The Halo Series Boxed Set

by Kimberly Knight

  “I’m good. This actually feels nice. It’s so hot in there.”

  “Yeah, it gets that way when it’s packed like sardines,” I said, turning on my smile that most women couldn’t resist.

  “How long have you worked here?” she asked, leaning against the brick building.

  Anessa had on a black sequined miniskirt with a black turtleneck style halter top and black “fuck me” heels. My mouth watered as I scanned her long legs that were begging to be draped over my shoulders as I licked her warm pussy.

  “Since it opened. It’s been about two years now.”

  “That’s cool,” she said, looking out into the parking lot as if she was uncomfortable with small talk.

  “Is this your first time coming to Halo?”

  “Yeah, my friends dragged me out,” she admitted with a wry smile, her eyes returning to mine.

  “Not much of a partier?”

  “Not anymore. I … I just broke up with my boyfriend.”

  “Ah, so they brought you out to let loose?” I asked, smiling at her again.

  “Something like that,” she agreed, smiling in response.

  I stepped closer to her, ready to make my move since I didn’t have a lot of time to waste. The bar was packed, and I liked having three bartenders at the bar, but I needed to fulfill my conquest. “You smell good,” I said, nuzzling my nose against her neck.

  Anessa laughed. “Is that the best line you’ve got?”

  “It’s not a line. You really do smell good.” She really did.

  “Thanks,” she said, blushing and shivering a little beneath me.

  “What is it?”

  “Delicious by DKNY.”

  “I bet you are,” I said, nuzzling her neck again as I took a slight whiff.

  She turned her head allowing me to sniff easier. “Is that your best line?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Maybe a little,” she replied, our bodies flush with each other. I was growing hard in my jeans again, aching for her touch.

  I could feel the heat radiating from her center against my thigh— my own personal heater in the cold winter night as it pressed between her parted legs. Leaning back, I looked into her espresso brown eyes, working down to her lips. “I bet you taste like that sugar you were licking off the rim of your glass.”

  “Maybe you sho—”

  I was right.

  Sugar laced her lips as I crushed my mouth to hers, tasting the citron vodka on her tongue and the sweet sugar crystals lingering in her mouth. The kiss started slow, our tongues gently stroking, tasting each other. My right hand wrapped around her nape, pushing her back as I cushioned her body with my left arm against the brick wall.

  A low moan rose from her chest as I devoured her mouth with greed, licking and sucking on her tongue fiercely. She hooked her left leg against my hip, exposing her center under her short skirt, making it clear that she wanted it to be touched and she moaned again. Her hands fisting in my sun-kissed, finger-length dark blonde hair as I ground my hips lightly against her mound.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, pushing against my black T-shirt covered chest. “I shouldn’t do this.”

  “Shouldn’t or can’t?” I asked, keeping her leg hooked on my right side.

  “Can’t—shouldn’t, fuck I don’t know,” she said, trying to pull her leg from my grasp. I didn’t let go. “I don’t even know you, and I just broke up with my boyfriend.” Her head fell back slightly, and she looked she was talking to herself in her head.

  “You’re single. I don’t see the problem.” I leaned in to capture her lips once more.

  Turning her head so I couldn’t kiss her, she continued to protest. “I know, but I don’t know you.”

  “Babe, why did you come to the bar?”

  “Not to hook-up with a stranger,” she said, laughing sarcastically.

  “Okay, but you came to have a good time, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And you weren’t having a good time, so when I asked you to get some air with me, you agreed.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “And we were just having a good time.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not that kinda girl.”

  “All right, well then, my break’s over. Want another drink?” I asked, dropping her leg and adjusting myself.

  She didn’t reply right away as I walked the few feet to the wooden door of the bar. I gestured for her to follow and she did. I didn’t have time to fuck around with chicks who were being difficult. She clearly wanted me—I could feel it in her kiss—but I could also find another chick if I needed to.

  I grabbed her hand to lead her down the fluorescent-lit hallway, passing a line of people waiting for the restrooms.

  “Yeah, I’ll take a vodka cranberry now. Something without sugar on the rim.”

  “Way to kick a man when he’s down.” I laughed, clutching my chest with my free hand, making her laugh.

  “Sorry.” She smiled. “Not sure I’ll be able to have sugar on my drinks again, thanks to you.”

  I stopped walking but didn’t reply. She still wanted me, and I just needed to give her time to realize it. Most nights I didn’t like the challenge, but there was something about Anessa. Maybe it was her good girl appeal, but the way she was dressed, I thought otherwise.

  I needed to find out why she was fucking with my head. This girl came to a bar dressed in a mini skirt and fuck me heels, then agreed to go out back with a decent looking guy only to put the brakes on. Something wasn’t adding up.

  I started to walk up the stairs to my office on the right with her in tow.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You’re fucking with my head and I want to know why. Usually, I really don’t give a fuck when a girl doesn’t give me the time of day, but I know you wanted to. Why did you stop?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

  She stepped a few feet into the room, looked around at the standard office desk, computer, security monitors—and a couch. The office was bare of decorations other than a picture of Cheyenne on the filing cabinet behind the desk.

  Deflecting my question, she asked, “Are we going to get in trouble in here?” Nervously, she glanced around the room again and then looked out the one-way mirrors that overlooked the bar.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I said, locking the door behind me to prove my point. As if it mattered. I was the boss, and no one was coming in.

  I decided not to wait for an answer. I knew she wanted me, and if she stopped me again, I would leave her alone. Reaching up, I cupped her face with my hands, stepped forward and took her lips again. She didn’t back away.

  “See, told you that you wanted it,” I joked, breaking the kiss.

  “You’re a good kisser.”

  “I know.” I smiled against her lips. “So are you.”

  I kept stepping forward, directing her until she was sprawled on her back on the plush black leather sofa, my right leg pressed between hers as I straddled her other leg. She arched her back as I ran my hand up her thigh, slipping under her skirt and not stopping.

  “Wait,” she said, stilling my hand. I looked down at her swollen lips then up to her eyes. “Tell me your name first.”

  “Easton.”

  “I’m Anessa.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, working my mouth against her throat, my hand still working its way up her thigh.

  My hand reached the thin, damp fabric covering her mound. Pushing it aside, I sank two of my fingers into her pussy, causing her to moan and arch her back in response again.

  “Fuck,” she hissed.

  “Told you that you wanted this,” I said, claiming her mouth again as she rode my fingers.

  “Yeah—yeah, I do,” she moaned.

  I pumped faster, in and out of her core that was clenching my fingers on the brink of spasm. She was grinding her hips into my hand, grabbing the back cushion of the couch for support and biting her lip
as she enjoyed my fingers.

  “Pull your shirt up for me, babe.”

  “I can’t. It’s all part of the dress.”

  “Well, it needs to go.”

  She wasted no time, sitting up and tossing the black fabric on the floor. She laid back on the leather couch in only her black bra and matching thong. “Your turn.”

  I stepped out of my jeans, threw my T-shirt on the increasing pile of clothes, and then returned to Anessa. I crouched down on my belly on the couch, her legs resting on my shoulders as I moved the thin strip of cotton away from her pussy.

  My tongue licked at her folds, causing her head to fall back against the armrest, my dick aching with need as I thrust my fingers into her soaking pussy again. My tongue licked up her juices from the bottom to the top, stopping on her clit and flicking the nub until she screamed my name.

  “Your turn,” I said, motioning to my cock after I pulled my boxers down when I stood up from her limp body.

  She looked at me through her post-orgasm high, her face and chest flush with a tint of pink. Licking her lips, she smiled. “Okay,” she responded, then sat up on the couch, taking my dick into her pretty mouth.

  Hook, line, and sinker.

  Monday mornings suck. Period. I never looked forward to going to work, especially since my boss was a cheating, pig-headed bastard. He loved drama more than the girls in my office do. He was’ always in everyone’s business and talking shit behind their back, and he’d throw anyone under the bus—and has.

  You know, for a guy you act like a little bitch!

  I woke up as the alarm clock blared in my ear. Jared was already at work, and it felt like I had slept with a boulder under my right shoulder. My arm was still hurting from bowling, and I wasn’t sure why. I went to the gym a few nights a week, so I wasn’t that out of shape.

  After a cup of coffee with my favorite Crème Brûlée creamer, I put on black slacks, a purple tank top with ruffles that tied in a bow in the front and a black cardigan to keep warm throughout the day. In the middle of winter, the office building still had their air conditioning blaring, and it never failed that I was always cold.

  “Hey, Lucy,” I said, passing her office on the way to mine when I arrived at work.

  “Mornin’, Brooke. How was your birthday weekend?”

  I sat in a maroon chair in front of Lucy’s desk as I told her the events of my weekend.

  My mother called me on Sunday—the day after my birthday. I wasn’t surprised. She explained that she was in Paris with her boyfriend and didn’t realize the time difference. I started to remind her that Paris was almost a day ahead of Boston (not after), but I didn’t bother. It was just one of her excuses, and over the years, I’d heard them all. What was another birthday?

  Rubbing my right shoulder blade with a wince, I turned to go back to my office. “Oh, is Mike in yet?”

  “I don’t think so. What’s up with your shoulder?” Lucy asked, brushing her short black hair away from her eyes.

  “It’s still sore from bowling,” I said, continuing to rub my shoulder and rotate the cuff to try to stretch it.

  “You need to do more kickboxing. Or lift some weights.”

  “You’re one to talk.” I laughed.

  Lucy was not one to go to the gym. Her idea of working out consisted of walking her two Boston Terriers, but she was a size two. I wanted to cry every night when I would go home to work out and she would go home to relax after a long day at work.

  “Don’t hate.”

  “I do hate you,” I joked with her. “I must have pulled a muscle or something, though,” I said, still rubbing my shoulder blade.

  “Why are you asking where Mike is?” Lucy questioned.

  “He and Nicole were getting pretty close on Saturday. I was wondering if he’d called her yesterday like he said he would.” I shrugged.

  “When you find out, let me know. I love drama.”

  “I will. Speaking of drama, I better get to work before Ian gets here. What time is he coming in?”

  “Probably ten or eleven.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Figures.”

  I actually preferred that Ian wasn’t coming into the office. I worked better without him acting as if I didn’t have any work to do, and it was peaceful without the boss hovering. I caught up on my emails, grabbed another cup of coffee and proceeded to work on a few cases by preparing legal forms, amongst other things.

  In the middle of working on a case, I received an instant message from Mike.

  Mike: Hey! I thought you were a better bowler than that?

  Me: Shut up!

  Mike: That ass whoopin’ you dealt was brutal.

  Me: Don’t make me come down there and punch you!

  Mike: Your bark is better than your bite.

  Me: Whatever. Did you call Nicole yesterday?

  Mike: How’d you know I was supposed to?

  Me: Dude, I’m her best friend. I know everything.

  Mike: I didn’t.

  Me: WTF?

  Mike: I’ll call her tonight.

  Me: Whatever.

  After lunch, I sat at my desk, working on cases and resisting the urge to go on Facebook every two minutes. Not long after being back from lunch, I sneezed—hard, and the motion of me snapping my head forward tugged on the muscles in my shoulder blade. It felt like fire tore through my back on the right side, and it took everything I had not to scream or cry.

  Holy mother of fuck!

  After a minute, it went from a shooting, burning pain to a feeling like I had just torn something in my shoulder. How could a simple sneeze hurt so much? I told Lucy (because Ian had ended up “working from home”) what happened and went home for the day. The pain wasn’t going away, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the pain radiating around my shoulder blade. On my way home, I called the doctor and made an appointment for the following morning.

  I arrived home and jumped into the shower; the warm water helped the pain to subside. I changed into my pajamas, texted Lucy that I would be late to work in the morning, and crawled into bed with an icepack.

  This was why I should have had a bowling party at ten; my body was falling apart at thirty.

  I woke the next morning; my shoulder was feeling a little better, but not one hundred percent. After having my morning cup of Joe, I got dressed and made my way to my doctor’s office. Even though my shoulder felt a little better, I was still concerned about the burning situation that happened the afternoon before. My body was not supposed to feel that way.

  “You probably just pulled a muscle. Let me give you a prescription for muscle relaxers. Also, take it easy at the gym. You should stick to cardio for a few weeks until your shoulder is feeling better.”

  That was my doctor talking to me. I arrived at her office, and she never once touched my body. She didn’t have me move rotate my shoulder while she felt around. She didn’t even get within two feet of me. She sat at her computer charting system, talking to me, and then just told me she would order my prescriptions so I could pick them up from the pharmacy when I left. She never once tried to feel for anything.

  I called Lucy after I left the doctor’s office and told her that I needed to wait for my prescriptions, and then I was just going to go home to rest my shoulder. It was still hurting, and I wanted the muscle relaxers to kick in. Plus, the doctor told me that they would probably make me sleepy.

  And that they did.

  I slept all afternoon, not waking up until Jared got home at four in the afternoon. I thought that he would be around to cook dinner for me, but when he arrived home, he told me that he had plans with his friend Justin, who he hadn’t seen in a long time. Since he hadn’t seen him in a few months, I didn’t want him to cancel. I ate a Hot Pocket for dinner since it hurt to move my shoulder and cook, took another relaxer and went to sleep.

  After taking Monday afternoon and Tuesday off, I worked the rest of the week as normal. Friday night, Nicole and I met up for our weekly dinner and happy hour
and then went shopping for cute outfits for our cruise.

  During the day, my shoulder was still hurting. The relaxers would knock me out, so I couldn’t take them during the day, but I was right handed and I did everything with my bum shoulder. It wasn’t as bad, but it felt like more than just a pulled muscle.

  “We need to find a store with bikinis,” Nicole said, stabbing a piece of her parmesan-crusted chicken.

  “It’s April—you think places have swimsuits already?” I asked.

  “We better hope so. I need at least five.”

  “Five?” I asked, wide-eyed. Why the hell did she need five?

  “Yeah, we’re going on an eight day cruise. I can’t wear the same suit more than once.”

  What was so wrong with wearing the same suit while you were there? I had gone on trips and washed my suit with shampoo before, so I had planned to bring two bikinis. I took a sip of my pomegranate margarita. “Why not? We can wash them in the shower on board.”

  “I will not let any cute guys see me in the same suit.”

  “They won’t even notice, They’re guys. Plus, who’s to say there will be any cute guys on board? Our luck, there will probably just be a lot of families with kids.”

  “Yeah … About that …” she paused, her eyes looking down at her chicken pasta.

  “Nicole?” I raised an eyebrow. She was up to something, and when she trailed off, I knew I wouldn’t like what she was about to say.

  “It’s nothing. We’re going to have so much fun. I can’t wait! How’s your shoulder?”

  “Don’t change the subject. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Don’t get mad.”

  “Oh God.” Whenever someone says, “Don’t get mad,” you already know that you aren’t going to like what they have to tell you.

  “The cruise is … Well, the cruise is a singles cruise.”

  “What?” My eyes grew wide as I tried to process what she had just told me. Why would she book a singles cruise when I had a boyfriend? I wasn’t mad; I was just shocked, but I probably shouldn’t be so surprised. She was single and looking for the one.