Exposed (Haven Cove)

by Lola Finn

  My tongue pushes deep inside her, and she moans.

  “Yes. Yes—oh, God.” She clutches my hair, rolling her hips and shamelessly riding my face. Fucking hell, this chick is about as close to perfect as it gets.

  I move my mouth up and wrap my lips around her swollen clit, slipping a finger inside her tight little pussy. Her hips rock faster as I thrust, slowly working in a second finger and feeling her stretch around them. She locks her thighs around my head, grinding faster against me and panting harder with each flick of my tongue, coaxing her closer and closer to the edge.

  “Come for me, baby girl,” I growl into her. “Come hard for me, and then I’m going to bury my fat cock inside this perfect little cunt.”

  Palmer cries out, spasming around my fingers, her clit pulsing against my tongue. She comes hard, moaning so loud anyone close to the bathroom door will know exactly what’s going on in here.

  And I couldn’t fucking care less, pumping my fingers into her faster and sucking on her clit to draw out every scream she has, wanting to own them all. She squeezes me with her pussy walls and her thighs around my head, the pleasure rolling through her and making me so fucking hard that I could come just to the sounds of her orgasm.

  My phone dings in my pocket just as she sags against the wall, whimpering and breathless. I slide my tongue over her one last time before I lower her to the floor and straighten up. Her eyes are still liquid fire, and I crash my lips into hers. She moans, tasting how fucking sweet she is, and starts to pull at my jeans.

  I help her out, popping the button before I spin her around, making her gasp when I bend her over the sink. My hand grips her firm ass, but as I draw my zipper down, my phone goes off again.

  Fuck.

  I reluctantly pull it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen.

  “Fuck,” I growl, seeing Cole’s text.

  And a second later there’s a knock at the door.

  “Yeah.” I shove the phone in my pocket.

  “Sorry, man,” Cole says from the other side. “Becca’s gotta work in half an hour, and her sitter just bailed. You want me to just call a ride?”

  My brain is foggy, so drunk on her taste I almost tell him yes, but considering I’m the guy who told him there was no point in taking two vehicles, I rezip my pants.

  “Just give me a second.”

  Palmer spins at my words, her eyes dropping to my hand as I button my jeans. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.” I tug her thong out of my pocket and crouch down again, kissing the inside of her thigh as I lift her foot to slip them back on over her sandal, and then the other.

  As I slide them up her legs, I straighten. Then I run my hands over the globes of her ass, pressing her back against the counter, my cock hard as steel as I grind it into her, eliciting another one of those sweet moans.

  “Anyone else,” I tell her, nipping at her jaw, “and I’d tell them to fuck off until I’ve sunk my cock into every hole on this gorgeous body.”

  She whimpers at my words, and it’s almost enough to have me telling my best friend to walk his ass to his sister’s, but if there’s one thing that’s worn off on me over the years, it’s loyalty.

  “Be here tomorrow. Same time—”

  “Same bathroom?” she finishes, her eyebrow cocking. Then she hands me her phone. “In case you get lost.”

  I smirk, putting my number in and kissing her as I give it back. Our tongues swirl together, our bodies amping up again until I’m thrusting into her, and she’s writhing against me.

  “Shit.” I finally break away. “I might need a bedtime story if I’m ever going to sleep tonight. A picture book of your glistening little pussy.”

  She smiles, and I growl, forcing myself to back away from her and walk out the door.

  “Sorry about that, man,” Cole says.

  “Don’t be. Good things come to those who wait, right?”

  I glance back at the bathroom door and blow out a breath as I follow him through the bar. If she doesn’t text me naked pictures, my cock might never forgive me.

  Chapter Three

  Palmer

  By the time I finish my shower in the morning, I’m still smiling like an idiot. The same smile I’ve had since I waltzed back through the iron gate last night after the cab dropped me off outside the resort.

  My bunkmates were asleep when I crept through the door to our cabin, so I quickly changed and crawled under the covers. Not that I went to sleep—or even stayed in my sleep shorts and ratty tee.

  And for every picture I sent, Brigg’s repaid the favor. I might have only rubbed his cock through his jeans at the bar, but it’s just as long and thick as it felt. Our texts heated as fast as our glances had, and then he had me coming on my fingers to pictures of him while he stroked his cock to ones of me.

  It was dirty, filthy even, and I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to him already.

  As I walk back into my cabin from the staff showers down the path, my phone buzzes in my shower bag.

  Haven Cove might be the favorite summer spot for the country’s elite, but it’s also the only place you’ll find spoiled rich brats willing to stay in slasher film style cabins in the trees just for work. Thin, single cots and lukewarm water in the shared shower stalls.

  I pull out my phone, my belly flipping at Brigg’s message.

  Woke up hard as a rock. Send me something to fix it.

  I bite my lip and glance around my empty cabin. The options for backdrops and lighting aren’t the best, then again, he sure as hell wasn’t complaining when I was shooting pictures from under a GD blanket at three this morning.

  After a second, I just drop my towel in the center of the cabin and tease my fingers down my tummy, snapping a picture just as they reach my bare pussy.

  He answers almost immediately.

  Fuck, Palmer. You’re gorgeous.

  I smile and then blush, imagining him jerking his thick cock while looking at my picture. Knowing tonight he’ll be screwing me in a scummy bar bathroom has my skin on fire. Not how most girls would want to lose their virginity, but the second I saw Briggs last night, where and how it happened didn’t matter. I just wanted it to be him.

  Before I get lost in lust over him and all the things he promised to do to me in a little over twelve hours, I toss my phone on my cot.

  Today’s the first time I put any effort into my hair, aside from throwing it up into a high ponytail. There wasn’t much of a point being in the gym for eight hours. But instead of gym clothes, I wiggle into my tight khaki shorts and Haven Cove’s signature teal polo.

  Working the reception desk for the resort and the attached hotel might not be my dream job, but it is a million times better than the hell that was being a personal trainer. Most of the resort guests stay the entire twelve weeks, so they only use reception if they need something with billing or are closer to us than their suite, which has its own concierge in the building, but the hotel has a steady stream of guests coming and going for the weekends.

  After I slip on a pair of flats—fuck you, sneakers—I rush up the hill from the staff cabins to the main resort. Another perk, I cut my walk in half since the administration building is right at the top. I rush inside with three minutes to spare, feeling more awake than I probably should given the lack of sleep.

  “Five minutes early is still late in Oliver’s eyes,” Ms. Jacobson says when she spots me, coming down the hall toward her office.

  She’s the head of human resources and a close friend to the Cabot family. She used to nanny for the owner’s children, Knox and Kennedy, and sometimes I think she loves this job so much because it’s like she gets to nanny the whole lot of us.

  “Early is late. Noted for tomorrow.” I pause in front of her and grin. “So, Oliver?”

  “Your new boss, my dear.” She spins on her heels, and I follow her through the doors to the main lobby and across to the reception area. “He’s the one you’ll be reportin
g to, and one of Mr. Cabot’s favorites, so keep that in mind.”

  In other words, don’t piss him off. The same rule staffers and guests alike follow in regard to all members of the Cabot family and anyone they’re close to. I straddled that line with Knox, trusting Leighton, my bunkmate, and his girlfriend…and soon to be stepsister, to not let him fire me. But I doubt she’ll have the same pull with this Oliver guy.

  “Did you finish all of your paperwork?” Ms. Jacobson pauses by the front desk with the giant Haven Cove sign and waterfall trickling down the wall behind it.

  I nod, handing her my file to add to the pile of paper already in her hands.

  “Perfect. I’ll introduce you to Oliver.” She ushers me around the desk through an opening that leads to a small hallway behind the wall with a closed office door and then what looks like a small break room beside it.

  She knocks, and I glance at the nameplate outside the office, simply reading Guest Services and Hotel Management. Oliver must be one of the few year-round employees like Ms. Jacobson if he runs the hotel, which stays open during the off-season.

  After a few beats, we don’t hear anyone on the other side, and she sighs. “Must be out handling something. All right then…”

  She purses her lips, thinking it over before taking me back out front. Her eyes widen when she sees a housekeeper walking by in a sand-colored polo.

  “Excuse me,” she calls, and the girl turns around. Ms. Jacobson smiles, sweet and genuine. “Would you mind Palmer here tagging along as you start cleaning rooms this morning? She’s taking over the reception desk, but she’ll need to learn the rest of guest services eventually.”

  The girl forces a smile, looking at me. “Sure. No problem.”

  But as soon as Ms. Jacobson walks away, her expression sours, and she marches off without me. I sigh, following along behind her.

  “You know how to clean a toilet?” she asks over her shoulder. “Or do you have people who do that for you along with everything else?”

  I roll eyes, not bothering with an answer. Sometimes I forget about the rivalry between the ivies and townies. I mean, Leighton was technically a townie when we first started bunking together, but she and I have never had an issue getting along.

  The housekeeper, however, has zero interest in anything but barking orders.

  We start with a room on the second floor of the hotel, and I glance around on our way inside. The room has all the luxurious elements as the suites at the main resort, but far smaller and without the need for personal references and a black card. The guests here also only have access to the beach unless they pay extra for the golf course, whereas the resort is open to services from the gym, spa, private swim, and tennis lessons. The list goes on and on, and if something isn’t on the list, it will be added…for a price, of course.

  I almost went with tennis when I first thought about applying at Haven Cove last year but switched to getting my certification in personal training at the last second. With years of tennis lessons under my belt, it would have been easy to get and most likely more enjoyable than the gym, but they cut down on the tennis coaches, so trainer was the better bet.

  People unfamiliar with the dynamic of the Cove always think it’s ridiculous how we fight and spend hours upon hours earning certifications and licenses we only plan to use for a summer or two. But for us, we know the power of even one season here. Two years ago, a guy who graduated from my boarding school in Rhode Island finally scored a job here after trying for three years. Within the first half of the summer, he’d met one of the largest media moguls in the country, scored an internship, then a job, and he’s on the fast track for VP of the news division at twenty-three.

  It takes one run-in, a one-on-one session, someone calling for a fresh towel in the middle of the night, and your entire career can take off before you even start your first semester of school.

  That’s why I’m here. I knew a job at the Cove was a must a few years ago when Jessica Niel started vacationing here with her husband, an oil baron or something. Her fashion and lifestyle magazine and blog Verse offers an internship every year, which basically opens every journalistic door you can imagine, and I have no plans on leaving this damn resort until I’ve met her, impressed her, and made her fall head over heels in love with me. Okay, maybe not the last one, but my entire summer is centered around the first two.

  As I walk out of the bathroom after cleaning the toilet—yes, I knew how—the townie tosses a sweat-soaked sheet past my head to her cart, and I almost gag.

  People are disgusting.

  We’re moving to the next room when the radio hanging off of the cleaning cart chirps, and she freezes at the voice, unlike the other fifty times the device has gone off since we got on the elevator.

  “If anyone sees my new employee for reception,” the lowly voice growls, “tell her she has two minutes to be in my office, or else she can con her way into a different job.”

  Fuck, is that me?

  The housekeeper gives me a raised eyebrow when my eyes fly to her. “He’s not joking.”

  “Shit.” I shove her cart out of the way and rush to the elevator, nervously bouncing while I wait for it to come.

  I’m mentally counting down the time when the doors open, and I dart inside. The second the doors ding and open, I run out and back to the reception area. I think I’m at about thirty seconds when I round the desk, but I come to a dead stop just outside the now open office door.

  Brent Cabot is standing inside, with his arms crossed as he talks with the man in front of the wide cherrywood desk. The second guy’s back is to me, scanning through papers. The white, expertly pressed dress shirt stretches across wide shoulders, his entire presence just as commanding as the owner’s beside him. But since he’s the one I’ve already annoyed on my first day, his gives me more of a chill.

  Not sure whether I should interrupt, I hover in the hallway, waiting for them to stop talking even though my two minutes are dangerously close to being up.

  “Right, I think that’s the best thing to do,” Mr. Cabot mutters. He turns his head then, his eyes falling on me. He smirks a little as a greeting, not coming off as intimidating as we all know he can be.

  The only other time I’ve met him was once when he stopped by our cabin to surprise Leighton. Having his future stepdaughter as a bunkmate garnered me a friendly smile and hello then, but I have no idea if he even remembers me.

  He taps the other man on the arm. “I believe this belongs to you, Briggs.”

  My entire body numbs at the same time as the guy spins. Our eyes connect, and in that second, the entire world drops out from under my feet.

  Oh. My. God.

  The same dark gaze from last night locks onto me. Only instead of heated like it was when he had his tongue buried in my pussy less than twelve hours ago, Briggs is now glaring at me.

  Oliver Briggs. My new boss.

  “Name?” he asks, not missing a beat.

  I blink a few times, trying to clear my brain. “Palmer.” My voice sounds weak, shaky even, so I swallow and add, “Evans.”

  Last names are how everyone around here forms their opinion of you, and I notice a slight head nod from Mr. Cabot, but nothing but a scowl from Briggs.

  “Briggs,” he growls out.

  No nice to meet you or, hey, I jerked off to a picture of you last night…and less than an hour ago. I blush, remembering the last text I sent, and his jaw clenches, telling me he’s followed my train of thought.

  “We’ll finish this later, Briggs,” Mr. Cabot says, gathering the papers from the desk. He gives a quick smile on his way past me. “Miss Evans.”

  I somehow find it in me to give him a small wave, not otherwise daring to move as I look back at Briggs. My heart pounds because, despite the last thirty seconds or so, I can’t stop imagining the way he groaned as I rubbed his hard cock through his jeans last night and the blazing look in his eyes when he tasted me.

 
Now I try not to even breathe to avoid making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing.

  His gaze sweeps over me, sending my entire body into overdrive.

  Then his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes return to mine.

  “Shut the door, Palmer.”

  Chapter Four

  Briggs

  A few minutes ago, I thought this was the morning from hell. Now, I have no fucking clue what to even call it.

  First, I was late to work because I stayed up half the night texting…Palmer. Dirty, filthy messages that starred a few body parts I never planned for any of my staff at Haven Cove to become even mildly acquainted with. And the pictures she sent back, well, they kept me up in more than one way, stroking my hard cock and asking for just a little more each time. Which I had zero regrets over in the moment. Even an hour ago when I jerked off to her perky tits before my shower.

  But then I was late for work, which never happens. On top of it, I spent ten minutes trying to hunt down my new employee for the reception desk, causing me to be late for my weekly meeting with Brent. At least he found it amusing to hear me threaten her job over the damn radio channel in order to get her ass where she needed to be.

  One thing about me? I take my job dead serious. If not for Brent Cabot, I wouldn’t have the life I have now—fuck, I might not even have a life. My mother picked winner after winner, and when my dad finally bailed for good, she ping-ponged around until she found a guy who treated her just as bad.

  Mix in some alcohol, a man who loved to slap his girlfriend around, and a testosterone-filled teenager, and what do you get? Me, beating his fucking ass the next time he laid a hand on her. Of course, I’m the one my mom kicked out for hurting the man who left her broken and bloody more often than not.

  I was sixteen and sneaking into a Cabot hotel every night for a place to sleep when none other than the big man himself busted me in one of his luxury suites. He should have thrown my ass in jail or at least back out onto the street.