DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

Mills turns his body to the side to give me as much privacy as he can, and he’s right, this is fucking weird.

  “You can go,” I tell him. “I’ll come out when I’m done.”

  “You sure?” I open my mouth to confirm, but he follows up with, “Nah, you’re right, I have dealt with worse. Where did you get this conditioner? Does it work?”

  My lips quirk. “You use conditioner?”

  “How the hell do you think my hair is so soft?”

  “I don’t run my fingers through your locks every day, so I didn’t know it was.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with men using conditioner.” He flips another bottle in his hands. “Besides, when a woman loves to run her fingers through your hair while she’s fuck—“

  “Mills,” I warn.

  “What? I’m sitting in a bathroom with you peeing on a stick. I can’t talk to you about my sex life?”

  “Good point. Do you have one?”

  Mills chuckles, a contagious and melodic sound that always settles my nerves on peace mode. “No, but thanks for reminding me, Lou Boo.”

  “No one is good enough,” I tell him. “I know you believe the same of me but…you’re special, Mills.”

  “Like ‘stop eating the paste’ kinda special?”

  “Like the girl better have a heart of gold.”

  “How about having conversations of life and feelings on a toilet like we’re having right now? Should I add that onto the list?”

  I laugh and pee—yeah, I know TMI—and Mills tucks himself into the bathtub floor with the curtain closed to give me even more privacy to wipe, pull my leggings up and wash my hands.

  I should be doing this with Alexander or Bishop, but then I’d have to recognize who the fucking guy was that possibly got me here. Though, my gut—is screaming at me that I know who it is.

  “How long do we have to wait?” Mills asks me.

  “Not very long.” My back is pushed up against the wall as I try to steady the unsteady thumping of my heart.

  This little test might change everything and flip my world upside down.

  Mills climbs out and shoves the shower curtain aside, joining me alongside the wall, and grabs my hand, ready to face any challenges with me. He’s always had my back. He’s consistently there for me.

  “You ready?” Mills gives my hand a little tug. “Me and you…we got this. No matter what.”

  I reach out, keeping Mills as my anchor as I pluck up the test from the counter and read it.

  Fuck.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  About three years ago...

  “It was inspired by Lake Como in Italy and covers eight acres between the building and the strip. Then, of course, the dancing water fountain is pretty awesome too.”

  Emmy continues to talk history with me as we stand in front of the Bellagio in Vegas. We're leaned up against a white railing as we watch the geysers of water shoot from the large pond-lake and synchronize together in rhythm.

  It’s late, and we’ve been bar hopping and stopping at every food truck we come across because Emmy has to try something from each one as if it’s a mission of hers.

  Already completed with the assignment that our commander, Ledger, has given us, Emmy has been dragging me around everywhere, excited as shit that we’re here.

  It’s not really my thing but seeing that pretty smile and the way her honey-brown eyes light up like an enthusiastic kid makes my qualms about it simmer down.

  She’s absolutely stunning against the lighting of the Vegas backdrop behind us. We’re buzzed as hell. I’ve been getting her to take shots of whiskey with me all night while she's insisted on drinking fruity drinks of her choice. Then add on the round of beers bought for us by some old couple, and we've almost had it all.

  I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever done something like this after a mission—I haven’t. And Emmy and I don’t work together very often to my utter displeasure.

  Emmy joined B723 three years ago, and I eye-fuck her more times than I care to count or admit to. Since arriving, she’s been captivating, a tad annoying, and I haven’t been this attracted to a woman in a really long time.

  I’ve imagined her underneath me, on top, on my motorcycle, and anywhere else that I can sandwich her in between to thrust my cock inside her sweet cunt. The dresses and heels that she wears almost every damn day do nothing to help me ease my aching dick when she’s around. It’s practically become an obsession, except I never totally reach that high to seize it.

  “Am I blabbing too much?” Emmy asks me, pulling me out of my drunken blur. “I talk a lot when I drink.”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  “I know this has been lame but thank you for coming with me today. I’m not sure when the next time I’ll get to visit Vegas, so this has been—” She sighs like this has been a life-long dream of hers. “—completely awesome.”

  “Anytime, Ems.”

  Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra plays somewhere in the background, and Emmy turns her body to meet mine.

  “You know, we don’t talk that often. Why is that?”

  I snort, which gets her face to twist. “Because I prefer to stay off your radar.”

  “Why?”

  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to get on Emmy’s radar. She does shit to me that I haven’t encountered in a really long time.

  My dick has been on a drought, and Emmy is the pelting rain that nourished my shortcomings in the attracted-to-anyone department.

  “Because you berate the guys every chance you get.”

  And it’s not just that. If I got a piece of Emmy, I’m afraid I’d never want to let the fuck go.

  “I do not.” She stops and thinks about it for a quick second, then bobs her head in agreement. “Yeah, I guess I do.” She shrugs dismissively. “Y’all make dumbass decisions. Sorry, dude.”

  “And what thought process of mine has been so stupid?”

  This time she scoffs and rolls her pretty eyes. “When you wanted to take that Russian out last year in the middle of a horse race.”

  “It would’ve been in the bathroom.”

  Emmy hits me with a that’s bullshit look. “Mhm. You’re extra as hell. There are cameras and people at those things, you know.”

  “Alright, nerd, well I didn’t.”

  “I might be a nerd, but I’m a smart one.”

  “Isn’t that what nerds normally are?”

  “I can look like a geek but not be one. A cute pair of glasses with a white dress shirt and black skirt could do the trick.”

  That sounds hot as fuck.

  “And of course, heels,” I add in.

  She finger-guns me. “Exactly.”

  My eyes fall down her white dress that hits mid-thigh and hugs her waist like it was made for her. It also dips between her breasts, daring and dangerous for my fingers to trail a path down her naked skin. “Well...for what it’s worth, you’re the sexiest nerd I’ve ever seen.”

  Emmy’s eyes widen, but the corners of her lips curl. “Really?” I nod. “Damn...that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me besides move.”

  “You’re always too close.” Emmy tsks at me. “It’s for your own safety, Ems.”

  “Why? Do you carry around explosives with you or something?”

  I smirk, feeling light as a feather and without a care in the world. “Or something.”

  Emmy leans her elbow on the railing and looks up at me with curiosity. “Now I’m intrigued.”

  “Are you?” She nods, and I lean in, not giving a flying shit about how inappropriate my next words are or my regretting them tomorrow. “Have you ever thought of fucking me? Because I’ve imagined it a million times with you.”

  Emmy’s already pink cheeks from drinking so much flush deeper, and I see her swallow.

  So I act bolder and erase some more space between us. My eyes lock with her plush lips, and I want to devour her right here and now.

  I’ve spent the last three yea
rs with this fantasy of making her mine. I’ve even thought about asking her on a date, even got close once, before Mills busted in the room like the ass clown he is.

  I never did come up with the courage to do it again.

  I just watch her like a shy middle-schooler with a crush on the hot girl, and I bet she tastes as sweet as she looks.

  “No?” I inquire with a perked brow when she doesn’t answer. I mean, I could’ve imagined it all, but sometimes I swear I feel Emmy looking at me.

  “I-I...maybe.” My chest presses into hers, and my index finger brushes underneath the soft skin of her chin. “What are you doing?”

  “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I booked us a room at the Bellagio. Two beds under Mr. and Mrs. Bishop to keep your respectable reputation intact.”

  “Wouldn’t the two beds give it away that we’re not actually married?”

  I didn’t think of that while she was buying tacos at one of the food vendors we stopped at. Rookie mistake.

  “Maybe.”

  “Thank you, though,” she whispers. “That was nice of you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Bishop?” Her eyes sparkle, and it’s probably my buzz, but they’re almost otherworldly.

  “Mhm?”

  “I think I like you a little.” My body promptly solicits me to kiss her here and now, but the small part of me—the one that’s not so fucked up from mixed drinks—warns me to chill out.

  And I need to shut it the hell up with another shot. Or one to get me to black the fuck out, so I want to crash in bed—alone.

  It needs to be alone.

  “Wanna go hit another bar?”

  Emmy narrows her eyes. “That’s it?”

  “I’m flattered?” She pulls her face from my touch and steps back, a flash of regret forming over her features. “I think you’re hot, Ems. Trust me, the things I’ve thought about you are not soft and cuddly.”

  “So, just the normal guy stuff?”

  I lift my shoulders. “I guess, but if you’re asking me to marry you, then the answer is yes.” Her brows furrow. “Does that not key you in on how I feel, Ems?”

  “Not...really…?”

  I take back the space between us and bend over her face, leaving an inch between our lips. “Then how’s this…marry me.”

  “Why?” She blurts out through knitted brows. Her nose twists in, I hope, confusion and not disgust.

  “I think you’d make me happy, and I swear to God fucking you every night would be the highlight of everything I’ve ever done in my life. I’ll protect and do my best to make you the most satisfied woman in the world. I practically drool the moment you walk into the room, Emmy. That’s pretty close to worship.”

  Emmy smiles. “You’re crazy.”

  “Glad you noticed.”

  “Shouldn’t we go on a date first before you start poppin’ off insane questions?”

  “Be mine, and I’ll take you wherever you want. Don’t you think calling yourself Mrs. Bishop for real is sexy as fuck.” I graze her lips with mine, feeling her exhale hitch off my mouth. “I think it is. Even better, wife.”

  “You’re serious?” she breathes, her chest coming out in sporadic intakes of air.

  “As a fucking heart attack.”

  She searches my face for a lie. To probably see if I’m really serious.

  I know I am.

  I know this is a dumbass way to go about this.

  I know that I’ll probably never get another opportunity like this ever again.

  I have nothing but B723 in my life. I want to add to that. I crave a family of my own. I think I’m ready to let someone into all the darkness in my head.

  And Emmy is nothing but sunshine and smiles. She’s kind and sweet, always looking out for everyone on the squad.

  Yeah, she’s a little domineering at times. But I’m an asshole. We’ll balance each other out perfectly.

  “You’ll regret it in the morning.”

  I lift a brow. “Will I? I asked you to marry me, didn’t I?”

  “But you’re drunk.”

  “Buzzed,” I correct.

  “I’m not pulling a Britney Spears.”

  “A what?”

  “She was only married for fifty-five hours.” She shifts her weight under my touch. “And I want to be married forever.”

  “You can rest assured that when you give me you, I’m never going to let you go.”

  Emmy averts her gaze. “You don’t mean—“

  “Have you known me to fuck around?” I brush my thumb across her cheek, feeling her hesitation. “Just tell me no, Em, and we’ll pretend this conversation never happened.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  She raises her chin confidently. “I want to do it.”

  “Now, you’re drunk.” I cock my head to the side because now I’m beginning to doubt this.

  I don’t want her to regret it in the morning.

  Her hands find my hips, and she rests them over the waistband of my jeans. “Not drunk enough to make really bad decisions.”

  “Yeah?” She rises on her tiptoes to close the distance between us, but I pull back a little. “Nah, I want to kiss you when you promise me forever.”

  The look in her eyes turns self-conscious and innocent. “What if you think I’m a bad kisser?”

  I shake my head slowly. “I highly doubt that.”

  “But you don’t know.”

  “Then I’ll teach you how I like it.” I press my forehead into hers. “I like a lot of tongue, and my most sensitive spot is my neck. You suck on it, I’m fucking yours.”

  “What else?”

  “Tryin’ for that life insurance policy already?”

  She chuckles. It’s light and airy as her fingers slowly graze the cotton of my tee, sending a wave of enthusiasm down to my groin. “I’d like to keep you around for a little bit.”

  “Then let’s hurry up and do it so I can enjoy you as long as possible.”

  We wave down a taxi, and Emmy holds my hand as we tell the driver to take us to the courthouse so we can obtain a marriage license. I think she believed I was kidding until we pulled up and ran in before they closed at midnight.

  As my body began to sober, it questioned what the hell I was doing. And when we arrived at a little chapel with red roses, I gave Emmy an out.

  She didn’t want it.

  We got married by a minister and not Elvis. She in her white dress and me in my black leather coat.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the middle-aged minister proclaims happily. “You may kiss your bride.”

  Emmy smiles at me, and I wrap my arm around her waist, crushing her to my chest.

  “You sure about this?” I mutter over her lips again. “Because I’m giving you forever.”

  “I want forever...with you.”

  My lips crush into hers, tasting how fucking intoxicating she really is. My tongue sweeps invitingly into her mouth, and Emmy takes a part of me that I didn’t know I was willing to give up.

  I don’t know if captivated is the right word for it because Emmy knows damn well how to kiss a man.

  We head back to the Bellagio, and neither of us can keep our hands off each other. At the front desk of the hotel, she proudly calls herself Mrs. Bishop to the receptionist, and in the elevator, I kiss her until I’m out of breath.

  “Holy shit,” Emmy awes as she takes in the floor-to-wall windows of our room that overlook the backdrop of Vegas and the fountains we were standing at over an hour ago. “This is beautiful.”

  She ignores everything else but the view and makes her way over to it.

  I—for the millionth time since I’ve known her, take in her perfect ass as she walks away from me.

  But not for long.

  I stride up behind her and press a trail of kisses from her shoulder all the way up to the column of her neck.

  She leans in against m
e, inviting me to continue, and I couldn’t stop if I tried.

  I clasp my lips over her earlobe and start a path with my palms over her stomach, down to her thigh. Lifting the material of her dress, my cock twitches in anticipation of laying claim to my wife.

  My wife.

  Holy fuck. I got married.

  Emmy’s ass presses deeper into my thighs, being so much shorter than me, my hard cock pushes against her spine in deep agony of this.

  Her.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Emmy.” I turn her face to look into her eyes. “And so fucking mine now.”

  She flicks her gaze to my mouth, and I fuse ours together in a battle of lips and tongues.

  She pivots then begins to undo the button of my jeans. I unclasp her bra through her dress and slide both materials over her shoulders and down her back.

  Impatiently my t-shirt comes over my head with her urgent fingers, and she shoves me towards one of the queen-sized beds.

  With her little stature, she shows no intimidation by my height because my back hits the soft mattress, and she climbs over me.

  Her flawless breasts perk proud, and her nipples harden as she pulls out my cock from my boxer briefs and drifts towards me to crush them against my chest.

  Brown eyes lock with my blues, and she takes me in for a second before her hand runs down the side of my whiskers to my beard.

  “No regrets?” she whispers. I shake my head and recline forward to take her lips for the hundredth time tonight.

  Bringing my knees up, Emmy reaches between us to position over my cock and torturously slides down my stiff length.

  I growl in her mouth as she bites down on my lower lip and starts to ride me.

  I pretty much die and get reborn in this moment. The sweet girl-next-door with the body of a sinner and the kiss of a succubus just hijacked my whole being.

  There isn’t anything I can think of that I wouldn’t give her. My loyalty to her will be unyielding and never-changing.

  She is mine.

  And, fuck me, I’m hers.

  She breaks our kiss and creates a path around my jaw to the place I told her drives me crazy. Her silky lips flatten along the column of my throat, and she sucks lightly.

  My hands find her soft ass as I pump into her slowly, driving me and her fucking insane with lust.