Damage Control

by M. S. Parker

  A glance into one open doorway revealed a sitting room. I almost went in, but the reason the doorway was open was because there was no door.

  I wanted a fucking door. Something I could use to close out the world and give myself some fucking space. I ignored the next one up, because the door was open. I had no doubt security would check inside if they came through and it was shut.

  The next door was closed.

  As long as nobody was inside…

  I eased the door open and stepped through the doorway.

  Nobody–

  Shit.

  I all but fell over my feet as my eyes landed on the curvy, perfect body of a woman clad in a red wig, barely-there panties, and…was that what it looked like?

  She turned to face me, and I realized it was.

  She was wearing seashells that barely covered enough of a set of full, gorgeous breasts to be considered decent.

  Then she took a breath, and those amazing tits moved, and I reconsidered my previous position.

  Nope. Not decent at all.

  I slammed my jaw as my brain processed the words I’d dimly heard a few seconds ago.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not Piety,” I said, tearing my eyes away from her chest and hoping she couldn’t see the flush I knew was staining my cheeks.

  My cock sprang to attention in a way it hadn’t in a long, long time as she thrust one hip out and planted her hand on it. In her other hand, she had a drink, and she watched me with a glint in her eyes as she lifted the glass to her lips and sipped. Her hair spilled down over pale skin as she stared at me boldly. It was a wig. Had to be. That sort of red didn’t exist in nature. Still, she looked good in it.

  I had a feeling she was the sort of woman who’d look good in pretty much anything.

  And even better out of it.

  “You’re missing your tail,” I said, not even thinking about how fucking stupid that sounded.

  “Am I?” She arched her eyebrows, and a ghost of a smile danced around her lips as she looked down at her body, staring at her legs and wiggling her toes as if that would make said tail appear. “I guess I am.”

  “What happened? Or is this the new costume rage?” The questions popped out before I realized I was going to say them, and I wondered if she thought I was flirting.

  Was I?

  She rolled her eyes and took another sip from her drink before turning on her heel. “A jerk happened, thank you very much.”

  As she walked away, I was treated to a view every bit as perfect as the front. Her round, plump ass was the kind that made a man just want to grab it and not let go. Determined to find something else to stare at, I jerked my gaze away.

  And that was when I noticed the glittering, shimmering mess of green and blue on the desk.

  “I guess you’re not missing your tail after all.” Frowning, I glanced from the fabric back to her...just in time to see her looking back over her shoulder, craning in a deliberate attempt to look at her butt.

  “Well…look at that!” She winked at me. “I do have a tail.”

  My cock twitched as she rounded the desk and tossed back the rest of her drink, then planted the empty glass down on the desk, all the while displaying that to-die-for body.

  “Some moron stepped on one of my fins. I worked on this forever. Spent close to eighty hours on it. Can you believe that?”

  As she spoke, she picked it up, displaying a skirt that flared out at the bottom…in fins. It was startlingly elegant.

  “Eighty hours,” she said again. “Eighty hours! And he just tromped all over it.”

  Light flickered over the skirt as I examined it. “You made that?” It looked like a thousand crystals were hand-worked into it. I’d spent enough time around costumes thanks to my dad, and I knew if she’d made that, she was pretty talented.

  “Yes.” She huffed out another breath and tossed me a look. “I almost forked him.”

  I blinked, jerking my attention back to her. “You what?”

  “Idiot jerk,” she grumbled, ignoring me. “But I fixed it.”

  “And you almost…?”

  I saw something on the desk then, and my brain clicked things into place. Fork. Forked. Right. The year The Little Mermaid had been rereleased, my dad had been on wife number four, and she had a little girl who was obsessed with the film. I hadn’t been living at my dad’s then, but every time I’d come by to visit during that two-and-a-half-year marriage, Appalachia had made me watch it. I lost touch with her after our parents divorced, like I did with most of the children of my dad’s numerous lovers.

  Then the stranger-mermaid captivated my attention as she lowered the skirt and stepped into it.

  Most guys would argue that it was more fun to watch a woman undress.

  But there’s something terribly sexy about watching one dress as well. She shimmied her hips as she eased the mermaid skirt up and smoothed it down before tugging the zipper up, every motion making those amazing breasts jiggle enticingly. She shot a look at me and rolled her eyes. “Are you enjoying the view, honey?”

  Yes.

  But I couldn’t quite manage to get out a reply that wouldn’t sound like stupid middle school boy fumbling through seeing a girl without her shirt on.

  So, I just stared her down, resorting to the look I’d perfected as a skinny fifteen-year-old who’d decided that going straight to Stanford after graduation was better than living with his father on one movie set after another.

  It was condescending and rude as hell.

  Normally, it pissed people off.

  She winked at me. Fucking winked.

  Then she picked something off the desk. “You know, you spent all the time admiring my tail…”

  “What?”

  She grinned at me. I had the feeling she knew I’d been checking out her ass.

  “Don’t tell me you weren’t checking out my handiwork.” Now her expression went innocent, even as she smoothed a hand down a hip covered in sparkling green and blue. “I did pretty good, if I do say so myself. It’s a nice tail, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Clearing my throat, I gave her a terse nod. “It’s a nice tail.”

  Who the hell was this woman?

  “Come on. Help me out.” She snapped out the rolled-up fabric she’d been holding and turned, presenting me with a view of her back yet again. “I need to get out to the party. My friend is waiting on me.”

  “Help…?” Mystified, I watched as she contorted and twisted, her movements both awkward and elegant, not making sense at all.

  At least not at first.

  By the time it did, I was all but dumb with the need to touch her. She was lacing herself into a corset. In under a minute, she had laces in one fist, and she shot me a demanding look. “Come on. Lace me up.”

  A corset. On top of that impossibly sexy get-up, she was wearing a shimmery, nude-colored corset and she wanted me to…

  “Come on. Lace me up,” she said impatiently. “I’m already late as it is.”

  I needed to go take a walk outside again. Or take a cold shower. For like eternity.

  But instead of disappearing out the door, I moved closer to the mystery girl. “I have no experience with this.”

  “Think of it like tying a shoestring. But you have to tug the slack out from the top and bottom, then meet in the middle.” She twitched her hips, a message of clear impatience even as it sent even more blood rushing to my cock.

  Following her advice, I began tugging the slack out, bit by bit.

  “Has to be tighter.”

  “You need to breathe,” I responded.

  “I’ve been wearing corsets for years, honey. I know when it’s too tight – and this isn’t tight enough. Pull the damn strings already.”

  She was pulling my strings. And her scent…I pulled harder than necessary, and she ended up falling back against me. “Oh…”

  “Sorry,” I said, the words thick in my throat, my nose buried in her faux hair. Wig or not, it smelled like her. “What co
lor is your hair?”

  The question escaped me before I could swallow it.

  “Ah…it’s brown. Just brown. Nothing spectacular.”

  I had a feeling she was wrong about that. Nothing about this woman could be less than spectacular.

  She pulled away from me, putting distance between us. “Can you tie me up now? A double-knotted bow.”

  Without saying anything, I tied the strings as she instructed, expecting her to rush away now that the task was done.

  Instead, she turned to face me, a faint smile on her lips.

  I wondered if she’d taste like a mermaid.

  What in the hell is a mermaid supposed to taste like? That rational part of my brain that normally controlled everything seemed very, very far away.

  She licked her lips and fluffed her hair. Then she asked the question that every man loathed.

  “How do I look?”

  Eight

  Astra

  He was so hot, with his burnished copper hair and tall, lean body. Like fucking surface of the sun hot.

  And nervous. Or maybe just awkward.

  I had the feeling he was also a bit of a stick in the mud. He didn’t apologize for looking at my mostly-naked body – hell, I’d have been insulted if he had since I was putting on a show just for him – but he also didn’t act on the desire I clearly saw in his eyes.

  Those eyes. I’d thought they were hazel at first, but when he’d come closer, I realized they were a dark, rich green.

  I wondered what his name was.

  I wondered who he was here with.

  I also wondered why he was standing there looking like he wanted to run the hell away from me, even though he seemed to want to touch me at the same time.

  “Are you here with anybody?” I closed the distance between us with slow, measured steps, stopping when I was less than a foot away. I reached up and caught the lapel of his jacket, rubbed the satin of it under my thumb. It was a nice suit. He wore it well. Not every man could wear a suit like this guy did, no matter how expensive the cut or how much he’d paid a tailor.

  Despite how reserved I suspected he was, he exuded a strength and confidence that told me his serious nature didn’t mean he was a pushover. That was good. I didn’t find that sort of men attractive.

  I’d been told on more than one occasion that I was a bit intimidating.

  As I moved a breath of an inch closer, waiting for his answer, he didn’t look particularly intimidated. Cautious, yes. But it was the sort of caution that made me want to grab it and strip it away – destroy it.

  Caution had never been my strong suit, and I didn’t see why anybody else really bothered with it. Piety had always been my anchor, keeping me from going too far, but she had new people in her life to worry about, which meant I got to fly a little freer.

  His eyes dipped to my mouth, and I was overcome by the urge to kiss him. Bite him, right on the lower curve of his full, very bitable mouth.

  But he still hadn’t answered the question of whether he was there with somebody, and even my impulsive nature would wait for that. I didn’t have a lot of rules, but there was one very clear, very firm one.

  I didn’t cheat, and I didn’t touch guys who were cheaters.

  Okay, so that was technically two, but they went together, so I only counted it as one.

  “Are you?” I asked again, easing in closer.

  He blinked, looking confused. “Am I what?”

  Nice to know he wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed.

  “Here with somebody.” I tugged on the lapel of his jacket, impatient now.

  His pupils spiked, and that just added to the intoxicating, surreal beauty of his eyes. He reached up and covered my hand with his, the roughened skin catching me off-balance. I wouldn’t have expected callouses from someone so refined-looking.

  “I’m here with you.”

  The words were a rough rasp against my skin, but I shook my head, needing my answer before I could let myself completely swoon. “Either you’re being difficult, or you’re a serious flirt. I meant, did you bring a date?”

  He blinked then, and his eyes cleared.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m not...here with anyone, I mean.” He started to take a step back.

  “Okay.” I tightened my grip on his lapel to keep him from going anywhere and leaned closer. “Where are you going?” I purred.

  “Didn’t you say you had to be going somewhere?” His voice was gruff, eyes still so dark, I could have gotten lost in them. “Didn’t you say you had a friend waiting for you?”

  “I do.” Lifting a shoulder, I placed a free hand on his chest, just inside the material of his suit jacket. I could feel the heat of him, the firm muscle, and I wanted to feel more. “She’s a good friend. She can wait for a few minutes.”

  “Wait for what?”

  His heart thudded against my palm, and his eyes locked on mine. I had a feeling if I moved in any closer, I’d feel his cock, hard and erect against my stomach.

  But…if I did do that, he’d probably jerk back, ending our game.

  And I was having so much fun.

  “I’m supposed to be playing hostess with her.” Lifting a shoulder in a casual shrug, I edged in as much as I dared. “This is the kind of thing that I hate about parties. I’m more comfortable talking to people one on one…getting to know them.”

  I dropped my gaze to his mouth then, wondering how long I’d have to wait before he’d make his move. A moment later, one hand came up and gripped my hip.

  One corner of his mouth tipped upward. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re a menace to civilized society?”

  The words startled a laugh out of me, and I threw back my head, delighted at the very idea. Seconds passed before I was able to control myself enough to respond. And the first time...

  “I’m a menace–”

  Laughter overtook me again.

  The hand on my hip tightened.

  That movement was enough to jerk me back to the present. If I wasn’t one hundred percent certain it would have sent him running, I would have been all over him, climbed him like a tree.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

  “It’s not funny.” Grinning up at him, I corrected, “It’s flattering.”

  A frowned furrowed his brow, and he shook his head. “Flattering?”

  “I’m supposed to smooth things over and keep the conversation going. Be supportive and smile in all the right places. You know, be everything a good little wife should be.” I stopped, realizing he might think the wrong thing. “Not that I’m married. Mom might be giving up on that, but according to her, that’s just what a woman like me does. I go to college, get a completely useless degree that sounds socially acceptable, but I never do anything with it before I get married.”

  He looked a little dazed by my impromptu speech.

  It wasn’t the first time I cause that kind of reaction.

  My occasional word avalanche had knocked more than a few people for a loop.

  “I take it that you’re not planning on getting married then.” He rubbed at his temple as he spoke and looked around.

  I wondered if he was looking for an escape.

  “I might.” Wiggling my eyebrows at him, I asked, “Are you proposing?” With another playful tug on his collar, I quickly assured him, “I’m teasing. I shouldn’t, I know. You gave me a compliment. A ‘hazard’...no, I’m sorry...’a menace to civilized society.’ I think that’s completely delightful.”

  Something in his eyes softened at that.

  And part of me wished I’d never started down this tangling trail of babble. Because I knew that look.

  Understanding.

  It wasn’t quite the same thing I felt the first time I’d met Piety, but it was…it almost felt like it was a connection.

  “I guess it’s better to be a menace than to be a bore.” Rough fingers closed around my wrist, and I shivered when he pressed his thumb against my pulse. “Somehow, I don’
t think that’s anything you’ve ever been accused of, being a bore, I mean.”

  “No.” He was stroking my wrist now. Did he even know he was doing that?

  I had no idea why, but it was amazing how such a small, simple touch managed to affect the state of my knees.

  “I need to get going.” His gaze dropped to my mouth again.

  But he let go of my wrist.

  “Yes. I’m sure. But…”

  He wasn’t walking out of here as quick as that, I decided.

  He hesitated at my words, clearly waiting, for what I didn’t know, but something. What the hell. Rising to my toes, I curved my hand over the back of his neck and tugged.

  If he was at all reluctant, it sure as hell didn’t show.

  His mouth met mine, hard, firm, certain.

  Licking at the seam of his lips, I hummed in surprise at the taste of him as he opened his mouth. For somebody who seemed so proper and rigid, he tasted wild...dangerous. And so fucking good. Coffee, chocolate, and something that could only be defined as him.

  He slid his tongue along mine, one big hand coming up to cup my cheek, adjusting the angle of my head as his long fingers caressed my skin. The feel sent a shiver racing through me.

  More…

  I curled my hand in his shirt as the kiss deepened. His teeth scraped across my top lip first, then my bottom, each one making me moan. The sounds seemed to spur him on, and he tangled his hand in my wig, threatened to dislodge it. I did some exploring of my own, yanking at his shirt until I could finally touch him. Skin stretched hot and tight across lean muscles, and I felt a shudder wrack him as I skimmed both palms up his sides. I was pretty sure he had at least a six pack. Maybe eight.

  “…you in there?”

  The voice didn’t penetrate.

  “Oh. Well. I guess you are in here.”

  My mystery man froze, his mouth a breath above mine, his breaths coming as fast and harsh as my own.

  “She’ll go away if we ignore her,” I said, staring into his eyes.

  But he shook his head and pulled away. While I stared at him, he smoothed a hand over his hair, settling it into place. I watched as he adjusted his jacket, fixed his shirt.

  It took him less time to fix the damage than it had taken me to cause it.