Smoke (Archer's Creek Book 5)

by Gemma Weir

  “Sorry, babe, I think he just won that round,” Duke whispers into my ear; his hand that’s draped across the back of the couch dropping to squeeze my shoulder.

  “Be easier to win if I knew what game we were playing or why,” I say, wistfully.

  “The best games are the ones you don’t always know the rules to,” Duke says, surprising me, because I thought I’d spoken too quietly to be heard.

  “Until today, I didn’t even know we were playing,” I say, not taking my eyes from the door Justin just left through. Right now, he’s probably fucking her, or on his way to his place so he can screw her in his bed. What I don’t understand is why I care.

  The moment the doors swing closed behind me, I drop Amber to her feet and start to walk away.

  “Smoke,” she purrs.

  “Go home, Amber,” I snarl, stomping across the lot and toward my bike, glad that I’ve only had a couple of beers and am sober enough to drive.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Smoke?” she whines, her nasally little-girl tone like nails on a chalkboard.

  I ignore her, my cock limp and uninterested in my shorts despite Amber’s constant fucking grinding and rubbing on me. I’d be worried about the lack of action in my pants if I wanted Amber in any way, shape, or form, but I don’t. She’s hot enough, but I fucked her once years ago and I’ve got no interest in a repeat.

  Fucking Riley. I’ve managed to avoid her for two fucking weeks, but I knew there was no getting away from her today. What I hadn’t anticipated was how she would look in a tiny fucking bikini. Or how much of a possessive bastard I could be over someone that’s never been mine.

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t force myself to turn away from her. I’d have felt like a stalker, if her eyes hadn’t been as drawn to me as mine were to her. Whatever this is, I’m not in it alone. I don’t want to want her, but I don’t seem to be able to fucking help myself.

  When Amber crawled into my lap wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy bikini bottoms, I let her, to see what Riley would do; but her gaze stayed on me, almost like she didn’t see the woman rubbing at my dick.

  If this is a game we’re playing, then Riley’s poker face is a hell of a lot better than mine. Right now, I want to stomp back inside, drag Duke away from her, and beat the shit out of him. That fucker has been cosying up to Riley all night, making her laugh and smile; things that I never manage to do.

  I need to stop this back and forth between us, this unspoken challenge that’s pushing us to hurt the other one. But instead I just carried Amber out of there with her bare ass on display and I made sure Riley saw me do it. She doesn’t need to know that I have no intention of touching her. She doesn’t need to know that the only person I want to touch is her. Whatever the hell this game we’re playing is, I just won the first round.

  The ride home clears some of the frustration from my mind and by the time I unlock my door and walk into my apartment I’ve resolved to avoid Riley again. She’s only here for another few weeks. I can pick up extra shifts at Beavers on weekends until she’s gone, and everything goes back to normal.

  Kicking off my boots, I head for my bedroom, pulling my t-shirt over my head as I walk. My cell beeps and I pull it from my pocket and look at the screen.

  Grits: I need you to go pick up Riley tomorrow morning and take her to Beavers. She’s going to see if she can figure out where the missing money is going.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, balling my shirt up tightly in my fist and throwing it at the wall. The fabric unfurls the moment I release it, falling to the floor at my feet. Why, when I need to stay away from her, am I being forced into her orbit? I could text Grits back and tell her I can’t make it, but this is my job. Beavers is my future and if Riley can help figure out who’s stealing from us, then I need to find my balls and act like a man.

  No matter how crazy I feel around her, I can keep myself under control for an hour or so. Pushing my jeans down my hips, I step out of them, leaving them in a pile on the floor and climbing into bed in just my boxers. My apartment is quiet, but it’s still early and I know sleep is nowhere near ready to take me. I could get up and go get my vape, let some of Park’s weed help me drift off, but somehow, I don’t think even that will help.

  I replay the look on Riley’s face as I carried Amber out tonight. I don’t think it was anger or jealousy, but the way her eyes had widened and flashed with emotion, she’d felt something at seeing me with another woman.

  Just the thought of her has my cock jerking to life. Fuck, why do I react to her like I do? Dipping my hand beneath the sheets I grab my dick and squeeze it firmly, willing my erection to go away because I know it’s all for her. Her face, her perfect tits, the curve of her ass in that tiny fucking bikini. My hand slides up and down my hard length as the images fill my head: the breathy gasp she’d made when she’d slid down onto my dick; her nails on my shoulders as she rode me, chasing her orgasm, using me for her pleasure.

  I jerk my fist tighter and lift my hips, pushing myself further into my own hand as I think about the way her pupils had dilated, how her lips had parted when she’d come, how the muscles of her pussy had clamped down on my dick milking my release from me as she’d held on so tightly.

  I feel the pull in my balls, the tingling that spreads upwards until I explode, a stream of hot cum spilling onto my abs. A moment later, I collapse back onto the pillows, my hand still gripping my cock, my muscles lax and liquid.

  Pulling up outside Park’s apartment, my heart is racing. I’m not sure if it’s anticipation or anxiety, but either way I feel like a fucking pussy. Inhaling slowly, I climb out of the truck and make my way up to their apartment, letting myself in without bothering to knock. I’ve walked in on a couple of things I shouldn’t have seen by doing this, but these guys are my family and you don’t knock when it’s family.

  Riley is nowhere to be seen, but Park is in the kitchen cooking something in a skillet while Rosie makes coffee. “Mornin’,” I call.

  “Hey, sweetie, do you want a coffee?” Rosie asks.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  Crossing the room to the kitchen, I take the mug Rosie offers to me and lean my ass back against the counter, surreptitiously scanning the apartment for Riley.

  “She’s just getting dressed,” Rosie answers, a small smile twitching at the corner of her lips over the top of her coffee mug.

  I nod.

  “You pair think you can behave yourselves alone together, or should I come along and play chaperone?” Rosie asks, her eyebrow raised, her voice amused.

  Park sniggers and I reach out and slap him up the back of the head.

  “We’ll be fine,” I hiss in my most acid tone.

  Rosie scoffs, muttering “Sure you will,” under her breath, but loud enough so we can all hear it.

  I open my mouth to reply to her, just as the spare bedroom door opens and Riley appears. Her hair is pinned up into a messy bun, and she’s wearing jean shorts, and a white t-shirt printed with a picture of a pair of aviators and the words ‘talk to me Goose’.

  My dick surges to life and I silently curse that she has to be so fucking hot, so fucking tempting. Her eyes widen slightly when she spots me, as if she’s surprised to find me here.

  “Hey,” I say dumbly, wishing I’d stayed silent.

  “Err, hey,” she says back, her eyes staunchly avoiding making contact with me.

  The room falls silent and the quiet is suffocating.

  “Coffee,” Rosie calls, a little too loudly. Then she thrusts a cup toward Riley, who takes it quickly without even lifting her head.

  We all fall silent again. Wow, we are good at this. I’m not sure this could be anymore awkward if we tried. Instead of staring at Riley like I want to, I train my eyes on Rosie. She’s looking from me to Riley, then back again, like she’s watching a tennis match or some shit.

  “You want breakfast?” Park says, the only person in the room who seems unaffected by all of the strained silence.

 
“No thanks, I’m good,” Riley says, looking at Park and smiling.

  Why do I want to punch him right now? I am not jealous. I am not jealous. I chant silently to myself and it’s the truth, I swear it is. Only, maybe I do hate that she’ll look at him, but she won’t me. That she’s smiling at him, when all I get is snark or disinterest.

  “You ready?” I snap, my aggravation bubbling to the surface as I place my cup on the counter with a little more force than necessary.

  I watch as she pulls in a breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she exhales. Then she places her mug on the counter and turns to face me for the first time since she came into the room.

  “Let’s go.”

  With my head down, I follow Justin from Rosie and Park’s apartment like a prisoner being taken to the gallows. The moment I’d walked into the kitchen and seen him there, my body had reacted to him. My nipples had hardened, and heat had bloomed between my legs. My body is priming itself for action and I’m on defense trying to make sure it doesn’t happen. I know my mind is still telling me to run from him, but my heart and body have joined forces and I’m not sure I can resist him for much longer. I can barely admit it to myself; but seeing him leave with that girl last night had been torture.

  My dreams were plagued with visions of him fucking the blonde he left with, and this morning I feel an almost violent jealousy. I don’t want to spend this time with him. I was expecting Grits to come get me, but really I should have known I wouldn’t be that lucky. Fate keeps throwing us together; perhaps she’s amused by our animosity or the games we are always unknowingly playing with one another? Or perhaps she’s just a bitch who is amused by our discomfort? Who knows? Either way, Justin and I are stuck with each other, for today at least, or until I can say I’ve attempted to find out who is stealing from the strip club.

  The truck is the same one Justin picked me up in a few weeks ago; the same one we fucked in. Even though I know it’s impossible, I swear I can still smell the arousal and lust we created. The journey is silent and strained, and by the time we reach the strip club, ironically named ‘Leave it to Beavers’, I’m so anxious to get out of the cab that I fall over my own feet and crumple to a heap on the floor.

  “Fuck,” I cry, as gravel scraps at my hands and knees. “I had to get the fucking clumsy gene, not Anna or Tiff, it had to be me,” I rant, as I inhale sharply and push myself up from the floor. A hand appears in front of me and I lift my eyes to Justin, expecting to see his smug grin or amused smile.

  Eyes filled with something that looks a lot like concern greet me. When I don’t take his hand, he bends down and lifts me from the floor as though I weigh nothing, then he closes the truck door I just fell out of behind us, and carries me to the entrance.

  “I can walk,” I say quietly.

  “I know,” he replies, his arms tightening around me as he pulls keys from his pocket and opens the door, holding it open with his back while he carries me through, then locking it behind us. The club is quiet and dark, with almost no natural light leaking into the room. He walks us down a short entrance hall, then into a large room that contains a stage, seating, and the bar. Moving behind the bar, he carries me into an office and carefully lowers me down onto the big desk that fills most of the space.

  His hands frame my face and he stares at me, his eyes assessing my features. Abruptly, he releases me and circles the desk. Dropping a first aid kit at my side, he pulls out a sterile wipe and rips it open before falling to his knees and oh-so-carefully lifting my leg to see to the graze on my knee. He cleans the gravel from the scrape, then pulls out another wipe and moves to the other knee.

  He cleans both knees, then both palms, covering them in antiseptic salve and Band-Aid’s. The whole time neither of us says a word. I just watch as he takes care of me. When he’s finished, he wipes his own hands with another wipe and drops all of the rubbish into the bin.

  My chest is rising and falling steadily, but I feel like I’m on the verge of hyperventilation. His gaze locks with mine, his eyes still swimming with concern, and I can’t help it, I reach for him. The moment my fingers graze his shoulder he jolts from my touch, his eyes widening and his breath becoming audible.

  Sliding down from the desk, I straighten in front of him, his enormous frame dwarfing me. Then I slide my fingers up his arm to the back of his neck and pull him toward me. As if my touch is enough to shatter his resolve, he launches himself at me, wrapping his arms around me and taking my lips with his.

  I meet him halfway, slamming my mouth to his, in an explosion of lips and tongues. We fight for the upper hand, tongues tangling together as he holds me close. His hands roam my body, cupping my ass and seeking out my tight, sensitive nipples that are hard pebbles, aching to be touched.

  Without finesse, I shove my hands into his jeans and reach for his hard cock, gripping it eagerly. He inhales sharply and his hands go to my waist, undoing the button of my shorts and unceremoniously shoving them over my hips and down to the floor.

  His fingers go to my pussy, pushing my panties to the side before he buries two fingers inside of me. My eyes fall closed and I rise up onto my tiptoes, mewling at the immediate pleasure. Not giving me a moment to think, he pumps his fingers in and out, his lips moving to my neck to nip and bite at the skin.

  I grip his dick tighter and slide my hand up and down in time with the movement of his fingers in my pussy. An orgasm starts to build, and my breathing becomes ragged.

  “You’re gonna come on my cock,” he rasps, seconds before he pulls his fingers out of me and spins me, shoving me down onto the desk. I throw my hands out to stop myself from face-planting against the wood, then lower my chest down onto the surface.

  My panties are ripped from my body, and firm fingers take hold of one wrist, pulling my hand behind me until it rests on my back. He does the same with the other, holding both of my wrists pinned at the base of my spine.

  “Look at you,” he rasps against my cheek.

  My pussy is swollen and achy, desperate to be filled, to find release. Clenching my thighs, I try to ease the pulse, but his hand cups my sex stopping me.

  “No,” he orders, sliding his fingers forward to pinch my clit.

  Squirming, I try to push into his touch, wanting to move his fingers to where I need them, but the hand that’s holding my wrists squeezes slightly stopping me.

  “What do you want, sweetheart?”

  “Justin,” I gasp.

  “Tell me.”

  Rising up onto my toes, I try to lift my hips, moving them closer to his cock, but his palm slides round to my ass and roughly squeezes, stopping my movements.

  “You don’t get anything until you tell me what you want.” He says, his teeth pulling at my earlobe. “Do you want my fingers? Do you want to fuck my hand until your juices are running down my fingers and you come?”

  “Oh God,” I moan, his dirty words making me needier.

  “Or do you want my cock? You might not be interested in me, but I know you like my dick. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? Do you want me to fuck you like this, face down, bent over my desk? Do you want me to fuck your cunt from behind then pull out and come all over your back?”

  “Yes,” I groan. “Yes.”

  “I can feel you getting wetter, sweetheart. I wonder if I can make you drip all over the floor.” His fingers slide back into me, filling me completely. “You like me holding you down like this. What else do you like? I bet you like having your hair pulled and your ass spanked, don’t you?”

  Slowly he slides his fingers out, then thrusts them all the way back in again, and I moan, biting my lip to stop a scream escaping.

  “So wet, sweetheart. Do you want my cock?”

  “Yes,” I cry.

  His fingers leave me, and I feel the blunt head of his cock pushing at my entrance. The tip slips inside my pussy and I wait for him to fill me, to stretch me, but it doesn’t come. With only the head of his cock teasing me he stills. “Justin,” I whine.


  “That’s not my name is it, sweetheart? Use my name.”

  “Smoke,” I hiss, desperate. “Please.”

  “That’s better, baby. Now tell me what you want.”

  “Fuck me.”

  “What else, Riley?”

  Frustrated, I push back against his cock, trying to force him into me.

  “You’re not interested in me. That’s right isn’t it, baby? So tell me exactly what you want me to do,” he says, his voice harder, angrier than before.

  “Fuck me, and spank me,” I growl.

  The moment I finish speaking his cock slams home, filling me so quickly that I suck in a startled breath. Before I get a chance to breathe again, he pulls out and thrusts into me, setting a punishing pace. My first orgasm shatters inside of me at the same time that his open palm smacks down against my ass cheek. I scream from a mixture of pleasure and pain, the emotions melding together in an explosion so powerful that the moment the first orgasm fades, his cock sparks another to life.

  My hands gripped tightly behind my back, I lie there unable to move, just taking the pleasure he’s giving me. His cock thrusts in and out of me, his hand slaps down on my ass, and the sensation is so intense, so powerful that I clench my eyes tightly shut and try to memorize how this feels. How his cock fills me so completely I can feel it in my stomach; how the stinging heat in my ass is both painful and wonderful. His movements become frantic, his hips battering against my ass as his thrusts get rougher and then he groans. The sound is so primal, so masculine, that I moan in response; filled with a sense of womanly pride that I made him utter that sound. Then he stills and collapses onto me, his weight hitting my back.

  Breath ragged, I sag against the desk beneath me, my muscles turning to mush, my heart beating so fast I can feel it in my throat. I want to say something, to speak, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say. His soft lips touch my neck and then his weight lifts from me and his grip on my wrists loosens.

  The moment he’s away from me, I feel bereft, and for a second I consider begging him to come back, to press up against me again, to be close. Pushing up from the desk I turn around to look at him, pulling at my bottom lip with my teeth.