by Bromberg, K.
Let’s see what she says to that one. My eyes trace over the outline of those lips that I want wrapped around my cock, those fucking magnificent eyes looking at me with a trace of shock. Even after all of our interactions tonight, she still doesn’t know how to take me.
Good. Keep her guessing. Confusion is my advantage.
“I don’t have time for your childish games right now. I just had to endure humiliation beyond my worst nightmare, and I’m more pissed off than you can imagine. I especially don’t want to deal with you right now.”
“I do love a woman who tells it like it is,” I murmur to myself, unable to tear my eyes from hers. Or comprehend being told no. That’s a new one.
“So I’m going home in about ten minutes. Night’s over. I win our idiotic bet, so you better get your check and fill it out because you’re going home with lighter pockets tonight,” she rants and places her hands on her hips.
Fuck, there’s that defiance again that makes my balls tighten in anticipation. In unfettered lust. And she thinks I’m just going to write her a check and let her walk out of my life without having her? She’s sadly mistaken. I’m a take it or leave it kind of guy.
And I’m definitely taking this one. Too bad she doesn’t know it yet.
I don’t fight my smirk this time. Game on, baby. “Twenty-five thousand lighter, in fact.”
“No, we agreed on twen—” Her voice fades and I watch as it slowly hits her. The realization crashes like a tornado across her features and storms through her eyes. I can see her trying to fight it. Trying to resist the urge to throttle me.
And shit, if I thought defiance made her sexy, then anger makes her motherfucking breathtaking.
“No—uh-uh. This is bullshit and you know it!” She glares at me with every ounce of hatred I think she can muster, and it only makes me more determined to have her. “That wasn’t the deal. I didn’t agree to this!”
I tuck my tongue in my cheek, trying to bite back the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “A bet’s a bet, Ryles.”
“It’s Rylee, you asshole!” she hisses at me.
Testy. Testy. Ryles it is, then.
“Last time I checked, sweetheart, my name wasn’t Ace.” But when you’re screaming my name later, it can be anything you want it to be. I lean back against the wall and watch the emotions play over her face.
She’s so frustrated. Mission accomplished, buttons pushed. And now I have one feisty hellcat on my hands, and I bet sure as fuck she’s going to be fun to try and tame. Then again, why tame her? A few scratches never hurt anyone.
“You cheated. You-you-aaarrgh!”
“We never had time to outline any rules or stipulations,” I explain with a raise of my eyebrows and a shrug of my shoulders. “You were pulled away. That left everything as fair game.”
Those lips of hers that I want to taste fall open and then close again to only fall back apart. I pull my thoughts from what else I’d like them to open and close around. Sweet Christ! I force my mind to focus on the here and now and away from what exactly is under that dress. I push myself off the wall and step toward her.
I can’t resist.
“I guess I just proved you do in fact lose sometimes, Ryles.”
I have to touch her.
Irresistible.
Mine.
“I’m looking forward to our date, Rylee.”
I watch her eyes follow my fingers as they move a loose curl of hair from her cheek. I catch the slight hitch in her breath, and I know I’ve got her. Know it’s only a matter of time now.
The pull is just too great. Resistance is futile. I graze a thumb over her cheek, wanting to feel her skin. Needing to feel that spark of current that vibrates between us. “In fact, more than any other date I’ve had in a while.”
She leans her head back, my thumb still on her cheek, and “Oh God!” falls from her mouth in exasperation.
The sound of her sex-kitten voice turns my insides, calls to some part deep within me, and I don’t like it one bit. The only part of me that should be affected should be my dick and my mind counting the minutes until she’s beneath me.
Or on top of me. Beggars can’t be choosers and fuck if reverse cowgirl isn’t a mighty nice position.
See, Donavan? It’s the alcohol twisting things around making you think that feeling deep down is more than just the ache in your balls. C’mon, all you want is a quick, uncomplicated fuck and an attempt to tame the wildcat.
That’s it. Nothing else.
I swear.
Unease creeps through me at the thought of only having her once, and I force myself to stop thinking this fucking nonsense and grab the control back my dick has hijacked. I hear those words of hers echo through my mind, and I know exactly how to do it.
“Those words, oh God,” I mimic her and give in one last time to my need to touch her by running a finger down the side of her face. “Now I know exactly how you’ll sound when you say that while I’m buried deep inside of you.”
I love the look of shock that flashes across her face. Love the insolence in her expression as she lifts her chin and glares at me. Such a fucking turn on.
“Wow! You sure think a lot of yourself, don’t you, Ace?”
Shit! She walked right into that one and I can’t resist. Just can’t fucking stop myself from pushing those buttons of hers one last time before I walk away and leave her wondering whose court the ball is really in. I slip my hands in my pocket and lean into her, the smile on my face suggesting exactly what I want to do with her. To her. For her.
“Oh, sweetheart, there is definitely a lot of me to think about.” I laugh softly, loving the look I’ve just put on her face. “I’ll be in touch.”
I forgo the urge to touch her one last time. Taste her one last time. And I force myself to turn around and walk away. To put one foot in front of the other when I’d much rather be dragging her back to that damn storage closet and taking exactly what I want.
The chance to claim her.
Game fucking on.
I walk out into the parking lot and thank fuck Sammy is already there or else I might be tempted to walk back inside. Because fuck yes her playing hard to get is a turn on, but experience has me wagering that given ten more minutes either I wouldn’t be going home alone or that storage closet just might have gotten some use.
Can’t say I have a losing track record.
I pull my phone from my pocket and laugh when I see the notifications blaring across my screen. Case in fucking point. I thumb through the ten texts from Raquel. Each one dirtier than the first.
Sweet Jesus I could use a good fuck tonight after all of that verbal foreplay and by the suggestions she’s sent to my phone, it’s gonna be a long, sweaty, sleepless night.
“Hey, Wood. Good night?” Sammy asks as I climb into the back of the Range Rover, fingers already untying my bowtie and undoing the noose of buttons closing my collar on my neck.
“You have no idea, Sammy,” I tell him and then laugh when my thoughts veer to how my evening has turned into the beginning of a good joke—so a redhead, a brunette, and a blonde walk in a bar—when I think of Bailey, Rylee, and Raquel.
He laughs and shakes his head, having been with me long enough that he knows how my life goes. Women willing for whatever I’m game for. Well except for the unexpected Ms. Thomas tonight.
Knowing what was beneath that dress has made it ten times harder to walk away without having her. Since when do I care what a woman’s wearing so long as it’s piled on the floor?
Normally I’d say she’s not worth my time, but I can’t remember the last time I had a challenge. Shit, women say the word no to me about as often as they keep their legs together at the knees. Never.
Christ, I should let it go. Write the check, Donavan. Leave her alone.
Don’t touch complicated—that’s my default. So why in the fuck do I want to play with fire? Light the match to her flame and see how hot she gets.
Damn it to Hell.
I’m just horny. Pump primed and turned on from her defiance. I’ll lose myself in Raquel tonight—every tight fucking inch of her—and realize I’m being stupid. That I shouldn’t opt for complicated when I can have easy.
Decision made. Mind-numbing sex. That fixes everything.
I’m just about to text Raquel back when my phone rings. I look down to see her name. Well, can’t get much easier than that.
Damn, I’m good. All that’s missing is the snap of my fingers
“Hey.” I smirk at Sammy meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
“I’m naked. I’m wet. And my mouth is ready to suck your cock ’til you’re dry. I sure hope you’re coming home soon because my mouth is kind of empty and, baby, I’d love for you to fill it.”
My dick is already stirring to life, balls tightening. The need to come front and center. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be with that greeting? Shit.
“Fuck, baby, that sounds like Heaven … but I need to take a rain check.” My own words shock me. What the fuck are you doing, Donavan? What is wrong with you? I hear myself yelling, my dick begging, but my mouth has a mind of its own.
“What?” Her voice is soft, disappointment evident.
“I’m sorry. My mom needs me to stay here and wrap up some of the charity shit for her. I’ll make it up to you, though. I was invited to some launch party for the new sponsor, Merit Rum. It’d be good exposure for you—media and big wigs and shit, okay? You know I wouldn’t pass up the chance to fuck you unless it was unavoidable.”
I just used my mother to get out of fucking Raquel. There is something extremely pathetic about my state of mind right now. Is the Apocalypse coming? Is Hell freezing over?
What. The. Fuck?
She accepts reluctantly, I apologize again, lie about being busy, and end the call. Sammy catches my eyes and just raises his eyebrows. “I take it I should drive to Broadbeach instead, now?”
I scrub a hand through my hair and sigh. “Yeah.” I shake my head trying to figure out what in the fuck I just did. “Sammy, did I just pass up pussy?”
“Yep. Sounded like it. You feeling okay? Dick still attached? It didn’t fall off with all of the hobnobbing at the event?”
Fucking Sammy. Dude’s funny as hell. I grab my dick and adjust it. “Still there, Sam. Still there.” My voice trails off as my thoughts wander.
Rylee Thomas. It’s gotta be because of her. How could three fucking hours of defiance make me look at wet and willing and think it’s too damn easy? That working for a piece of ass might be fun for a change.
It’s her fucking fault I’m headed home to my hand and some lube. And even I know it’s fucked up so I start to tell Sammy to head to the Palisades but nothing comes out of my mouth. Because as hot as Raquel is and as good as she can ride me, my interest is elsewhere.
Back at the benefit. With curves and class and holy fuck that ass of hers. And that’s just scratching the surface of everything I plan on touching.
My phone rings again and I’m immediately irritated. Raquel needs to drop it and leave me the hell alone. “What?” I bark the word into the phone, Sammy’s shoulders moving as he laughs at my self-inflicted misery.
“Wow. Someone needs to get laid. Relieve stress and shit.” Shit. Guess I should have looked at the screen. I was so lost in what I can’t have right now that I assumed it was Raquel and not Becks.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I thought you were Raquel.”
“Damn, dude.” He laughs. “I guess she’s holding out on you tonight by the pissiness in your tone. She make other plans or something besides being at your beck and call?”
Fucker. I grunt out a laugh. “Hardly. Just not on the menu tonight.”
Becks chokes out a cough on the other end of the line. Fuck, I just left him an open door to walk right through. “Well considering your menu is usually pussy pie, I guess you’re looking for a new diner to eat it out of besides Raquel.”
The smile is wide on my face but my silence tells him volumes.
“Who’d you meet, Wood?” I can hear the here we go again in his voice and just shake my head because he’s right. “What woman has made you look at Raquel like she’s an inconsequential notch in that belt of yours?”
The only belt notch I’m thinking of is mine coming undone so I can take Rylee beneath me and hear that oh God fall from her mouth. My head fills of lace-top thigh-highs, her smart-assed mouth, and violet eyes filled with contempt. Two of the three should turn me off but fuck if it doesn’t make my dick jerk thinking of the whole fucking package.
“Nobody.” I lie to protect myself from the one thing I fear the most.
That Rylee just might be the somebody I told myself I’ll never allow myself to have.
She’s a forever kind of girl and I’m a just for the night kind of guy.
But fuck if it’s not going to be fun to see just how far we’ll each bend to break our own rules.
I STRUM MY FINGERS ON my desk as I peruse our parent company’s website. I have so many other things I need to be doing right now, but I find myself looking at pictures of all of the chairpersons on our board, as well as the members of the organizing committee.
I can’t place which member’s son is Donavan, and it’s really starting to annoy me. I don’t have his last name to help the puzzle pieces fit into place. I wish I hadn’t told my staff that they could wait a few days on getting me the paperwork. I was just trying to be nice after all of the hard work they had put in. If I had it though, I’d have the answer. I know I could just call up Stella or Dane and ask the name of my future date, but then they’d know something is up because something like that wouldn’t be important to me. And with those two gossipers, I don’t want to open that floodgate.
More importantly, I’m irritated at myself for even caring who he is. “Manwhore,” I grumble under my breath.
I rub my tired eyes and run my fingers through my hair, pulling it back off my shoulders. I exhale loudly. It’s been a long, tiring weekend, and I’m exhausted.
I glance at the clock. I have fifteen minutes before I have to leave to get to The House for my twenty-four hour shift.
My computer pings and I click on my mailbox to see an incoming email. I don’t recognize the address but can assume the person’s identity. Here we go again. I click on it because the subject line has piqued my curiosity.
To: Rylee Thomas
From: Ace
Subject: Backstage Liaisons
__________________________________
Ryles—
Would you have opened the email if the subject line simply stated, “Date the Highest Bidder”?
Didn’t think so.
You owe me a date.
Let me know your availability so I can make plans.
You have twenty-four hours to respond. Or else.
—Ace
I sigh heavily in confused relief. I’m irritated at his ridiculous ultimatum. More so though, I’m irritated at myself. Why, even if I don’t want to go out with him, do I feel like a giddy schoolgirl excited that he’s emailed me? That the cool, popular kid has acknowledged the awkward, ordinary girl.
After he’s made out with the head cheerleader behind the bleachers, that is. God, he is annoying! I check the clock to make sure that I have time for a response.
To: Ace
From: Rylee Thomas
Subject: Cat Got Your Tongue?
_______________________
Ace—
Demanding, aren’t we?
You never addressed your subject line. Should I worry about how many other emails you sent out with the same title to your other conquests from Saturday night trying to get a follow-up date?
-Ryl-E-E
I smile as I hit send, picturing his face in my mind. His smile. His emerald eyes. The devastation he had over my control. It’s only been two days since the auction, and yet I wonder if my memory is making Donavan out to be more than he really is. Making his transgressions seem less o
ffensive than they really were. Before I can ponder it further, my inbox alerts me.
To: Rylee Thomas
From: Ace
Subject: Chivalry isn’t dead
_______________________
Ryl-E-E—
A gentleman never kisses and tells, Ryles. You should know that.
When you think about me, make sure to note that my demands will only result in your pleasure.
And you never answered my question. A bet’s a bet. Time to pay up, sweetheart.
—Ace
I laugh out loud to his response. Maybe if I ignore his question, he’ll just go away. Good luck with that! Despite detesting the game he’s playing, I find myself smiling as I type my reply. I’m a challenge to him, plain and simple. If I’d acquiesced to his request for a date, or maybe even if I had continued kissing him in the hallway without backing away, he’d never have given me a second thought. He would have had his wicked way with me and walked away without a backwards glance.
To: Ace
From: Rylee Thomas
Subject: Fat ladies and yellow birds
_________________________
Ace—
I read somewhere that a boy needs the adulation from many girls to be satisfied, whereas a gentleman needs the adoration from just one woman to be fulfilled. By that definition alone, you are definitely not a gentleman. That means you should be singing like a canary, then.
Besides, a date is WAY ABOVE my pay grade.
—Rylee
P.S. Oh, and don’t worry, I don’t think of you. At all.
Take that! I think, proud of myself for my wit despite the blatant lie in the last comment. I stand and pack up my stuff, straightening my desk. As I reach to turn my computer off, my inbox alerts me again.
To: Rylee Thomas
From: Ace
Subject: You need a raise
_________________________