by Alley Ciz
It takes three attempts at clearing her throat and a hefty swallow of water before Samantha can respond. “Why in the world would I want to be friends with people who have made it their mission to bully me into submission?”
The way the word submission rolls off her tongue has my dick twitching again, the pang in my balls a visceral reminder of the blueness I needed to alleviate myself Saturday night.
I was the one who pinned her to the wall.
The one who had my fingers inside her body.
I was the one in charge of her pleasure, keeping her on the edge of it until I got what I wanted.
Still…
When all was said and done, it was tinged with an essence of Samantha topping from the bottom.
She fought saying my name.
She ran from me the instant I released my hold on her.
I highly doubt there’s a submissive bone in her entire delectable body. But a man can dream, right?
A coming Samantha was a sight to behold. A submissive Samantha, my name falling from her lips, coming undone around me, under me while admitting she’s mine…
Fuck!
It’s the last part that has me equal parts close to coming in my pants right here right now and nearly throwing up.
“It’s been over a week since we’ve bullied you. It’s old news by now.” Duke says this in such a factual, come-on-you-should-agree-with-me way that would make his politician father proud. “Plus J gave you a ride that day you needed to help your friend…” His words trail off and he shoves a heaping spoonful of food in his mouth.
“Oh yes,” Samantha agrees with the driest sarcastic deadpan I’ve ever heard in my life, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “One act of kindness erases all the other shit you assholes have put me through since day one.”
“Two,” Duke mumbles around a mouthful, holding up two fingers for clarification just in case. Thankfully he finishes chewing and swallowing before tacking on, “He also bought you a new coffee when you dropped yours yesterday.”
From the side, I watch the way her lashes interlock at the corners when her eyes narrow. The pink of her tongue becomes visible as she runs it over the front of her teeth, the tip of it pausing at the corner of her mouth as she brings her attention back to me.
“What’s it going to take for my lunch to be douchemonkey-free again?”
I fold my lips between my teeth to restrain another laugh. “Nothing.” Smoothing out my features, I drop an arm to the back of her chair, emphasizing how much I’m not going anywhere. “Besides…you should think of this week as practice, Princess.”
Her eyes bounce between mine for a beat. “Practice for what?” Caution bleeds into her words, and this time I give in to the urge to laugh.
“Do you remember how dinner was at the gala?” She pauses as if thinking. “How you were borderline rude to Duke and me whenever we tried to engage you in conversation?”
“Was this before or after you were trying to feel me up under the table?” she retorts with an arched brow as the memory of touching her out of sight heats my blood.
Needing to redirect before things get out of hand and I do something that would most definitely get me expelled but unable to fully disengage, I stretch further, curling my fingers around her side much the way I did that night at dinner. Unfortunately, the silk of her uniform shirt greets me instead of the bare skin like then.
An innuendo is on the tip of my tongue. The urge to remind her how much she likes my touch and claim her in front of an audience is more powerful than the engine in my F8.
I swallow it down.
A certain sense of satisfaction blooms when it’s clear I’ve caught her off guard by doing so. Point for me.
Samantha sighs and I smirk, the curve of my mouth only growing when her eyes fall to it and the dimple in my chin beneath it.
“Are you going to tell me what I’m supposedly practicing for?”
“How to make polite conversation with your peers.” I chuck her under the chin just to be a dick.
“I’m perfectly capable of making polite conversation. Hell, Tinsley and I were doing just fine until you three”—bounces a finger from Banks to Duke then me—“forgot that your table is in there”—her hand brushes the side of my face when she points toward the main portion of the cafeteria—“and decided to crash our lunch.”
I wrap a hand around her wrist before she can pull hers back, my thumb stroking across her not-so-steady pulse. I push against the pressure point, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip as I use my eyes to telegraph, See? I told you your body can’t lie to me.
“That might be true.” She tries to tug her hand free, but I hold firm. “But it’s not Tinsley’s family joining yours for a dinner party this weekend.”
I wait for the shock to set in, for the Oh shit! realization to drop her jaw and widen her eyes. Except…it never comes. There is a small crinkle that forms between her brows, but that’s it.
“Families?” With her hand still trapped in mine, she can’t bounce that finger again. Instead she looks first at Duke then back at me. “As in both of yours?” We nod. “Great.” Her tone says it’s anything but.
“Question.” Duke drops his feet and leans his elbows on the table. “Is your hot friend gonna be there?”
Banks and I glance at Tinsley while Duke and Samantha maintain determined eye contact. I become so invested in watching the scene unfold that Samantha manages to free her hand, mirroring Duke’s position, fingers steepling, chin resting on the cradle formed by her overlapping thumbs.
“There’s a teeny, tiny part of me that wants to ask Tessa to come, just so I can watch you crash and burn”—she shakes her head—“but I won’t do that to my best friend.”
“What makes you think I’ll crash and burn?” Nothing flips Duke’s cocky athlete switch like telling him he’ll fail at something, especially when it comes to a conquest.
Samantha snorts, eyes flitting my way briefly. “I thought I was supposed to be practicing making civil conversation with you.”
Duke nods. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“Sure.” Samantha rolls one shoulder forward. “But if we continue to travel down this road, it’s going to turn into me telling you all the ways you and Tess will never happen, and”—she makes a rolling motion with her hands—“it will only snowball from there.”
“How do you know she won’t like me? My best friend”—he jerks his chin at me—“may be an asshole.” I flip him off when he pauses to chuckle. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be charming.”
The adjective seems to set Samantha off; her lips purse into a scrunched-up pout as her whole body bobs with quiet laughter.
I get a whiff of her lime scent when she twists around and pulls her phone from her bag. She silences Duke with a finger when he tries to ask another question and taps the screen with another until she’s connecting to a FaceTime call.
“Bitchy!” The excited voice matches the ear-to-ear smile filling the screen as the pretty redhead comes into view. “Hey, Tins,” she adds with a finger wave a second before her eyes go wide as hockey pucks when she spots me on the other side of her friend.
“Hey, T,” Samantha returns with one of the softest smiles I’ve seen from her.
“Umm…” Tessa’s finger bends and extends repeatedly toward the corner of the camera where I’m visible as she drops her voice to a stage whisper. “You do know Mr. Dick For Brains is sitting right next to you, right?”
That sound of tinkling bells rings out as Samantha releases one of those rare giggles and falls over to the side, her head dropping to Tinsley’s shoulder as she joins in. Having witnessed it once before, I’m not slack-jawed at the sound like Duke and Banks, but I’m no less affected.
Also, Dick For Brains? Really?
“I just love you,” Samantha says to her friend, wiping a tear from under her eye. She places a hand to the center of her chest, inhaling a deep breath. Was that a wheeze? No matter. This is
the best, the healthiest she’s looked in two days. “And yes, I’m painfully aware of my lunch crashers. That’s actually why I’m calling.”
I shit you not, Tessa’s dark blue eye sparkle as she perks up like a prairie dog and starts to shadowbox with the hand not holding the phone. “Need me to kick some ass?”
There’s another snort from Samantha, and it’s genuinely difficult to reconcile this playful version of her with the tough-as-nails one I experience day in and day out.
“You may spend your nights tossing girls in the air like it’s no big deal, T, but you aren’t the one I’d call if I needed someone to fight my battles.”
There’s a weighted silence as the two share some kind of wordless female communication, punctuated by a shy grin from the redhead. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She purses her lips and runs a hand through her hair with a huff. “You have Charming for that. I get it.”
“See?” Duke cuts in. “She already knows I’m charming.”
“She’s not talking about you,” Samantha says dryly.
My teeth grind when I realize they must be talking about Prince given his reputation in the underground.
“Is that Dick For Brains’ sidekick?” Tessa’s head tilts to the side, her expression turning serious.
“Yup,” Samantha answers as Duke screeches, “Sidekick?” She flips the phone around, both the camera and the screen now facing Duke. “Tess, this is Duke. Duke, this is my it’s-never-gonna-happen bestie Tessa.” Samantha makes the introductions off camera.
“I’ll have you know I’m no sidekick,” Duke is quick to explain.
“It’s cute that you think that’s the reason I wouldn’t Grinch you,” Tessa responds with a head-scratching retort.
“Bruh.” Duke snaps his fingers inches from my face repeatedly. “Look that shit up on Urban Dictionary. I need to know what the fuck it means to Grinch someone and exactly how dirty it is.” His expression is stone-cold serious.
“It’s not a sex act.” Samantha’s tone is dry and I can tell she’s trying to act annoyed, but there’s the smallest tilt to her lips that gives away her amusement.
Duke pouts, laying the boyish charm on thick with a slump of his shoulders and dropping his head into his hand. His muttered “Fuck” and lean forward to rub the shin I kick help clear away my own annoyance at his flirting. I also tack on a warning glare when he lifts his gaze to mine.
“You would think with your fancy-schmancy education, you boys would be better versed in Christmas carols,” Tessa’s voice teases while insulting us.
Samantha spins the phone back around to see her friend. She attempts to fit the whole table in view of the camera by extending her arm but can’t quite manage. My hand covers the back of hers, a spark shooting up my arm, and her eyes jump to mine, the dilating of her pupils giving away that she felt it as well.
I allow myself one more second of our connection, my thumb drawing a full circle over the soft skin before liberating the phone from her grasp and angling it at the best viewpoint. I didn’t expect the grateful twitch in her cheek, but I’ll take it.
“Tins…” Tessa’s mouth forms an O and her eyebrows jump when she spots Banks. If the knowing gleam is anything to go by, I take it my friend has been a topic of conversation. Interesting.
Tessa visibly brings herself back to the current topic of conversation with a quick shake of her head, eyes searching out Duke in the group. “As the narrator of the classic Grinch Christmas carol explains—”
Samantha leans both elbows on the table, linking her fingers together and resting her chin on the flat platform they create like she’s about to watch a show. I swear if the culinary staff came around with popcorn she would be settling in with it.
“—I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole.”
“That seems a bit excessive,” Banks comments, which Tinsley answers with, “Tessa is nothing if not extra.” The person in question beams at us from the small screen.
A bell chimes in the distance and the students in the background start to gather up their belongings. “Whoops, guess I gotta go.” The video wobbles as Tessa starts to do the same. “Guess Sa—” She cuts herself off with a small pause then finishes with, “Sammy gets to take great pleasure”—the two ladies share a conspiratorial smirk—“in filling you in on all the additional reasons you would never have a chance with me.”
Samantha beams and gives a collective Told you so flutter of her eyelashes. I know she’s loving being able to prove she was right while thoroughly putting us in our place, but I can’t help but feel an immense sense of satisfaction at this display of playfulness.
“Wanna hit up EP after school?” Tessa asks, only to cut herself off with a snap of her fingers. “Oh, wait…his Royal Highness is escorting you to the doctor today, isn’t he?”
I whip around, raking my gaze over Samantha—twice. I fucking knew she was sick. I do a third pass, trying to suss out what the issue could be, a panicky concern I’m completely unfamiliar with building in my system like grains of sand pouring into a vase. Not even the fact that the head Royal is the one picking her up is enough to deter my thoughts. What is wrong? And why won’t she tell me?
Why should she?
Her plump lips press into a flat line and she nods. “I can have him drop me off there after and we can hang until it’s time to go to The Barracks, as long as you’re cool to drive me home.”
“Duh.” Tessa adds an eye roll for good measure. “See you later. Love you, Bitchy.”
“Love you too, T.”
After Samantha disconnects, Duke peppers her with questions until our bell rings while I sit silent trying to figure out what could be wrong that would mean she would need to see a doctor when she’s healthy enough to be in school. More importantly, though, why do I care?
CHAPTER 29
The elevator doors haven’t had a chance to shut when my phone rings. I may be shaking my head at what is clearly ridiculousness, but that doesn’t mean I’m not smiling as I swipe to answer the call. “Should I call you my stalker or something, T? It hasn’t even been a full minute since I left you.”
“Fifty-three seconds. I won the pool,” Kay calls out in the background.
“Is it so wrong that I want to listen in on the drama?” Tessa asks, ignoring her sister’s taunt completely.
I’d argue her point, but maybe being on the phone when I finally return to the penthouse upstairs will help ease some of my frayed nerves.
Five days ago, I could have said with complete certainty I would be dreading tonight.
But…
Now…
Well…
I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but those two sly motherfuckers managed to do the impossible and make me not hate them.
Four days of lunches together steadily progressed from Why are you here? to those first stages of civil conversation before shocking the shit out of all of us in surpassing that milestone.
I now…holy shit! Dare I say, actually…enjoy how Jasper and I can speak to each other on a level deeper than verbal sparring? Who knew, right? And, no—that wasn’t a pig that flew by.
Just because I’m not absolutely abhorring the idea of this upcoming evening doesn’t mean I’m not wishing I was doing something…pretty much anything else. That’s probably why I am officially late. Whoops.
Natalie is going to bitch—what else is new? She was pissed when I made my escape to hang with Tessa’s family this morning, but I needed a fucking break. The last three days I felt like I was being held hostage in the penthouse. It was all This is how to act and Here’s how to make a good impression and You will dress like… and on and on. It felt like I was in a movie montage mashup of Pretty Woman and The Princess Diaries on proper etiquette, except Natalie had a way of making it feel like it was trending more toward the hooker side of the spectrum.
Thankfully I was able to slip out while she was too distracted with bossing around the hotel’s staff tasked with transforming the pen
thouse for this evening to put up too much of a fight.
No matter how hard I’ve tried, I haven’t been able to work out what her true motives are behind tonight’s guest list. This is as much as we know:
1. Mitchell St. James and Frank Delacourte have been friends since their BA days.
2. Mitchell has been the governor’s biggest campaign donor for years.
3. Since returning to New Jersey and making the St. James flagship hotel his home base of operations, Mitchell has decided to take on a more active role in state politics.
It’s the last one that has led us to suspect that is why the Nobles and Chuck were invited to dinner tonight. Walter Noble has been the governor’s campaign strategist for a few years, and Chuck is the local political connection.
I couldn’t believe Chuck accepted the dinner invite. Sure, he’s practically my uncle since his older brother is my godfather and was best friends with Dad when he was alive, but the King-Falco friendship never extended to Chuck and Natalie.
It turns out this dinner is what Carter and the Royals were meeting with Chuck about. Still salty about feeling like I was being left out of the conversation—it’s not the same getting your info secondhand—I may have enjoyed sending countless Godfather and other favor-type GIFs to them all until they threatened to block me.
“Put me on video chat,” Tessa demands as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival at the penthouse.
“Not happening.” Lord knows Duke would steal my phone if he knew she was on the other end of the line, let alone in the building.
Not only is the St. James a premier hotel in the state, it’s also an official hotel for the NFL. Any team that plays one of the two teams from New York (don’t get me started on their stadium being in Jersey) stays here when they travel. Coincidence or not, I’m beyond grateful that the Baltimore Crabs (Eric Dennings’ team) are in town this weekend. It’s nice knowing there are friendlies a few floors down should I need them.
