by Sadie Haller
“I will.”
“Okay, then. Take care.”
“You, too.”
I disconnect the call and eye up the pile of laundry in the corner that I’ve been ignoring for too long.
16
Heath
I meet Grant and Nick at Teterboro airport. From there we will fly into Reagan. I have meetings set up with Esmonde Washington management in the morning. Most of them are strictly hotel business, but my first one is to ensure all the details for Oliver’s memorial birthday are taken care of.
Every year since Dair’s younger brother, Oliver, died, we all get together to celebrate his birthday. It’s the sort of affair that has the potential to be maudlin, but it’s the one time in the year where all eight of us are guaranteed to get together. Some years, it’s the only time we’re all in one place. We met at Harvard in first year—we were all on the same dorm floor, moved into a big house off campus second year and styled ourselves as the Geeks on Dover. Instead of spending his first year in the dorms, Oliver moved in with us at the beginning of our third year, and he was dead at the end of January. Dair’s parents blamed him and completely disowned him. We’d been a close knit-bunch from the start, but losing Oliver had taken us from good friends to family.
“Heath, good to see you. How was the wedding?” Grant asks as he pulls me in for a bro-hug.
“The wedding was good.”
“All is not well in parental paradise?”
I shake my head. “Oh, they’re fine. It’s the step-bitch that’s the problem. My mom keeps trying to forge some kind of relationship with her—you know what my mom is like. She’ll keep going until she finds the good in even the most hopeless of cases. Anyway, the step-bitch has no manners. She blew off the wedding and reception. George was pissed as hell, because she’d actually committed to attending. She did show for brunch the next day. Half-lit.” I inwardly cringe at the memory of discovering my new stepsister being the woman I’d fucked nearly to completion the night before.
“Come on, spill.”
“What?”
“We’ve been friends for nearly half our lives, you think I can’t tell when you’re holding something back?”
“It’s nothing worth mentioning.”
He cocks an eyebrow and nails me with that steely-eyed stare of his. The one he no doubt uses on reluctant sources. “Short and sordid version? I fucked her before knowing who she was.”
His eyebrows just about hit his hairline. “Come again?”
“At the reception. Well, between the ceremony and the reception, I popped into the bar for a much-needed drink, and there she was.”
“Wait a second. How the fuck could you not recognize her?”
I huff a sardonic laugh. “Because I’d never met her, and only photo I’ve seen of her is on the mantel above George’s fireplace. One of those official school portraits that had to have been taken when she was about eight and already showing her shitty attitude. And I’d bet my autographed Babe Ruth baseball my mom put it there.”
“What parent doesn’t have current photos of their kid plastered all over the house?”
“One whose kid is a loser asshole, that’s who.”
“Yet you picked her up in a bar and fucked her.”
“Well, she didn’t come off as a loser, then.”
“What did she come off as?”
“Hot. Confident. Sexy as fuck.”
“Who’s hot, confident and sexy as fuck?” Nick asks as he comes through the door of the waiting area.
“Heath’s new stepsister.” Grant says before I can get a word in.
“Is she single?”
“Jesus, Nick. Don’t you already have a woman in every major city in the US?”
“It never hurts to have one on deck, and another in the hole.”
I shake my head. “I sure hope you always suit up and get tested regularly.”
“I might be a big ol’ man-slut, but I always play safely. Hey, speaking of playing, Simon is taking me to Arrogance tonight. Are you guys coming?”
I shake my head. “Not tonight. I’ve got meetings first thing in the morning.”
“And I’ve got a thing other me is working on,” Grant says.
Nick shrugs his shoulders. “Okay.”
We spend the relatively short flight and the ride from Reagan shooting the shit while I work diligently at redirecting more uncomfortable questions about Georgia that I don’t want to know the answers to.
As soon as I close the door to my suite, I breathe easy. Why the fuck did I say anything about Georgia? My mind drifts back to her security nightmare of a building. Maybe her dad is right, and she’s fine. Something in my gut doesn’t agree. But, who am I to interfere? Instead, I focus on preparing for tomorrow’s meetings, because I have a feeling I won’t be up for it after we get back from Duke’s.
To say the evening’s revelations were explosive is a gross understatement.
Duke, a socialite and consummate playboy, hears things. And he’s heard that Fred Sieger is planning to run for president. Grant’s alter-ego, undercover investigative reporter extraordinaire Sebastian Quinn, is convinced Sieger is operating outside the law and has ties to organized crime. He’d already spent the last five months quietly looking into all aspects of Sieger’s life and business dealings. When he heard about Sieger’s political aspirations, Grant felt an urgent need to shift his investigation into high gear, so he contacted Dair.
“Okay, I get why Simon isn’t here,” Kevin says, “As a lobbyist, I can only assume he needs plausible deniability. But I don’t understand why Nick isn’t here. He must have sources who would be useful.”
“He will be brought in, once the investigation is finished. We’ll need him for national TV exposure, but we can’t risk leaks of any kind, and while I totally trust Nick, I don’t know his team. I want to keep this as tight as possible,” Grant says.
“Okay, that makes sense, but why am I here?” Kevin asks. “I’m just the guy who builds things that get sold.”
“You’re an entrepreneur, a business man. You have contacts outside we can’t hope to tap. Sieger is into more than just real estate, which is where Heath comes in.”
“I don’t really do real estate, though. I run a chain of hotels.”
“Yes, and sometimes that involves real estate deals. Which means you have contacts.”
He’s not wrong.
“Matt, what are your thoughts on this? I know you represent the other side in the senate, but do you think Sieger has any chance at the party nomination?”
“Sadly, I think it’s possible. I wish I could say otherwise, but this is DC. Expect the unexpected.
The next hour or so is spent discussing the ways we can all help Grant expose Sieger, preferably before the election in November.
The next morning, I cruise through my meetings on autopilot. My mind keeps wandering to Georgia and that nightmare of a building she lives in. Georgia and how good she felt on her knees, sucking my cock. Georgia and the way I was an asshole to her in that bathroom.
Fuck. While it turns out my anger was directed at exactly the right person, the way I expressed it still crossed the line. I should do something about that.
That evening, I greet my friends as they arrive in the hospitality suite. The music is a playlist of Oliver’s favorites. The buffet, his favorite foods. Most of Oliver’s party is the same year after year. It has to be, since it’s Oliver’s party, and he never got a chance to develop new favorites. The one place I do get some creative license is with the cake. As long as it’s chocolate, I can go to town. Every year, I search for the most creative bakers, and every year, I give Oliver a more spectacular cake than the last. It’s a huge time-suck, but it’s one thing I can do for Dair, and I do it gladly.
This year, it’s the Hogwarts sorting hat on top of a pile of Harry Potter text books. The cake is the one thing we don’t eat. We take a photo of it, and another of the eight of us with it for posterity. Then the next day, the cake
is delivered to an after-school program of Dair’s choosing. Once we’ve done the cake photos, we settle in for the annual screening of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. The last film we all saw together with Oliver.
“Who has the disk?” I demand, when I notice it’s not where I left it.
“Jesus, Heath, cool your jets, I’ve got it right here,” Kevin says as the disk tray pops open on the DVD player, “What’s with you? You’ve been cranky all evening.”
“He’s got woman trouble…of the sexy stepsister variety.” Nick pipes up.
“What the hell? How are we only hearing about this now?” Duke demands.
“Because this is Oliver’s birthday. It’s not appropriate,” I say.
Dair laughs. “Seriously? There’s nothing Oliver would have loved more than to hear all about your sexy stepsister woes. Fuck the movie, we could all act it out from memory. This will be way more entertaining.”
“But the movie is tradition,” I protest.
Dair’s expression turns serious. “Maybe it’s time to buck tradition.”
“Really, Dair? Because—”
“It’s time to make some changes. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to give up throwing him a birthday party, but switching things up I can handle.”
I’m blown away. To be honest, I thought I was going to be producing the exact same party year after year until we’re all well into our eighties…or older.
“If you’re sure.”
He grins at me. “Absolutely. Now do not disappoint my baby brother. Tell us everything about Georgia.
“If you got married, would it be incest?” Simon asks.
“Your stepdad would also be your father-in-law. Jesus, that’s almost like that Muppet song about being your own Grandpa.” Duke draws a few chuckles with that one.
Eventually, they give up on the teasing, and I cave and tell them a bit about Georgia.
* * *
The next night, we all go out to Arrogance because Nick raved about it. Turns out we weren’t the only ones he raved to. When he said it never hurts to have one woman on deck and another in the hole, I don’t think he meant both showing up at the same time in the same club.
Arrogance was great, but I spent most of the evening wondering whether it was Georgia’s scene. Does she like to dance? Does she only drink vodka, or does she like to drink fancy cocktails? Clearly I need to get laid, and there’s no shortage of prospects, but none of them are doing it for me. Apparently, not for Grant either. I wonder if it’s the Sieger thing or a woman that’s got him so wrapped up in his own thoughts he’s oblivious to all the women trying to catch his eye.
I tap his leg. “What do you say we get a cab back to the hotel?”
“Yeah. I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
“You and me, both. Nick’s flying back to Seattle with Kevin, so it’s just us on the flight home. What do you think about heading out in the morning instead of afternoon?”
“Can’t wait to get back to Georgia, huh?”
My first reaction is to be snarky, but I don’t want to banter about Georgia. It was bad enough getting grilled by the guys last night. Grant and I are closer, and he’ll ask more probing questions. The kind that make a guy look inward and examine his feelings. The only feelings I’m interested in examining are the ones my cock feels when it’s inside Georgia’s body.
And that can’t happen again.
“I don’t want to talk about her. Okay?”
He studies my face for a moment. Then he gives a short nod. “Okay. Let’s go home in the morning.”
17
Georgia
I don’t know what the fuck I’m thinking, but three weeks after the wedding, I find myself wandering into the bar in Heath’s hotel.
Returning to the scene of the crime, maybe. Isn’t that what bad people do?
Weirdly, I’m surprised to see Heath sitting at the bar. I freeze in a moment of panic as our gazes clash in the mirror. Before I can spin on my heel and make a break for it, he’s at my side.
“Georgia.”
“Heath.”
“What brings you here?”
“A cheap, tawdry fuck against the vanity in a hotel bathroom?” Fuck, I didn’t intend to be quite so sarcastic, but this man brings out the worst in me.
“Tempting, but I was thinking of a more appropriate venue to take care of our unfinished business.”
I know I’m going to regret it, but this man and his cock have been on my mind for the past three weeks, and maybe I just need to fuck him out of my system.
“Lead on.”
The elevator doors open on the eleventh floor where there are only two doors. “This is the family floor. This suite is mine,” he says as he unlocks the door on the right. “The one across the hall is for family and personal guests.”
“Do you live here, or is this just your fuck pad?”
“While I entertain here on occasion, I mostly use it to host parties, or sometimes as a crash-pad if I have late meetings onsite.”
When he closes the door behind us, my heart rate speeds up and my belly flutters.
“Enough small talk,” he says as he stalks toward me. “Let’s not act like this is going to be anything more than a spectacular hate-fuck. Consent is one hundred percent required. You tell me yes, and you’re mine to do whatever I want with and you’ll leave here in the morning satisfied.”
Jesus. I couldn’t have conjured up a more perfect fantasy. Dropping my gaze to the front of his pants, I lick my lips in anticipation.
He leads me into the living room and gestures for me to sit on the sofa. Once I’m seated, he takes the armchair opposite.
“Georgia, first I need to apologize. I was an asshole to you before, and my behavior was shameful and inexcusable. I regret crossing that line, and I’m truly sorry.”
Wow, was not expecting that. If he can own it, I can see my way clear to accepting it. “Okay.”
“That said, I’m not a gentle man. Last time—physically—that was tame for me. If we do this, I’m going to push. Hard. Make you hurt. It’ll be a good hurt, I promise…but hurt nonetheless.”
My panties are getting wet, and my pussy clenches with his words.
“Fair warning—orgasm control is non-negotiable. If we fuck, I will be the one to decide if and when you come.”
And if that didn’t make me desperate to come right there.
“Okay, you get to control my orgasms.” Hell, it’s not like I can’t go rub one out later if he denies me.
His eyes narrow and his lips turn up into a tight smile. “Trust me, you do not want to test me on this.”
I try not to squirm. The last thing I want is for him to see how this conversation is affecting me. Holy shit. I’m totally going to do this. It’s a dumb-ass move, but I’m going to do it.
“What do I get out of this?”
“Pleasure.”
“But you said you’re going to make me hurt.”
His smile turns to a feral grin. “I promise, you’ll find pleasure.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will show up at your door every night and give you orgasms with my mouth for a month.”
I laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. No man on the planet would pay out on a bet like that.”
His expression turns serious. “If there’s one thing you should have figured out by now—I am a man of my word. If the pain I give you doesn’t contribute to the most intense orgasms of your life, I promise to pleasure you with only my mouth for a month.”
“No teeth.”
He chuckles. “No teeth.”
“No quid pro quo?”
“No, Georgia—I won’t expect anything in return.”
“Hang on a second. Earlier you said you decide if I get an orgasm.”
He smiles. “You’re sharp. I like that. Let me amend that statement slightly. I will decide when you get to orgasm and how many. However, I will only guarantee one.”
Fuck me, I know I’m going
to regret asking. “What kind of hurt?”
“Nothing permanent. I promise no harm. But I want you to agree to try anything once. You’ll have a safeword. You know what that is?”
Duh. I nod, keeping my thoughts and my eye-roll to myself.
Do you have any questions, or do you have enough to make an informed decision?
“I’m good.”
“Then is it yes or no, Georgia?”
“Yes.”
In that case, what is your safeword?”
“Mercy.”
He nods. “Mercy it is. I’m trusting you to use it if you need to—I promise there will be no judgement or reprisal if you do.”
“Okay.” This isn’t my first rodeo. But have a feeling this is going to be my toughest and most rewarding.
“I don’t do blood, scat, or piss, and I only play with consenting human adults. Beyond that, do you have any hard limits, things that are an absolute no?”
“No humiliation or calling me derogatory names.”
“Can you give me some examples?”
“Moron, idiot, trash, useless, my girl.” I nearly choke on that last one and I quickly avert my gaze to raise my shield.
“Okay. What about good girl and bad girl?”
I think about that for a minute. The thought of them doesn’t make me feel shitty like ‘my girl’ does, so maybe. “I think those might be okay.”
“Alright. If you find they aren’t okay, you either safeword, if it’s really bad, or yellow if you just need me to stop calling you those. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“What about anal?”
“Not a favorite, but not a limit.” Actually, it’s a love-hate relationship. But I’m not going to own up to that.
“Any other hard limits?”
“Nothing that comes to mind.”
“Last thing. Condom or raw for oral? I’m clean, but I don’t have paperwork handy to prove it. If you’re clean, I’ll trust your word if you trust mine. The choice is yours.”
“No condom. I’m clean. And on birth control. You’re the only guy I’ve had any kind of sex with in forever. And I was tested after my last encounter.” I can feel the heat of the blush take over my face, and it’s all I can do not to slap my hands over my cheeks to hide it. Why the hell did I just admit that?