by Tessa Layne
She steps to me and gives my tie a tug. “I’m not playing games, either, big guy. This event was set up months ago. Did you own this property months ago?”
She has me there, and I hate it. I silently gnash my teeth at Danny.
She construes my silence for admission and rushes ahead. “We’ll be out of here, cleaned up as if we’ve never set foot on the property by four a.m.”
“What about the cars parked next to the vines. How do you know they haven’t damaged the vines?” I don’t give a shit about the vines, but I’m grasping at straws, at anything to regain control of our conversation.”
“Bill me. You know where to find me.”
“I don’t even know your last name.”
Her laughter rings off the walls, soft and musical, and the arousal it incites knocks the breath out of me. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
She’s right. Emmaline Andersson popped right up when I Googled Emmaline and Prairie as soon as I returned from what amounted to the reception from hell, thanks to dear old dad. Her website was simple - one page with Emmaline’s Dress Shop: Repairs and Creations, and a contact form. Too simple for the obviously complicated woman standing in front of me. It doesn’t add up.
“You’re not the type of man to kiss the way you did and let a woman walk out of your life.”
“That’s a bold statement,” I toss back. “Maybe I kiss everyone that way.”
“But you don’t, do you?” She gives me the look that pries right into my soul, making a liar of me on the spot.
I’ve probably kissed hundreds of women, but not one of them affected me like kissing Emmaline. None of them shook me to my core. I can’t deny it, but I will obfuscate. “So you’re saying I should have chased after you?”
She gives me a crooked smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t.”
I step into her space. She stands her ground. “So… do you want me to chase after you?” I ask, allowing the turn in conversation to distract me from my original questions. I enjoy flirting with her - I’ve never met a woman simultaneously so bold and demure. It’s a heady mix and a challenge I can’t resist.
Her eyelashes flutter downward. “A lady likes to know she’s wanted.”
I crowd her back against the wall and draw the back of my finger down her cheek. The air between us electrifies. My body is alight with energy, buzzing with arousal. I can hardly focus. My voice turns to gravel. “Oh you’re very wanted, Emmaline.”
Her eyes are as hot as blue flame, and she arches forward, tits jutting out to brush against my jacket. “Please,” she utters with a rasp.
“Don’t think for a second this will get you off the hook.” When my mouth brushes hers, it feels like it’s been zapped. The hair on my neck rises as the shock travels down my spine. She sucks in a quick breath, hand rising to clutch my lapel. My cock pulses with a jerk. “Only one kiss,” I murmur, knowing as soon as I say it, it’s futile. I can’t stop kissing her, not when her lips are so pliant, her mouth so inviting.
She makes a noise in the back of her throat, half whimper, half moan. “And no touching.”
I’m all in. My cock is all in, even though I’m dying to slip my hands under the luminescent fabric. “Deal.”
Chapter Five
Emmaline throws me a sly smile filled with the promise of wickedness to come, and my cock strains against my zipper. I’ve never been full to the point of engorgement from talking, and it’s fucking making me insane with want. “I can’t promise you won’t come just from kissing.”
Fuck. Me.
I flex my hands against the wall, because all I want to do is take her cheeks between my hands and devour her. “I can promise you will,” I say roughly before taking her mouth.
It’s a homecoming, as sweet as I remembered. Heat races down my spine and I have to brace my arms against the wall so as not to grind into her. In seconds, we’re breathing hard, and the sounds of us fill the room, a moan, a grunt, a sigh. I force myself to slow down. I don’t want this to end. I lick into her mouth, reveling in the sensation of her velvet tongue sliding against mine. Hips thrust into open air, which only adds to the ache in my balls. I’m wound tighter than a violin string, and it will take nothing to snap me.
I drag my mouth from hers, trailing hot kisses down the cord of her neck, licking across her collarbone, and down her sternum, following the deep vee of her costume. “What are you doing?” she pants, hands slapping against the wall.
“Still kissing you.” I lick the valley between her tiny breasts, then push aside the fabric with my tongue, taking a tight nipple in my mouth and giving it a hard suck.
She arches off the wall with a cry.
“More?” I ask between hard nipping bites.
“Oh god, yes,” she whimpers between gasps. “Don’t stop.”
I drag my tongue to her other breast, repeating my actions. She squirms and writhes and jerks her hips. The aroma of her arousal fills the air, thick and sweet, and it’s so fucking hard not to touch her. I want to pinch her nipples, draw another cry from her, find the center of her and coat my fingers in her wetness.
I drop to my knees, covering her exposed skin with open mouthed kisses. “Open your legs,” I order.
“What are you- oooohhhh,” she gasps as she widens her stance and I cover her mound with my mouth, lace fabric and all, only to discover they are - in fact - crotchless.
“You naughty fucking thing,” I mumble as I slide my tongue along her slit, cock swelling at her moan. “Do you wear these all the time?”
“New design,” she says on a gasp, thighs twitching as I plunder her pussy with my tongue.
She tastes incredible - a perfect mix of sweet and salt, with the right amount of tang to make it addictive as fuck. As addictive as the whimpering noises she makes as she rides my face. I feast on her like a ten-year-old who was just given the keys to the candy shop. Alternately using the flat of my tongue for long, slow, sensual swipes that end by sucking her clit, and then fucking her tight channel as deep as I can go. I don’t care that my face is covered with her arousal, that her thighs are slick with it. I may not be able to fuck her, to claim her properly, but I will pleasure her so thoroughly that she can’t help but remember this moment every time she wears these panties, or fills an order. Her breath is coming in shallow gasps punctuated with little keening sighs, and when she comes, it’s with a sharp cry and a shudder. Her essence floods my mouth and I keep lapping and sucking until her head drops back with a satisfied sigh. “I have no words,” she says on a husky giggle.
I rise, dusting off my knees. “That won’t get you out of answering my questions,” I remind her, even as I cage her in and nuzzle the base of her neck.
She lets out a low chuckle. “Maybe this will?” She fists my shirt and gives a firm tug and pulls me in for a kiss. I briefly wonder how she likes tasting herself on my tongue, before losing myself in her demanding mouth. Then she does something entirely unexpected. I shouldn’t be surprised, Emmaline could write a how-to manual on the art of unpredictability. She flips us around so that my back is against the wall, and before I can register what’s happening, she’s ripped open the top four buttons of my shirt. “I thought you said no touching,” I remind her, even as I’m chasing her mouth for more kisses.
“I’m not. I’m just moving your clothes out of the way. You’ll know it when I’m touching you.”
Her words send a powerful jolt of lust through me. I want her hands on me. I want everything - an eternity of kissing and fucking and touching, of expending myself completely - with her and for her.
She presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down my chest to my navel, and true to her word, she doesn’t caress me, although I want it more than my own soul. My heavy breathing and the clattering sound of my loosening buckle sound harsh to my ears. Her mouth is like fire on my skin, every lick of her tongue, every nip with her lips acts like an electric shock to my system, making my nerve endings burn with the need for release.
I loo
k down just in time to see her pushing down my boxer briefs and freeing my cock, and she pins me with a heart-stopping look. My cock is engorged, weeping freely from the tip - a silent plea for her touch. I can’t tear my eyes away, although I should, because she’s slaying me, drilling through my chest and straight into my dirty, dark soul.
Still holding my gaze, she leans in, and stretches out her pink tongue, lapping up my pre-come as if she’s sampling an ice-cream cone. It’s erotic as fuck, and my cock jerks at the sweet, wet heat. My groan fills the space, and she covers a laugh. She continues this teasing, this slow perusal of my cock until my legs are shaking. My balls are hard and tight, aching with a fierce need to let go, but I steady my breathing and keep watching. The light in her eyes tells me that she knows she’s torturing me, and that she’s enjoying every-fucking-second. And she won’t hear me complain - her mouth makes me forget that I was due back in Prairie Fucking Kansas today to perform some kind of bullshit penitential ass-kissing of my older brother in order to salvage what’s rightfully mine. That if I don’t show, I lose everything. Her mouth has chased all that away and pulled me fully into the present, because where else would I want to be, except right here, right now?
With the flat of her tongue she licks up from the bottom of my shaft, pausing to flick her tongue around the corona before taking me into her mouth. I thrust, watching with barely leashed control as my cock disappears between her luscious pink lips stretched around me. She moans when I hit the back of her throat, and it vibrates all the way down to my balls. “Oh fuck, that’s so good, Em,” I grunt through a clenched jaw. Sweat trickles down my temple - it’s taking all my effort to keep myself in check. I pull out and slowly thrust again, wishing desperately I could hold her head, feel her white-blonde tresses covering my hand. The wig is sexy, but her natural hair is even better. This time, when I bump up against the back of her throat she hums and swallows, her tongue undulating. Her eyes are filled with a wild light, and I glance farther down to see two of her fingers furiously pumping her cunt. “No fair,” I groan. “You said no touching.”
She can’t really answer with her mouth full of my cock, but the vibrations of her moans as she brings herself to a second climax do me in. “Em,” I say with a desperate edge. “I can’t hold out any longer.”
Her response is not to pull off, but to suck and swallow, and the orgasm that tears through me sends my eyes rolling into my head. I can’t breathe, I can’t feel my hands or my feet, there’s only blinding light and instinctive emptying. And god love her, she takes it all. Every last drop, licking me clean like a cat with a fucking bowl of cream. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced. I want to take her to bed and fuck her all night, fuck her for days. But reality creeps back in as she gently tucks my cock away. “I need to get back upstairs,” she says. “The bouncers will come looking.”
I struggle to form words. My brain is still blown from the orgasm. “You still owe me answers,” I sputter as I tuck my shirt back into my slacks. “You can’t-”
She winks at me as she pulls the chair from underneath the doorknob. “You know where to find me.”
Chapter Six
One week earlier
* * *
“What do you mean I’m cut off?” I stare incredulously at my father whose face is implacable. Immovable. I glance at Mom, but she quickly looks elsewhere.
“So if I’d knocked up someone from my “womanizing ways”, I make finger quotes. “I’d still have my fund, because you’d have progeny? Fuck that,” I curse, shaking my head.
“Language, dear,” my mother chides.
“Fuck my language,” I spit with a glare at my father. “I’ve got a deal worth millions going south because I couldn’t make the last payment.”
“Declan,” she says sharply. “Don’t make this worse for yourself.”
“What could possibly make this worse?”
My father clears his throat, but his face remains determined. “Just like I told your brother… You two have been living off the family teat for too long without giving anything back. When was the last time you attended a board meeting? Do you know how bad that makes me look, that my own sons won’t show up? What kind of message does that send to the rest of the board about the state of our empire?”
He’s not entirely wrong. I haven’t been to a board meeting in months. “But I’ve been building my empire,” I sputter. “Doesn’t that mean something to you? I’m not pissing it away like Austin.”
“What means something to me is my sons making award-winning wines and passing our legacy onto their sons.”
Fat chance of that ever happening. Austin and I made a pact to never have children. Not after our upbringing. I open my mouth to argue, but he keeps going.
“And it’s high time you settle down. I’m tired of you boys appearing in the society pages with a new woman every week.”
Ha. I’m too busy for more than brief mutually satisfying flings. “Dad, I need you to release those funds. I’m going to lose nearly everything I’ve built if I don’t.”
His eyes narrow. “Then you haven’t made very wise investments, have you, son? You want your trust fund back? Earn it. Make me an award-winning wine and keep your pants zipped up for a change.”
“You can’t be serious,” I state flatly.
“I’m not going to see my legacy squandered by sloth and womanizing while I still have a say.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m the one who’s working eighty-hour weeks. Don’t lump me in the same category with Austin and Nico. You want to know who’s throwing away the money? Take a look at Veronica?” I say with derision. Nico’s wife spends his money faster than he makes it. I don’t know what Austin’s bank account looks like, but he’s at least made some investments. I only know this because we share an occasional bottle of whiskey. But Nico? I don’t think Nico does anything except kiss Dad’s ass and follow around after Veronica. I’m so angry my vision fuzzes.
“My mind’s made up,” my father says emphatically, crossing his arms. “I’ve already discussed this with Jason. You three are to report here a week from today.”
“To Jason?” I can’t fucking believe it. A tendril of fear coils through my belly, and I remind myself I’m as big as he is now. I’m no longer a ten-year-old kid who can be pushed around. “What if I refuse?”
“It’s your choice if you want to walk away from everything - your dividends, your seat on the board, your apartment on the estate, and your trust fund…” His triumphant grin doesn’t reach his eyes, and it comes across as more of a grimace. “But I don’t recommend it.”
Of course he doesn’t. I’d tell him to fuck off if my funds weren’t tied up in this deal. I’m screwed without my trust fund deposit, and my mind is scrambling to mitigate the damage. I turn on my heel without a backward glance.
“Don’t walk away from me,” my dad calls from behind me. I clench my fist so that I don’t flip him off. For years, he’s manipulated us, pitted us against each other. No more. I pull out my phone as I move away from the reception that’s winding down. My first call is to Danny - my college roommate at Stanford freshman year, and my closest friend. Danny’s got his fingers in all sorts of pies. Unfortunately, he vouched for me on this deal, and the fact that I can’t pay up is going to make both of us look bad.
He answers on the first ring. “‘Sup, man? You’re late on your payment. It’s too late to get cold feet.”
“Why? Will I end up in chains at the bottom of the Missouri River? I half joke. Danny’s solid, and was a stellar student at Stanford, but I’m not entirely convinced he doesn’t maintain some of his great-grandfather’s connections to the underworld. I cut right to the chase. “Dad’s locked up my trust fund. He’s up in arms that none of us know how to make wine. I don’t know when I’ll have the money.”
“A deal’s a deal,” he says, a hard edge creeping into his voice.
“But we’re best friends, man.”
“This is busines
s. Business has nothing to do with friendship. I thought I taught you that.”
“You did, asshole,” I grit into the phone. “But we’re also friends, and I thought that meant something to you. You know - all your talk about loyalty and brotherhood?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I can talk to the others. They’ll let you out, but not without a kill fee.”
“How much?” The price will be high, whatever it is. A knot forms in my stomach. Between Danny and my fucking dad, I could be flat broke. I’d have to sell off half my properties just to start over.
“Seventy-percent,” he says without hesitation.
“Fuck you,” I grit, doing the mental math
“You knew these guys were playing for keeps when you got in. This is the big-leagues Dec.”
“I know, I know.” Win big or lose big, no middle ground, no hedging your bets. “Make the call,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. I’ve been slowly building my fortune for years, leveraging up one deal at a time, and with the wave of a hand, all my hard work is gone.
After an awkward silence between us, Danny speaks. “So I have this property-” he starts.
“I don’t wanna hear about it.”
“Hold on, hold on. This may interest you. Turns out Grandpa Tom had an estate in the Napa Valley that no one knew about. He paid a couple of folks to manage it and make wine during prohibition.”
“No way,” I say emphatically. The last thing I want is a fucking winery in Napa.
“Hear me out.”
I recognize that tone of voice. It was the one he used with all the ladies in college, and I know the facial expression that goes with it. He’s not going to use his persuasive powers on me. Not tonight. “I mean it. I’m not interested in some fly by night operation.”
“I need to get this off my books at a loss. I could give it to you for ten percent of your refund.”
Fuck him. Now he has my curiosity piqued. You can’t even buy a starter home in Napa for that price. “How many acres?”