by Nikki Wild
“Thank you for everything,” I grinned, extending my hand.
“Anything for your family, son. Anything at all.”
Hensley popped open his driver door, but something else occurred to me – and now felt like the time to ask.
“You and Dad…” I observed, and he paused, his foot on the floor inside. “I’ve never heard how you two met, or what made you both so close. How did you two cross paths?”
Hensley offered a devious grin. “When we were boys, your father wasn’t wealthy. He was just another young rapscallion, like any of us. Used to get into a lot of trouble, too – a lot like you, Sawyer.
“When he received his inheritance from your great-grandfather, he was already eighteen years old. The elder Samuels had placed a portion of his finances into low-interest, compounding bonds, as he expected to die at a much earlier age. Apparently, he’d forgotten about them for decades. When your father received his inherited bonds, they were substantially high – enough for a flight around the world.
“He’d met your mother by then, and they were already engaged. The two of them left Pennsylvania and walked the world for over a year. But as streetwise as he was, he needed someone with them, someone he trusted to help protect her from falling prey to human traffickers or whatever rabble he ran into…I’m pleased that he thought I fit the bill. After all, I’m the reason they met, with her being my sister and all…”
“You’re my…my uncle?” I asked, astonished.
“None other than,” Uncle Hensley chuckled. “Years of bodyguarding your parents and working in special operations made me rather adept at tracking from the shadows…but I made a number of enemies, and I was afraid that they would strike at you if they knew the connection. So, I kept my distance. But most of them are incarcerated or dead now, and as they fell off the radar I became more accessible to your family.”
“To our family,” Saffron corrected.
“Quite so,” he agreed. “Anyway. We can all catch up tomorrow, after your parents have returned. I’m sure it’ll be a delightful little chat. Enjoy your last night together, and just remember…I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”
Hensley dropped into the driver’s seat, tugging the car closed. With a faint wave and a smile, he pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road and into the night. We watched him drive off, before I grabbed Saffron by the wrist and pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.
“Sawyer…” She murmured as we broke apart afterwards.
“I’m not done with you,” I smiled cockily at her. Saffron’s eyes widened and she gave me the sexiest little smirk at her disposal. Hot fucking damn was she goddamn beautiful. “We have some unfinished business to take care off, “ I reminded her, unlocking the door to the Beach House, “and all night long to do it…”
Twenty-Five
Saffron
Pensacola, Present Day
That night was the most incredible night of my life. Sawyer took me across the Beach House, out to the back patio. Under the stars, in full view of the ocean, we fucked for hours – stopping only for water, for me to blow his cock, or for him to hold me down and bury his tongue inside me.
We were insatiable. It was like we were teenagers again; our incredible sex drives that just drove us onward, claiming each other completely again and again. With every kiss, every thrust, every lick of each other’s bodies, we simply needed more.
And we paid each other in full.
The following morning, Sawyer greeted me with his face between my thighs. My fingers were grasping into his hair before my eyes opened, and I came against his tongue under the blankets. This time, nobody banged on the door, threatening to whisk my lover away forever.
A short while later, I wiped my lips clean – with the fresh taste of his thick cock on my breath. We cooked breakfast together, barely able to keep our hands off of each other.
We were absolutely giddy with joy.
Unfortunately, Sawyer had something to do, and he insisted that he go alone. Afraid of losing him again, he reassured me with his thumb against my chin, his fingers stroking the underside of my jaw. After a long goodbye kiss, I watched him disappear into the city on the back of that motorcycle he loved so much.
A few hours later, he returned – he had apparently gone to get his bite checked out, and was waiting on the tests to come back. In the meantime, he decided to have some words with Luke, the owner of the cage-fighting venue. I’d halfway expected blood on his knuckles, as furious as he looked, but I calmed him down with my hands on the counter and my ass poked out – bare and ready for him. He took me up on my offer, and we had one last, loving fuck before the appointed time approached.
After a long, hot shower together, we were ready for the rest of the evening. Hensley arrived shortly after with Chet and my mother. They quickly embraced both of us and looked Sawyer over, making sure that he hadn’t broken any bones or sustained any irreversible injuries – Mom even remarked that he positively “glowed,” which elicited a private, knowing smile between Sawyer and me.
As Hensley had told us, they weren’t angry – only concerned for our wellbeing. I was afraid that they were going to lash out at Sawyer for getting himself arrested during his time watching over me, but they didn’t reveal the slightest hint that this was the case.
We sat down with a round of tea in the Beach House den.
“It’s about time we came clean,” Chet told us, but his eyes were focused on my stepbrother. I turned to Sawyer, confused, but his undivided attention was on our father, and he nodded.
“Saffron,” our father explained, “we know about the two of you.”
“I…what? Wh-what do you mean?” I stuttered, but Sawyer took my hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. My face turned to him, and he gave me a knowing, smiling look.
Chet proceeded to explain everything. The conversation they’d had over the phone in the storm, a few days after he had left us. My mother nodded along, indicating her inclusion.
“You mean, all of you knew?”
Sawyer matched my confusion now.
“It was your father’s idea,” Mom explained with a cheerful grin. “It’s not your fault we decided to get married. I’ve seen what love looks like…”
She squeezed Chet’s hand.
“It can’t be like this… If anyone finds out, the tabloids will be all over this,” Sawyer began, shaking his head.
“And they will say what, exactly? Two people of no blood relation fall in love? Sawyer, nobody is going to care,” Chet replied. “Besides, your mother and I...”
“We just got divorced!” mom said, smiling.
“Technically,” Chet continued, “but I’ve always wanted a mistress…”
Mom laughed, holding Chet’s hand even tighter.
Chet took over the story. “I’m sorry for the little falsehoods. I just couldn’t let you live like this, son. I know how long this has been tearing you apart. We needed a reason to put you two back together, so, we fabricated the whole thing…”
“There’s no death threats?” Sawyer asked, looking betrayed.
“You set all of this up?” I gasped.
“We figured that we’d give you both a chance together, independent of us. After all, we knew how much Sawyer loved you…enough that he had to leave home for years. And don’t think I never snuck a peek at your diary…”
“MOM!”
I turned to Sawyer again, watching his reaction. He was processing everything, just like I was, but it was all piecing together in his head. He turned to me, and I realized just how much our parents had played us.
“With the Beach House to yourselves,” Chet continued, “you’d either kill each other, or you’d work past everything…”
“…And make it work, together,” Mom finished.
“What if it didn’t work?” I needed to know. “Sawyer and I…we didn’t exactly have the best relationship growing up, and he’d been gone so long. I was filled with bitterness just at seei
ng him, let alone spending an entire summer with him…”
He looked morose for a moment, but I rubbed my hand along his arm. “But I don’t anymore. Of course not. I understand now.”
My attention turned back to my parents. “What if it just made me hate him? Hate you?”
“That sounds like another solution to the problem,” Chet replied, grinning ear to ear.
Mom looked at Sawyer. “When your father told me how much you loved my daughter, it affected me. It took me a little while to come around, I’ll admit, but I put it all together eventually…the way that he’d look at you sometimes, the way that he acted…it all made sense. It wasn’t right, antagonizing her like that,” she continued, glaring at him for a brief moment, “…but I understood. Chet never stopped believing in you, sweetie, and I trusted him. I trusted you.”
Sawyer was speechless.
He rubbed his temples. “I don’t…this is so much to take in, I just wanted to make my own way…” he thought aloud.
“You did make your own way, and I’m very proud of you for it. You’re tough. Resourceful. A damned force to be reckoned with. When I’m ready to pass down my company, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather put at the helm...”
“But… What about the assault case?”
Chet stood up, beaming down upon his boy. “Everything’s fine now. Peter Pascall dropped all charges a few hours ago. Everybody has a price. Turns out, Peter’s is rather small, all things considered. I’m fine paying it so long as you’re done with this sort of thing.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Sawyer shook his head. He turned toward me, looking into my eyes. “I think Sawyer ‘Bonesaw’ Samuels has seen his last bout in the cage…I have every intention to retire.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Chet agreed. “Besides, I’ll need you operating at 100% if you want to take over the Florida division of our family enterprise.”
“The Florida division?” Sawyer said quietly.
“Well how else are you going to pay me back, son? You’ll need a job,” Chet said, smiling wide.
“I don’t know what to say,” Sawyer replied, still looking at me.
“Don’t say anything. I’ll give you a few days to think it over. You can have the beach house, and you’ll have some of the best managers in the world to help bring you up to speed. It’s a fast paced business, but I see you have some of the old family killer instinct running through those veins.”
With everything cleared up and my parents onboard with the change in our relationship, we all went out for an amazing dinner on the boardwalk. Sawyer and I were absolutely famished, and we scarfed down our picks from a delicious array of seafood: pan-seared scallops with jalapeno vinaigrette, creamy baked Dijon salmon, filet mignon medallions with crabmeat hollandaise, and much more.
After dinner, we walked ahead along the boardwalk as my parents hung back with Hensley, wandering along behind.
“I can’t believe you never told me how you felt,” I chided Sawyer as I held his arm in mine. “All those years…”
“I think I like how things worked out,” he replied. “I was younger then. Stupid. I took the weight of my life onto my shoulders because I couldn’t bear the thought of not having you.”
“But you ran away,” I told him. “I was sorting out my feelings…I might have–”
“We were eighteen... Are you certain – not a shadow of a doubt – that you would have been receptive? We lived together, Saffron. If you didn’t agree to it, we would have been trapped in that house, circling each other at arm’s distance. You’re positive you would have gone along with it, right under our parents’ noses?”
“I…” What he said made sense. “…I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. I might have been too young – too naïve to deal with it.”
“I think we both were,” he nodded. “But it’s all in the past. Now we just have each other, forever. And no matter what…I’ll always be there for you. I’m not running away anymore, Saffron…and I’ll never, ever leave your side again.”
My arms found their new favorite spot, wrapped around the back of his neck. Standing up on my toes, I planted a deep, fulfilling kiss against Sawyer’s lips. I didn’t care that the others could probably see us, with the moon out above…and while the Pensacola waves lapped against the wood beneath us, I realized something incredible.
I believed him.
Did you love PULSE? Well keep turning pages because I’ve also included a few more surprises including Arrogant Brit!
ARROGANT BRIT!
Prologue
Of course I’d be running late for the most important banquet of the fucking month.
I scrambled to check myself in the mirror. The makeup was a thinly veiled hack-job, and my hair was barely kept in line. Image was the name of the game, image and proper representation… but I knew that I didn’t have the time to prepare myself any better.
At least my makeup covers the bases.
It wasn’t going to win me any awards.
But I’d leave a good enough impression.
With a slice of toast between my teeth, I quickly darted down the stairs and hopped in my ancient piece of junk Honda. No time to be cute and civil now, and I was starving. I could touch up my makeup at a red light…of which I anticipated there would be several because, you know, I was running late, and why the fuck wouldn’t there be red lights all the way there.
Twisting the keys in the ignition, I listened as the engine sputtered to life and ignored the obnoxious chime of the check engine light – the constant death knoll was ritual by now.
Moments later, I was on the road, a cavalcade of excuses and apologies whirling through my head. I didn’t know what I was going to say to the others when I arrived.
Forty-five minutes and a minimum of eight red lights later, I finally pulled to a halt in the parking garage, six floors above where I needed to be. I raced to the elevator, frantically punched the button, and rode it down the chasm towards the lobby. It was only halfway down that I realized I probably could have slipped down the stairs faster.
The Marines’ banquet was already starting by now, probably. All eyes were going to be on me as soon as I walked in.
Fantastic.
As I stepped out into the lobby, evading eye contact with absolutely anybody, I marched straight through the doors and to my people. There they were, standing in procession around our portly, impatient leader as his furious gaze fell down upon me.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me…I need to speak with one tardy Clara Campbell.”
Everyone’s gaze fell on me, and I felt small.
“You’re late,” Arnold told me after pulling me aside. Even with his whispered tone, I could see the others judging me as they paraded around the room. “I thought I could count on you to never be late. Where’s my Clara? I don’t see her here, just this tired, tardy young lady.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied truthfully. “It won’t happen again. Traffic was–”
“Don’t let it happen again,” he cut me off.
I nodded quietly, knowing that there would be no further discussion. All those half-hearted explanations in my head fell to the wayside, and I knew that he didn’t care to hear a single syllable.
Arnold cast me one final, judgmental glance before turning to the others, who collectively pretended to be occupied with their own devices.
“Very well then. Places, everybody!”
I grabbed a drink tray.
Oh. Wait. You thought I was going to be in the banquet, didn’t you?
Nope.
I‘m not the plucky romantic lead in a book, fawning over my billowing attired and preparing to take the arm of a sexy, rugged Marine. I wasn’t wearing a nice dress, although I did have a fetching black bow tie beneath my collar.
I bitterly adjusted my bow tie and waistcoat.
That’s right.
I’m on the fucking serving staff.
This was my place in life. My role was to work in the trenches
while other people got the nice, glamorous lives. Being a banquet server meant working behind the scenes and making sure nobody saw what was really going on beneath our careful, manufactured smiles and in hidden corridors around the event rooms.
Spreading crisp, flawless tablecloths over ancient, folding wooden tables…
Stepping through concealed staff entrances into dank, filthy hallways, refilling ice pitchers and returning mountains of discarded plates…
Lining up in an assembly line of servers around a massive kitchen – marked with years of use and old appliances – to whisk out huge black trays of carefully plated entrees…
I saw the muck behind the charm.
It was my job to make sure they never did.
I’d never be the beautiful princess, or the intrepid reporter, or the esteemed socialite. I was just Clara – a working-class server, part of a freelance banquet and bartending crew that rounded out local hotels, sports games, and catered events. Being anything more than that just wasn’t the world that was in front of me.
Or so I thought.
One
“That’s right, love. Just like that. Make my throbbing knob swell with pride.”
My strong fingers threaded deeper through her curly hair. Her full, rounded lips hungrily bobbed up and down on my rigid scepter. Of course, she couldn’t take it all in, even with her professed lack of a gag reflex – which we both knew by now had been a complete lie.
They never could.
It occurred to me, as I forced her to suck me down deeper, that I didn’t quite remember her name. She was just some quick draw from the club, a pretty face that went red with pleasure the moment she caught my rich accent. I knew she couldn’t remember my name, either, but she was going to ask for it again by the end.
They always did.