Eye Candy

by Tijan

  “Ruby!” Mimi beckons me over. “We’re debating the theme of the soirée. Help us decide!”

  Bancroft gives my butt an affectionate squeeze. “I bet you’re regretting this awesome idea right about now, aren’t you?”

  I bite my tongue and say nothing. My original plan was to host a small party in his condo. Our condo. Not a five-hundred-person event. I can handle the extravagance. My regrets stem from Gwendolyn’s involvement and how much it’s stressing Amie out. My idea for a zombie apocalypse theme gets shot down quickly. Apparently not everyone wants to dress up like the undead for Halloween. Go figure.

  “What about a prince and princess theme?” Gwendolyn suggests.

  “Oh! That’s a great idea!” Amie claps her hands excitedly.

  I try to hold back my snort of disbelief. One that indicates I do not agree with her enthusiastic response to this horrible idea. I don’t for a second believe that Amie wants to dress up like a princess for Halloween. Why don’t I buy her reaction? Because during our first year of college we managed to score fake IDs proclaiming we were of legal age to drink.

  There was a Halloween party at a bar downtown and Amie, also having Daddy’s credit card in her back pocket, decided we needed to dress up. And dress up we did. She went as a dominatrix, which really means she just went out and bought very expensive, very leathery lingerie. And a whip. I went as a zombie bride, before zombies were all the rage. Guess who got all the phone numbers that night. Not me.

  Guess who also had to explain the thousand-dollar credit card bill from a fetish store. Again, not me.

  The following year she went as an angel. In lingerie. The year after that she went as a wood nymph. In lingerie. There’s clearly a trend here. So while Amie pretends to be excited about dressing up in layers of tulle and satin, she’s really thinking about what kind of garters she can pair with her newest corset. I have to wonder if Armstrong has ever experienced Amie in her garter glory and whether he’s capable of appreciating it.

  I try to wear lingerie with Bane, but he gets overzealous and often destroys it in the process of its removal. The other night when I was dressed as an evil fairy is a case in point. That costume is now in need of a few repairs. But God that sex was hot. I would like to have more of that. Preferably soon.

  I tune back in to the conversation in time to hear Mimi suggest princesses throughout history. I have no desire to drown in a dress. I raise my hand, as if we’re in school, then realize I don’t need to be addressed before I speak. “That might be a little narrow. What if we made it famous couples throughout history.”

  Gwendolyn makes a face. “That’s actually a very good idea.” She sounds rather surprised that I could have one of those.

  “That way we’re not confined to royalty. We can choose any famous couple.” Like Bonnie and Clyde. The more notorious the better. “They could even be fictional.”

  “Like Romeo and Juliet!” Mimi proclaims.

  “Exactly.” I think Romeo is a wishy-washy douche and Juliet ends up dying for nothing, but I love that Mimi is referencing Shakespeare when we’re planning a Halloween party.

  “This is just going to be so much fun!” Mimi gives me a side hug. “I’m so glad Amalie introduced you to my son. If you have any other girlfriends with enough spunk to tame Lexington, I would love to meet them.”

  I laugh. Amie smiles as she watches us, but I can see the strain in her eyes. It makes me sad that her soon-to-be mother-in-law is such a cold fish.

  Mimi’s excitement is contagious, despite Gwendolyn’s nearly constant poo-poo attitude toward almost every aspect of the soirée. It appears they’ve decided to inject themselves fully into planning the event. Which, in reality, isn’t terrible. Both Amie and I have full-time jobs, and party planning has been theirs for years. Eventually we move to the dining room when we’re called in for dinner, but the conversation continues to revolve around the Halloween party. It becomes more and more grand as the discussion continues.

  I have no idea how they expect to pull this off in only three weeks, but it seems like it’s spiraling out of control in terms of size and grandeur. I wonder if this is what planning the wedding has been like for Amie. If so, I can definitely understand why she’s not more excited. And her excessive need for yoga. And her lack of orgasms. It makes me sad.

  Lex, who’s seated on the opposite side of the table, has been relatively quiet. Other than our bartending extravaganza in the kitchen, he made himself scarce until we sat for dinner. Although, I’ve been busy with the soirée planning, so maybe he’s been around the entire time and I just didn’t notice.

  Since we’ve sat down, Lex and Armstrong seem to be having a stare-down contest. Armstrong’s arm has been slung across the back of Amie’s chair possessively, like he feels the need to protect her. From what, I have no idea.

  Meanwhile, Bancroft has been trying to get his hand up my skirt. It’s distracting, but enjoyable.

  Mimi is three glasses of wine in, and her voice grows louder with each sip. “I have another idea!” She waits until she has everyone’s attention. “I think we should have a bachelor auction.”

  That gets a round of groans from her sons.

  “What?” Mimi waves her hand around, giant diamonds flashing in the chandelier lighting. “It’s a wonderful idea. We raised almost a quarter of a million dollars for charity last time.”

  “It was excellent publicity,” Fredrick, Armstrong’s father, agrees.

  “Who’s going to be up for auction? There’s no one eligible at this table,” Bancroft squeezes my thigh, his pinkie sliding under the hem of my dress for the five-millionth time. My vagina is going to explode before we get home.

  “Except for Lexington,” Armstrong adds with a smirk. “How much did your date pay at the last one? Was it twenty or thirty thousand?”

  Lex taps on the table. “It was fifty. What was it you got? Fifteen?”

  That wipes the smirk off Armstrong’s face and puts one on mine.

  “It was twenty-five,” he says irritably. “Who did you take out again? Wasn’t it the Firestone girl? I hope she got her money’s worth.”

  Lex’s grin spreads slow across his face. “I believe she did. I think she called me, hmm, what was it again?” He taps his lip. “Very charitable. She said I was worth every last penny.”

  “Lexington!” Mimi chastises.

  His expression morphs into wide-eyed innocence. “What? If a woman is going to donate fifty thousand dollars to charity on my behalf, I’m going to be an exceptionally attentive date.”

  “Especially if she’s hot,” Bane mutters, but not quietly enough. I elbow him in the side.

  “Bancroft!” Mimi purses her lips and gives him a hard look.

  I clasp my hands together and rest my chin on my knuckles. “If I wasn’t already dating Bane I’d donate fifty thousand to charity for a date with you, Lex.”

  That dimpled grin makes another appearance. All the Mills boys have killer smiles. “Thanks, Ruby.”

  Bancroft’s fingers tighten around my thigh. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “Don’t stroke his ego.”

  “It’s too bad you can’t be auctioned this year, Bane. You always fetch a pretty penny.” Gwendolyn sighs and then turns a strangely disdainful grimace on Lex. “At least we have you. We’ll just have to find a few more gentlemen to participate. What about that Williamson boy, he did well last year, didn’t he—nothing like your boys, Mimi, but well enough.”

  What odd dinner conversation.

  It’s late by the time we leave and I’ve had several fun cocktails, compliments of Lex, so I’m feeling absolutely no pain. I’m also a wee bit unsteady on my feet. And horny. Dear God, I need to get laid. So bad.

  I think my harmless little joke about a charity date with Lex is making Bancroft a little territorial. Although I’m not sure why. I live with Bancroft, it’s not as if I’m going to jump brothers and beds. That’s just . . . gross.

  So now that I’m in the car with him
, alone, I want to get my hands in his pants and I’d like his up my skirt.

  I slide over so I’m right beside him and rub my boob on his bicep. “Put the divider up.”

  He stretches his arm across the back of the seat and glances at me. His expression is remote, giving nothing away. In fact, he’s completely flat. Huh.

  He brushes my hair over my shoulder, fingertips skimming my throat. “Why do you want me to do that?”

  “For privacy.” Duh.

  His voice deepens from the already low baritone. “And why would we need privacy?”

  I bite my lip and cross my legs, letting my skirt ride up. His gaze drops there and then shifts to the open partition. “Because I’d like to be inappropriate with you.”

  “Oh? Are you sure it’s me you want to be inappropriate with?” His tone isn’t playful, it’s hard, annoyed.

  I lean over him and hit the button, watching as our driver’s gaze moves to the rearview mirror and then back to the road. He disappears behind the black glass. I narrow my eyes at Bane’s tight jaw, then run my fingertip along it. He jerks away.

  “Explain that reaction, please.”

  “You were flirting with Lex at dinner. In front of everyone.”

  “Pardon?”

  “At dinner. You said you’d donate fifty thousand to charity to go out with him if you weren’t with me.”

  I am sure my expression is incredulous. “Armstrong was being a dick. I was defending Lex.”

  Bancroft scoffs.

  “What is that sound? What does that mean?”

  Bancroft lifts his gaze from my cleavage. “He flirts with you.”

  “Lex? He doesn’t flirt with me. He treats me like a sister or something. I wasn’t being serious, and he was just being grateful since Armstrong is always a jerkoff,” I reason.

  “I don’t like it.”

  Wow. I had no idea Bancroft could be so sensitive. Well, that’s not entirely true. I just didn’t realize it extended to Lex. “You know you’re the only one I want.”

  He’s still frowning. And now he’s not looking at me.

  “Bancroft?” I take his chin in my hand and make him look at me. “How can you not know that?”

  “I just don’t like how much he enjoys the attention. He gets enough from everyone else. He doesn’t need it from you, too.”

  “So you’re jealous?”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “You’re mine. Everyone knows you’re mine. Lex knows you’re mine, and he still flirts with you, and you played right into it tonight.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “How very un-twenty-first-century of you. What is this really about?”

  He sighs and his head drops back on the seat. “You spent a lot of time with Lex tonight in the kitchen making all those drinks and then you were with Amie talking about this party thing, and you’ve been with Amie all week.”

  I shift around and straddle his lap. Now it makes sense. And I can actually see a pattern. Whenever we spend a lot of time with his family or with friends he becomes extra needy. As if sharing me with other people somehow makes me less his. And I suppose in a way that’s accurate, because he can’t have me all to himself like he normally does. “Aww, baby, are you feeling neglected?”

  His brows knit together, but his hands go to my thighs and slide under the hem of my dress. “Maybe.”

  I drop a kiss on his lips. “Am I yours?”

  His eyes are dark, heavy. “Yes.”

  “So maybe you should take me.”

  “Maybe I should.” He unzips my jacket and pushes it over my shoulders. His fingers trail over my collarbone and along my throat. He walks his fingers up my chin and slips one into my mouth.

  I suck and bite, easing forward so I can grind up on him.

  That dark look on his face becomes downright lecherous. “You think I should fuck you right here? In this car?”

  There’s my dirty boy. I nod once.

  “You sure you can be quiet? That’s not soundproof glass.” He tips his chin toward the divider.

  “I can be quiet.”

  I suck in a breath of anticipation when he slips his hand back under my dress, searching for the edge of my underwear. Which he doesn’t find. His lip curls. “Where’d your panties go?”

  “They were damp after dinner, so I took them off.”

  “Naughty girl.” He drags a knuckle along my slit. “You’re ready for my cock right now, aren’t you?”

  I make a strangled sound as he lifts my skirt so he can watch two fingers disappear inside me. He drops the fabric and slaps my ass. “Shh. Remember how you said you could be quiet. You don’t want to embarrass our driver, do you?”

  “No.” There’s music playing up front, and it’s unlikely that he will hear, but I don’t want to make it awkward for him. He’s a nice guy.

  “That’s right. You don’t want him to know what’s going on back here, do you?”

  I give him another headshake and bite my lip when he curls his fingers to prevent any unwanted sounds from escaping.

  “You know what you should do right now?” He circles my clit with his thumb.

  It’s incredibly difficult not to moan loudly. I manage one stuttered word. “N-no.”

  “You should get my dick out so you can ride it like you are my fingers.”

  I crush my mouth to his in a bid to quiet the desperate noise I’m about to make. I fumble with his belt buckle, yanking it free of the clasp. Bancroft is zero help since he has his hand between my legs and the rhythmic twist and curl of his fingers is incredibly, blissfully distracting.

  Freeing his shirt, I struggle to undo the button. The zipper gets caught in the fabric, sticking while I tug roughly. At his low chuckle I nip at his lip. That gets me another slap on the ass.

  I gasp. Bracing a hand on his chest, I push back enough so I can glare at him. It’s not super effective since my eyes roll up a little at the angle change. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what? This?” He makes an attempt to withdraw his hand from between my legs, but I grab for his wrist. In all honesty, I’m not remotely strong enough to prevent him from stopping, but he grins up at me and curls his fingers again.

  “Oh. You mean this?” He smacks my ass again.

  I have to fight another moan.

  He kneads one cheek with the hand that isn’t between my legs. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it. I can feel how much you want me to do that again.”

  I try not to clench. I really do. But I brace for the hot sting and the warm flood of pleasure that follows and all my muscles contract. Bane knows exactly how to push my buttons. And one of my buttons is a sweet spanking.

  “You better be on my cock when you come, babe.” It sounds a bit like a threat.

  I let go of his wrist and whine when his fingers disappear. It forces me to refocus though. I shove my hand down the front of his boxers and grip his erection. Bancroft has a magnificent cock. It’s just as huge and gorgeous as the rest of him. The constant flash of lights as we pass under the street lamps and through busy New York traffic gives me a sporadic, but sufficient view.

  Bancroft grabs my hips and pulls me forward. I line us up and drop down. “Fuck yes,” he groans.

  I want to ridicule him for being loud and potentially embarrassing the driver, but he cups my ass and rocks me forward. I only need a few well-timed thrusts and I’m coming. I thread my hand through his hair, gripping it tight. My mouth drops open and I rasp his name, a soft, pitchy sound catching in my throat.

  One corner of Bancroft’s mouth turns up in a wicked sneer. “That’s it babe, that’s what I want, you squeezing my cock, looking at me like I’m your fucking God.”

  Have I mentioned that Bancroft is a cocky, dirty talker when we’re having sex? Especially the public kind. Car sex isn’t super frequent, but we do have sex at his parents’ house pretty much every single time we’re there. Most of the time it’s quick and dirty; the appetizer before the main co
urse when we get home.

  When I’m done coming, Bane reaches behind me and unzips my dress, pulling it roughly over my head. He ruins my bra when he can’t get it off fast enough. Not that I care. I have lots at home.

  Bane runs his hands down my sides, exhaling a hard breath. Grabbing my left breast with one hand and my right butt cheek with the other he slides down the seat and uses the anchor points to lift and lower me while he pumps his hips and I start grinding.

  “Look at you. You’re goddamn glorious.”

  My reflection wavers in the tinted glass. I’m grateful no one can see in, considering I’m completely naked and Bancroft is fully dressed. I don’t know why it makes the sex hotter. As does the fact that we’re sitting at a red light at an intersection and I’m bouncing away on his lap, heading for orgasm number two.

  “Please tell me you’re going to fuck me again when we get home,” I groan.

  He releases a breast and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close until my chest presses against his. “You bet your sweet ass I am. This is just a warm up.”

  “I guess it’s good you’re working from home tomorrow, huh?” I ask breathlessly.

  “Damn right.”

  Note to self: insecure Bane is insatiable.

  Chapter 7: Costumes Are Crazy

  Amie

  “We need to pick costumes for the Halloween soirée.” We only have two and a half weeks left. That’s not a lot of time. I might need a dress customized. Ruby has the skill set required to do it, but I’ll need time to find the appropriate pieces to put together and she’ll require time to work her magic.

  Armstrong looks up from his newspaper. “Why can’t it just be a masquerade? Why can’t I just wear a tux and put on a mask and you get a new ball gown that matches my tie and we’re done.”

  “Because it’s not a masquerade party. It’s a Halloween soirée and we need to come up with coordinating costumes because that’s the theme. Your mother’s the one who picked it,” I point out. Although Mimi had a hand in making the decision, thankfully. Otherwise it would’ve ended up being extraordinarily boring.

  Armstrong sets his paper down, possibly aware that I’m not going to let up until we make an actual decision. “Remind me what the theme is again.”