One Wrong Choice (A Cruel and Beautiful Book Book 3)

by A. M. Hargrove

  He nearly spits out the gulp of water he just took. We both laugh. Then I move over and straddle his lap. “You are beauty, you know,” I whisper. “Only you think you’re too much of a man to admit it.”

  “I’m a brute, and brutes aren’t beautiful.”

  “You’re not a brute. You’re perfect. Damn gorgeous, actually. Just wait until you’re on TV. You’re going to have quite a fan club. Mark my words.”

  He puts his lips against mine and says, “The only fan I care about is you.”

  “Oh? I can assure you, there is nothing to worry about in that regard.” He kisses me. Deeply. Passionately. How did I ever live without this? His kisses are pure. Pure heat, pure lust, and pure desire. I get lost in them every single time.

  “Now?” he asks.

  “Yes, now.”

  He knows exactly what I want … need. Him … buried deep inside me, pumping into my depths, making me feel what only he can. My dress is shoved up, and somehow my thong disappears as he lifts me onto the table and spreads my legs wide.

  “I could stare at this all day.”

  “Well, I hope you do more than stare, because this pussy is in need of a good licking.”

  “It is, huh?”

  “And only you can provide that,” I say.

  “You’re damn right only I can.”

  Teasing Brandon is the biggest turn-on. I love to see the possessive side of him emerge.

  “No one will ever touch or see this but me. Understand?”

  “Yes, master.” I giggle because I can’t help it. One time I teased him about his Snap-on tools at the shop. That’s when he made me sit on the auto hoist and raised it up so he could go down on me. That’s when I started calling him master as a joke. I told him he was the master of his domain, and I was his domain.

  He certainly knows how to please me with that tongue of his because he does this special little move, and damn if I know what it is, but I call him the rabbit. He’s like a living vibrator. He can bring me to orgasm faster than any pocket rocket I’ve ever owned. When he’s finished, he lifts me up, only to sink down on his cock, his thick, long cock. His hands grip my hips, and he guides me in a motion and rhythm that has the pressure on all the right spots.

  “Don’t come yet,” he says.

  Holding back an orgasm is like stopping the tectonic plates from shifting and preventing an earthquake.

  “Okay. But hurry.”

  He stops moving.

  “What the hell, Brandon?”

  “Torture. I want this to last.”

  He nibbles on my lips, then my nipples. Of course, it’s torture. He sucks each nipple with gusto, and I moan as loud as if I were coming.

  “I could probably touch your clit right now and you’d come, wouldn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” I squeak. Hell yes, I’d come. “It’s all your fault.”

  Lifting me up, he spins me around and says, “Hold the table, and hang on tight. I’m getting ready to fuck every orgasm right out of you.”

  Oh, hell.

  He spreads my cheeks, and boy does he ever. The first slam has the air rushing right out of my lungs. Each breath I take coincides with every thrust of his. And they are glorious. One orgasm later, and he’s still going strong. My next one nearly buckles my knees, but he holds me up and instructs me not to let go. My hips are bruised from the punishing force he’s inflicting on me, but I wouldn’t change a thing about this. Every stroke of his cock goes deep inside me, and each of my inner muscles responds by tightening. When orgasm number three hits, I groan out his name and feel him contract inside me. Then his warm fluid fills me. Thank God for the pill. That’s all I can think of right now as I start to slide to the floor.

  Thick, strong arms wrap around me and pull me against a muscular chest. He sits down, and I land on top of him. Hot lips caress my neck before he turns me so we can face each other.

  “That was amazaboobs, master.”

  A deep rumble comes from within him.

  “I’m glad you were pleased, my queen.”

  I’m too weak to talk right now, so he’ll have to be satisfied with a smile.

  “Hey, sleepyhead, you still here?” Brandon asks.

  Raising my head, I say, “Oh my God. Did I crash?”

  “You did. But Brutus will do that to you.”

  “You know how much I love Brutus. I adore him.”

  Brandon kisses me. Only briefly. “Would you care to go out and grab some dinner? Your master is starving.”

  “You know, I’m pretty hungry, too.”

  “Hmm. Brutus wore you out, did he?”

  “He sure did. Let me get cleaned up. You know.” I point to my nether regions.

  “Want some help?” He waggles his brows.

  “Um, no. We’ll never get to dinner.”

  We close up the shop and head to town to eat. While we wait for our food, I tell him the questions for his interview from the TV station came in. I forgot to show them to him.

  “How many are there?” he asks.

  “I can’t remember, but they’re easy. Like, how did you get your start? What made you do it? Have you ever heard of this kind of business before? What kinds of things will you be doing from here since obviously not everything can be done from the truck? How long have you been in business? When I looked at them, they were things you could answer without much thought.”

  “Good, because I have to be honest, this TV thing makes me nervous.”

  “You will be awesome. I promise,” I say, trying to reassure him. The thing is, Brandon never looks freaked about anything. That’s why I know he’ll pull this off with flying colors.

  He grabs my hand and says, “Jenna, did I tell you your mother called?”

  “The shop?”

  “No. She called my house.”

  Right now, I’m damn sure my jaw rests on the table. “What the hell did she want?”

  “I believe she’s trying.”

  “Trying what?” I snap.

  “Listen, Jenna. We both know how short life is.”

  Holding out my hand, I say, “Oh, no. Don’t. Please don’t go there.”

  “All I’m saying is no regrets. If something happened to her tomorrow, you don’t ever want any regrets. You know?”

  Leaning on the table, I rest my head in my hand. He’s right. And the thing is, I’m not a grudge holder.

  “Here’s my problem. She lied to me, Brandon. She didn’t apologize for that. She apologized because of what Kenneth said.”

  “When’s the last time you spoke to your dad?”

  “The day before yesterday, I think. We’ve been so busy with the opening, I honestly can’t remember.” God, I feel awful thinking it’s been even that long. After the almost-wedding-fiasco, I’d been talking to him on a daily basis.

  Brandon grabs my hand. “Why don’t you meet him for lunch this week?”

  I smile. “Yeah, that’s a great idea. I’d love that, actually.”

  “We have to keep our loved ones close. And to that point, we need to spend more time with Ben and Sam.”

  “Yes, you’re right. How’d you get to be so smart?”

  “I lost my brother.” The words are sobering. “Don’t be sad; it’s a fact. It makes you re-prioritize things in your life. So that’s what I think we should do. Family is crucial, Jenna.”

  I grip his hand with everything I have.

  “I love you, Brandon Connelly. What did I ever do without you?”

  Forty-Three

  Brandon

  The television interview went a little too well. Jenna thinks it’s funny. I don’t. Sitting in my office, I look over the candidates I have for new positions here at the garage and the mobile business. I’ve hired an office manager for the front desk. She’s an older woman who ran a dental office until the dentist retired. She could possibly retire, too, but she’s not ready to die, or so she told me. I’ve named her the gatekeeper, as she’s kept the string of women whose cars are in perfect condition fr
om wasting my time.

  My phone buzzes.

  “Mr. Connelly, the truck is here.”

  Everything up to now has felt like a dream. Designing the truck and seeing the specs on a computer can’t compare to seeing it in person.

  I’m out of the office like I’ve been fired out of a gun. There in the parking lot sits the truck. Braedon’s name takes up most of the real estate on the side. I think of Kym. We’ve talked a few times, but she’s withdrawn from school. I’ve offered to finish paying for her tuition, but so far she’s turned me down. I’ll have to talk to Jenna about helping me devise an anonymous scholarship for her. It’s the least I can do.

  “Brandon.”

  Turning, I find Kenneth standing a few feet away. I walk over and shake his hand.

  “What can I do for you?” I ask.

  His attention turns toward the truck. “I see you’re doing well for yourself. I saw the interview.”

  “Yeah, Jenna helped me with it,” I say with no condemnation. Again, I ask the question, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  His eyes fall downcast. “I did love her, too.”

  I nod. “What’s not to love?”

  “I want her to have this.”

  He holds out a ring that almost makes me blink from the sparkle it emits.

  “You should give it to her,” I say, not wanting to be in the middle of this.

  “She won’t take it. I thought you could give it to her.”

  His sincerity is so evident I don’t feel the sting his words should have brought.

  Waving his hand away, I say, “I’m more than capable of giving Jenna the ring of her dreams when the time is right.”

  His head bobs. “I’m sorry. It’s just she meant a lot to me. She was my best friend. And I owe her so much for making me face the truth and stand up to my parents.”

  “And now you can move on.”

  Agreeing, he says, “I just started dating someone. A woman, actually.”

  That shocks the shit out of me. “A woman?”

  He shrugs. “I like women. I like men. Now I can explore all my options while being honest with my partner and myself.”

  “What about Horace?”

  “Did someone say my name?”

  I turn around to see Horace with a wide grin. He moves in and hugs me. It happens so fast I can’t stop it.

  “Happy to see me?” He wiggles his hips, and his hand slaps my ass. Before I can say or do anything, he dances out of my grip and gives me a little wink and wave. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

  If I wasn’t laughing, I might have punched him.

  “Horace is helping me find myself,” Kenneth says. “We’re friends.”

  “For now,” Horace says.

  “I really should get back to work.”

  “Work?” Horace’s brow lifts, and he points.

  Following his outstretched finger, I see a group of women with handmade signs that say things like I Love You Brandon and Brandon Is So Hot He’s On Fire.

  Groaning, I weigh my options. Thankfully, the man delivering the truck walks over.

  “Are you Mr. Connelly?”

  I nod.

  Kenneth says, “Make her happy.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And don’t think you’re not inviting us to the wedding,” Horace adds with a wink. “I can’t wait to see that fine brother of hers again. He’s happy every time he sees me.”

  I don’t dare ask what that’s about, but watch them walk away for a few seconds before turning my attention to the guy with the paperwork.

  Later, the bell rings on the door that leads from the office to the bay. We’ve closed up, but I’m not expecting anyone.

  “Mrs. Hillary, I’m not sure how you got in, but I promise you I’m happy with my girlfriend, and I’m not interested in meeting any of your daughters.”

  The woman has been persistent to the point of stalking. I’ve felt like a thief entering my own house at night, afraid she’s hiding in the bushes with eight by ten glossies of her unwed children.

  “Is that so?”

  The voice brings a smile to my face. I wipe my hands on a rag and climb the ladder out of the hole.

  “Jenna.”

  She looks like a wet dream my teenage former self conjured up.

  “You know it’s dangerous for you to show up looking all business like. It reminds me of my desk in the office.”

  “Is everything I do dangerous?”

  “Absofuckinglutely. And we are around tools.” I wave my hand around. “I’m in the mood to get you dirty.”

  I reach for the control that hangs from the ceiling. I press the button and the lift takes flight in the empty stall. Fucking her is like a dream. She takes all my cock with no complaints, and I’m in the mood to see how much more of me I can squeeze in her.

  Diving for her, I reach out with my hands as she squeals and tries to run. But damn, if I don’t catch her.

  Later, as she wears my shirt, I tell her all about my day, including Kenneth. We don’t keep secrets from each other.

  “I’m happy for him,” she says. “I hope he finds the kind of love we have.”

  Lightly tapping her perfect nose, I say, “You love me, huh?”

  “To steal your word, absofuckinglutely. And maybe you can show me inside your truck.”

  Her grin is sly. “There’s a lift in there,” I say before taking her mouth, consumed by all I feel for this woman. “Have you talked to your mom yet?”

  She turns, giving me her answer. “No.”

  “Come on, Jenna. She’s your mom.”

  “And how’s your dad?”

  She has me there. Although I’d made some kind of peace with him during the Braedon search and memorial service, that doesn’t mean all is forgiven.

  “I’m trying. I’m going to meet him for the yacht event next weekend.”

  Facing me, she says, “You didn’t say your father was going to be there.”

  “Sorry, with everything going on, he’s the least of my worries.”

  “Why is he coming?”

  Sighing, I say, “His latest conquest has a yacht in your event. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

  Her smile is mild. “Don’t. You’ve had a lot going on. What’s her name?”

  I tell her all of the information. “Well, won’t Mother be shocked.”

  “Don’t tell her,” I warn.

  “Why not? She won’t have a reason to look her nose down on you anymore.”

  “And that’s my point. I want to earn her trust for who I am, not because of how much money I have, or using my father’s name because he was never a father to me. Least of all, to tie us to the woman who he’s dating.”

  “Connelly,” she says, putting it together. “You’re one of those Connellys.”

  “No. They never accepted Dad’s unfortunate mistakes. I’m my own man.”

  “I won’t say a word to Mother. Though I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she meets your father.”

  “Remember, I’m still me. Just like I wouldn’t take Kenneth’s ring is the same reason I don’t drop my father’s name. I can take care of things myself. And my father may have had something to do with giving me life, but he has nothing to do with any of this.” I lift my arms to show the shop. “That’s my mom for working her ass off until I could. When the time comes, you can rest easy that I will take care of you.”

  Forty-Four

  Jenna

  My fingers thrum a steady rhythm on the table as I wait for my father to meet me. I’m a few minutes early, but his entrance is hard to miss. Martin Rhoades reminds me so much of my brother. Except for the silver hair lining his temples, he’s still an attractive man, which is evidenced by the dozen or more heads that turn his way as he heads toward our table.

  “Jenna, baby, how’s my girl?” he asks, bending down to plant a kiss on my cheek.

  “I’m good, Daddy, and you?”

  “Getting there.
It’s been slow, but I think your mother and I have turned the corner.”

  The waitress fills our water glasses and takes our order.

  “How are things with you and Brandon?”

  The smile that spreads across my face is hard to contain. “They’re great. Really great.”

  Dad grins in return. “I’m pleased to hear it. His new business venture is doing well. That TV interview was really something.”

  “Oh, Dad, it’s been crazy. He has this fan club of all these women. I warned him how it would happen, but he didn’t believe me. There’s this one crazy lady.” I tell my dad about Mrs. Hillary. By the time I finish with how Brandon is afraid she’ll pop out of his shrubs at night, Dad’s laugh can be heard throughout the restaurant.

  Then Dad sobers a bit and says, “You know something? That brother of his would be so proud.”

  “I know.”

  “Such a sad thing. When your brother lost his best friend, and Cate, well,” Dad spread his hands, “it was a terrible, terrible thing. But everyone knew it was coming. What Brandon has been going through is something altogether different. Honey, it’s unimaginable.”

  My hand clutches my heart as pain razors through me. All this time I equated it to what I felt during the loss of a best friend. But it’s nothing like what I experienced. Dad is right. Braedon’s death was like getting struck by lightning. No warning whatsoever. One minute he was here, and the next he was gone. The heart didn’t have time to prepare for such a loss.

  “Jenna, are you all right, honey?”

  “Oh, Dad. I had it all wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  When I explain, Dad grabs my hand and says, “But you didn’t have anything wrong. No one ever knows what the right thing to say or do at a time like that is. We only ever do our very best. You were there for him, and that’s what counts.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I may be biased here, because I’m your father, but you always want to do the right thing. Look at what you were going to do when you thought the family finances were at stake. You were going to marry someone you didn’t love to save them. And look at what you did for Cate when she lost her husband and for your brother when he lost his best friend. I never heard you complain, when you actually lost a friend, too.”