Exposed (Haven Cove)

by Lola Finn

  All the blood in my body rushes to my cock with the first pump of Palmer’s fist, and I’ve never been harder in my life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Palmer

  Second date. Those are the words that hit me straight in the gut.

  Second. Date.

  I’ve never been jealous like this. Every fiber of my being burning and wanting to prove he’s as much mine as I am his. And then my eyes drift up to his big, swollen cock right in front of me.

  I delicately wrap my fingers around his long shaft, my pussy clenching around nothing as I start to stroke him.

  Briggs stiffens as I pump up and down.

  “I’ve already eaten.” His voice stays as smooth as velvet even as he throbs harder against my hand. “So, unless—”

  “Well, we can just finish up with the report then,” Isabelle says.

  The jealousy sizzles as she shuffles paper around.

  Since his chair sits to one side of the opening under the desk, I’m on my knees off to the side of him, and when the bead of pre-cum appears at the tip of Briggs’s cock, I lean in to lick it off, tasting the saltiness of him. He growls a little as Isabelle launches into her report, and I slip my lips over his thick crown.

  I swirl my tongue around the pulsing head, then drag it against the side of his length. His hand moves from the arm of his chair, and he pushes his fingers into my hair as I start to suck his cock under the desk. My head bobs up and down, my hand working everything I can’t fit in rhythmic motions.

  Suddenly, I feel his heated gaze, and I lift my eyes, meeting his in the gap between the desk and where I’m sliding my lips up and down his shaft. He watches me slurp quietly at his big cock for a second before his eyes dart up.

  “That sounds like an error,” he says, fisting his fingers in my hair and urging me farther down.

  “Oh.” Isabelle moves papers around again. “I think you’re right.”

  She starts off again while I suck him off, tugging at his balls and softly humming around his thickness. His hips flex slightly, and I take more of him, my lips stretching so wide.

  I swallow him down far enough the head of his cock bumps the back of my throat. It makes me gag a little, my throat squeezes down around his head, and he tenses.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, pushing my head down again. “Isabelle, I just remembered I have to meet with Millie in five minutes.”

  His hips thrust him deep into my throat, his balls tightening in my hand, and I suck him faster, stroking and licking, wanting him to come. Wanting him to own my throat with her on the other side of the partition.

  “Oh, sure,” Isabelle says, disappointed. “Tomorrow? Or you could come over tonight…”

  My teeth graze over his throbbing head, and he growls.

  “No.” He tugs at my hair, letting me know he got the message. “I’ve told you, Isabelle. Work is work. I’m not interested in anything else.”

  “We had a spark, Oliver.”

  “Briggs. And I’m sorry, but we didn’t.” He guides my mouth up and down his slick cock while he kindly tells her to fuck off. “I’m not interested, but you seem to be growing more and more disinterested in my disinterest, which is a problem.”

  “Fine,” she says, her voice just as sugary sweet as ever but with an undercut. “We’ll finish tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.”

  The papers rustle again, my mouth wetly working him, my fist twisting up his shaft. Then the door clicks, and he groans and pushes his chair back, his eyes burning when they land on me.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, blinking up at him with a grin.

  “Such a fucking brat.”

  He hauls me out from under the desk, his lips colliding with mine before they skim my jaw, making me shiver in response.

  “Now…” He spins me around, and I gasp as he pushes me over his cherrywood desk. “As much as I want to come down your throat, I’d rather fuck this naughty little pussy.”

  I can’t help but moan then, pushing my ass back into his fat cock, my pebbled nipples pressed into the cool surface. Then he leans over me, his breath hot in my ear as he lines up the head of his cock with my wet opening.

  “Fuck me, Briggs.” I whimper when he presses inside me. “Make me take your cock on your desk.”

  He groans and thrusts deep, making me take all of him at once, and I cry out in pleasure.

  “Fuuuck,” he growls. “So fucking perfect, Palmer. So tight. You feel so damn good, baby.”

  His hips retreat and then slam into me again, harder than the last time. My body erupts in shivers, my pussy walls already fluttering around his girth while he pounds into me from behind. He grips my hips, pulling me back into him as he drives forward.

  I cry out and moan, pushing back into him.

  “Quiet, baby,” he says. Then he shifts a little behind me, and when he leans forward, his breath hot in my ear, I see my panties in his hand.

  “So wet,” he purrs. “I’m going to make you taste them.”

  My entire body ices over, and I look over my shoulder to see him smirking down at me.

  “What did you say?” I ask, my pulse hammering for another reason.

  “I said, I’m going to make you taste them. Just like you said you wanted in your dirty little post.”

  I suck in a breath as I realize he knows. He knows about Exposed. About the posts. About the captions.

  “How did you—”

  He drives into me, and I moan, the combination of adrenaline of him knowing about Exposed and the way his thick cock pulses against my walls becoming too much.

  “You thought you could keep those filthy fantasies from me, baby?”

  I moan even louder, the first heat spiraling through me, and Briggs brings the panties to my mouth.

  “Open, baby. Then I’m going to fuck you so hard you scream.”

  My lips part, and I don’t even care if he knows as he pushes the fabric into my mouth.

  “Now fucking come.” He brings his hand around, pushing between my legs and rubbing my clit. “Milk my cock, baby, and make me come inside you like the bad little girl you are.”

  It’s exactly what I wanted as I taste myself, and he hammers into me, hitting a spot so deep inside of me, I clench around him, my screams muffled by my wet panties as my entire world splinters into white heat.

  Briggs groans, the pleasure rolling through me and my pussy gripping his cock as he slides in and out of me over and over. “Fuck, baby. Shit.”

  He buries harder and deeper, and I feel his cock pulse incredibly hard inside me as he comes. The cum blasts deep inside me, filling me up as he keeps thrusting and coming.

  Finally, Briggs drops his lips to my back, kissing across my shoulders. I’m shaking all over when Briggs drags the panties out of my mouth, and I look back at him, breathless and spent.

  “That was…” I lick my lips as he pulls me upright against his chest, cupping my breasts while he slowly kisses my skin.

  “That was just one post.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Palmer

  “I swear, if I hear one more ivy or townie chick bring it up, I’ll start firing people.”

  I come to a stop on my way into the cabin, my eyebrows high when I look at Leighton on her cot. “Whoa, who are we firing?”

  She rolls her eyes as I cross over to my cot, pulling my legs up on the mattress as I curl back up with my pillow. In a rare moment, Ainsley, Leighton, and I are all in our cabin at the same time, and it’s not the middle of the night.

  When I left a few minutes ago to run a tank top I borrowed back over to Luna’s cabin, we were talking about the flowers Leighton’s mom is having for her wedding at the end of summer to Mr. Cabot. But if Leighton’s threatening to fire people, I’m guessing the topic shifted while I was gone.

  “We’re talking about those Exposed posts,” Ainsley answers. She has her back against the wall at the top of her cot.


  My muscles automatically tense as they do anytime someone brings up the blog or the social media accounts it connects to, but they relax after a second. The only person who’s figured out anything is Briggs, so as long as I don’t start asking Leighton or Ainsley to leave marks on me, we should be fine.

  Speaking of marks, Briggs has fulfilled that little caption along with several others over the past two weeks. We’ve been sneaking around the Cove with him taking every single Exposed post as a personal challenge, and I can’t say I’m upset about it.

  My favorite moments with him, though, don’t involve being called to a guest room to find him there, waiting for me, or having my moans muffled with my panties. I mean, no complaints. And by no complaints, I mean zero. But it’s the nights we get at his house, lounging around or watching a movie. When I can touch him however much I want and snuggle up beside him just having his skin on mine.

  I’ll never get enough of those.

  Leighton shakes her head, still fired up about Exposed. “I’m over it.”

  “Why?” I ask nonchalantly, curious why she dislikes it so much. “Are the posts too—”

  “The posts are great,” she says. “What I’m over is the bitchy reactions. I can’t get through a single shift at the bar or in the dining room without an ivy or townie girl bad-mouthing whoever’s posting. Like an anonymous woman posing in her bra is somehow direct competition to them.”

  Ainsley nods, agreeing. “The posts are hot.”

  “And empowering as hell,” Leighton adds. “Have you seen the one with the handcuffs in one of the Emerald Suite’s rooms?”

  I suppress a smile, remembering every single second.

  “The caption on that one.”

  Lick me, tease me, fuck me. Rinse and repeat until I scream.

  Exactly what Briggs did.

  He texts me not even five minutes later, which surprises me. Earlier he said he needed to take care of something tonight, and he’d see me tomorrow.

  Do you have a dress?

  I readjust on my elbows so I can text him back.

  Needing to borrow one?

  Funny. Now do you have a fucking dress YOU can wear.

  “Who keeps texting you?” Leighton asks. I flip my phone over on the mattress, and her mouth turns up on one side. “Whoever you keep sneaking in from seeing late at night?”

  “I don’t sneak.” I play with fuzz on my blanket. “I’m just not rude and clomping around to wake everyone up.”

  “Oh, please,” Ainsley says, lying back on her pillow. “The other night, I turned on the light as you came in and you looked guilty as hell.”

  “Oh, please,” I shoot back. “You had probably just gotten into the cabin yourself a few minutes before me.”

  “Exactly, which is why I know what you’re doing. I just don’t know who you’re doing.”

  Ainsley and Leighton both laugh, and I sigh, really wishing I could spill about Briggs. About how I’m absolutely caught up in him, and everything feels better when he’s around. Everything feels fucking right.

  But I can’t. Most people get away with breaking the policy about staff dating, but Briggs isn’t just another staffer. He’s my boss. He could lose his job because of this. I could lose my position for the summer and kiss goodbye not only to him, but also my chances at meeting Jessica.

  I haven’t even said anything to Luna about the whole thing, and I tell her almost everything. Even if she leaves out strategic information when it comes to her own relationship. Or relationships.

  “It’s just some guy I met at the bar the other night,” I finally say, trying to play it off as no big deal. Some casual summer hookup.

  But this thing with Briggs feels so much bigger. So much more.

  When he said I was his the other day, he was right. I’ve been his since the first time his sexy stare set on me.

  “Just some guy?” Leighton asks, her voice laced with doubt.

  I shrug, and she and Ainsley share a look. Neither of them seems to believe me, so I redirect.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you all about him as soon as Ainsley spills about her guy.”

  My blonde bunkmate sighs and rolls onto her back, clearly catching my emphasis on the singular guy, but before she dodges like she always does, my phone goes off again.

  Get ready. I’ll pick you up from the admin building in thirty minutes.

  What? I start to text Briggs back but then another message pops up.

  Don’t bother asking for details. Just put on the damn dress and be at the admin building.

  And I miss you. I don’t fucking like it.

  I smile, my belly flipping.

  He might not like it…but I sure as hell do.

  ***

  Thirty minutes isn’t much time to get ready, but I pull it off anyway. With the makeshift closet I set up at the beginning of summer and the vanity I pieced together out of a mirror and chest a few weeks ago, it’s like I’ve been preparing for this exact scenario all along without knowing.

  A fashionista must always be prepared.

  One or two events around the Cove require staff to dress up, but since I have no idea where we’re going, I grab a black off the shoulder maxi dress and pair it with spiked heels.

  I’m standing at the door to the deserted admin building when a limo pulls into the parking lot.

  What the hell?

  It stops in front of the door, and none other than Oliver Briggs emerges from the back. Tall, broad, and absolutely panty-melting in an all-black-on-black tux.

  “You look gorgeous,” he murmurs, standing by the door as I walk over. “Like it was up for debate.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, still dubious of the secrecy surrounding our night.

  I mean, we’re already at the only place in a thirty-mile radius that would host anything black tie. And if we’re going to the bar again, we’re severely overdressed.

  He shrugs. “Just some event I agreed to show my face at. I didn’t want to go alone.”

  “Just some event?” I ask, remembering how the just and some meant the opposite when I said them to Leighton just half an hour ago. “We’re taking a limo, and you’re wearing a four-thousand-dollar tux.”

  “The tux cost three thousand. And don’t get used to the limo.”

  Briggs smirks, gesturing for me to get in, and I narrow my eyes at him as I do.

  Once I’m inside, he slides in next to me and closes the door, nodding to the driver. He puts the partition up as we pull away from the resort. I’m not at all surprised when we stay on the highway, leaving both Haven Cove and Seaside Heights behind for the night.

  I tuck myself against his side while he answers a few emails, burying my nose in his dress shirt and smelling him. He gives me a look more than once, but then I catch him pressing his nose into my hair, so I guess we’re even.

  We’ve been riding about half an hour when I spot the champagne bottle on ice. Briggs must follow my gaze as he tucks his phone in his pocket, and he moves to grab the bottle, opening the little cabinet underneath for flutes.

  “Fancy,” I say, smiling at him as he pops the cork.

  He pours, handing me one and setting the bottle back in the ice.

  “I’m sure you’re used to fancy, being an ivy and all. You probably go to shit all the time with your parents.”

  “Not as much as they’d like.” I resist rolling my eyes, thinking about it. “I usually find a way out of functions with them, shocking them to their cores with my disinterest. My older sister loves it, but I’m much more the watch red carpet interviews at home on the couch type.”

  “I can see that,” he says, his eyes sweeping over the low-cut neckline of my dress.

  “What about you? Are your parents the type to try and push their lifestyle on you?”

  We’ve hit plenty of the softball topics, but he always shies away from the ones that go too far back in the past.

  “They’re not even
worth talking about.”

  Briggs brings my hand to his mouth, kissing the backs of each of my fingers.

  “Tell me something I don’t know about Palmer Evans,” he says, caressing my fingers with his lips.

  “I’m going to Columbia in the fall.”

  “For journalism.” He flips my wrist over, moving to my palm and kissing there. His eyes focus on mine, the heat moving between us as I nod.

  “More,” he whispers.

  “My favorite color is teal.”

  “Of course it is, ivy.” He smirks.

  I tug my hand away, feigning a pout, and he grabs my wrist pulling it right back, along with the rest of me, so I land in his lap. His nose skims over mine, his hand grazing up my neck.

  “Tell me something about Oliver Briggs,” I whisper.

  “What do you want to know?” His tone is distracted, focused on me instead while his eyes search mine.

  “I don’t know. What do you dream about?”

  He leans forward until his lips brush mine, my entire body alive when he touches me.

  “You, Palmer. I dream about you.” Briggs kisses me as his quiet words infiltrate my chest. “Just you.”

  My mouth moves against his, his skin caressing mine, and I’m gone. My heart is unsalvageable when it comes to him.

  The limo starts to slow, and then we come to a stop.

  By the time the driver comes around, I’ve returned to the seat. He opens the door, and my eyebrows lower as I look around, climbing out at another one of the Cabots’ hotels.

  “Are we in Capetown?” I ask, spinning to Briggs.

  He nods, and I glance around again at the tall buildings and city lights. Such a difference from Seaside Heights and yet only forty-five minutes up the road.

  The Cabots have hotels all over the country and a few internationally, but the Cove is their main focus, especially in the summer months when the resort is open and the guests can spend enough money to run a fair-sized army.

  “Ready?” Briggs holds out his arm to me, and I glance around, not sure if I should take it with so many people around.