Steam was just about coming out of Danny’s ears as she looked at Brett. “They laid their hands on you?” He shook his head, lifting his chin at me. Angie cringed. Shit. “See what happens when you talk to strangers,” Danny scolded Mom, handing me a shot. “So what did the Douche want?”
“Nothing much, just a wingman to make it with Mandi, so he could try—emphasis on try—to make it with Tori. What’s even sadder, Miles and Joe have a better chance tapping that than he does,” I said, tossing back the tequila, motioning for another as I enjoyed the burn going down. “He’s so fired.”
“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” Mom mused. “He’s not behaving like much of an employee. Why did you hire him?”
“I didn’t,” I grumbled. “Max felt we needed sales representation and hired him while Tom and I were at that conference in Germany. Supposedly, he had connections, the wrong kind, unfortunately. I’ve rejected just about every client he’s brought us.”
“Why?” Angie asked, trying to squirm off my lap—not happening, sweetheart—and I told her so with a look. She rolled her eyes, pretending to be exasperated. I smooched her forehead, snuggling her closer—you’re not fooling anyone, sweetness.
“He keeps bringing in these big real estate developers that want to build cookie cutter neighborhoods; and franchise businesses, golden arches stuff. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but we’ve built our company to fill a niche market. Everything we do is original and one of a kind. Our clients pay a high premium to ensure the uniqueness and bragging rights of their projects: Whether it’s a home, a business or some other space. And, other than our philanthropic works, we can’t allow our designs to be mass-produced. It would devalue our brand too much, calling into question the value of not only our future projects, but our past work as well.”
“If he knows this, why is he wasting his time developing an unsuitable market?”
“It’s partly Max’s doing, I think. Since all our reputations are tied to the firm, we all have to agree on which projects we take, regardless of who does the actual design. Max wants to broaden our customer base, and Tom and I are resisting. Some of the projects Avery’s brought in, are one’s he knows we’ve turned down in the past: Big money that wants to trade on our reputation to raise the prestige and price of their developments.”
Angie looked uncertain. “This may be a dumb idea, but why couldn’t you create a separate division for a generic product line? You could brand it separately; give it its own name and designers, and let Max run it while you and Tom continue to with the niche business. If Avery’s already got the clients lined up, it might be extremely profitable.”
Hmmm… Angie might be onto something. “Mammy, what do you think?”
“It would have to be a completely separate entity, and you’d have to be very careful in how you present its products. Do you think Avery’s contacts would stick around without you or Tom?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care… Even if they would, I want to fire Avery more. His current behavior notwithstanding, he projects an image I don’t want to be associated with, even indirectly. Not to mention, he’s a sexual harassment suit just waiting to happen.”
I set Angie next to me and poured two more shots, handing them to her before rummaging in the fridge for snacks… Mmmm… Tamales… “Tamales?” Three hands went up.
“I guess I should check on our guests,” Mom said getting up.
“Your guests, not our guests. Angie’s my only guest, and the only one I’m obliged to keep entertained,” I retorted, pushing the start button on the microwave.
Obliged? Great, I was an obligation. That stupid little voice in my head jumped all over that word. I internally debated the sagacity of downing both shots to shut it up as the smell of chilies and roasted corn filled the camper. Thankfully, Mat saved me from myself by putting a tamale filled platter on the table and retrieved his shot before I did something stupid. They smelled delicious.
“It’s cozy in here with just the four of us," I said, moving to the table to eat. Steam rose from the cornhusk wrapping I peeled back; my fingertips getting dangerously hot as I blew on the spicy filling. I considered the bottle of Patrón—perhaps I have another shot while it cooled… or maybe not—I was already feeling the ones I'd consumed earlier, so unless I wanted Mat romantically holding my hair while I barfed, I needed to slow down.
“Bet it’s even cozier in the tent,” Danny said, nudging Brett.
“I wonder where Avery’s going to sleep.” I could just imagine him sneaking in, in the middle of the night, or hanging outside listening. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to relax with him around.”
“No worries babe, I know how to relax you.” Mat said, lowering his voice. “We’ll just have to be very, very quiet.”
“Well, if last night was any indication, quiets not on the menu.” Danny smirked. “Brett you should’ve heard them. They were hot…hot…hot!”
“Shut it Danny.” Mat growled. I knew I’d gone beet red as I picked apart my tamale. “Don’t fret, sweetness, I got you.” He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me then reached over cuffing the back of Danny’s head.
“Hey! I’m just saying.” Danny pouted, unrepentant.
“I blame Mom,” Mat told Brett, shaking his head. “There’s no such thing as off limits to her.”
“Even after you gave her your list?” he asked.
“Especially after the list.” Mat groaned.
The door to the RV slammed open.
“Quick, hide us!” Joe dashed in, dragging Miles behind him. “Lock the door!”
“Tequila and tamales, oh my.” Miles grinned. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
“I so need a shot.” Joe upended the Patrón; not bothering with the glasses Mat brought then took a bite of lemon, passing the bottle to a more civilized Miles who began pouring neat shots all around.
“And from whom are we hiding?” Brett inquired. Although, I was sure we had a pretty good idea.
“It was awful,” Miles said sotto voce. “They were relentless, and my Joe, so brave facing the carnage.”
“We waited for them to go to the bathrooms then executed a strategic retreat.” Joe said, knocking back another shot.
“We ran for our lives in other words. The only thing more dangerous than a strumpet on a mission, is four strumpets on a mission.” Oh no…
“For some reason, they think they can change our religion,” Joe said dryly, reaching for a tamale, saying in falsetto while batting his eyes. “Well, you don’t look gay.”
Danny reached over, patting Joe’s hand. “Well you don’t. Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman”
“That’s what Suzi said.” Joe shuddered, looking from Mat to Brett. “How could you abandon us to them?”
“Hey, it’s a dog eat dog world.” Brett shrugged.
“Yeah and them bitches are hungry.” Danny laughed.
“Besides,” Mat added. “I was upping Avery’s advantage by removing the competition.” His sarcasm not lost on anyone.
“Yes, well I think Grandpa Garrison has a better shot at getting some fem-bot puntang than Avery has.” Miles shook his head. “It’s disheartening really, watching as his hopes are slowly crushed beneath their indifference.”
“Yeah, because he’s such a catch,” I muttered. “I wonder how late they’re going to stay.”
“I know, maybe we could lure them into the RV with jello shots and a rumor of a Girls Gone Wild audition then bolt the door,” Joe said around a mouthful of tamale.
“And once they’re trapped, we’ll catch the fucker on fire.” We all looked at Danny. “Just saying.”
Stewart banged on the door, laughing. “You can come out now. The girls didn’t stick around after they were informed you guys took off while they were gone.”
“You lied for us, bless you.” Miles grinned.
“It wasn’t really a lie; I didn’t say how far you’d gone, only that you left. Barney’s theme song help
ed; drove the Garrisons away as well. Now, can we please listen to something else?”
“I’m on it.” Danny raced out as the rest of us followed at a more sedate pace joining Mat’s parents and Avery under the canopy.
“That purple dinosaur can clear a room almost as fast as my fruit flies.” Mat reached out a steadying hand as I wobbled slightly. I was such a lightweight. “You don’t want to know," I said when Miles gave me a confused look.
CHAPTER NINE
Blindfolds and Zipties, Oh My
Shit… Avery was still here. I settled Angie against me, joining my folks at the table as he glared miserably. The soulful notes of Stevie Ray’s guitar, let me know Danny’d found the blues playlist.
“I’m really sorry, you guys,” Mom apologized. “I had no idea. I just met Baily, and she seemed so nice.”
“Yeah, they’re like locusts,” Angie said. “Individually, they’re just simple grasshoppers, it’s when they start congregating they turn evil.”
“Come on sweetness, let’s dance.” I didn't really give her a choice, tugging her close while Stevie sang about crying skies above a wailing guitar. Soon Avery was alone at the table while the rest of us spun slow circles in our lovers’ arms. Miles whispered something in Joe’s ear making him laugh, and Mom and Dad were doing some fancy footwork to “Chitlins Con Carne.” God, Angie’s hair smelled good. Would it be rude if we went ahead and bolted? Aw, fuck rude, they’d understand. “Let’s turn in babe. Seems like I’ve been waiting forever to get you all to myself.” My hands roamed all over her back while I spoke. She shivered. That’s right sweetness; it’s time. “We’re turning in people. We’ll see you in the morning,” I announced, tossing a squirming, laughing Angie over my shoulder caveman style. I grabbed a couple of beers on the way and took the small lantern from the picnic table. I was definitely seeing the color of her panties tonight.
The lantern cast crazy shadows as she sat on the end of the air mattress fidgeting, suddenly shy—don’t worry sweetness; I’m going to help you with that—we were in that awkward phase, too uncertain and self-conscious to just relax and enjoy the moment. I moved to the side peeling back the sleeping bag, debating whether to wait or strip now. We were definitely getting naked before morning; I just didn't want to scare her prematurely. Oh, I’d scare her all right, but in a good way.
“Why don’t you strip out of those jeans. You can lose the bra too. I won’t turn around until you’re under the covers.” I’d pitched my voice low using the tone she had a problem saying no to. Muddy Waters Chicago style blues battled distant boom boxes and raucous laughter as I held my breath, knowing the bra was pushing it. I let it out, after I heard a soft ‘Okay,’ busying myself opening our beers as the mattress shifted and clothing rustled behind me.
The sleeping bag whacked me on the back. “Sorry,” she muttered taking the beer I handed her.
“That’s all right, I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” She sat cross-legged in nothing but a thin tee, the sleeping bag tucked securely over her lap, anxiously sipping her beer. Growing increasingly flustered, her eyes flew around the tent as I openly studied her—that’s right little girl, you have all my attention—the cold LED light stole the warmth from her lips tinging them blue, and her pale skin stood out starkly next to her ebony curls. I set my beer aside and fingered her earlobe, my knuckles brushing her neck. I deliberately removed her can from her death grip, setting it next to mine as her eyes darted to my face then back to lap. Leaning in on all fours, I nuzzled her face, feeling my beard abrade her delicate skin. Shit. I forgot to shave after we got back from the falls.
“Do you want me to go shave?” I murmured, making the offer a licentious threat. When she shook her lowered head, I walked my hands forward, forcing her onto her back, following her down to bite the crook of her neck, finally tasting her freshly washed skin. I circled an arm under her as her hands came up to grip me, sliding her down to the center of the mattress. “Comfortable?”
She nodded, nervously chewing her lip. I kissed her forehead, nose, chin. “Not talking huh? You must’ve forgotten last night; that’s all right, I’m gonna remind you.” I pushed the sleeping bag away as I made my way down her body, raising her shirt to expose her vulnerable belly. “I kissed you here last night when I took off your pants.” I curled my thumbs over her hipbones, holding her still while I tickled her soft flesh with my teeth—black panties, nice—then I skimmed my hands down smooth legs. “You shaved for me?”
Nothing… I stilled.
“I’m not hearing you,” I growled.
“Yes,” she squeaked.
“That’s nice, sweetness.” I resumed seducing her, trailing my fingers down her legs, enjoying all that satiny skin. I slid her ankles apart, kissing back up to her thighs, savoring her spicy scent. “Yeah baby, I like that a lot.” She jumped when my teeth raked over her lace covered mound. “This is where I wanted to bite you last night; since we weren’t alone, I bit you here instead.”
I closed my teeth lightly right below her belly button and sucked, swirling my tongue on her skin—yeah, sweetness, I’m gonna taste you just like that—I crouched over her, only touching with my lips and tongue, nibbling and kissing up her body. I paused at her face, looking into her wide doe eyes, slowly lowering to kiss her reverently, drawing her tongue into my mouth. I didn’t eased up until she was breathless, clutching my biceps in her small hands—better—tangling my fingers in her hair, I kissed her again, deeper; letting her feel my weight. She caressed my head, sending chills skittering down my spine as my lips moved to her jaw and down her neck. I grabbed behind her knee, pulling it up to my waist, grinding my cock against her. I rocked; the mattress groaned, and I silently cursed the cloth barriers keeping us apart. I buried a grin against her neck when a gurgle caught in the back of her throat though she tried to suppress it. She was still holding back—resistance is futile, my lovely—I tightened my fist in her curls.
Apparently, a pair of firm hands and some lowly uttered phrases was all it took for me to become a quivering pile of need. I was hot, yet shivering, my breasts felt swollen, and low things in me throbbed and ached. Between his voice and the lubricious slide of his body, I barely caught the moan trying to escape.
“Remember how my hands felt last night, restraining you?” His voice slid through me, velvety, explicit and darkly obscene. “Thoughts of you with your soft skin (kiss), and sweet scent (kiss), tortured me all day today. Memories of last night: holding you down (kiss), touching you while you writhed (kiss), feeling you come on my hand, haunted me.” Hot words breathed against my neck then teeth raked my earlobe. He raised his dark, smoky-grey eyes to mine, his mouth curved in a libidinous smile. “Now it’s my turn.” Oh, God. What was he thinking?
His hand slid under my shirt, trailing fire up my body, closing on my breast. He stared at the movement under my shirt with cat like fascination, torturing my nipples with barely there touches until they were drawn up tight and tingling. I closed my eyes. “Look at me. I want to see your eyes while I touch you.”
The thought of him watching me was like a dash of cold water. Darkness was my ally, hiding the disappointment in my lover’s eyes. I was beautiful in the dark. He must've noticed a change in me because his hand left my breasts to trace over my face, my lips, the hold on my curls loosening. “Shhhh… baby.” His smile was gentle. I must've imagined that other one; the one so wicked, it filled me with delicious fear.
“How I treasure you.” His voice was raw, filled with wonder and unexpected emotion that caught me off guard. He’d spoken the truth last night; he would destroy me: Not with licentious touches and carnal promises, but with devastating reverence—how I treasure you.
I was undone, pulled under by a wave of foreign emotion, wanting to touch him in all the ways I'd dreamt about. I kissed his jaw, testing the roughness of his chin with my teeth. I grazed and nibbled down his throat, pushing at him until he tumbled onto his back. I brushed kisses across his chest, my tongue teasing his
coppery nipples to hardness. And when I used my teeth, he shuddered. Rolling and bucking under me like the sea as his fingers raked through my hair. I tested his ribs with my cheek; explored his ridged abdomen with my nose, following a thickening trail of dark hair to lick salty-sweet musk from the tip of his penis peeking from the waistband of his low riding shorts.
“Baby? Honey?” His fingers knotted painfully in my hair, pulling frantically, yanking me away. He looked chagrined. “You keep going like that and I’ll be finished before we even get started. Come sit right here.” He patted his abs then pulled me up, not giving me a choice.
“Loose the shirt,” he ordered with that dreadful, wonderful voice and my shirt disappeared without a thought. His eyes roamed over me: Possessive, molten grey; halting where my panties met his skin, darkening to almost black as the cold light reduced him to shadows and stark highlights, muting the colors twining up his arms. “Lean down so I can taste you.” He closed his fingers on my waist. I leaned down bracing myself on warm skin, offering up my lips. His jaw tightened, tendons standing out on his neck as he ignored them in favor of a suspended nipple.
Rolling me onto my back, he resumed his torture, sucking and biting while uncompromising fingers palpated my breasts until I pulsed and throbbed and clawed, searching for something solid to hang onto.
“Hush now. Be still. I don’t want to hurt you.” We were both breathing hard and he had my wrists pinned over my head. “God, next time I’m tying you down.” I stilled. His eyes narrowed, a calculating gleam growing in their depths. When he spoke, it was with sangfroid, serial killer calm. “If you don’t hold still, maybe I won’t wait till next time.” Holy shit.
Testing, I couldn’t hold still if my life depended on it. I squirmed and twisted, my knees sliding against his sides until his grip turned bruising and his eyes, assessing. “I’d like that. You at my mercy, held open for my touch, my taste, my cock. You like that idea too, don’t you, Angelina. Trapped, unable to move, unable to escape with absolutely no say over what I did to you,” he murmured. “Don’t you?” Oh, God.
The Science of Loving Page 13
