung to him, stretching as he slowly dragged himself in and out, making room for all of him. He didn’t speed up right away, so I felt every ridge and detail of what I imagined was a beautiful cock. A huge, beautiful cock.
Never in all my years of having sex, limited experiences at best, had I ever done anything like this.
He gripped my leg and hips, moving us both with gentle strokes, the sort a girl did to herself with a toy. Long and steady, holding himself inside of me for a moment before pulling out again, leisurely.
Ashley kissed my shoulders and neck, groaning into me, whispering sweet everythings. “You feel incredible, Cherry. You’re so wet.” His breathy words became a soundtrack to the moment. “You’re beautiful.”
His fingers dug in as his strokes grew faster, harder, and his words became muddled. I couldn’t understand them, and eventually I lost them as our grunting and groaning matched. He rolled me onto my stomach, spread my legs wide, and lifted my ass up.
“I need you.” I moaned it. “I want you inside of me.” I writhed as I said the dirty thing I’d never said before but had always wanted to. “Fuck me.”
And he did.
He fucked me hard, pounding himself into me, spanking my ass with his hips.
My eyes shot open as instant pleasure overwhelmed me. “Oh, God!” I shouted, and lowered my face into my pillow, shouting some more. My body convulsed around his, and my breath and moans got stuck in my mouth, unable to leave as everything became about the wave of pleasure overwhelming me.
