Burning Ultimatum (Trevor's Harem #4)

by Aubrey Parker

  “You cheated.”

  “I never cheated.”

  I know there’s a hole in his argument, but I can’t articulate it. I can’t stop watching his deadly serious face. His hard body. The bulge as he unzips, as his huge dick strains against cotton as if trying to reach me. I feel lightheaded, like I’ve had one too many drinks. Are they doing something to me? Or is it only Daniel?

  They. The word clangs in me like a bell.

  “Caspian,” I say.

  “He’s not invited.”

  “He might be able to see us.”

  Shit. What I just said amounted to tacit agreement. I see Daniel respond, his cock throbbing.

  “Then he’ll see us.”

  “I’ll fail. I’ll fail his test.”

  He shakes his head with strange certainty, as if he knows something I don’t.

  “You can’t fail.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “What do you think he wants from you?”

  “I don’t know!”

  But my hand has gone to my lap. I’m rubbing myself subtly through my dress. My nipples press outward, stiff like erasers. I want Daniel’s dick in my mouth. I want to spread my legs for him. I want him to hurt me again, if that’s what it takes.

  But in my mind, I hear Jessica’s voice. Jessica, for whom I have a conflicted new level of context.

  Be you.

  It’s as if Daniel heard my thoughts: “You’ve managed to get this far by being yourself. So what do you want, Bridget Miller?”

  I look at the canvas around us. We’re in the middle of some sort of test. There might be cameras. There probably are. Caspian will probably record this and add it to his spank bank. The guys have already told me Caspian likes me — that I’m faux-innocent enough to fit his fetishes; that I remind him of someone else. But Daniel’s here now. Daniel, who I shouldn’t trust or believe. Daniel, who I want to trust and believe anyway, even if I’m only fooling myself.

  Daniel takes out his cock. It’s hard and thick. My pussy cries out to it, soaking my panties.

  “Don’t say no to me. I’ve never needed to fuck you more.”

  “Needed?” I repeat. I’m dangling myself in front of him, making him wait, causing him obvious pain. What’s worse, I’m also dangling Daniel in front of myself. My lust is now an ache. I need him inside me more than ever — even in the garden, with all those illicit cylinders firing.

  But I want to hear this. I want to be needed.

  “I was wrong about jealousy. I don’t like it even a little. I don’t know what you did with Trevor — not only today, but in the past — just as you don’t know for sure I’m telling the truth about Jessica.”

  “Trevor — ” I start to say. I’ll blow his secret if it means speeding this along. I don’t care anymore.

  “But it’s not just him,” Daniel says. “I’m jealous that you’ve looked at the other guys here and had dirty thoughts. I’m jealous of all your former boyfriends. I’m jealous of every man who’s ever touched you. I’m jealous of the man who took your virginity. I’m jealous of Sandy, who took your clothes off and sucked your tits and stuck his cock in your pussy while I could only beat off and dream. I’m jealous of everyone who’s ever looked at you. Who’s ever held your hand or brushed past you in a crowded place. I’m even jealous of your doctors — anyone who’s ever seen your body. You aren’t theirs to look at and touch and feel. I want to hurt every single one of them. I want to punch their teeth back in their throats and rip the limbs from their torsos. I want to lay a path of destruction behind you, Bridget, punishing anyone who’s ever laid eyes on you. Because you’re not theirs. You’re mine.”

  He’s closer now. Squatting toward me, almost on his knees. His face is inches from mine, coming closer. I can feel his heat.

  “I’m not your possession.”

  “Then I’m yours.”

  We stare at each other, the air between us hot in this strange standoff.

  Then, in an instant, it happens.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Bridget

  Something in my eyes gives Daniel the consent he’s been waiting for. Until now, he’s been more creature than man, driven by his lust, his destiny shoved inexorably toward me by the turgid presence behind that thin wall of fine fabric.

  He unleashes his fury, and I feel all he’s been holding back. All the urgency. All the rush of anticipation. It would have been cruel to deny him then, and doing so might be deadly now. He’s that hot for me, all hands and lips and hard cock.

  Daniel leaves a trail of spit from my mouth to my neck to my collarbones, then between my collarbones and down my front as we awkwardly jostle so he can pull my top down and let my breasts kiss the air. The map of wetness he leaves on my skin prickles with chill. I’m lost in seconds, floating above my body, threatening to come without so much as a direct touch.

  But I throb for him. My pussy is drenched. It’s working and clenching in absence of something it needs, calling out to him, desperate and lost.

  We’re a tangle of arms and legs and mouths. I can barely breathe, we’re kissing so hard. I can no longer tell which tongue is mine. I can no longer tell which arms belong to me. I feel fingers slide inside me and don’t know if they’re Daniel’s or mine. I come immediately. My pussy grips hard, wanting more, and then I’m lost in one wave after another. I grip Daniel’s back, still clothed, wishing I could scratch tracks into his skin and mark him as my mine. But my mouth wants to scream, so I put it to his neck and muffle my cries. I bite, turning warm skin red.

  I lose track of where we are. What we’re doing. Neither of us takes everything off; this is far too rushed for that. If he’s not inside me soon, he’ll die. If I don’t have him inside me, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind. But I want it in my mouth at one point, and I crave his lips on my pussy, and all we can do is pant and gasp and try to keep up with the beat of some phantom rhythm neither of us seems to competently hear.

  I come. And I come. And I come.

  I’m bent over the chaise.

  I’m spread wide, holding my ankles.

  I’m on top, riding Daniel. His face works and twists as he tries to hold himself back. I want to sabotage his efforts at staying, to buck and squeeze to make him fill me, but I can’t stand the thought of this ending. I remember what he said earlier, about how with me, he can come again and again, never going soft, or needing time to recover. But I want to punish him, too, for making me hurt. And so I’ll use my pussy. I’ll ride him and grip his thick cock and come all over him, my juices running out like slow milk. But when Daniel seems ready to come, I’ll stop. I’ll relax. I’ll climb off and let his dick slip out of me, dropping with a smack onto his cut stomach. I’ll suck him until he’s about to blow, then stop. I’ll finger myself for him, coming, arching my back, but I won’t touch him.

  “Make me come,” he demands. “I need to come.”

  “No.”

  Finger on clit. Slow circles, giving me chills. Imagining him entering me again. Parting my pussy lips as they slip around his shaft like a kiss.

  “Make me come, Bridget.”

  I smile this time. “No.”

  He lunges, but I dodge. I can only imagine what the people beyond the curtain are thinking if they’re hearing any of our commotions, but the thought only lasts a second because Daniel finally pins me, and smothers himself in my pussy while stroking himself. But he won’t get off the hook that easily.

  “Lie back,” I tell him, “and I’ll let you come in my mouth.”

  Daniel’s on his back in a second. I give his dick a little flick, nothing more. But he’s so fucking hot for me right now, even that makes him pulse and jerk in my hand. So I blow on it, and it throbs again.

  “Make me come.”

  “Eventually,” I tease.

  He sits up. Grabs the back of my head and forces me forward, so I’m swallowing him. I wouldn’t think it was possible, but I actually get wetter as I take his entire length. My hand returns to
my pussy, rubbing my increasingly exhausted clit.

  “Just like that. Just like that, Bridget.”

  He’s bucking into me. His cock should gag me, but I’m somehow stifling the reflex. I imagine him unloading, filling my throat.

  “Oh shit, Bridget. I’m going to come in your mouth!”

  I come again. At my peak, Daniel does the same, and I fight to swallow as my pussy clenches and waves of pleasure claim me.

  When my head finally descends from the clouds, I become aware of the room’s stillness. Is anyone still out there? If so, what did they hear? What did they see?

  The thoughts, now that the euphoria leaves my brain and reality returns, suddenly seem important in a way they didn’t before. I compose myself as best I can while Daniel does the same. I look at him, and he looks at me, and we seem to both wonder if what we just did — in this particular place, under these specific circumstances — was the best idea.

  I’m suddenly sure we’ve done exactly what Caspian White wanted us to do. We fell for his trick hook, line, and sinker. So have we failed? Will we be allowed to continue, now that it’s clear that I have no superpower of restraint, that Daniel is and has always been positioning himself to compromise the experiment’s integrity?

  “How do I look?” Daniel asks, straightening his tie, lapels, and cuffs.

  Dashing, Beautiful. Like a knight I should know better than to follow.

  “You’ve got a little … ” I point at a small white blob on his shirt.

  “Shit.” He brushes at it then buttons his coat over it. He looks up at me. “And you’ve got a little … ” He points at one eye.

  I brush under my eye, feeling nothing.

  “That get it?”

  “No. It’s … ”

  I rub. I scrub.

  Daniel laughs. “You’re making it so much worse.”

  I kneel in front of Daniel and try to see myself in the only shiny thing around: his polished silver belt buckle. It’s too small and the reflection is distorted, but it’s enough to see that my mascara has run all the damned way down my cheeks. They should really make throat-fucking-proof eye makeup.

  “Shit.” I stand.

  Daniel wraps an arm around me. We make for the canvas door as I continue to dab pointlessly at my eyes. Daniel watches me and laughs. Finally, he says, “If we’re in trouble, I’ll tell them it was my fault.”

  I manage a small laugh. “It was your fault.”

  We part the drapes and enter the room, preparing to face whatever music might be waiting.

  But the lights are all on, the dark walls now clearly visible as mere panels. I see Caspian’s empty throne. The dungeon atmosphere is ruined. We’re in a rec room made to look like a goth kid’s bedroom.

  Alone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bridget

  I pass Jessica in the hallway after cleaning up. I have no idea how things finished in the Caspian challenge or why, but as long as nobody was coming to get me, I figured I should do my best to appear less freshly fucked. I took my time. I languished in the shower, not caring for once if the cameras could see me. Did it matter? Daniel and I just put on the show of all shows down in the rec room.

  I lingered for a while, waiting for a summons. I failed the test, of course. But no summons came, so eventually I left. Walked around, looking for answers.

  Why was the test stopped, assuming that’s what happened? And why didn’t Kylie — that bitch — get her turn in front of Caspian?

  I avert my eyes as I see her approach. If there were a branching hallway, I’d take it. I still don’t feel right about Jessica. Maybe Daniel says he didn’t have sex with her — or even kiss her, by his own words — but that doesn’t mean she’s clean. She still made that power grab, sacrificing Kat to advance herself. I suppose she thought I’d be dumb enough to stand by her, then it would be me and Jessica against Kylie. I’d still step aside in the end. But if that’s the case, then Jessica is dumber than I’m supposed to be in that scenario. Because how was I supposed to forgive her betrayal with Kat?

  Or am I still being duped?

  I’m taking Daniel’s word on his fidelity. He could easily be lying; he’d hardly be the first man in history to lie about getting ass on the side. But I don’t want to think that just yet — it reflects horribly on me, and makes Caspian’s accusations entirely true.

  I do the most damage. Not to others, but to myself.

  So I won’t think that. I won’t believe the worst. But Jessica? She still can’t be trusted.

  And if Daniel truly is on my side after all — and God, I hope he is, after what we did — then there must have been another leak that informed Kylie about Onyx. And I can’t forget that: I’ve freed my mother from danger and set her up with a new life, but it’s a house of cards if Kylie knows what she seems to. What Jessica somehow found out and told her … to eliminate me as competition, as well.

  There are no branching hallways. I look away from Jess as she approaches. From the corner of my eye, I can see her staring at me. Wanting to speak. Maybe to taunt me. To tell me that Caspian knew how to push my buttons because of all the little details about Trevor and Daniel that I’ve shared with her these past few months. And I’ll bet that’s what happened, too. Kylie’s my enemy. But Jess was a sleeper agent all along.

  “Bridget … ” she says.

  I keep walking. And unlike Kylie, Jessica doesn’t follow.

  Eventually, I hear footsteps behind me, and we fall into unconscious lockstep as I turn. There’s a figure not much taller than me with dense black stubble, eyes bluer than sapphires, and a tiny smirk that makes it look like he’s imagining himself eating me out right now.

  “Not right now, Logan.”

  “But later?” His smirk grows. Under different circumstances, I might be attracted to Logan. I like confidence, and men who have zero interest in my desires versus their own. And right now, despite everything, Logan seems confident that he can bed me if I’ll grant him five minutes to try.

  “I’m the queen of restraint, haven’t you heard?”

  He looks puzzled. He’s wearing jeans, boots, and a long-sleeve, untucked Friday casual dress shirt that’s been taken in a bit at the waist. It looks like a slightly preppy clubbing outfit.

  “No. What happened?”

  “Never mind.”

  “So, hey, look. Who’s Linda Fiori?”

  I almost hit an approaching corner. Then I stop, dumbstruck.

  “What did you say?”

  “Linda Fiori. Do you know her?”

  Okay, this hallway’s lost its oxygen. I’m sure I’m about to asphyxiate and Logan will defile my corpse.

  I control the panic threatening to infiltrate my voice.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “She’s all over your LiveLyfe profile. Tony’s been monitoring all the contestants’ profiles, to make sure nobody goes unanswered if they tag one of you and are like, ‘Hey, where are you? Should I call the police?’ But now this lady is tagging you constantly. Is she a stalker or something?”

  Why aren’t there chairs in the hallway? Aren’t there ever old people here who get tired on a long walk from one end to another?

  This has to be a coincidence. A cruel, fate-puts-its-finger-up-your-ass coincidence.

  “It might just be some asshole screwing with you,” Logan continues, far more casual about this crisis than I feel. “Because it’s a brand-new account. Like, she joined just yesterday.”

  “What’s she saying?”

  “Everything. ‘Hi, Bridget, how’s it going?’ or ‘I’m here with Jenny, and we miss you!’”

  “Jenny?”

  “And a lot about her move. She’s moving, I guess. ‘I sure wish you and Brandon were here to help me move the antique armoire!’”

  Linda has an antique armoire. Jenny told me about it.

  “Or, ‘I can’t wait to be out of Miami. It’s too hot here.’ And a lot about how excited she is to get to Plymouth, Michigan. Like she’s doing a re
search report, sharing photos of the ‘great lakes’ nearby, hiking trails near her new house that she’s eager to walk on, whatever. Why anyone would be excited to move from Florida to Michigan, I can’t imagine.”

  I look at Logan. He’s totally oblivious, but I feel like my eyes must be big as saucers.

  “Plymouth, Michigan?”

  “I know, right?”

  I can’t exactly text Onyx to ask where he’s relocating Linda and Jenny. But I’m suddenly 100 percent sure the chatter on my LiveLyfe page is accurate.

  “So do you know?” He looks suddenly shamefaced, as if this man who will walk up to a girl bent over to pick up paper and smack her with his dick has suddenly become embarrassed, sure he’s stepped over propriety’s bounds by sniffing my social media profiles. “I mean, it’s your business. I just wondered if you wanted Tony to send something back. You know, to let her know you’re doing okay and will talk to her when you’re done with your … vacation, I guess.”

  “Linda. Linda Fiori,” I repeat.

  “Yeah. Except that she says she hates when you call her that and wishes you’d call her by her new name like she’s told you a thousand times.”

  Logan smiles as if he’s in on the joke, but I feel all the blood drain from my body.

  Kylie.

  She’s moved from threat to reality.

  She’s telling the world about my mother and sister’s relocation and new identities, one visitor to my LiveLyfe profile at a time.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Daniel

  I hear the shouting before I reach the Great Room. Trevor falls into step beside me, and we exchange an awkward glance. Realistically, I know Trevor and Bridget did nothing untoward before I burst into the tent, but my gut hasn’t totally got the message. I still react to him with a momentary tightening, as if he’s an enemy. But deep down I know he has a secret, too. One he shouldn’t be holding. It makes him innocent in the matter of Bridget, just as it makes him my comrade. We’re each hiding something, one from the other. And both of us know it.