Animal Instincts (Gilded Knights Series Book 3)

by Emilia Finn

  I toss my clothes into the empty tub, my temporary clothes basket, then I step into the separate shower and tip my head back so hot water streams over my face and fractionally reduces the coiling warmth that tugs at my belly.

  Now, a new heat keeps me warm.

  I move quickly, soap, lather, wash, and rinse. I wash my hair with the new shampoo Jen judges me for, and when I’m done, I rinse the purple shampoo away and follow it with conditioner. Between turning the shower on and turning it off, only a minute or two passes, but it’s long enough to make me feel less gross after a long day at work.

  Stumbling out of the shower and snagging a fluffy towel from the rack, I grab my wine and phone, then I move into the hall and head toward my room.

  “Sugar?” a giggling Jen calls out. “Please, miss?”

  “No! Fuck you. Don’t talk to me.”

  I step inside my room and slam the door shut, but though I’m tempted to chicken out and call all of this off, or at the very least, do it all alone, I unlock my phone and dial Mark’s number.

  “If I’m doin’ this, I’m doing it with my man.”

  I toss my phone onto my bed, the call on speaker, and stop in front of my mirror as I chug more wine. I need to be most of the way drunk to get this done. Just as the line connects, I set my glass down, drop my towel, and tilt my head to the side so I can study myself.

  I have lines on my skin; from my bra, from my pants. This isn’t like in the movies, where everything is perfect, and a woman has no blemishes. No. I have a panty line, and a subtle tan, leftover from warmer days. My boobs are lily white, my chest is red from my shower, and my arms come with a darker complexion from summer. I have a freckle on my neck that annoys me, and a chin too pointy to be cute.

  “Tab?” Mark’s voice rumbles from my bed. “What the hell was Jen carrying on about tonight?”

  “Don’t talk about Jen.” I press my palms to my stomach and let them slowly glide up to my breasts. My hair is still wet, dripping, which provides my hands with the perfect roadmap.

  “I miss you, Mark.” I try to lower my voice, drunkenly thinking lower means sexier. “I miss you so much that my skin aches to be touched.”

  “What… Tab?” Mark’s voice is the opposite of low and seductive. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “When are you coming to me?” I slide my fingertips over taut nipples, but when it feels good, surprisingly so, I turn away and head to my bed. If I’m going to do this, then I’ll do it without staring back at myself in the mirror. “I want you to touch me. I want you to touch me soooo bad.”

  “Are you…” Mark pauses for a moment. “Are you drunk, Tab?”

  “I’m drinkin’.” I giggle and look around for my wine. I’ve lost it, somewhere between here and sugar. “I don’t ever want to fight with you. I know I make us fight sometimes, I know I nag at you. But it’s only because I miss you so much.”

  “Tab, I—”

  “Don’t you miss me too?” When I realize I’m starfishing my bed and not touching myself, I hurriedly push my free hand along my torso and stop at the thatch of hair I keep down there. “Don’t you miss having sex with me, too?”

  He groans. “Just stop.”

  “I’m turning you on, aren’t I?” Falsely victorious, I glide the tip of my finger over my clit and whimper at the electricity zinging through my blood. “I knew I could, as long as you took a minute to talk with me.”

  “I can’t…” Every time he speaks, Mark steals a little of my buzz. He’s too serious. Too rigid.

  “Just shhhhh,” I tell him. “Feel this with me. Remember what it feels like to be with me?”

  My phone beeps in my ear. Incoming call. Incoming message. Incoming something. But I ignore it and, leaning around, I snag a pillow and bring it to the side of my head so I can wedge my phone between it and my ear. Then I have two hands to touch with. Two hands to feel with.

  “I miss you so much,” I moan when my fingers create magic in my blood. “I want you here with me.”

  “Tabby?”

  “Shhhhhh.” I slide a finger deep inside and whimper.

  I haven’t been touched in two months. Haven’t been kissed. Haven’t been wanted.

  “This is what we need,” I tell him. “A little wine, a lot of courage, and now some touching.”

  11

  Beckett

  Inappropriate!

  “Tabby, I—”

  “Shhhhhh.” Tabitha, my friend, my fucking assistant, shushes me before I can get a word in. Her breath comes heavy, her cries enough to shoot electricity into my blood, and when she does something good to herself and her breath escapes on a purr of satisfaction, my stomach turns hot.

  In most situations, this would be an easy fix. Tabby is having a private moment, I’ve somehow dialed in, and now she’s continuing on as though nothing has changed. The polite thing for me to do would be to hang up and never speak of this again.

  But I’m four shots of whiskey deep, and the moment I heard Tabby’s heated sigh, my cock jumped onboard and begs me to let this ride out.

  I’m ready to make a few poor decisions, and after my talk with Remi, I consider this chat a kind of payment for honorable behavior.

  I find no pleasure now in the random hookup. The free and easy. The fast and pleasurable. Because at some point in the last months, I developed feelings for someone else, and until this very moment, she was unavailable to me.

  “God,” Tabitha’s primal growl is enough to make my cock seep.

  It is what it is, and I’m only a man. A healthy, single, primal kinda man, whose assistant is beautiful and her mouth, sharp as a fucking blade.

  “I’m so glad we’re doing this,” she whimpers. “I’ve wanted you for months, but the timing was never right.”

  “You—” Fire pulses in my blood. Alcohol swirls with it, and lust follows suit. “Me?”

  “Yes.” She moans… and forces me to sit on my bed, since it’s the closest place for me to rest.

  The sounds she makes are enough to make my hand slide over my cock. The alcohol in my blood makes it easy for me to pretend what I’m doing is okay.

  “I’ve wanted you for so long,” she whispers. “I feel like we had this connection. This deep connection ever since the day we met. Do you remember that day?”

  Her interview. The day I pushed her aside and told her I’d chosen someone else. “Um—”

  “Shhhhhhh.” She shushes me again, loudly, drunkenly. Then giggles. “You made me spit. I remember when we met,” she pushes on. “And you were there. Not as tall as I expected.”

  “Wait.” My head snaps back with shock. “Really?”

  “I mean, tall enough,” she grumbles. “Not as tall as… No.” She audibly shakes her head, the crinkle of fabric on the phone enough for me to guess she’s in bed too. “Definitely not saying that name right now. But still tall. And handsome. And you smiled, and that was… ohhhhhh.” She cries out so loud that my cock pulses. “This isn’t as difficult as I expected.”

  “You’re…” I cough and clear my throat. And I definitely don’t take my cock out of my pants. “You’re touching yourself Tabby?”

  “Mmm. But don’t call me Tabby. That’s what… that’s… Beckett— Oh fuck.”

  She said my name. She said my name! “I didn’t realize you—”

  “Shhhhhh.” If I was with her right now, I imagine a drunken finger would be smooshed against my lips. “Don’t ruin it,” she grunts. “Are you touching yourself too?”

  “Do you…” I look around my bedroom and swallow. “Um… do you want me to?”

  “Of course, silly. That’s why I called.”

  “No, I…” I frown. “I called you.”

  “I wish you would call me more often,” she murmurs. But her breath comes faster. Harder. “I’m gonna come.”

  “Wait. What?” I already took my cock out of my pants, everyone knows it. But now I wrap my hand around it and pump. Slowly. Torturously. And groan at the pleasur
e that zings in my blood. “Wait for me, Tabby.”

  “Tabby.” She whimpers, only for the sound to end on a muffled squeal that sets my blood on fire. “I like that name. Tab is boring, and Tabitha sounds like I’m in trouble.”

  “Have you… are you drunk?”

  “Little bit,” she giggles. “You can start drinking too, if it makes this easier.”

  “I already started drinking,” I tell her honestly. “I’m sober enough to know this is naughty.”

  “But drunk enough to do it anyway?” she queries.

  “Fuck yes.” I squeeze tighter. Pump harder. “It would be a lie if I said I’ve never thought of this.”

  “I’m so glad.” She moans, loud and sexy. “I need this so bad. I’ve needed it, but it wasn’t until tonight that I thought to do it.”

  “You were thinking of this too?” I think back to dinner. To the diner. To when she recited my order off to Kat and pretended she doesn’t control my life.

  Call me a caveman, but it did things to my gut. To my blood.

  To my fucking soul.

  “You scare me so much when you say you’re unhappy, Tabby.” I let go of worrying about this, worrying about it being inappropriate, worrying about us both being on the wrong side of tipsy, and instead, I imagine Tabby in my mind, her soft edges, her long legs. “I don’t want you to leave me. That’s why I keep you where you are, ya know? It’s why I need you every single day.”

  “Every single day?” She cries out and propels me closer to release. “But you don’t say so. You sometimes act like I don’t matter at all.”

  “I’ve never meant to.” I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder, then I drop back on my bed and close my eyes. If I try hard enough, I can pretend she’s riding me. I can pretend it’s her squeezing me tight. “I swear, I’ve never meant to make you feel insignificant.”

  “I’m making a mess of my blankets,” she giggles. “This is so naughty.”

  “Are you wet, Tabby? Dripping?”

  “So much mess,” she breathes. “I left my towel on the floor, so now my… it’s getting on my covers.”

  “It’s a trophy,” I groan. “When you’re done, you can look and see what you did for yourself.”

  “It’s your voice,” she cries. “So deep and sexy.”

  “I like your voice too.” I push myself to the line between lust and oblivion. I’m standing on the edge and waiting for her to come to me. “I wish we were doing this in the same room. I wish I could touch you.”

  “I wish you were here too. Oh god.” Her breath comes choppier, sharper. “I’m almost there.”

  “Slide deep inside,” I coach her. “As deep as you can go.”

  “Okay,” she breathes out.

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Warm,” she answers without thinking. “So warm. And bumpy. And, oh!”

  “That’s your g-spot.” My release teases the end of my rope. I’m fraying. Falling apart. And if she doesn’t allow me to finish soon, I might die. “Come for me, Tabby. Come all over your hands.”

  “I’m coming,” she cries. “Oh god. I’m coming.”

  I bite my bottom lip until it hurts. But I come too. Powerful, jerking spurts of hot cum land on my stomach. “Is it like a gentle wave, Tabby? Or is it like a flood—”

  “Flood,” she cries. “There’s so much. And it’s making a mess on—”

  “I would drink it all up if I was there.” My throat aches, parched as I see her in my mind. She’s coming on her hands, but in my drunken brain, I’m able to conjure the image of her sitting on my face and giving it all to me. “If I was with you, Tabby, I would hold you up and not let you down until you had nothing left to give.”

  “Goddddd.” Spent, she breathes and flops back in her bed. Even intoxicated, I can picture every single thing she’s doing. “I would kill for that. We’ve never… you’ve never… I would like to try that with you.”

  “I would like to insist we try it,” I chuckle.

  Semen coats my stomach, sticky and warm. But Tabitha’s voice is in my ear, and though I swear I was trying for platonic with this woman, I told myself a million times this one was off-limits, now she’s gone and opened that door.

  She strode on through and made me come in a matter of minutes.

  “Tabby, I—”

  “Shhhhh.” Sniggering, her voice comes louder. Closer. Like she’s turning in bed and hugging her phone beneath her face. “I don’t know where I left my wine. But I really wish I had it here with me.”

  “I wouldn’t mind another drink,” I agree. “As soon as I left you, I started drinking. I needed to dull the fear.”

  “The fear?” Her whispers draw me closer. Closer. “What fear?”

  “Fear of you leaving me. You can’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

  “No.” Silence hangs for a moment before she adds, “No, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. In fact, I’ve thought about it a lot. Especially the last few days. It’s just… I need more, ya know?” She slurs her words. Mumbles when exhaustion drags her closer to sleep. “I need more than what you’re giving me right now. I’m trying to hold on. I am. I’m trying to give you the space you need. But eventually, I’m gonna need more than what you’re giving.”

  “I understand.” My heart hammers, fast and painful. “I really do. But I’m selfish enough to hope you stay anyway.”

  “And I’m stupid enough to stay. For now,” she giggles. “I’m too loyal for my own good. Did you know my vagina is still pulsing?”

  Just like that, my cock springs from where it lay against my stomach and stands proud, waiting for a second round.

  “I can feel my heart in my vagina. It feels so good.”

  “Touch your clit,” I tell her. “It’ll feel like fireworks.”

  “Okay.” Humming in the back of her throat, she moves in her bed once more. But I don’t need words to know when she touches. Her guttural groan is enough. “Shiiiiit.”

  “Told you.” I wrap my hand around my dick and start too. “Again, Tabby. Come again so I can hear you.”

  12

  Tabby

  What the fuck?

  I walk into Lakeside the next morning at a little past eight. Early for the office to open, but not so early that Beckett won’t be here.

  Not that I’m looking for him.

  I have work to do, a hangover to nurse, and a coffee to chug. Maybe after that, the ache in the backs of my eyes will go away, and the sickening swirl in my stomach will recede. Soon after that, I can probably speak to him about dinner last night. The things we discussed. Perhaps, if I’m feeling extra generous, I can apologize for saying unkind things.

  But I can’t do any of that until coffee washes my hangover away, and with it, the dreams that tickle the back of my memory. The inappropriate dreams I had about my boss that still leave me with a blush that’ll be the end of me.

  I woke this morning with an empty glass of wine on my bedside table, a dead phone, and an uncomfortable wet patch on my sheets that made my skin too soft and my stomach hot from embarrassment.

  I called Mark last night intending to loosen a little of the tension holding me captive recently. In the end, I fell asleep and dreamt of Beckett, and I woke this morning touching myself, following the instructions my dream-boss was giving me while unconscious.

  “Jesus.” Disgusted with myself, I tug the sunglasses off my face and slowly unlock the glass front door. My hands are shaky, my blood-to-alcohol ratio still probably a little sketchy.

  Tucking the arm of the glasses into my blouse, and my briefcase against my side, I push against the door with my whole body to get it to open.

  I have no clue why Beckett has such a heavy door. “It’s unnecessary,” I grumble to myself. “Not like we’re treating Yosemite bears around here.”

  I sidestep and let the door begin its slow trek closed, then I make my way to my desk, dragging feet, slumped posture, and hair that most certainly was not dried or styled
properly last night before bed.

  In a drunken stupor, I washed my locks, then fell asleep without brushing, or even drying. Now I have a bird’s nest of kinked waves, and not enough hairspray to tidy it up.

  So I long ago stopped trying.

  Dropping my bag and keys on the raised counter in front of my desk, I shuffle my way into the hall and stifle a loud yawn.

  “Tabby?” Beckett’s voice comes from somewhere deep in the practice. The operating room, perhaps. Or the storage room. “That you?”

  “Yep.” I wave him off and set my coffee on my desk. I know he can’t see me. But I see me. I feel me. “Still waking up. Leave me alone till nine.”

  He barks out a playful laugh, but I ignore his existence. I pretend I never met him. I especially pretend I didn’t do nasty things to his disciplined body last night in my dreams.

  “Jesus, Tabitha.” Dropping down in my chair, I slam my elbows to the desk and bury my face in my hands. “My head hurts so much.”

  The phones ring, clients looking to get a jump on their day… but I ignore them too. The machine will get them. I’ll listen to the messages later, and return their calls.

  Maybe.

  Sluggishly, I release one hand from my face and slowly reach across to jiggle the computer mouse. I have a to-do list today, things I need to get done, things that’ll take more than a minute, and I don’t want to deal with Beckett or anyone else while I do.

  I need this time to overcome the embarrassment of getting dinner with my boss and telling him off, only to then have sex dreams about the guy a matter of hours later.

  The worst part is, I came. In my bed, all over myself. I made a mess, and at least half of me wonders if that technically means I cheated on Mark.

  I mean, in a way, I suppose…

  “Fuckkkk.”

  Navigating to my calendar—Beckett’s calendar—I’m dinged with a request to book accommodations for a trip Beckett plans to take at the end of this week. A medical supplies auction for an X-ray machine he wants, but for half the price of buying new.