by Cat Mason
I miss my best friend, but I also believe that Quinn has a hidden agenda for coming here. I am also willing to bet it has more to do with scoping out Tage for herself than she is leading on. She can say she is worried about me and misses me all she wants, but I know better. My best friend speaks loudest when she doesn’t say a word. I can see something is bothering her in her eyes every time her face fills my phone screen. Even though I am worried about what she has to say, I am excited to see her and for other people to fill this house.
A human being can only stand so much one on one time with Evan before they start losing it a little.
I passed a little a long time ago.
“Stranger danger!” Evan shouts from downstairs. “We’ve got a car pulling up.”
“It’s Quinnie and the guys, you asshat.” Rolling my eyes, I haul ass down the stairs, towards the front door. Looking out the window, I see Quinn hanging out the passenger side window, waving and screaming her head off like a woman crazed. Guaranteed, she has been double fisting those ridiculous energy drinks she loves so much ever since they got into the car. Hitting the button for the hideous, but ridiculously secure gate, Evan had installed to go with the iron fencing, I run out onto the porch to greet them.
Nothing drives home that prison feel more than big ass black iron bars separating you from the rest of the world.
Not even waiting for Greer to stop, she leaps out the opened window, bolting for me. “Miss me, bitches?” she beams, basically tackling me. Hugging me so hard, she nearly knocks me down.
“Yes,” I grunt, wrapping my arms around her. “You got here just in time to keep me from killing my prison guard.”
Quinn laughs hysterically. Releasing me, her eyes move to Evan who stands on the edge of the porch, wearing a pair of black jeans and a shit eating grin. “Don’t let me stop you. What kind of person would I be if I interrupt a beachside shanking in progress? A true friend adds free weights during their workout routines, in the event they ever have to help dispose of a body.” Flexing her bicep, she winks. “Babe, I got you.”
“Christ, Quinnie,” Greer shouts, slamming the car door and stomping over like a raging bull. “You couldn’t fuckin’ wait until I stopped the car? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs, rolling her bright blue eyes. “If you drove any slower we’d have been moving in reverse. You got flipped off in town by an old man in a bright green running suit, driving a fucking electric scooter.”
“Tage’s uncle flipped you off?” I ask, biting back my laugh.
Quinn’s face turns to me eerily slow, her eyes lighting up at the mention of Tage. “Well,” she replies, a grin spreading across her face. “Tage’s uncle flipped Greer off and called him Granny Slo-Mo.”
“I didn’t know where I was going,” Greer argues, shouldering his duffle bag. “The ignorant fucker on my GPS kept telling me to take the next right.” Blowing out a breath, he shakes his head. “All that was on the right was the fucking lake. I don’t wanna drive my goddamn car into the fucking lake. Who in their right motherfucking mind would tell me to do that shit? Stupid fucking guy, talking to me on my fucking phone with directions. He doesn’t know where the fuck he’s going. Someone should drive his car into a goddamn lake.”
“Be nice, girls,” Tanner says, tugging his bag and Quinn’s enormous rolling suitcase behind him. “Granny always gets a little fussy around lunch time.”
“Looks like us showin’ up gave the press a raging hard on,” Quinn says, waving at the fence where paparazzi stand with cameras basically attached to their faces, all shouting for our attention. “I wonder how many cameras would drop to the ground if I laid a big fat one on ya,” she says, winking at me and puckering her glossy red lips.
“Are you serious?” Evan asks, his eyes darting between the two of us. “Please be serious. I would work free for a year.” Rubbing his hands together, he licks his lips in anticipation. “Two years if there’s tongue involved.”
“I bet you would,” Quinn laughs. Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, we walk up the porch steps. Reaching out with her other hand, she pats Evan’s cheek with a couple hard slaps, then blows him a kiss. “Kinky fucker.”
“So what’s there to do around here?” Greer asks, following us inside.
“Lately?” Evan asks, coming in with Tanner, and closing the door behind us. “Drink beer and watch bad movies on Netflix. Or you could always mute the sound and listen to Bristol scream from upstairs once Tage gets here.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, glaring at him. “You do not do that!”
Laughing, his eyes drift closed as he throws his head back and grips the banister, mocking me with high pitched shrieks. “Yes, Tage! Ah! Fuck me like a whore! Tear up my pussy with you girthy man meat.”
All four of us stare at him, wide eyed. “You wanna repeat that last one again, E?” Tanner asks, arching a brow. “I mean, I know my dick’s never boldly gone to that dimension with our girl here, but I just don’t see B sayin’ that one, bro.”
“He’s getting me mixed up with that freak show porn he watches,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Flexy Lexy is a dirty, dirty girl.”
“There is nothing about Evan’s browser history that interests me,” Quinn interrupts, sounding frustrated. “I wanna know about number sixty-eight and how well he works that stick,” she says, waggling her brows. “Then I want to primp my sexy self up and see what kind of trouble I can get into. He owns a bar, right?”
“We aren’t going to the bar,” Evan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not happenin’, Foxy. It’s a bad idea.”
“And why the fuck not?” I snap, seeing an opportunity to get out and have some fun for the first time in weeks.
“You listen here, Crotchrot,” Quinn snaps, stepping up to Evan. Narrowing her eyes, she jabs him in the chest with her blood red nails that look like she spent most of the drive filing them into claws. Knowing her, that is probably exactly what she did. “This isn’t roleplaying. I am not a hot little prison slut ready to spend some time in solitary with Officer Fucknut. If you think you’re going to lock me up, and throw away the key, Bristol won’t have to shank you.” Her entire face darkens. “Because. I. Will.” Each word driven home with another jab to his chest.
“Please stop talking,” he groans, his eyes closing tightly. “My cock can only get so hard.”
“If you’re about done,” Tanner grounds out, sounding irritated. “Could someone tell me where I can dump this shit?”
“Yeah,” I nod, wondering to myself, what the fuck has crawled up his ass all of a sudden. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”
“Sure thing,” Greer laughs, tucking me into his side. “After that, you girls get started with that primpin’ shit you do. Maybe if you start now, and skip lunch, we may get there in time for last call.”
Setting Quinn up in one of the bedrooms, I leave Greer and Tanner to argue over who gets the remaining bedroom, and who gets stuck riding the couch in the front room. Instead of standing watch, in case of any bloodshed, Evan retreats to his room, most likely to call Tage, and give him a heads up about us coming since he knows he isn’t winning this one.
If anything, E is smart enough to choose his battles wisely with Quinnie.
Tage
Once Evan called and gave me the heads up, the two of us started planning how to avoid as much of the press crowd as possible. I have grown accustomed to having a flashbulb shadow once I step outside lately, though I haven’t let that stop me from living life as close to the norm as possible. Bristol, on the other hand, wears her emotions on her sleeve. While I find that one of the most attractive things about her, it makes not reacting to some of the random, and sometimes hurtful, things they shout, difficult at times.
With Jodi’s help, I set up the table in the back corner. The very same one where Bristol leveled me with her smart mouth and quick wit the first time she and Evan came in here. Since our windows are blacked out with hockey th
emed stained glass that Bob’s wife made, and an intense game in full swing to keep everyone’s focus inside, I am not all that worried about them having to deal with too much unwanted attention.
My phone vibrates in my pocket just as I finish handing off some drinks to Jodi. Swiping the screen, I read Bristol’s text.
Can I bang your backdoor?
Laughing to myself, I make my way down the hall and unlatch the back entrance we only use for weekly deliveries. Pushing the heavy steel door open, the first thing I see is Bristol’s smiling face. “Hey,” she says, eyeing me up and down as she approaches.
Her long, dark hair is curled into loose spirals, partially pinned back so that it is out of her face. Her lips are painted a dark purple, matching the flowers on her short, black satin dress. “Hey, yourself,” I reply as her arms slip around my waist.
“Everybody, this is Tage,” Bristol says, looking up at me. “Tage, you already know Evan, and have seen Quinn on video chat going spastic. This is her brother, and AWOL’s drummer, Greer,” she continues, pointing to a guy with black hair, sitting in the passenger seat. “The shaggy looking grouch is Tanner.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Greer says, climbing out of the SUV. “It really is Tage Crosby. I’ve got one of your jerseys. You’re kind of a fucking legend, man.”
“He looks like one,” Quinn, says, looking me over. “Although, all I can do at this point is speculate since someone is holding out on me when it comes to details,” she mutters, rolling her eyes at Bristol. Swinging her hips, she walks toward us in a pair of knee high black leather boots that match the tight leather shorts which cover little more of her ass than most bathing suits. Her pink tank top matches the ribbons tied in each of her pigtails. The words ‘Smack My Ass and Feed Me Tacos’ written across her chest in silver letters.
She looks like a cross between a pin up girl and a biker babe.
“Can we get everyone inside, and out of the alley, please?” Evan asks, his eyes focusing so hard on Quinn’s ass, it’s like he expects it to be able to cure terminal illness or contain the winning Powerball numbers. “Out here, we are so,” he swallows hard, yanking on the collar of his white t-shirt. “Exposed.”
“And sober,” Tanner says, definitely sounding irritable.
Just as Jodi and I had discussed, she is waiting beside the table, ready to take their orders. “Hey, I’m Jodi,” she says, greeting everyone as they pile into the booth. “I’ll be taking care of you tonight. How about we get you started with some drinks?”
“There’s our girl,” Bob calls out, shifting on his stool. “You’ve not come back to poker nights. Don’t say you’ve forgotten about us, Bristol. We miss you.”
Slipping from my grip, Bristol, walks over and plants a kiss on Bob’s cheek, making him blush. “I could never forget you crazy guys. Count me in next game. I’ll be there.”
“Poker night needs to happen again,” Evan whoops, pounding the table with his fist. “Count us in, boys.”
Bob laughs, nodding his head he gives a thumbs up. “Can’t wait, Kevin.”
“Kevin?” I chuckle. “You mean Evan?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jimmy blurts, waving me off. “Whatever. Evan, Kevin, Devon... TOE-MA-TOE, TOM-A-TOE,” he says, enunciating each syllable like a total prick. “I’m too goddamn old to waste what time I have left memorizin’ people’s names. Who has time to think when there’s beer to drink?”
“I hear ya out here yellin’. Sounds like my favorite girl has made it back to see me,” Unc says, shoving through the swinging door that leads to the kitchen. “Give us some sugar, darlin’.” His huge, full of shit smile, fades the moment he sets eyes on the table. Stopping cold, his eyes harden. “Well, well, well,” he says, pointing his finger. “Bob, Jimmy, this is who I was tellin’ ya about earlier. Meet Granny Slo-Mo; the slowest driver this side of the Canadian border.”
“Granny what?” I ask, while everyone around me starts laughing. Everyone, that is, except for Greer. He looks mad as hell.
“Granny Slo-Mo,” Unc repeats, shaking his head. “If that rock and roll career doesn’t pan out for him, he’d be the best Zamboni driver in the history of the NHL.”
“Good to know you’re workin’ hard to welcome visitors to town, Unc.” Moving closer to Bristol, I grab her hand. “While you all make friends, I’m gonna steal my girl away for a minute.”
Tugging her along with me, I head for my office. I may have only left the warmth of her bed just this morning, but when it comes to Bristol, I can’t help wanting to be alone with her every chance I can get. Even if just for a few minutes. I have become dependent on those candid moments with her. They remind me that there is so much more to life than the repetition of my usual day to day.
Although, with her house now filled with guests, I see our alone time being drastically cut.
Tugging her inside, I close the door, quickly pinning her back against it. “Do you like my dress?” she purrs, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of my jeans.
“You look beautiful, Bristol,” I reply, my fingers moving down her sides, feeling her curves beneath the silky fabric. “But, you don’t need me to tell you that.”
Her eyes heat, her lips parting just enough for me to see a flash of her teeth. “What if I do?”
The pictures circulating everywhere of her, or us, don’t do her any justice. She always looks beautiful, but nothing compares to how she looks wrapped around me while we lie in bed. The softness in her smile when she is about to fall asleep, the flush that fills her cheeks when she cries out my name; no amount of makeup or expensive dresses could top any of that in my mind. Ever.
“Are you going to violate me in your office, Tage? Is that your plan?” she asks with a wicked grin. “Spread me across the desk and give me your cock?”
Taking my hand, she slips it beneath her skirt, meeting the bare skin of her thigh as she moves my fingers around to her ass. “No underwear tonight?” I ask, swallowing hard.
Licking her lips, Bristol nods. “Easy access, Mr. Crosby. Prepare to score.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lady of Drunkenshire
Bristol
Tage covers my hand with his own, moving them both around to cup my pussy. Without missing a beat, I rock my hips up into our hands. His eyes heat, studying my face as we each slide a finger inside me.
As usual, this wasn’t planned. My original idea was to torture him until I was tipsy, then maybe break in that wing back office chair in the corner. I have learned that all the best things that happen with Tage are spontaneous. The moment he pinned me against the door, all I could think about was how the cool wood of his desk would feel against my overheated body.
A collaborative finger fucking, however, is pretty awesome too.
Wrapping my other arm behind his neck, I cling to him to keep me upright. Spreading my legs further apart, I tilt my hips to allow our fingers to go deeper, hitting all the right places. Tage grabs my knee, hitching it up onto his hip, opening me further.
My hardening nipples press against the tight confines of the satin, aching for Tage’s mouth. “Make it good, baby,” he says, leaning in just enough to nip my bottom lip with his teeth. “This is all you get until closing time. I told you,” he smiles, shifting our hands so that my palm rubs my clit. “I don’t do quickies.”
“Ah!” I cry out, the added friction just what I need to send me spiraling over the edge. My head falls back against the door, my body starting to tremble with my climax.
My finger stills inside me, but Tage has a different plan. Adding another finger, he slides them in and out of me, slowly. My eyes threaten to close from the intensity, but I fight it, not wanting to miss one second of him when he looks this way.
Wicked.
Sexy.
Sinister.
Fucking delicious.
Bringing our hands to his lips, Tage sucks my finger into his mouth. I groan, my stomach flipping when his tongue swirls around it. “You’re evil.”
>
“Yes, I am,” he replies, pressing a kiss to my fingertips. “And you love it.”
He’s right. I do. I love every wicked thing he does to me with his fingers and mouth. The rest of his body is totally welcome to join in anytime.
I am willing to bet that Satan himself made this man for the sole purpose of driving me mad.
“Now,” he smiles, “You’re beautiful, but before I say something completely stupid or corny and awkward to fuck this moment up, you need to know something. I don’t need satin dresses, stilettos, or perfect hair and makeup, Bristol. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to see you this way all the time. Your cheeks flushed, your body wrapped with mine, and looking at me like I have just ruined you for any other man.”
“For the record,” I whisper, my stomach flipping again. “You totally did not fuck that up. Besides, I like your corny and awkward moments. Maybe more than your steamy naked ones. The jury is still out on this.”
Releasing my fingers, Tage grips the back of my neck, crushing his lips to mine. He tastes like sweet mint gum and me. My heart beats rapidly, slamming against my ribcage like a jackhammer. I have never been so intoxicated by a kiss, or blissfully uncaring of anything and everything going on around me. I could easily fall helpless into his scent, his taste, his touch, until I have no breath left in my lungs.
The moment he pulls back and meets my eyes, his beautiful smile levels me. Realization sets in, sitting on my chest like a ten-ton weight.
I am falling in love with Tage Crosby.
Falling in love with a man that has permanent roots in Grindstone Harbor. Am I fucking crazy? My time here was always meant to be temporary. What happens when I have to leave here and go back to California? How am I going to give up something that makes me feel so good?
Suddenly, I realize I have never been so afraid to walk away from something I never knew I wanted.
Feelings like this aren’t supposed to happen. This isn’t supposed to happen. My slave driver work ethic, and lack of social life, made it impossible for me to feel this way about someone. I had no time, or energy, for anything else. Now, that’s all shot to hell in a fiery handbasket.