by Lola Finn
And my life has never been the same since.
“You have anything else for me?” he asks, standing with his phone in hand. “Or you mind if we cut it short? I have six missed calls from Frederick, and I need to make sure he’s not trying to hang antlers on my crystal chandeliers.”
I snort and rise from my cushy executive chair at the conference table. Twenty minutes ago, every department head was in here, but the two of us always stay behind to go over the extras. He thrusts his hand into mine on his way by and then slaps me on the back.
“Doing great, kid.”
He’s only halfway out of the room when he starts growling orders into the phone back to the Brent Cabot everyone knows and fears. I follow him out, but as I go, I notice a drag in my chest, a slight resistance I don’t usually feel after meeting with him.
Then I reach into my pocket for my phone and feel the fucking fabric bunched up.
Guilt. That’s what I’m feeling.
Because after leaving the meeting with the man I owe my life to, I’m heading back to the lobby with the intention of shoving the thong in my pocket into a drawer for the front desk receptionist to find. The thong I jerked off into last night. The receptionist I sent a video of it to, who works for me. For Brent.
Shit.
I step off the elevator, and as I’m crossing the lobby, I hear a familiar voice that I could really fucking use right now.
“Briggs,” Cole shouts across the space, his voice bouncing off the stone-tile floors and the vaulted ceilings in this part of the admin building.
I don’t even bother turning around, just sticking my arm backward and pointing in his general direction. “Mo’s at nine,” I call back.
When I round the corner into the reception area, I breeze past Palmer, her panties still in my pocket. Palmer, the quiet little ivy with one hell of a secret, hiding behind those dark green irises. Well, two if you count me.
Our eyes meet for a brief second, but neither of us says anything.
It’s the game we play—the dirty, filthy game where we only say the real things over a screen. The thing is, as hot and thrilling as it’s been, I’m not entirely sure how much either of us wants to play it anymore.
I also don’t think either of us knows how to quit.
And no, I have zero fucking clue what that means.
***
The bar is loud tonight, voices yelling and the music blaring. A pack of guys from another town have invaded the small space, and from the chanting and all around douchery, I’d say frat brothers, reuniting for a few days mid-summer.
They crowd around the pool table in the far back, having pulled together several of the high-top tables to set up a longer table to stand around. Which means, they’re almost directly beside Cole and me, in our regular booth.
Fuck, maybe I am a townie if I have a regular booth at Mo’s Tavern.
“You seem more pissy than usual,” Cole says, thumbing through his phone. “New lobby chick still getting to you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I spit back, and my best friend smirks, not even looking up.
“So glad I only have to put up with you once a week now.”
Even though he lives in Seaside Heights, he only works at Haven Cove during the summer. In tips alone, he can make enough to live off of for the rest of the year and pay for both semesters at the college he attends in the next town over.
We can hang out whenever the hell we want to then, but these three summer months really eat up our time, taking us down to one coordinated visit to Mo’s a week.
“I’m just tired,” I tell him. “It’s been a long fucking week.”
“No longer than the last one.” He sets his phone down and gives me a smug grin. “Just this week you’ve had a Briggs moral dilemma.”
“Yeah?” I ask, bringing my beer to my lips. “And what the fuck is that?”
“When you take something gray and try to separate the black and white out anyway.”
I give him a look, and he holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. We won’t talk about how you need to just screw the receptionist already. How about this one? I heard your biggest fan complaining to someone in the break room the other day about you ‘playing hard to get’ or whatever.”
Isabelle. Cole’s been along for that entire ride, making fun of me the whole way.
“Yeah, same old shit. She offered to drive me home today. Like I don’t have my own fucking car?”
“She’s obsessed,” Cole says. “Can’t get enough of that asshole charm you throw at everyone.”
“Fuck yes!” one of the guys in the group shouts.
I glance that way, annoyed by how fucking loud these pricks are being over a goddamn game of darts. But then they all start to quiet down, slapping at each other and nodding toward the door.
“Oh, shit,” Cole says.
When I follow his gaze to the front of the bar, the same sentiment bounces around in my head when I see Palmer Evans walking through the big wooden door. By the time it closes behind her, I’ve already been through a complete replay of the last time we were here.
And like then, every head swivels to see her, the locals suspicious as hell of anyone who looks like they might be an ivy or resort guest stepping into their bar. The frat guys are looking for a different reason, though. The same one that had me glued to her last week.
She has on spiked heels, an even shorter skirt than the other one, and the bunched fabric in the center of her top draws the eye straight to her full tits.
Because we can’t help ourselves, our eyes lock from across the bar and all the sparks and desire from the first night and every other time descend around us. But then she narrows her eyes at me and looks away.
I think about going over. Asking why she’s here again, but I have a feeling the reason will be the same as the first time I asked her.
Me.
It takes approximately twenty seconds for the first one of the buzzards from the pool table to make his move, heading straight toward her and even stopping right in my line of sight.
My grip tightens on my beer.
Then he turns around, nodding to his group of friends as he coaxes her back to join them. Her eyes catch mine again, and she gives me a bratty smile and shrugs, passing right by my booth.
I glance over my shoulder as they practically surround her then. One little fish for all of those sharks.
When I shake my head, rotating back around, I come face to face with Cole. He’s smirking at me, and I blow out a breath before taking a long drink from my beer.
“Want to talk about Isabelle more?” he asks.
“Nope.” I take another drink, ignoring a breathy giggle that goes straight to my cock.
“Want another round?”
I shake my head and grab my phone off the table, my blood boiling.
What are you doing, Palmer?
Looking over at the circus of three of them trying to snag her attention at once, I see her check her phone before she lowers it and goes back to the three guys without missing a beat.
Did you come down here just to try and make me jealous?
This time, she reads the message and taps at the screen, her gaze meeting mine as my phone vibrates in my hand. Then I look down at her text.
That depends. Is it working?
My eyes lift, her attention on one of the guys as he moves his hand to her lower back. Her eyes pop up to mine the second he touches her, and everything turns to kindling between us, the booths, the tables, the fucking patrons, all fuel for the fire burning between us.
And I’m fucking done.
When she looks away, I growl, throwing cash on the table as a tip for Mo and glancing at Cole as I stand.
“You going to fuck the receptionist?” he asks, picking up his phone because he already knows the answer.
“Yep.”
But it’s more than that. I’m about to cross the line far enough that I can’t go back
. I don’t even want to go back. I want her. I want to claim her in front of all these little douchebags. I want to do to her all the things I’ve texted her and she’s written in her secret little posts.
As I stride across the bar, the blood thundering through me, one thing is for sure.
I’m about to own Palmer Evans.
Chapter Ten
Palmer
Ten more minutes.
When I walked in the door, I promised myself I would only do this for ten more minutes, and if Briggs couldn’t get through his shit by then, I’d find someone else. Or at least stop trying to make me and Briggs happen.
We’ve been toeing the line, crossing it, backing up and crossing it again, and are at a point we just need a push. Which is why the second I heard Briggs shout Mo’s across the lobby I knew I needed to be here tonight. That’s about where my plan ended, but Tucker and his frat brothers barhopping for one of their birthdays at least gave me something to work with.
Tucker’s the only one who dares get too close, all of them wary of the death glares aimed at them from the corner booth.
I giggle at the appropriate time, fluttering my eyelashes at the joke one of the beefy guys playing pool just made. I have no idea what he said, but it doesn’t matter.
Every sound and move is for Briggs, a part of the game. It might be childish to try to make him jealous, but I don’t care. I just want his gaze on me, and right now, I feel it from across the bar, and it burns.
Tucker gets even more brave and slides his arm around my waist, drawing me into his side. I look up, my gaze locking with Briggs, and it all flashes between us. We both know the arm around me is the wrong one. It should be him.
It’s supposed to be him.
Then the cracks widen, Briggs throwing money on the table. And then he’s crossing the bar, long strides, and my breath comes faster. I don’t even realize I’m backing up until Tucker’s arm falls away because all I see is Briggs, stalking toward me like he’s about to tear me apart.
And I want him to.
He doesn’t slow down, catching me around the waist, his lips crashing into mine. In the same breath, he’s hiking me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. Our tongues collide, the rest of the world fucking stopping for us while he claims my mouth. I throw my arms around his neck while I throw the rest into the kiss, his strong hands gripping my ass as I moan.
I’m breathless, panting and aching.
“Mine,” he growls.
The word goes straight to my clit, setting off the buzz that hasn’t fully died since his fiery gaze first landed on me. I kiss him ravenously, his mouth claiming mine in a hot, soul stealing kiss as he carries me out of the bar, the hot and humid summer air sticking to our skin.
He opens the driver door to a black SUV and climbs in with me still in his arms, our faces inches from each other as he slams the door closed. The seat suddenly moves back, giving me room between him and the steering wheel. His teeth tug at my bottom lip before he skims his mouth down to my neck, sucking and licking at my skin like he’ll never get enough.
I straddle his thighs, moaning when he pulls my hips down, his cock thick between my legs through our clothes. My pussy throbs with just the heat of him pressing against me, and I grind down, desperate for friction.
“God, baby, you feel so good.”
He thrusts up with his words, and I moan again, drawing a sly smirk from him. His hand reaches between us, pulling open the button to his jeans. I move back all the way against the steering wheel as he raises his hips, pushing them and his boxers down, and I suck in a breath when his big, thick cock bobs up between us.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
But that’s all I get out before Briggs’s lips seal over mine again. He drags my hips back forward, groaning when the underside of his shaft presses against the soaking wet material between my legs.
“Fuck, Palmer.”
He drops his hand down between my legs, his thumb gliding up my wet slit through my panties before he grips the fabric and rips them off. I gasp as he jerks me forward, and my bare pussy touches the silky hard skin of his enormous cock. The contact sends a shiver over me, heated pleasure shooting through my body.
I grind against him, dragging up his long shaft and sliding back down while his hard cock slips between my lips. We keep moving, getting hotter and our breaths faster. I whimper as he grips my hips, moving me up and down his length.
“Briggs.” I writhe against him, his cock glistening from my soaking wet pussy.
He growls, reaching around me for something. “You keep doing what you’re fucking doing, baby.”
I’m so lost in him, my body strung so tight, I don’t even register the jingling of keys until they turn in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and my eyes fly to his.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Briggs smirks, his hand moving to the shifter. “I live less than a mile up the road. So, you have until then to come.”
He changes gears before his arm wraps around my waist, and when he thrusts up, the pulsing head of his cock hits my clit.
“Oh my God.” I moan, my head falling back.
And suddenly we’re moving. Not only us but the SUV. I shamelessly ride the underside of his thick cock, bouncing up and down in his lap, leaning forward so he can see around me. My hips rock against him over and over, my body in a trance, heat spreading through me so good and so deep that I can’t help but chase it.
“Make that sweet little pussy come all over my cock, Palmer.” Briggs thrusts against me, his thickness pushing against my clit. “Make a fucking mess on me, baby.”
We slow down, turning into a driveway, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Pleasure starts to ripple through me, growing until my body is in a frenzy as I pump myself up and down Briggs’s bare cock, slick and slippery from my juices.
Suddenly Briggs hits the brakes, throwing the vehicle into park, and then his lips bruise mine. His kiss is blistering and sends chills over my skin with its intensity, his tongue dragging over mine like my hips do his. He grips my ass, grinding us into each other hard, and I come apart, screaming as he thrusts up into me.
My mind shatters as I come, Briggs groaning and pressing the base of his cock into my clit over and over. I feel my pussy fluttering against him, moaning through the last of my release, and Briggs growls.
“Jesus, the noises you make should be fucking illegal.”
He kills the engine and throws open the driver door, climbing out. We’re in a garage, but I only get a glimpse before Briggs pulls my face back to his. Our tongues tangle, my hips still shifting against him as he opens the door and carries me inside. I’m sure I’ll get the full tour later, when his cock isn’t throbbing against my bare pussy.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve already fucked you in my head today?” he says against my lips.
“Tell me,” I rasp, kissing him harder as he walks us into a bedroom.
“Nah, baby. I’m going to show you.”
My feet hit the floor then, and he pushes up my hot pink top, peeling it over my head. His eyes drop to my chest, blazing as they rake over my tits, his fingers sliding up my sides.
“Fucking Christ, Palmer.” He dips down, sucking a hard nipple into his mouth as he teases the other, my head falling back as the sensation redirects to my clit.
His hard, heavy cock brushes my stomach, and I wrap my hand around it, my fingers not even touching.
“Yeah, baby. Rub my cock.”
His words send a shiver of pleasure through me, and I glide my hand up and down his wide, long shaft, still wet from my pussy.
Briggs shoves down my skirt along with what’s left of my ripped, drenched panties, and then strips off his shirt before his mouth crashes into mine. We turn desperate, his hands dropping to my ass, and I squeal when he lifts me up.
He drops me onto the bed, and I sink into a plush gray comforter that I can admit is nicer than the sink
in the bathroom at Mo’s. He crawls toward me but stops, hooking me by the legs and dragging me down to him, and without any warning, his mouth drops onto my pussy.
We both moan as he licks all the way up my slit.
“Shit, you’re so sweet.”
His fingers swipe through the wetness at my entrance, making me whimper, and then he glances up, bringing them to my lips. Briggs drags the pads of his fingers across my lips, and when they part for him, he slips his fingers into my mouth, groaning when I suck on them, I taste myself on them, swirling my tongue around while his licks up and down my pussy.
“Fuck.” I moan, pushing my hands through his hair as he circles the tip of his tongue around my swollen, sensitive clit. “Briggs.”
He slips two fingers inside me, pumping them in and out. “You’re going to come on my face, and then I’m going to fuck this gorgeous little cunt like I should have the first time I saw you.”
“Yes, oh God.” I buck against his mouth when his lips seal over my pussy, sucking fiercely on my tight little bundle of nerves, driving me wild as everything centers around that little nub.
Briggs thrusts his fingers faster, swirling his tongue, and when he strokes just right inside me, I shudder and spiral out of control. He curls his fingers, and my pussy contracts around them. My whimpers become breathless cries of pleasure as the orgasm washes over me, hitting me everywhere at once.
Briggs laps at me, groaning as my entire body quivers. Then he growls, climbing up my body. His cock brushes up my thigh until the thick, throbbing head slips between my smooth lips. Our gazes lock, my breaths still shallow, my heart thrashing.
“What do you want, Palmer?” He teases my entrance, inching forward enough my pussy spreads around the swollen crown, but then he retreats.
“You. Inside me. Please, Briggs.”
I whimper, locking my legs around him and trying to pull him forward, but he won’t budge.
“You want me to fuck this tight, virgin pussy? Hard and fast and deep until you’re screaming my name?”