The Misters Series (Mister #1-7)

by J. A. Huss

  She comes again.

  I am in fucking heaven.

  I pull back and lie down next to her on the blanket. “Get on top,” I command. “Now.”

  Tori scrambles up from her position on the floor and straddles me, placing her pussy directly over my hard cock. She eases down, throws her head back, and I fill her up once again.

  Her tits are in my face and I lean towards them, my mouth seeking the large, round outline of her nipples.

  My hands are there, wrapping around her full breasts, kneading them as she pushes herself to the brink. Her hair sways, dragging along my chest, the long dark waves teasing me as we move in rhythm.

  Her back is arched, her eyes are closed, pointing towards the ceiling. I take one hand off her tit and palm her throat.

  She comes again, the wetness inside her pussy coating my dick with her hot release.

  And then I fuck her so hard, my balls slap against her ass. I fuck her so hard, she has to put her head down on my shoulder and just give in.

  We come together the next time. And even though I know I should, I don’t pull out. I meant what I said. We’re moving forward with my plan now. I’m never using a condom or pulling out again.

  We lie there, sweating, and hot, and slick, and satiated in the aftermath. Our hearts are beating together. Thumping like crazy. Just thin skin and hardened muscles separate us.

  And she says, “You’re a dick.”

  And I say, “I know. But fuck it. I want what I want. And I know you want it too, you’re just scared to admit you need someone like me in your life. So fuck it, Tori. I’m just gonna take, and take, and take until you make me stop. And that’s where we’ll stay forever. Just like that. I’ll get as much as I can from you. And you’ll give as much as you can to me. And that’s our happy place, babe. That’s how we meet in the middle.”

  We fall asleep. On the fucking floor. Sprawled out. Arms and legs tangled together.

  Happy.

  For once.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Victoria

  The sun is hot and blazing through my closed eyes when I begin to wake up. No pounding rain. No whipping wind. No insufferable humidity hanging in the air.

  “Hungry?” West asks, kissing me on the lips. “I made us ready-to-eat survival pancakes for breakfast.”

  I smile and open my eyes. He’s still Naked Man next to me. He will stay that way all day if I let him. God, I kinda miss the fucking exhibitionism we used to share.

  I think about all the words he said to me last night. All the ways he made me feel good. And I give in. For now.

  “Yeah,” I say, sitting up to look at what he brought me. “Starving, actually. I don’t think I’ll complain if you want to go catch us some seafood for dinner tonight.”

  “We’re going home today. Mysterious will come get us.”

  “How do you know?” I ask, feeling a little bit of regret over that news.

  “He said he would. I don’t really know what the fuck is happening, but I can’t afford not to trust him right now. We’re sorta stuck. He’ll be here. We’ll go back to the mainland and I’ll figure it out.”

  “What about Wallace?”

  “You’re still thinking about that fucking job?” West laughs.

  “Aren’t you?”

  He makes a face, which I know means yes, he is. But he says, “Later, Tori. We’ll talk about all that stuff later.”

  “Why later?”

  “Can you just relax and eat the fucking pancakes?”

  “Don’t be a dick to me. I just want to know where we stand in that department.”

  “Department? You mean business? Tori, come on. We both know your business is bust. If Wallace is still available to be hunted, I’m the one who’s going to hunt him. Not you.”

  I stand up and go looking for my clothes. I pull my skirt on first and then slide my arms into the thoroughly ruined lavender silk blouse.

  “And now you’re going to throw a tantrum? Even though you know I’m right?”

  “You’re not right,” I say, pissed off. Why do I ever think he’ll change? Why do I ever think he’ll stop being a controlling asshole? Why do I ever give in to him at all? He is who he is. “In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Corporate, I’m a fighter.”

  “Oh, I’ve noticed. You throw that fight shit in my face every chance you get.”

  “Why are you being an asshole? Was last night just another one-night fuck to you?”

  “Don’t cheapen my actions and words just because you’re too stubborn to face facts. I really don’t appreciate that, Victoria. Everything I’ve ever said to you was sincere.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Including that whole ‘You’re a loser’ shit you just spewed.”

  “I never called you a loser.”

  “Then do not insinuate my business is bust! It’s not. I’m fully capable of bringing it back from the brink, Weston. I’ve got tricks up my sleeve.”

  “You’ve used up all your tricks, Tori. You have to stop relying on tricks.”

  “Fuck you.” I head towards the door, but West grabs my arm. I grab his arm with my opposite hand and disable the hold in one smooth motion. He backs off, hands up in the air, his clothes in one hand. “Don’t grab me,” I snarl.

  “I’m not grabbing you,” he says, pulling his pants on. “I’m just letting you know I don’t want you to walk out. And you know your jujitsu magic won’t work on me anymore. You know I can fight back.”

  “But you won’t,” I sneer. “Because you think I’m too weak to bother with.”

  And then I spin on my heel and walk out the door. I go down the steps, West following me downstairs, taking them two at a time. And he’s in front of me before I get to the door.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He’s still buttoning his pants and his shirt is hanging open.

  “To the beach to wait for the rescue. I’m just done with you for now. If you want to talk to me once this Wallace Arlington job is over, I’ll talk. But until then, you’re my opponent.”

  “You can’t win, Tori,” he calls, as I leave the house and find the footpath that will take me back the way we came. I ignore him and just keep walking.

  I’m sure there’s probably a closer beach, but the beach we came from is the beach that faces the other island. And if people come, they will probably go there first. I need to be there so I can figure out a way to signal that we’re here.

  I’m not sure about Corporate’s friend Mysterious. I have no idea who that guy is. But I’m pretty sure that Vlad the pilot has alerted the coastguard. It’s got to be like… a float-plane pilot’s creed or something, right? If they drop people off who expect a pickup, and a massive storm prevents said pickup, the pilot has to alert people.

  Right?

  I’m going with it. I really need to get off this island. My clothes are ruined, I don’t even have underwear on, my tits are sweating like crazy, and I need a shower. I smell like the fucking ocean right now. And I feel gross. All that salt is stuck to my skin.

  “Tori,” West calls, a little way behind me on the path. “You’re going to get lost.”

  “Oh, fuck you. There’s a path here, Weston. I’m following it, the same way we did yesterday.”

  “Tori,” he says again, jogging up next to me. “Just fucking calm down. Why are you so mad about this Arlington thing? You know it’s not enough. You know that one job won’t be enough to dig yourself out of the mess you’ve made.”

  The mess I’ve made? I can’t even speak right now. So I ignore him and all the stupid words that come pouring out of his mouth as we make our way back to the beach.

  When we get there, I’ve had enough of him for a lifetime. Plus, he’s still fucking talking.

  “I’m not listening,” I say, shaking my head as I walk out onto the white sandy beach and scan the horizon.

  I can just barely see our island. It looks a lot farther away than I thought it was.

  Did I really swim from there to here?
/>   I smile at that.

  I guess I did. I’m here. I made it. I’m a survivor.

  Never mind that West had to put that lifejacket on me for the last leg of the trip. I’m not an ocean swimmer and I made it three quarters of the way with almost no help.

  “Goddammit, Tori,” West yells. “Stop fucking ignoring me!”

  “What?” I say, reeling around to get his hands off my shirt. “What, goddammit?”

  West puts his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Can you just be calm for a minute?”

  “Why should I be calm? You have no faith in me, Weston. None. I can take care of myself and you should want me to take care of myself. You should say, ‘Hey, Tori, you’re just as good as me, so take your best shot and best of luck. We’ll see who get the contract in the end.’”

  “That’s what you want me to say?” he asks.

  “Yes. Something like that. Something uplifting and positive.”

  “Here’s something positive for you. How about I just give you the money you need, you let me get the contract, and then I’ll fucking kill Lucio Gori and we’ll all live happily ever after?”

  “What?” He did not just say that. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re not doing anything to Lucio Gori, let alone killing him.”

  “He raped you. Do you really think I’m just gonna let that asshole get away with that? You are fucking out of your mind.”

  “I didn’t tell you that story so you could go avenge me, Weston. I told you in confidence.”

  “Well, you should know me better.”

  I am so angry, my head might split right down the middle. “You planned that little heart to heart conversation, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t plan anything. You told me because you wanted me to do something about it.”

  He’s serious. He really thinks my confession was code for, Go kill him for me. “I told you because you confessed something personal about your childhood. I thought we were trying to earn each other’s trust.” I stare at him for a second. “That’s not why you told me, was it?”

  “Tori, why do you have to be so—”

  I punch him in the face. His head snaps to the side and a little trickle of blood runs off his cheek. He turns back to me and smiles.

  I punch him again.

  He laughs. “I’m gonna hate-fuck you, Victoria Arias. If you hit me one more time, I’m gonna throw you down on the sand and—”

  I move on him. My leg sweeps behind his ankle, I grab his shirt and thrust him sideways as I twist my hip. He lands on the hard sand, still laughing.

  I stand over him, seething.

  “I hate you, Mr. Corporate. How about that? I fucking hate you right now.”

  “Hey.” He smiles. “Like I said, hate fuck’s a-coming. I’ll play along, how about that? I hate you too, Miss Arias. And just to keep things going, I’ll go one step further. I hate you more.”

  I stand over him, ready to… to… I want to scream! “No, you cannot hate me more. I hate you more and I want you to admit it, right fucking now.”

  Chapter Thirty - Weston

  “Say it.” Victoria Arias looms over me, her feet planted on either side of my hips, seething. “I want to hear you say it.”

  She looks like the storm that just passed. That poor lavender shirt is rippling in the remnants of the wind. It’s ruined. And out of nowhere, like God was playing a trick on us earlier, it starts to rain. Hard, pouring-down rain.

  “What’s your fucking problem?” I ask. “Just what the fuck, Tori?”

  She drops, her ass sitting on my dick, but nothing about this moment says seductive. She slaps me six times in the face. Both hands, one after the other. Six times. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.

  “Say it!” She yells it this time.

  I taste blood in my mouth and reach up to wipe it away as I look her in the eyes.

  Those beautiful violet eyes. That wild dark hair is sticking to her face as she rages. And her breasts are practically bursting out of her shirt—those last two buttons have no hope of containing them.

  Another slap, and this time it stings.

  “Stop it,” I say, grabbing both her wrists and pulling her down onto my chest. “Just fucking stop it.”

  “I hate you more, Weston Conrad.” Her voice is low. Even. Controlled. “I hate you more than you will ever know and I want to hear you say it.”

  “Why should I give in to you? Why the fuck should I? Do you really think this badass attitude you have is cute, Miss Arias? Well, it isn’t. It’s fucking old, OK? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you. And I’m not giving you what you want. Ever.”

  I push her off me and get up. I’m wet, I’m covered in sand, I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, and my dick has been hard for three days.

  “You’re a coward,” Victoria says, her South American accent appearing. “You’re a coward and a cheat.”

  “That makes no sense. And I’m not a cheat. You’re the fucking cheat. How the hell did you get here, huh, Victoria? You cheated!”

  She’s on her knees now, that goddamned lavender shirt blowing open. “Well, just give me what I want, Weston Conrad. And then we can part ways and never see each other again.”

  “I’m not giving you this contract. Fuck that. I earned it. You’re the one who tried to steal it from me.”

  “I don’t just want the contract, you idiot. I never wanted the contract. I wanted you.”

  I just blink at her. “What?”

  “Did,” she clarifies. “I don’t want you anymore. I wouldn’t want you if you were the last man on Earth!”

  “Or a deserted island?” I say, laughing.

  She throws a handful of sand at me, but the wind catches it and it goes in her eyes. Her hands fly up to her face as she doubles over in pain.

  Fuck.

  “Victoria,” I say, dropping down to see if she’s OK.

  She’s not. She’s crying.

  “Victoria,” I say again as I try to pry her hands off her face. “Let me see.”

  She shakes her head and starts to sniffle. “Just tell me what I want to hear.”

  “What?” I ask. “What the fuck are you after? I can’t ever make you happy for more than a few hours. I don’t fucking know what you want!”

  She drops her hands and looks me in the face. “I hate you more, Weston Conrad. I hate you more than you hate me. And I want to hear you admit it.”

  “Fine.” I shrug. “Whatever. You hate me more. What the fuck do I care?”

  “What the fuck do you care?” Her makeup was washed off in the rain days ago. There’s no leftover mascara to stain her perfect cheekbones. And her lips are naturally pink and plump. I can’t stop looking at them.

  Her.

  I can’t stop looking at her.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

  “I want that contract.”

  “No. I told you no. How many times do I have to explain this to you? It was my contract to begin with. You fucking cheated!”

  “But I need it more!” she yells.

  “I said I’d help you, Tori. I already said I’d help you, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Don’t call me that ever again!”

  Jesus Christ. Why does she have to be so wild?

  “If you give me that contract, I will give you something in return.”

  “What?” I ask. “What do you possibly have that I want?”

  “Me.”

  Her eyes search mine. Back and forth. Back and forth. I do want her. I want her so fucking bad. But I can’t give her that contract. That contract isn’t even enough to fix her problems. But it’s mine. It’s mine, dammit. If it’s still available, I cannot let her have it. I just can’t. If she ends up with this contract, my world shifts. And not in a good way. She can’t have it and I’m tired of talking about it. Thinking about it. So I change the subject. “I thought you wanted me?”

  “Not anymore,” she says, tipping her head up to regain some of her dignity.
And even though most of the people on this planet wouldn’t be able to conjure up some dignity while sitting half-naked, half-starved, and half-satisfied at the tail end of a hurricane, Victoria Arias manages. “I mean nothing to you, West. You used me last night. You used me just like you use everyone else.” She pokes me in the chest to emphasize her words. “And you know what? I’m tired of you, too. You checked out ten years ago and never came back. Turned into Mr. Corporate and said, ‘Fuck you, Rhode Island. I’m going to LA.’”

  I’m just about to open my mouth and tell her off when it hits me. She’s been mad at me this whole time. Not because we broke up. Not because we couldn’t make the long-distance relationship work. But because she thinks I left her behind.

  But I don’t get the chance to say any of that. Because the sound of a helicopter comes into range.

  “Here!” Victoria yells, jumping to her feet and waving her arms. “Here! Here! Here! We are here!”

  She bolts down the beach, her perfect legs stretching out into a full run, her dark hair flying out behind her like a banner that dares me to follow her into war.

  I want to follow her. I want to think so anyway. I want to believe that I can fight her battles, and take no prisoners, and come out on the other end a winner.

  But I don’t believe it.

  Because she doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles. She’s made that perfectly clear.

  And I don’t believe I could match her passion and commitment anyway. I don’t believe I could keep up with her, to be honest. Or hold on to her, or even make her the slightest bit happy. I don’t believe I can do anything right when it comes to Victoria Arias.

  And it’s not because I feel like sulking against the wall at my own pity party.

  It’s because I’ve hurt her so many times in the past, it’s become a habit.