by Emelia Blair
“Congratulations!” comes the echoing sentiment.
Philip grins, proudly. “Thanks. I came straight from the airport. Jim and Tim took her to your place.”
Ian stares at the bat in his hands. “You brought a baseball bat to a gunfight?”
Philip shrugs. “The sports shop at the airport doesn't sell guns. Besides, the boys had already left with Charlotte.”
He takes a deep breath and then looks at me. “You should take your girl home. She’s been through enough shit today.”
He glances at Bryan. “I imagine the police will want to have a word with you as well, but for now, you should slip out with them.”
Bryan looks exhausted, and tucking my girlfriend under my arm, I follow Philip’s advice, trusting him to handle the whole mess.
14
Sarah
Fergus holds my hand throughout the drive home, but we don't exchange a single word.
Not that it matters to me.
My whole world feels like it has just crumbled around me. I feel dirty and used, and tears shimmer in my eyes. Now and then I glance back at Bryan to assure myself that he is safe and well.
He won’t meet my eyes, and I decide to deal with that part later.
A beautiful, dark-haired woman sits next to Agatha when we walk in, but Fergus doesn’t let her get a word in as he quickly carts me to our room and gestures towards the guest bedroom to my brother.
As the door closes behind us, I hear a husky voice ask, “Is tha–”
I don't hear Agatha’s response in my numb state, only watch as Fergus strips me of my clothes and discards his own before taking me by the hand to the shower. The water is hot and feels good on my skin.
His hands are gentle as he washes me carefully, scrubbing.
His beautiful eyes are dark with an emotion that I can't identify, and I want to ask him, but there is a certain fragility between us, and I don't know what to say. He washes my hair, his firm fingers running through the strands and caressing the scalp as he washes the shampoo out.
I feel delicate and damaged, the hollowness inside me starting to throb, and I let him take care of me. Drying me off with a towel, he bundles me in a fluffy robe and tosses on a T-shirt and sweatpants.
Carting me to the bed, he holds me in his lap, letting my cheek and ear nestle against his chest. I let the steady beat of his heart slowly clam down the inferno raging inside me, and I feel his hands on my back as he whispers, “I’m sorry about Seth.”
I shake my head, my chest aching as if something took a knife and is carving my poor abused heart into shreds. My voice is thick with tears. “I never knew he felt that way. I never knew that he was some gang leader. He’s always been Seth to me: my best friend.”
I take a shuddering breath. “He said that he introduced Bryan into the gang. It was only when Bryan wanted to leave that Seth told him that he couldn’t because he had planned to use my brother to lure me in. If Bryan left, then he would no longer be under Seth’s control. He told my brother that he’d do things to Ruby, horrible, horrible things.”
I take a deep breath and mumble through my tears, “How could I not have noticed? I never did anything to him. I never encouraged him.”
I feel Fergus’s warmth surround me in a cocoon, and his lilting Irish voice makes me feel safe. “He’s a psychopath. He became obsessed with you. This whole empire that he built, it was to make sure that he could force you to stay by his side.
“He’s an intelligent man, and he might not be physically much, but he orchestrated an entire gang and made it into a fully functioning entity; that says a lot about how smart he is.”
I stare at my hands. “Do you think he could have hurt me?”
Fergus sighs, and after a brief silence, mutters, “No. He would have killed Bryan. And he would have killed me. But I don’t think he would have touched you. His love was there, depraved, but it existed. Sarah, none of what happened is your fault. Even Bryan’s decision; your brother is not a child. He made this choice himself.”
“I know,” I speak against his chest, feeling his hand strike my damp hair. “But it feels like my whole world just shattered and I don’t know how to fix anything.”
Fergus cups my face, forcing me to look at him.
He wears a tender smile on his face before swooping down to kiss me. “Who said you have to do this alone? I’ll be right next to you, A ghrá. Every step of the way.”
I shake my head. “No. I made you risk your life today. I can’t. I can’t do that to you. You deserve somebody who won’t keep dragging you along with her stupid baggage.”
He tilts his head, a smile on those beautiful lips of his. “I kind of like you, baggage and all. And–” He pushes me back on the bed until he hovers over me. “I heard that you love me.”
My mouth falls open, and I try to do some damage control, failing like a pro. “You heard wrong.”
He plays with the lapels of my robe. “In my language, A ghrá means ‘my love.’ You don’t just call anybody that.”
My eyes widen. “So, you love me?”
He winces. “I don’t know how, but you managed to lock me down. I want you in my bed, in my life. If you up and leave, right now, I would follow you.”
My eyes shimmer, and he laughs, that delightful deep sound that makes me quiver with need and happiness.
“You stole my heart the day you introduced yourself. I figured you would want me to pay you compensation damages for your injury.” He presses a kiss to my throat, a worshipful touch. “I didn’t know you would settle for my heart.”
“That’s cheesy.” I chuckle through my tears.
He grins down at me. “Only for you, A ghrá.”
I wrap my hands around his neck. “I like waking up in your bed. I like how you laugh with me and drive me crazy. I don’t return gifts, Fergus.”
His fingers trace my cheek, a sad and yet happy look on his face. “My sister’s death left me broken in many ways, Sarah. It’s been a decade, and I’m still grieving. You take that pain away. You make me forget. I used my ambition to drown myself in work to push the memories away, but one touch from you makes it easier for me to breathe.”
His mouth swoops down to capture my lips, a gentle kiss.
It is a slow love-making, both of our hearts aching, and yet filled with this happiness that warms our souls to the farthest corners.
His sensual mouth worships me, leaving wet trails behind as he parts my robe and feasts on my body. He kisses my nipples, sucks on them. I moan his name, my hands going to clutch on the sheets beside me.
His lips move over my stomach, and when he gets to the apex of my thighs, he parts my legs.
I lay before him, so defenseless, so open, and when his tongue sucks on my clit, my back arches at the shooting pleasure. My lips open as I gasp for breath; I have no choice but to let him use his mouth to drive me wild. My fingers scrabble for purchase as he sticks his tongue inside me, in small darting motions.
He uses his hands to part my pussy and this time, his tongue goes in deeper, and I have to stifle my cries as he eats me out like a starving man. The hot appendage moves inside of me, making me see stars.
When he uses one hand to pinch my clit, I clamp my hand on my mouth to hold back the scream as my body convulses with the force of the orgasm. He doesn't relent, his tongue cleaning my juices before diving back in.
This time when he curls his tongue inside me, and his fingers painfully flick my clit, I lose my mind and find myself free falling into another orgasm.
He sucks me dry, leaving me a trembling mess.
Reaching up, he kisses me, his mouth moving against mine with slow movements, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
I get even wetter, and when he inserts three fingers in me, I moan into his mouth, a helpless and needy sound.
He doesn't finger fuck me for long, just long enough to drive me into another orgasm that has me shaking wildly. When he thrusts into me, I bite into my lower lip at feeling his t
hick cock moving inside me, feeling every inch as it forced itself through my sensitive muscles.
His mouth finds my nipples as he molds my breasts to his hands, his cock fucking me into oblivion. I cry and beg and plead, his name a chant on my lips.
He gives me a cocky smirk, and his thrusts slow down as he worships my neck with kisses, touching in all the right places to drive me insane.
I whimper with need, “Fergus, please.”
“Please, what?” he murmurs against my throat, kissing my jaw and lightly biting down on it.
I clench my jaw and then clamp my inner muscles around him, a trick I learned a few days back that drives him wild.
He curses. When I do it again, I feel his self-control snap, and he starts jackhammering my pussy, making me cry out. He takes my lips, swallowing my screams, and when I come, he follows close after with a groan.
Collapsing onto me, he rolls over, pulling me on top of him, pressing a sweet kiss to my lips. My heart thunders in my chest. “I feel better. When they said sex fixes everything, I thought it was a lie.”
Fergus throws his arm over his eyes and laughs. “I wasn’t planning on this. The minute I get my hands on you, it’s like my brain short circuits.”
I plant a kiss on his chest and give him a smile. “I love you.”
He has one hand on my ass and says with a soft voice, “Whatever we face, we face together.”
I nod.
As I slowly dress a few minutes later, there is this warm glow inside of me, a comfort that makes the pain subside.
Bryan sits outside, and my feet cover the distance between us, and I throw my arms around him. He holds me closely, and I feel his body radiate with guilt.
“Why are you so stupid?” I ask him, finally, anger in my tone.
He winces. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I should never have–”
“You did very bad things, Bryan,” my voice trembles. “And now you’re going to get in trouble, and I can’t–”
“One moment,” Philip interrupts.
I didn't realize he was here as well. Now that I look around the room, Ian and Zayn are also here.
Philip puts his arm around Bryan’s shoulders. “We had a talk. It seems Bryan failed his initiation.”
I fold my arms. “What does that mean?”
My baby brother shifts nervously. “It means that I never killed anybody.”
Philip gives me a small smile. “He can either serve time, or he can do community service by taking over the center that Seth was using for his purpose and fix it. Seth is surprisingly willing to give in the names of every member of his gang to get a lenient sentence. But there are still kids in the center who need guidance. And I feel Bryan, under some mentorship, can probably do a good job.”
I look at Bryan who nods. “I want to be a good person, Sarah. I’ll still continue with medical school.”
Fergus puts his arm around me, making my brother bristle.
“Problem, kid?”
Bryan’s jaw is taut. “That’s my sister.”
I glare at him. “Oh, you’re hardly in a place to be making–”
Fergus shakes his head at me and then studies the man in front of him. “I intend to marry her once I’ve got a chance to properly court her like she deserves.”
Bryan opens his mouth and then shuts it, before nodding. “Okay. I just… I want her to be happy. She deserves the very best. She’s been like a mother to me.”
My eyes water. “Stop it; you’re making me cry.”
“You can stay at my apartment,” I tell him, sniffling. “And you should tell Ruby to come back. She misses you.”
Then, I lean up and kiss Fergus, whispering, “You had better marry me. I don’t think I could eat another man’s cooking after this.”
He laughs, and the warmth blossoming inside my chest tells me that we will be fine. I have never been this happy in my whole life, the contentment a soothing balm inside my soul.
OFF-LIMITS BEST FRIEND
BOOK 3
1
Ian
“Mr. Sawyer, I’m leaving. Is there anything you need?”
I look up from where I am leaning against the luxurious mahogany desk that the previous CEO of Bearing Consulting purchased with the company’s funds. I am flipping through a contract that has more holes in it than swiss cheese, and my mood is considerably sour.
The thin, nervous-looking man at the door seems ready to piss himself when I glance up, his wiry glasses nearly falling off his nose when I straighten.
What is his name, again?
I have been at the company for two weeks trying to sort through the mess the last CEO left. So far, I’ve firmly decided that if I ever get a chance to meet Jack Lawson, I am going to wring his fat neck for bringing this company to the edge of bankruptcy.
“I need some documents from the finance department. They have them prepared. Get them for me before you go, Harding.”
The man swallows. “I-it’s Hastings, sir.” Then he waves his hands, wildly, “Not that it matters. You can call me Harding. Harding’s fine.”
“Why would I call you Harding if that’s not your name? Sorry for the mix-up.” I tell him.
I feel a hint of remorse for how agitated he is, but I can’t blame him. Two weeks here and I’ve already fired half the company.
I put down the contract. “What do you do here?”
His brown eyes widen comically. “Ah. I work here, sir.”
I tuck my tongue into my cheek. “I know you do, but what’s your position?”
His fingers twist around the strap of the satchel that hangs across his lean frame. “Ah, data- entry, mostly, sir.”
I stride over to the pile of employee files that I had my extremely incompetent assistant file alphabetically just this morning. Pulling out his file, I skim through it. I whistle.
“You’ve worked at Damara Industries for two years?” Hastings nods his head: quick obedient nods. “Then why are you here as a data entry assistant?” I ask, puzzled. “You could easily have been promoted there. You have a glowing recommendation.”
The man shakes his head. “They were asking me to go against my ethics. I chose to leave. And when I applied here, I thought I could climb up the ladder with time.”
I stare at his resume, his qualifications sparking my interest.
Snapping the file shut, mind made up, I give him a considering look. “I may be in the market for an assistant tomorrow. Are you interested in the position?”
For a few seconds, I think his eyes might fall out of his head, but he surprises me by regaining control and nodding. His voice is nearly a high-pitched squeak when he replies, “Yes, I am!”
I grin. “Good. You start tomorrow then. Fetch me the files before you leave, though, and put them on the desk outside.”
As he turns around and runs to the elevator, I feel pleased and am about to return to looking through the contract that I had just put aside when a glance at the wall clock tells me that I have already been at the office for over twelve hours.
Sighing, I pick up my phone, feeling my stomach rumble.
Maybe I can grab Agatha and we can head out to dinner.
Dialing the number of my best friend’s younger sister, I can’t help but smile.
Agatha had grown up with me, her brother, Philip, and our friends, Fergus and Zayn. While Fergus treats her as a beloved younger sister, Philip regards her as more of an annoying younger sibling that he loves but finds vaguely suffocating at times. Zayn and Agatha have more of a sibling rivalry thing going on, where they are either snarling at each other or conspiring together.
And that leaves me.
A frown slides onto my face as I consider my relationship with Agatha.
I have never been able to see her as a younger sister. Maybe a very close friend?
It is at that moment that she chooses to answer the phone.
“Ian?”
Hearing her warm voice after a shitty day of being surrounded by idiots, I can�
�t help but grin. “Hey. Want to grab some dinner?”
She hesitates. “Sorry. I’ve got dinner plans with somebody, already.”
I sigh and pick up my helmet. “Is there nothing I can say to convince you to have Thai food with me, instead?”
I hear her laughter. “Sure. Promise to rip my clothes off after, and I’m all yours.”
My heart skips a beat as an image flashes through my head. Keeping my voice light, I say, “It’s a school night, sorry.”
She chuckles, “Well, my date promises otherwise, Sawyer. Later!”
She ends the call, and I am left staring at the screen with a churning in my gut.
When was the last time Agatha had gone out on a date?
She is running her own PR firm, and her business is flourishing; she barely has the time to date. If I remember correctly, the last time she went out with somebody was a year ago.
I wonder who this guy is and why she didn’t mention him yesterday when she stopped by my office.
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and grab my keys and wallet.
Throwing my coat over my shoulder, I pick up my jacket, tuck my helmet under my arm, and stride out, my feelings a little conflicted at the image that Agatha threw my way.
I don’t want to imagine her naked.
With her soft blonde hair falling over bare porcelain skin, those pretty blue eyes that are surrounded by long dark lashes, looking at me like—
I freeze.
This is Agatha! I can’t think of my best friend’s sister like that.
However, as I make my way to the garage, I cannot help but be agitated.
My feelings for Agatha have always been complicated. Growing up around her, I used to flirt with her teasingly. It had become our thing: just light, casual flirting that never meant anything.
I force my feet to move and make my way to the garage. Nodding to the watchman, I tug on my leather jacket and run a hand over my Harley. The bike is my pride and joy. Putting on my helmet, I swing one leg over the side and blank my mind of all thoughts of Agatha.