by Karina Halle
“It happens,” I say taking a sip of my drink and then feeling severely disappointed when I remember there’s no booze in it.
Since I have no idea where Alyssa has gone, I tell Tiffany, “If you see Alyssa, tell her to find me.”
“You think she listens to me?”
“I’m feeling lucky.”
Then I leave the ballroom and head down the plush-carpeted hall, past the walls lined with charts and nautical flags, all the way to the locker room. It’s a long-standing tradition here for each member to have their own locker. Their purpose is solely to house bottles of booze. That way when you’re dining at the yacht club you can just drink from your own stash.
The locker room is long, filled from top to bottom with narrow wooden lockers and mine is located around the corner near the end. I bring out my tiny key from my jacket pocket and unlock it, sliding out a half-empty bottle of Crown Royal. I haven’t been at the club all that much since Boomerang got started but I make a mental note to take the boat out one free Sunday.
I pour the Crown in both drinks, unsure if I’ll actually see Alyssa again and lean against the lockers, enjoying the quiet.
I’m not sure what it is about Alyssa that has me so intrigued. It’s probably a lot to do with being given the brush-off, even though I know that she likes me. Or, maybe she doesn’t like me per se, but she wants me. And the fact that I can tell she wants me, that I’ve seen her checking me out, the lust in her eyes, makes me want her even more. It’s her brain that’s holding her back. I have to find a way to shut that off.
I sigh and swirl around the glass before taking a gulp. The silence here is good. As much as I love Will and am happy for him, events like this take a lot out of me, especially when I’ve been working non-stop. I need solitude more and more lately, the more that people want me, the more I need to pull away. The only problem is finding the balance. While I crave alone time when I’m being spread thin, I can’t handle too much of it. Loneliness has found me many times before, always the wolf lurking outside.
My phone vibrates again. I don’t even bother looking. I know it’s Autumn because she’s been texting and calling for the last two hours. Guess she did find a pocket of cell reception in the middle of the mountains. You’d think that all that fresh air would have calmed her down a bit but when I talked to her earlier, she sounded angrier than I’ve ever heard. Of course, being as that I pay her for her services, you’d think she’d still have a level of decorum with me but that ship has sailed. Now it’s like I have a full-time babysitter.
Honestly, I don’t see why it’s a big deal.
Okay, I guess I can see why she’s freaking out. Kept telling me that I was getting in dangerous territory and that this could even jeopardize my contract with Boomerang or any other work in the future. No one wants to be uninsurable. Just look at Lindsay Lohan.
That’s not what I want. Fuck. Half the time I don’t know what I want.
I close my eyes and lean my head back again.
“Here you are.”
I must be dreaming. I open my eyes to see Alyssa standing among the lockers. Her hip juts out to the side, one hand on it, full of fucking sass.
“And here you are,” I tell her, unable to keep the grin off my face.
“Double fisting?” She nods at the drinks in my hand.
“Only for you,” I tell her, holding hers out to her.
She hesitates, her eyes jetting from the drink and back to my face. “What is this place, anyway? The seducing room?”
I chuckle, looking away briefly. “It’s where the club members keep their booze. The locker room.”
She steps toward me, running her fingers over the wood walls. “Such a fucking rich guy thing, isn’t it? Don’t you all have booze on your fancy ass boats?”
“We do,” I tell her. “But sometimes we’re lazy.” I pause, watching her carefully. “I’d be more than happy to take you to the boat though, show you around.”
“Not interested.”
“And yet here you are in the seducing room, looking for me.”
“I was looking for my drink,” she says breezily. She stops in front of me and takes the drink from my hands. I hang onto the glass for a few seconds too long, staring intently into her eyes before I let go.
She holds it in her hands, stares down at the liquid. Before my eyes, a wash of vulnerability comes over her, softening her features. She’s almost delicate.
It makes my dick ridiculously hard. Then again, what doesn’t.
“I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” she says quietly, avoiding my gaze.
“For what?”
“For telling you to fuck off. Not a very nice thing to say to a stranger.”
“I thought it was hot.”
She rolls her eyes. “You would.”
I shrug. “I think everything you do is hot. Just standing here right now with that pouty lip and your soft eyes and your gorgeous tits. I’m getting fucking hard as cement.”
Shocked, she meets my eyes and for a moment it really looks like she’s going to throw the drink in my face. I’m almost flinching. Second nature, I suppose.
I gesture to it. “Drink up, sunshine.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she says, shaking her head in disdain. But the annoyance is short-lived. She doesn’t throw the drink in my face, she doesn’t turn and walk away. Instead she stays and has a sip of the Manhattan.
That tells me I can push this as far as it can go.
I take a step toward her until she’s backed up against the wall and with one arm above her head I lean against the lockers, nearly fencing her in. “How is it?” I ask, keeping my voice low, my face closer to hers.
She swallows and I swear she purposely licks her lips. “It’s very good.” She glances up at me through her long lashes. “You were right about that one.”
“I’m right about most things,” I tell her. “I bet you’re absolutely gorgeous when you come.”
Even though I know she’s getting used to me, she still startles when I say that, unable to keep from reacting. Of course she’d be gorgeous when she comes, she’s gorgeous when she looks totally blindsided.
“You have quite the mouth on you, you know that?” she manages to ask smoothly.
I nod and slowly reach out, brushing her silky strands over her shoulder, my eyes fixated on the creamy slope of her neck. “I know. My mouth would love to take you down to the boat, spread your legs wide and bury my lips against you. I’ll lick and suck your sweet pussy for hours before I fuck you hard with my tongue.”
She stills, her eyes shimmering with want and shock and a million other things and I know I’ve got her.
I reach down and wrap my fingers around hers on the glass and lift it up to her lips. “Finish your drink. Then I’ll fuck you whichever way you want.”
Her eyes narrow and I can feel the heat from her gaze. I can’t tell if it’s sexual or anger based but either way, I think I finally crossed a line.
“Does that work on every girl you try and sleep with?” Her voice is raw.
“Normally other women don’t make me work so hard.”
She laughs dryly. “Oh my god. Emmett. You’re insane. Can your ego get any bigger?”
“No and my dick definitely can’t either,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and placing it against my crotch where I’m straining against the tuxedo pants.
She gasps but her hand still grips me, hard enough that my eyes fall closed, wanting, needing more of that delicious friction.
“You see what you’re doing to me?” I whisper to her. “Why I have to work so hard?”
She clears her throat as I close the tiny gap between us. “You call spouting off lines from erotica as working hard? Please, I eat romance novels for breakfast, you’re no different from the vapid dirty-talking alphas I read. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a Kindle highlighted with all the best lines to try.”
If I wasn’t so turned on and determined, I’d be laughing at that.
“Except that I’m real and I’m here, right now. Don’t you think it’s time you got fucked by someone who knows how?”
She couldn’t look more unimpressed. “Why the hell do you think I’m not getting properly laid? That’s mighty presumptuous of you.”
“I can just tell.”
“Oh yeah? Can you tell I’m about to walk away and leave you to deal with your massive erection on your own?”
And at that, she turns on her heel and starts walking away.
Damn. She wasn’t joking.
Without thinking, I reach out and grab her arm, pulling her back and into me. One hand goes behind her head, the other around the small of her waist.
She looks at me with big blue eyes.
She knows what’s about to happen.
The risk is if she likes it or not.
A risk worth taking.
I kiss her, hard enough that she gasps, breathless, my lips pressed flushed against hers until she yields, her mouth opening. She moans into me, my tongue sliding in sweet. God, she tastes like sugar and spice, better than I imagined.
My hand buries into her hair, tilting her head so I can kiss her with everything I have. I know I’ve been watching her all night, wanting her, wanting this, but I’ve never felt such a primal need until this moment. The urge to be inside her, deep, fucking deep, is all I can think about.
I hear the glass drop from her hand, bouncing on the carpet, while my tongue and lips work feverishly against her mouth, a searing, rhythmic kiss. I brush my hand over her breast until I feel her nipple harden underneath the material.
A groan escapes her lips which only deepens my drive. I pull the edge of the fabric aside until her breast pops out, her nipple rosy and stiff. I lower my head and suck it gently into my mouth before giving it a gentle bite.
“Oh god,” she whimpers, her hands sinking into my hair and holding tight.
I smile against her tit then take my other hand and reach down her thigh until I’m gathering up the fabric until it’s at her waist.
“I bet your pussy is just as wet as your mouth,” I murmur to her, my breath hitching as I slide my hand between her soft thighs.
She makes a greedy little sound of surprise that deepens just as my fingers skirt over her pussy.
No underwear.
Wet as sin.
Christ, I think I’ve found heaven.
“You’re ready to go,” I tell her, as I quickly reach back into my pocket and pull out a condom. While I tear it open with my teeth, my other hand keeps rubbing her mercilessly before slipping two fingers deep inside her.
“Oh god,” she says again, opening her eyes to look straight into mine. They’re lazy with lust, sparking with fire. I’m going to make this so good for her.
Deftly, I take my cock out of my pants and slip the condom on just as she wraps her legs around my waist, digging her heels in.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This already feels too good.
I’m about to go into a frenzy.
I quickly push into her with one quick, brutal thrust that wrings all the air from my lungs.
She gasps, my mouth biting at her neck, my hand yanking at her neckline again, taking her nipple back in my mouth until she’s writhing, moaning.
“Fuck,” I groan, slamming her back against the lockers, my pumps becoming faster and faster, like I’m trying to impale her on the spot. We kiss and it’s messy, teeth clacking against each other, lips and tongues trying in wild desperation to win.
“Emmett,” she gasps and I think maybe I’m fucking her too hard. Her head is starting to slam back against the lockers, her nails are digging into my suit jacket.
But when I look at her, she gives me a look that ignites me.
Her wet mouth open, her blue eyes languid with lust.
“Fuck me harder,” she says. Her voice is all sex.
“Jesus,” I swear. She’s a wild one. I start grunting into her neck as my pace picks up, sweat dripping from my brow and onto her chest. The fact that anyone could walk around the corner and see us only heightens the sensations, makes me extra aware of her sexy little gasps as I slide my fingers over her clit, the hot feel of her skin.
“I’m coming,” she moans, eyes closing, head rolling to the side.
For a moment I think she’ll stifle her cries–she knows there’s a wedding reception just around the corner. But she doesn’t. She lets it all go.
“Fuck, fuck!” she yells hoarsely, her fingers holding tighter and tighter as she pulses and jerks around me. “Oh, god, Emmett.”
I can only grunt in response as I watch her. I was right. She is gorgeous when she comes.
Then my orgasm sneaks up on me, a total force of nature.
It rips through me, fast, violent, uncontrollable.
Unbelievable.
“Fucking hell, woman,” I groan into her as I feel myself empty into the condom. She’s getting every last drop out of me.
I collapse against her, sweat dripping off my brow and over my nose. I can hardly breathe but I don’t care. I’m shuddering on the inside, completely unraveled.
This sexy stranger, this prickly thing. She might just be the best lay I’ve ever had.
I can’t even think straight.
“Are you going to let me down?” she asks after a moment, wrapping her hands behind my neck for support.
“Maybe,” I tell her even though I grab her waist and she unhooks her legs from around me. I pull out, grabbing the condom by the end, then pull it off and tie it.
Meanwhile she smooths out her dress, puts her tits back in place. “Well, that was…”
“A long time coming,” I tell her as I put the condom in the trash and pull my pants back up.
She laughs dryly. “You have a strange concept of time.”
“Hey, I wanted you all night, sunshine. Looked like my dreams weren’t going to come true for a while there.”
She rolls her eyes and bends over to pick up the glass she had dropped.
“Well, now that the sexual tension is all out of the way,” she says with a smirk, “how about we go back to getting drunk.”
“Who said it was out of the way?” I ask her, pulling her into me and giving her a long, deep kiss. Fuck. She’s a great kisser. If she gave me another five minutes or so, I could go again.
She smiles against my lips and then playfully pushes me back. “Come on, you made all these promises. Fill ‘er up.”
Dutifully, I do as I’m told. I fill up her glass with Crown Royal, fill up mine and the two of us sit down on the carpet, leaning against the lockers, drinking the liquor straight.
“Cheers,” I tell her, clinking my glass against hers. “To Will and Jackie.”
“To Will and Jackie.”
“And the best two minutes of your life?”
She bursts out laughing. “And to that too.”
Chapter 5
Alyssa
There’s a landslide inside my brain.
Deafening.
Giant slabs of stone slicing off the mountains and tumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Each impact makes me jolt, brings an array of sharpened knives into my grey matter.
What the fuck is going on?
Boom. Boom. Boom.
It gradually turns into knock, knock, knock.
As in someone at my door.
Carla.
“Go away,” I mumble, my mouth desert dry. I try and open my eyes but I think my fake eyelashes are glued to each other. Did I not take off my makeup? Am I even in my bedroom?
Oh my god, please don’t tell me I’m still in my clothes.
I feel down my sides, my hands skirting over voluminous silk.
There is no worse feeling in the world than waking up the next morning in the clothes you wore out drinking. In this case, my bridesmaid’s dress. It’s a sign that you totally failed and got beyond trashtastic. Not washing off your makeup before bed? That’s bearable.
But not even managing to get undressed? That’s close to getting your adulting card revoked.
And then I’m hit with a memory.
The feel of Emmett inside me as he slammed me against the locker walls, the hoarse grunts from his throat as he came.
OH MY GOD.
And then Carla opens the door.
“I had to make sure you weren’t dead,” she says. I don’t even have to open my eyes to know the look she has on her face: totally unimpressed. You know, my normal expression when I’m not waking up the morning after a wedding. There’s a reason we get on so well as roommates. Plus, there’s the fact that she’s a stoner and extremely low maintenance.
“And?” I croak, blinking at the light that’s coming in my window. Vile, horrible light. “Am I dead?”
“You look like you died in the middle of your prom. Please tell me you at least got laid.”
I can’t help but grin. In fact, I’m not just grinning up at the ceiling like I’m high, I’m laughing.
“Oh boy,” Carla says. “I’ve got pickle juice ready if you want a quick fix.”
Even though a hit of pickle juice is essential to any hangover recovery methods, I’m still laughing. Because, OH MY GOD.
I totally got fucked by Emmett Hill last night.
Cruiser McGill.
Bruiser NoChill.
Doctor Death.
And whatever else name he has.
And even though I know I should be deeply ashamed by all of this, I’m not.
I mean, he was good.
He was really fucking good.
Best fucking cock I’ve got in a very, very long time.
Maybe ever.
I’d be sad about it if the endorphins weren’t still running through me, faint but present.
“Should I call a doctor?” Carla asks, approaching the bed warily.
I shake my head and then stop immediately. The pain makes me wince and yet I’m still smiling. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
“Then what’s so funny? Usually you’re moping around for a few days after a wedding and eating all my chocolate. In fact, I bought a few extra bars because I expected your wallowing.”
“No moping, just…” I slowly ease myself up and give her a lazy grin.
