Share Me

by Webster, K

  He’s perfect according to my dad.

  He should try dating him.

  “Us” on paper is the perfect match, but chemistry doesn’t take note of whom we should be attracted to and it dropped the ball on this one.

  William is handsome, but he lacks sex appeal. We have sex on a schedule since I let him take my virginity four years ago on my nineteenth birthday. Everything I’d built up in my mind over the years was replaced with the reality of missionary style, five thrusts and it’s over kind of sex. I’d been led to believe from TV shows that, that was supposed to happen years after marriage, not straight from the start. I didn’t even feel the pain you’re supposed to have when losing your virginity. It was just bland and over too quick to notice pain, or pleasure. I’d always been a sexual person, with myself anyway.

  My fantasies had kept me company and created an expectation that William could never live up to.

  I’m still not sure if it’s normal or if there is something wrong with me, because I long to be tasted, to be touched for hours, in every place forbidden and otherwise. I want passion like you see in the movies or even the dirty, all positions sex that you see in porn videos.

  The lust, the need, the raw, rough touch of a man who wants to devour me.

  It’s maybe because I’ve grown up in a household of men who all look like they walked from the pages of a fitness catalogue or straight off a movie set. My four guys set a high standard in the looks department.

  I’ve had crushes on them since they walked into my life six years ago. They were the reason I bought my first vibrator. I’d been having naughty dreams about each of them and sometimes not separately for as long as I could remember. I’d ordered the toy online, then it became my best friend and probably the reason I didn’t feel pain with William.

  It isn’t just that they’re all handsome, though.

  Each of my guys are also unique, offering something I’ve always needed. Attention. Affection. A listening ear. Protection. But above all of those…company.

  Just knowing they are around, somewhere in the house, makes me feel less…alone.

  I didn’t have the typical upbringing, so friends were sparse and boyfriends weren’t allowed until I turned eighteen, and even then, he was picked for me by Dad’s security team. Background and social media check to make sure he was not only worthy but not some secret creep. Dates arranged and organized, my outfits chosen for me until I reached nineteen and grew a backbone. That was all thanks to Ford, who snort laughed at my cardigan one day. It had rabbits printed all over it and I looked five, not a nineteen-year-old woman ready to lose her virginity. Ford took me shopping that day, letting me try on anything I wanted. I changed my entire wardrobe that weekend and never looked back, much to Marjorie’s horror. Apparently having a backbone also means you’re a PR nightmare. I’m a good daughter, though, and play by her rules when it counts.

  Clothes hold power. When I need to be who my father wants me to be, I can put on a skirt and blouse and pretend I’m that girl. When I’m feeling bold and want to shed that expectation, I can replace the blouse and skirt with a flirty dress and become more carefree. But best of all, when I need to feel special and sexy, I can be just me in lace underwear. William never once has taken off my bra during sex, which I find weird and wish I had someone close I could confer with. I’d say he never takes it off because my breasts look so appealing in the lacy number, but he always frowns when I wear sexy underwear. He told me that a lady doesn’t wear items like that. He also told me it wasn’t like girls to want sex.

  I’ve always felt shamed by him.

  I read up online that it’s normal to have a high sex drive when you’re young, but not sure if it refers to the person being single or in a relationship. Your hormones go crazy, the articles stated. Well, I’m twenty-three now and I’m still horny and frustrated.

  Looking down at my left hand, I sigh deep. My thoughts are weighted with the information slipped to me by his sister. A proposal is coming. The thought of being married to William leaves a pit in my stomach growing wider each day. I can’t marry him.

  Things with William just won’t work out. I can’t keep fooling myself into thinking it will.

  Just visiting him has become a chore and it’s not fair to either of us to carry this on when we have the media’s eyes on us all the time, creating a perfect couple when we’re far from it.

  I come to a picture of him with his family and sigh at the affection his mother’s eyes hold as she looks up at her son adoringly. I miss my mom and yearn to be looked at with such affection.

  Mom’s death was six years ago, but the grief of it whenever I think of her is like salt being poured into a raw wound.

  So much has changed since her death. She died in a car accident when Dad was running for governor. Instead of it stalling his career, it launched it. The media coverage and magazines all writing pieces on his strength and single fatherhood did wonders for his vote. But the truth was, his staff raised me. And when I say raised, I mean looked out for. I practically raised myself. Now he’s heading for the White House and his time for me is less than before. I adore him, however, and he does me. I just wish our time together wasn’t forced into his schedule. He’s asked to meet with me for coffee at a local shop later, because finding time within our own walls is impossible.

  He’s hardly ever home and I just exist within the walls here. He wants to discuss his campaign and my role while he runs for president. Do I tell him that I don’t want to have to be a part of the charade?

  I check my cell phone and see I have a couple of hours to spare before meeting Dad, so I pull up William’s contact.

  Me: Can we meet this morning?

  Five minutes later comes his reply.

  William: I can pencil you in at 10:30 for half an hour?

  His reply causes me to roll my eyes. I need someone to not have to pencil me in and be elated that I want to spend time with them.

  I close the laptop and slip off my bed. It’s hot, too hot, and the AC hasn’t been working in my room for two days. Going to the window, I shove it up higher and suck at the air, trying to fill my lungs and cool my sweaty skin. I’ve been sleeping in just my panties and it’s still been too hot. We’re having an unusually hot fall. I can’t wait for the cooler weather to roll in.

  My eyes flutter closed and I take a minute to think about what I’m going to say to William.

  “Hey, you don’t satisfy me. We should break up.”

  “We need to talk. It’s over. Bye.”

  “I’m insatiable and you hate fucking me, so it’s over.”

  “William, you will always be a part of my…”

  Ugh, lame.

  I open my eyes and startle when my eyes clash with Sebastian’s brilliant blues, the leader of Dad’s security detail, standing in the yard. He and his team have worked for Dad exclusively since Mom’s death, so he’s no stranger to me, but the look in his eyes when they find mine is different to any other time he’s seen me.

  Shock at first. Then, intensity. Finally, hunger.

  My brow furrows and it’s then I realize I’m wearing just my underwear. The window is low and shows my entire torso to his focused gaze.

  Crap!

  Usually, the grounds at the back of the house are empty. It’s just two miles of greenery. But not today. Today, Sebastian is out there, his cell phone to his ear and his blazing blue eyes glued on me.

  Breathe, Clove. Breathe, Clove.

  I can’t breathe, though. My chest constricts squeezing my lungs, causing my eyes to bulge.

  It takes me a few seconds to move away and pin my back to the wall beside the window, taking a huge gulp of air. My heart is racing and my hands are shaking, a thrill coursing through me that shouldn’t be.

  He didn’t look away. He just stared at my exposed skin and that has an excitement pooling in my stomach that I don’t understand. It was just an accidental situation, but my entire body is humming with need now. Manifesting and dampeni
ng my panties. I’m not normal.

  I peek to see if he’s still there, but he’s not. The space he was standing in is now vacant. My heart deflates a little for no reason. Did I make him up?

  I’m being stupid for liking the thrill of him seeing me nearly naked. Sebastian has always given me a pulse deep in my stomach. His authority mixed with those looks are a deadly combination and I’ve always had a feeling of fear and excitement when in his presence, like he could punish me if I ever broke the rules, but his punishment would be brutally sinful. I’ve imagined being put over his knee on more occasions than deemed sane.

  Biting my lip, I check the time on my cell. Half past nine. I have time. Rushing over to my bed, I slip my pink toy from the bedside cabinet and shimmy my panties down my thighs, lying back and letting thoughts occupy my mind that shouldn’t.

  Visions of me doing this with him watching, with the other team members watching, have my back arching. I imagine my four guys surrounding my bed, each one touching themselves encouraging me, guiding me, commanding me. I let the vibrations dance over my clit as I fantasize that I’m on display for Sebastian and his whole team, spreading myself open for them, driving myself fucking crazy. They’re all around my bed watching, but not allowed to touch. I open myself up more, exposing my glistening pussy to the room, and massage the pink tip over and over my bundle of nerves until my toes curl. Then, I slip it inside and clench around it as illicit ripples of pleasure wash over me.

  It’s fast when the orgasm hits, igniting every nerve in my body. My heavy pants fill the air and a smile creeps up my face.

  Once the high cools and I slip the device from inside me, shame replaces it.

  I’m not normal.

  Getting turned on by someone I’ve known for years accidently seeing me? I’m desperate and pathetic.

  William was supposed to take care of these needs and instead he just made me more frustrated.

  A tapping at my bedroom door jolts me from my thoughts and I see the handle drop, so I scurry to pull my panties up, tossing the toy over the end of my bed and sitting up on my knees.

  The door opens and Sebastian is standing there. All six feet and probably five inches of him. Solid frame. Scruffy cheeks, tense jaw, and narrowed eyes.

  “Oh, sorry,” he says in a husky voice, taking in my still undressed state and turning his broad back to me. My eyes widen and I grab a pillow to cover myself. I know my cheeks are burning from my afterglow and I look guilty because I am. Does he know? Will he be embarrassed for himself? For me?

  “It’s fine,” I croak out.

  He chances a glimpse over his shoulder, a feral glint in his eyes, and sees that I’ve covered myself before nodding and turns to fully face me again. “I’m sorry about before.” He gestures toward the window and then rubs a hand over the back of his neck. Is he blushing?

  I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished the sentence. “No, it was my fault. For not putting clothes on.” I laugh awkwardly and his eyes darken as they drag over me. “The AC is broken in here,” I quickly add. “I just needed some air to circulate the room. It’s so hot.” I’m mumbling like an idiot. It’s like I’m meeting him for the first time and haven’t spent six years under this roof with him.

  His tongue slips past his full lips, swiping out to taste the bottom one. “Yes, I can see that,” he states, once again dragging his eyes over me like he can see through the pillow I’m clutching like a life raft.

  I blush harder and bite on my bottom lip. I don’t feel twenty-three. I feel like a virginal teenager under his observation. He moves farther into my room and toward the vent of my AC and my stomach drops. Sickness from humiliation explodes inside me when he rounds the bed and his foot kicks the vibrator I tried to get rid of. Time slows and I will the bed to cave in on itself with me inside it when his eyes drop to the offending item.

  He’s bending down as I’m scrambling forward off the bed. No…no…no.

  He reaches it before I do, clasping it in his palm, and rises to his full height. I’m now standing in front of him, the pillow abandoned, and humiliation racing a red flush over my skin.

  I snatch it from his hand and hide it behind my back like that will fucking erase the fact he saw it and touched it. He could probably see the sheen of my release over it. Smell me. Oh God, kill me.

  He’s staring at his hand, the one that was holding my used toy a second ago, and my eyes expand with worry that any juices may be on there.

  “I’m mortified,” I choke, my brows furling together and tears building in my eyes.

  “We all have needs, Clo.” He swallows and I’m transfixed on the movement in his throat. I always thought he resembled a vampire, but now I feel like one. Because I want to lean in and take a bite of the pulse jumping in his neck.

  “Sebastian?” a bark comes from the doorway, making me almost leap from my skin. Turning my gaze to the offending voice, I see another member of his team, Ford, standing there looking in at us. Ford has always been a friend to me, but that tone isn’t friendly. The room heats and I look between them both, praying Sebastian doesn’t mention this incident to him.

  “I was just checking the AC. It’s broken in here,” Sebastian rumbles.

  If I’m not mistaken, he sounds guilty.

  My skin burns, and dammit if I don’t feel guilty too.

  “Yeah, looks hot in here,” Ford grunts and then the aggression from moments before disperses into his signature smirk, his eyes raking over my exposed body like it’s telling him a story.

  Holy shit. Twice in one morning another man has seen me in my underwear.

  “We need to get ready. Zac wants to go over the plan for today,” Ford informs him.

  There’s a silent pause in the room before we all start moving. I step over to the bed, pulling the sheet up to cover my front. Sebastian turns and heads for the door that now has Ford propped up against the frame, smiling in at us like he knows a secret that we don’t. There’s mischief in his features and I know he thinks he walked into more than what he actually did.

  What would Dad think if I started something with a member of his security team?

  He would fire them and forbid me from telling anyone so it didn’t become a scandal that could tarnish our reputation. I can fantasize, though. No one has control over that.

  I watch them leave and breathe out a shaky breath before slipping to the bathroom for a shower, taking my pink pleasure toy with me.

  Watching Sebastian grinding his jaw and trying to hide the bulge in his slacks as he rushed from Clove’s room is one of the funniest things I’ve seen. The bastard has had a thing for her since she reached fucking age. We all have if the truth be told. He wouldn’t admit it, though, but we’ve been best friends since we met in Afghanistan and worked together ever since. I know our team better than I know myself. I don’t blame him for not admitting what she does to him. Clove is stunning. Like stupid hot with fucking curves most socialites have to pay a surgeon for.

  She’s the boss’s daughter, though, so she’s off-limits. That was Sebastian’s rule when starting our company over a decade ago and it’s never been a problem…until her.

  We may know that she’s off-limits, but sometimes, the little versions of us in our pants don’t understand that shit, hence Sebastian trying to stop the blood pumping to his cock.

  “Broken AC?” I snort.

  “It was,” he snaps back, and I hide my grin behind my hand as we approach the others.

  “Why were you two with Clove?” Leo asks.

  How the fuck did he know?

  “I just went to get Sebastian,” I defend, holding my hands up in mock surrender.

  “Broken AC,” Seb spits out, at the same time running a hand through his raven-colored hair and looking down at his feet to avoid eye contact.

  Leo quirks a brow, his eyes darting between us. “What?”

  “What?” we both say in unison with a shrug.

  Shaking his head, Leo holds out his phone with a tex
t showing from Clove.

  Clove: I need to go to William’s office this morning. Sebastian and Ford will accompany me. Please have the car ready in thirty minutes. Thank you. x

  Well, shit.

  “She doesn’t usually see him on Mondays,” Leo adds, his tone questioning.

  “I’m not her keeper,” I grunt. “I just keep her safe.” I run a hand over the back of my neck and then over my head, messing up my gel. I need a haircut.

  An awkward pause thickens the air. Leo has always been too interested in Clove’s life. What she does and when. He’s overprotective and it’s nothing to do with her being a job or the fact he’s in charge of gathering intelligence. He has feelings for her that go beyond his duty, and he’s not good at hiding that fact or gives a shit that any of us know it. It can happen when you’re around the same client for long periods of time.

  Shit, calling her a client feels wrong. Less than what she truly is.

  They’re supposed to be just a job. Six years is a long job, but still a job. Nothing more. But deep down, I have a hard time convincing myself. And lately, it’s becoming harder to ignore, especially when she traipses around looking hot as fuck all the time.

  Images of her in her underwear, a glow to her cheeks, plays on repeat in my head. Goddammit.

  “Ford? You listening to me?” Sebastian barks, narrowing his accusing and sometimes creepy-fierce blue eyes at me. The fucker knows I wasn’t listening and probably knows where my thoughts were.

  Nodding, I focus my attention on him with a tight grin.

  “You’ll go with Zac and accompany him to the coffee meeting with Mr. Sterling. We’ll show up with Clove.” Zac prefers to be assigned to Clove’s father’s protection detail rather than hers for some fucking crazy reason. Why he’d choose Jack over Clove is beyond me. Watching over Clove feels more like a reward than a job.

  Sebastian motions to the car. “We’ll take the Bentley.”

  Sounds good.