The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  Sitting on a balcony in Monaco with my fake fiancée naked in bed a few feet away. That certainly wouldn’t go over well. Shit, you can do this! What’s your problem?

  Looking at your gorgeous pictures while I’m away on business, he replied after ten minutes.

  He got a winky face in return. This one was already in the bag. She was young, curvy and blonde with a bachelor’s degree in communications. She mentioned in her bio she was an administrative assistant at some tech company he’d never heard of. And obviously, she had no qualms about making the first move at what was an early Friday evening for her. Easy. Damn, your friends are right, he thought to himself.

  “Come back to bed.” Sam’s voice shook him out of his inner struggle. He glanced behind him and she was propped up on the bed with the blanket draped across her legs.

  He looked back to the app and saw the woman had started to type more. Connor clicked it off, set the phone on airplane mode, and went back inside.

  “What were you doing?” she asked sleepily.

  “Watching a couple of people fuck in the ocean,” he said.

  “Ew, were you smoking?” she asked and wrinkled her nose.

  “When in Monaco,” he said. Connor pulled off his shorts and got into bed with her.

  “You didn’t shut the doors,” she said as he kissed her neck.

  “So then you might not want to scream too loudly,” he replied. Hell, one more time couldn’t be too terrible, right? He reached up and turned the lamp on.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. Sam squinted as her eyes adjusted.

  “I just want to see you,” he said. She smiled that sleepy smile at him.

  Connor worked his way down her entire body. He memorized every freckle, every curve and every taste. He wanted to remember the exact saltiness of the inside of her elbows, and how the tiny birthmark at her ankle looked vaguely like a horseshoe.

  “Am I getting the romantic treatment now?” she asked when he kissed his way back up and lingered at the widest part of her hip.

  He didn’t reply. Instead, he moved away and flipped onto his back. “Here,” he said, and gestured to his lips. “Sit here.”

  Sam pushed herself up and straddled his face. He had the perfect view as she grasped the bars of the bed frame and started to ride his face.

  Her juices began to pour out of her, covering his cheeks and chin. He lapped her up, thirsty for more. From her swollen clit to the pink folds to the sweetness of her opening, he adored every inch of her. You need to remember how she tastes. And how she looks in this moment.

  Sam’s hands were clamped tight around the frame. Her breasts bounced just above him. He reached up to caress them and she moaned at his touch. When she looked down at him, her smile was bright enough to burn into his memory, just as he’d wished.

  “I used to imagine this,” she said to him. He didn’t remove his tongue from her.

  The dim lighting from the lamp complemented her exquisitely. “I’m getting close,” she whispered. He grasped her hips and held her down. When she came in his mouth, he drank her all in.

  Exhausted, she fell beside him. “Your turn,” she said as she reached for him.

  “No,” he said softly. “It’s all about you tonight.”

  “You’re in a generous mood,” she said as she worried her lip. “But I want to.”

  “In the morning,” he said gently. They were three of the hardest words he’d ever said.

  She didn’t push any farther, but turned her back toward him and spooned against his chest. Connor draped his arm over her and listened as her breathing turned steady in sleep.

  He knew he should at least try to get some sleep before the flight tomorrow, but he just couldn’t. Every moment was precious. Instead, he held her tight and watched as the sun rose over the water. At first, it was just a hint of dawn, but it slowly became evident that the day had fully arrived.

  And he knew exactly what he had to do.

  23

  Sam

  “Where’s the other plane?” she asked as they boarded the smaller plane painted a midnight black.

  “My father needed it, so we have the Piper Matrix,” he said. “And don’t worry, there aren’t any ‘servants’ on board this one. Just us and the pilot.”

  She played with her hair and ignored the dig. Sam fell into one of the six seats, worn out from the so-called vacation. Muscles she didn’t know she possessed hurt, and the ache between her legs was constant.

  As they took off, she gazed out the window and watched their little slice of paradise disappear. In just a few hours, it would be back to the grind. A Tuesday morning in DC, normally a workday, but with the Fourth of July holiday she’d have an extra day to recover.

  Sam looked at Connor next to her and had an idea. “The pilot’s staying in the cockpit, right?” she asked.

  “I certainly hope so.” He flipped through the CNN app on his phone.

  “Then how about we make use of the truly private flight?” she asked as she traced a hand along his thigh. Sam could see the bulge in his trousers had grown already.

  “You sure?” he asked as he looked at her over the phone.

  She felt a sting of uncertainty, but forged ahead. “Since when are you so shy?” she asked.

  He tossed his phone on the seat across from him and pushed up the armrest that separated them. “I just don’t want you to get too worn out,” he growled into her ear as he pulled her on top of him.

  She giggled as she straddled him. The short skirt and no underwear had been pre-planned—as had the tight shirt that zipped all the way open. Connor reclined the seat halfway while she unzipped him and stroked his shaft. He glanced at his watch.

  “Are you timing me?” she asked. He reached for the zipper of her shirt and released her breasts slowly.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  She guided him into her, slowly. Sam teased him at the tip, circling him in her wetness. He let out a huff of frustration and she lowered herself onto him. Connor went to grab her hips, control her like he liked to do, but she pushed his arms back. “You don’t always get to be in charge,” she said.

  He obliged. As she fucked him at her own pace, every time he tried to reach for her she pushed his arms away. Sam wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her breasts against his chest. Like this, fully in control, she could command when she would come—and as it turned out, him as well.

  When he came inside her, it was the only time she let him grab onto her. He held her down, hard, onto him. She felt his release as it pumped into her, and it skyrocketed her to her own orgasm. His face was buried in her neck. It felt like an hour until he let her go.

  She slid onto the seat beside him and pulled down her skirt. Connor didn’t look at her, but simply buttoned his pants. “Restroom?” she asked, and he pointed behind them.

  As she cleaned herself up in the little bathroom, using tissue to wipe between her legs, she couldn’t help but feel like something was off. The sex had been fantastic, as always, but it was like he wasn’t fully there.

  She checked her hair in the mirror and finger combed it into submission. It didn’t really matter anyway. Who was going to see her?

  When she returned to her seat, he was engrossed in his phone once again. However, when he heard her approach, it seemed like he quickly switched from a different app back to the news.

  “Since when are you such a news fiend?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I have alerts set up with my name, my father’s, the company’s—just seeing the publicity.”

  “Anything good?” she asked.

  He held up an image of the two of them at one of last month’s galas. It shocked her, seeing them on the local news like they were celebrities. They looked genuinely happy, like a real couple. The headline read, “Billionaire playboy and new Trezor COO settles down?”

  “Looks legit,” she told him.

  “That’s what I’m paying you for,” he replied.

  Sam left him
to his phone for the remainder of the journey. It had to just be work, the mini-vacation being over, and all of that. He was moody, that was nothing new.

  She stretched her limbs when the pilot announced the descent. A thick mass of clouds covered DC, regardless of it being summer. “I can’t believe we’re back to the real world,” she said. The tired skidded along the runway.

  “Sam, just so you know,” he said. “What we had in Monaco? It was nice and all. But now that we’re back, it has to stop. I’m sure you understand and know that—but just so we’re clear.”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Sam was absolutely blown away. She wasn’t sure what she’d thought or expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. And why not? Did you think he was in love with you? Did this make her a prostitute? Was he paying extra for the “bonuses” in Monaco? She imagined herself throwing the extra cash in his face. Preferably with a full glass of alcohol to follow.

  “Sam?” he asked. His eyes searched her face for some kind of reaction. “Look, I really need to get going. If you could just confirm that—”

  “I get it,” she said curtly. She reached for her bag and busied herself with a search for her keys and phone.

  “And you intend to keep the terms of the contract?” he asked.

  She realized she had some leverage here. She sighed, and knew she could get out of the contract at this point if she really wanted to. In fact, maybe that was what he wanted. Or did he expect her to ask for more money now? There was no way in hell that was happening.

  “I keep my word. No matter what,” she said. But she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. She was afraid she’d cry, or worse. The last thing she needed was to flip out on him.

  Connor got up to leave. He didn’t say a word.

  She once again opened her mouth to say something. Wasn’t he at least going to give her a ride home? Sure, she’d taken an Uber to the airport, but she’d thought—fuck. She was a goddamned idiot.

  Sam powered up her phone and ordered an Uber. It was ten minutes away.

  As she waited in the private area of Reagan, she couldn’t believe it. She kept going over the weekend in her mind, looking for some kind of clue. What did she miss? Did he really feel so little for her? Obviously. He made that quite clear.

  The Uber driver tried to make conversation on the way back. “I’ve never picked up anyone from that part of Reagan before!” the man with dreadlocks to his mid-back said. “You famous or something?”

  “Or something,” she said quietly.

  He eyed her in the rearview and tried to make out who she might be. “I don’t recognize your name,” he said, and he held up the app. “You one of those millionaire YouTube beauty vloggers or something? You look like you could be.”

  “No,” she said. “I just work for an asshole rich guy.”

  “Oh, I get you,” he said. “I get some of those sometimes in my car.”

  When she walked into her home, it felt stale and foreign. Some of her houseplants had wilted already. Usually she’d ask a neighbor to water them, but Connor’s request had come so fast—and early—she hadn’t had time. “I’m sorry,” she said to her plants as she watered them and situated the ones that liked it closer to the sun.

  You just going to up and leave your life like that whenever he calls? But she’d meant what she said. She would fulfill this contract no matter what. It was a matter of pride at this point. And she’d just have to forget what had happened in Monaco.

  She reached for her phone and texted Jenny. Hey! Happy Fourth. Weird question, are you still on that dating app?

  Jenny replied immediately with a series of firework emojis. Yes on the app. Why? You thinking of signing up?

  Was wondering if I could just check it out. Can I login as you?

  Sure, haven’t been on in awhile. Might be a ton of messages, just ignore them, she replied, along with the login information.

  Sam downloaded the app. Her heart pounded as she logged in with Jenny’s information. She hadn’t been joking. There were over 200 unread messages and a slew of other notifications she didn’t understand. Curious, she clicked on the fire icon.

  Jenny had an impressive amount of matches. She’d matched with Connor just nine hours ago. Of course, it wasn’t his real name, but Sam would know that photo anywhere. She’d taken it of him on the beach not even three days ago.

  Sam slammed the phone down on the couch and tucked her knees under her chin. I will not cry. I will not cry, she told herself. Is that what he was doing whenever we weren’t fucking? Setting up hookups and dates for the minute he got back?

  She felt like the biggest fool. Worse, she hated herself for feeling anything for him at all. How could she be mad at him? He’d never pretended to be anything other than what he was.

  Still, as she thought about the last four days and how over the moon she’d been, the tears started to fall. They were ugly, the kind that left her breathless.

  Sam curled up onto the couch and let it all out. She wanted to hate him, but couldn’t. This had all been her doing. She should have seen the signs.

  When the doorbell rang, she quieted down and hid deeper into the couch. Heavy footsteps could be heard on the porch. It rang again. If that’s Connor, I don’t even give a shit. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.

  Her hurt had turned to rage, and she stomped toward the front door. She yanked it open to a scared-looking young kid holding a large package. “Oh, I was—are you… are you okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she snapped, and snatched the box from him.

  “You’re going fucking crazy,” she told herself out loud. Sam opened the box and nearly laughed at herself. She’d forgotten all about it. It was a carton of bachelorette party items she’d ordered right before Monaco. She’d figured she might as well enjoy a raucous night out if she was going to fake a marriage.

  She remembered how she’d looked forward to showing it to Connor, and how he’d surely get a kick out of it.

  Sam dumped the contents into the garbage bin. She only felt a little bad about not donating the goods. But screw it, it felt too good.

  24

  Connor

  It had been two days since they’d returned from Monaco, and he hadn’t responded to her calls or texts. Even James was confused. “You have quite the light schedule this week,” he’d remarked, and Connor had jumped on him.

  “How is that any of your concern?” he’d snapped. James had simply raised a brow and gone about his business.

  It had been hard enough telling Sam they couldn’t continue. He’d spent the entirety of the flight trying to come up with the right words, but there were none. He’d settled on doing it hard and fast, but now he wasn’t sure that had been the right approach.

  She’d looked absolutely devastated. However, he’d already been committed. Square your jaw and wipe the emotions off your face. That was the advice his father had given him when he was in fifth grade and upset he hadn’t made the basketball team.

  He knew it had been a dick move to leave her at the airport. That hadn’t been planned. But when he realized how heartbroken she was, and how much it hurt him, too, he just couldn’t bear to be in a car with her and deal with the emotions.

  It was an asshole thing to do, but probably better for both of them in the long run. Connor was sure he’d figure out his next move quickly, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d gone through the motions. He’d showed up to work promptly the next day, and James had pounced on him for details about Monaco. “Did she like the gowns? The swimsuits?” he’d asked eagerly.

  “It’s none of your business,” Connor had snarled at him. James had jumped back the first time, but he’d adjusted quickly. For the past couple of days, he’d largely left Connor alone.

  For once, he was grateful his father didn’t give him any kind of actual work besides looking pretty and having drinks with clients. It gave him time to work on his plan.

  When he saw her at the fundraiser at the Will
ard, he thought he’d be nervous—but he was relieved. Secretly, he thought she might not show up after the way he’d behaved. But she was there, right on time, and looked gorgeous. Clearly, James hadn’t dropped the ball at all. He spotted her as she entered the lobby, and broke away from the group he was with. Without saying a word, he offered his arm and she took it.

  “Hey,” he said in a low voice. “You look great.”

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. She wore a Grace Kelly-inspired A-line dress with a sweetheart neckline and painstakingly intricate hand beading at the hem. She refused to make eye contact or her usual small talk with him.

  When he touched the small of her back, he felt her cringe. Shit, this isn’t what I intended.

  A ridiculous part of him thought they could go back to how they used to be. The flirting and fun. Why hadn’t I just let that be enough? Why did I have to go and mess it all up?

  However, he couldn’t accuse her of not doing her job. When it came time to make nice with the guests, she played her part beautifully. She talked, laughed, and smiled right on cue. It was just when it was the two of them that it all fell apart. When nobody was looking, she seemed miserable.

  Finally, Connor left her alone when it wasn’t required that they schmooze and look like the perfect couple. He needed to escape. He couldn’t breathe around her. But he found that no relief came—he just turned more anxious.

  Connor made his own rounds. He mingled and chatted with donors, but kept a watchful eye on her. Sam circled around to the women in the room. He watched her hug those whom she’d met before, or step back as she admired their shoes or dresses.

  After awhile, he saw the Circle of Crones, as he called them, swoop in on her. They were ancient, even by his father’s definition. The matrons of the DC donor crowd, they, or their husbands, were extraordinarily wealthy. When they gave, it was generous. However, to pry that money from their talons was a nearly impossible feat.