Chore Play (Dirty Truth Book 3)

by Piper Rayne

  I slide it back and watch her eyes hood as I touch her skin.

  “Keep that up and we won’t see dinner,” she says in a breathy voice.

  I’ll see dinner—right between her thighs.

  I sit up, pushing the thought to the back of my head. I can’t seduce her pussy. I need to seduce her heart and her mind. I’ll save the pussy seduction for later.

  “And here I thought you’d be beating me off with a stick.” I open the oven door, not wanting to see her expression. We’ve been good, only kissed up to this point. Although I feel like I’m going ten miles per hour in my Spyder, we both need to take this slow.

  “Ah…you’re growing on me.”

  With my head in the oven, taking out the steaks and baked potatoes, I hear her slide off the stool. The wine bottle slides along the granite countertop.

  “I’ll take this outside,” she says.

  By the time the steaks are on the counter, all I see is her stepping out onto the deck. She’s even more gorgeous illuminated by candlelight.

  I plate the steaks, potatoes and vegetables, grab the napkins and silverware and follow her.

  “You didn’t have these Mac Daddy skills when we were younger.” She smiles at me and I don’t take what she’s saying to heart.

  I should really buy some stocks in Google—they know their shit when it comes to romance.

  “I’ve never seen so many candles.” She circles around with her wine glass hanging from her two fingers. “I feel like we’re in the movies.”

  “I could make that happen.” I place the plates down on my parents’ elaborate table. “Get you in a movie, I mean.”

  She stops with a small shake of her head, stepping toward the edge of the deck. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She swivels around, her arms leaning the railing of the deck. “Just to get them in bed.”

  I slide my own wine glass into my hand, but my gaze stays on hers as I close the distance between us. Leaning into her without giving her the satisfaction of our bodies touching, I say, “I thought we were done talking about the past.” I sip my wine.

  Her eyes follow my movements and I lick my lips nice and slow when I pull the glass away.

  “We are.”

  “Of course, you never did tell me about you. Any divorces the private investigator I hired will find?”

  She swats at my stomach, but I suck in before she accomplishes her goal. “You didn’t.”

  I raise my eyebrows, sipping my wine again. “You’ll never know.”

  I didn’t, but only because Victoria told me it was a dick move. I should’ve never asked her to do it in the first place. Should’ve taken care of it myself.

  “We don’t want dinner to get cold,” she says and moves to go around me.

  “Actually, I don’t much care for dinner. If you’d rather go straight to dessert…”

  The pink tinge I love hits her cheeks and my dick hits the zipper of my pants, announcing its arrival to the party.

  “Now, now, you still have one more date. Did you think I was easy?” She giggles, sliding away from me and sitting at the table.

  “Easy? Never. It took me half a summer the first time.” I join her at the table, place my napkin in my lap and then refill our wine glasses.

  “I was a virgin.”

  I lean back, letting her taste her meal first. “You were? I’d forgotten.” My smile reveals that I’m joking. She’s the only virgin I’ve ever been with and it made what we shared that much more special.

  “Sure, you did. I think you secretly loved it.” She positions the fork and knife, cutting her steak.

  Sitting up straight, I cut into my own steak. “Maybe.”

  Her giggle floats out like a bubble flying up into the dark sky. “Yeah, be evasive.”

  I scoff. “I’m a man. What man doesn’t want to be someone’s first to compare all their future partners to?”

  “Is that what you think? That after you, I compared every other guy to you?” She places a piece of steak into her mouth. I’ve never wanted to be a piece of meat before.

  “Honestly?”

  “When are you not?”

  “True.” I shrug. “Yes, I believe one or two guys didn’t get a fair shot because they couldn’t reach that bar I placed.”

  The silverware drops to her plate and she grabs the napkin, laughing hysterically, while trying to chew the steak. “Your ego never fails to amaze me.” The napkin drops in her lap after she’s calmed down from her fit.

  “You know what else I think?”

  “Oh, please enlighten me.” Her knife pauses mid-cut, so she doesn’t almost choke like she just did.

  “I think you like how self-confident I am.”

  “Self-confident? Yes. Cocky?” She shrugs, forking the cut piece of meat and placing it in her mouth.

  “Bullshit. You like knowing that when you’re with me, I’ll take care of you. That when we walk into a room, women are jealous that you’re on my arm. Men respect me and woman want to fuck me.”

  The fork pauses before the piece of meat moves into her mouth. “You’re serious?” she asks, blinking once.

  “As a heart attack. So you’re aware, I like the fact that every man who sees you wants to fuck you, but it’ll be my name you’re screaming out at night.” I wink, chewing a piece of steak.

  “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” The fork enters her mouth and that pink tinge turns red. She’s thinking about what I just said. Putting a visual to my words.

  “I know I can be arrogant and sometimes I’m an asshole.”

  Her eyes widen. “Maybe a bit.”

  “You’re telling me you don’t like it at all?” I cock my head, leaning back in the chair with my glass of wine.

  “I think…” She places her silverware down, sliding back like me and bringing her wine glass to her lips. “I’m pleading the Fifth.”

  “We’ll pretend we don’t both know the answer then.”

  A smile plays on her lips and we each go back to eating our meal.

  A half an hour later, I place the s’mores stuff in the bag with the blankets and meet Quinn down on the beach. I drop the bag and admire her from afar.

  Her arms are around her body, the light sweater she brought probably not warming her enough. She stares out to the dark ocean with the light of the moon mirrored on the surface from high in the sky. It’s quiet around us, no one on the beach, and no one on their decks.

  “What are you thinking about?” I come up behind her, hoping she doesn’t pull away.

  She places her hands over my entwined ones resting on her stomach.

  “Why did you bring me here?” She turns in my arms. “And not your place?”

  I circle around to stand beside her, facing the spot where her father lived years ago. It’s now been torn down after some internet mogul built a bigger, newer version.

  “This is where it all happened.” I gently nudge her into my chest, my lips falling to the top of her head. Her coconut shampoo acts like an aphrodisiac for me. “Where we fell in love.”

  Her head falls to my chest, her cheek directly over my pec, and my hand slides down to her waist, encompassing her completely in my arms. In turn, she looks up at me and locks her arms around my neck, the moon glimmering in her eyes.

  “You remember, right?” I ask softly and she nods.

  “I do.”

  “How it just felt right.”

  She nods, her forehead falling to my chest once again.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, maneuvering my body back to see her eyes.

  Her head rises and her lips part into a grin. “I kind of want to make out.”

  I smile wide. “You always know the right thing to say.”

  13

  Quinn

  I patiently sit on the blanket while Jagger gets the bonfire started. The s’mores sound amazing, but his mouth and hands on my body are what I’m craving right now. I wanted to take things slow, to be sure, and maybe it’s being here wher
e it all happened, but I’m taking what I want tonight.

  The fire roars to life, and Jagger comes to sit next to me on the oversized blanket he pulled out of the bag he brought down to the beach. “Do you want a blanket to wrap around yourself to keep you warm?”

  I shake my head, my eyes focused on the yellow flames. “You can warm me up.”

  He leans back on his arm, holding his head up with his hand, one arm draped over my stomach. “I’d be happy to.” He uses a small amount of force to ease me down. Not that I’m fighting.

  He nuzzles into my neck, his nose brushing along my neck and chin. The scent of him mixed with the sound of the waves and the crackle of the fire transport me back more than a decade and I feel that same bubbling excitement I did the first time we made love.

  His fingers find the small patch of skin between my jeans and my blouse, one finger gliding back and forth, igniting a rush of goose bumps along its path.

  My head falls back to the blanket, my hand on the back of his head, following his lead.

  “You’re so beautiful, Quinn.” His voice is soft and sincere, his tongue skimming along under my earlobe. Traveling along my jawline, he pauses, leaving his lips mere millimeters from mine, and my heart gallops like a mustang. “May I kiss you?”

  My lips spread into a smile and my hands cover each side of his head. “You better.”

  “So perfect,” he murmurs and his lips cover mine, his tongue pushing between my lips, exploring my mouth.

  He might have a few wrinkles around his eyes, and his muscles are larger, but he feels the same. My body reacts to him the same way it always did.

  His fingers tease the edge of my blouse and I slide closer to him, arching my back in a ‘please God, get to second base’ gesture. What feels like ages later, he unbuttons my blouse and then his large hand covers my breast, running over it in a circular motion, his fingers dipping down the lace fabric, slowly peeling it away.

  Our mouths meld, nothing frantic about our movements, but the groans, moans and growls would make a passerby think we’re doing much more than making out. He pinches my nipple with his thumb and forefinger. That’s all I need to switch gears and rev the engine. My tongue moves faster, my own hands running down his back, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up and scraping my nails along his muscles.

  He rolls on top of me, and my other hand joins the feel and warmth of his back as his weight lies heavy on my body. His knee nudges my leg and I open, letting him fall between my legs, his erection pressing to my center.

  “Told you to wear a sundress,” he murmurs, the vibration of his laugh along my neck tickling a bit.

  “You’re smarter than I thought.” My hand slides down the back of his pants and under his boxers, grabbing the smooth skin covering his muscular ass.

  “I’ll ignore the dig.” He licks down the center of my throat and down my chest.

  His erection moves away from my core as he slides down my body and it takes everything in me not to beg him to come back. He drags his tongue between my breasts and my body is on overload, ready to feel his hot, wet mouth on me.

  “Jagger?” A woman’s voice mixes with our moans under the starry sky.

  He slides off me, springing to his feet.

  I circle around, buttoning up my blouse and putting my bra in place, doing my best to look presentable.

  “Mom, you’re supposed to be in New York.”

  “And you have your own house, so tell me why you’re…entertaining…here.”

  Jagger pulls on my elbow and I close my eyes, thinking I’ll just stay asleep a little longer and I’ll wake up hot and ready to get myself off and not having to face Mrs. Kale.

  Before I can make a wish on any damn star in the sky, I’m face to face with Monica Kale. Thank goodness there’s a bonfire between us, her scowl isn’t as noticeable.

  “Mom, you remember Quinn Ryan?” Jagger says.

  Her eyes are already appraising me, moving up and down my body. No doubt she’s wondering why I’m the woman under her son once again. I have no doubt she loved it when I ran away from here and never returned.

  “You’re back.” No smile, her cold dead eyes fixated on my hips.

  “I am.” I straighten my blouse once more, wishing it would cover whatever part of my body she’s finding fault with. Not everyone has a monthly plastic surgery appointment. “I live…”

  “Why are you here again?” She ignores me now, focusing once again on her son.

  “I thought you were going to be gone.” Jagger starts folding up the blanket, packing up the supplies.

  Unless something has changed Jagger is not close to his parents, especially his mom.

  “If I’d known you were going to play the horny teenager again I would have stayed away.” She casts her gaze over at me for a fleeting moment. “I’m surprised I’m not finding my house full of people partying.” She crosses her arms over her ample chest.

  Jagger picks up the bag, slides my hand into his and pulls me closer to him. “We’ll head out.”

  “Good.”

  “Monica, I think we have a Goldilocks, unless you had someone here before me?” A man’s voice echoes down onto the beach from the deck above.

  Jagger’s body stiffens, the bag and my hand dropping from his grip. Both of us turn to look up to the deck.

  Mrs. Kale doesn’t even turn around to address her guest, keeping her gaze on the two of us. “Nick, be a dear and wait inside. It was just my son.”

  A younger male, probably not much older than Jagger, stands at the edge of the desk, seemingly frozen, staring down at us.

  I glance over to Jagger, finding the flames of the fire mirrored in his eyes.

  “Mom?” he asks, but she’s already shooing him away with her well-manicured hand.

  “Just go and don’t ask questions.”

  She’s really going to toss this issue aside?

  “You’re fucking your trainer? How very cliché of you, Mother,” Jagger scoffs. He picks up the bag and my hand again and pulls us through the sand.

  “I guess we all like to take a dip down to the lower class,” she says. “The trick is making sure you don’t stay down there too long.”

  My breathing halts, my feet dragging in the sand until Jagger throws the bag down onto the sand and turns to face me.

  “Go up the back stairway on the side of the house. I’ll meet you at your car.” He cups my cheek. “Don’t leave though. Please.” There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that makes my heart ache.

  I nod, badly wanting to drive myself far away from this place. Instead, I use the stairway between his house and the new one that was built on the foundation of my teenage summers.

  Pausing at the top of the stairs, I glance over my shoulder, seeing Jagger’s finger pointed in his mom’s face. His hand extends up to the deck. His mother’s back is ramrod straight and she seems unaffected by whatever he’s saying. Her arms never leave their crossed position and soon the guy runs down the steps, placing his arm around his mistress’s shoulders. Jagger shakes his head, placing his palm in her face, and walks away, swiping the bag up on his way.

  I run up the stairs, heading to my car, wishing my heart and my body wouldn’t only purr for someone so out of my league. Mrs. Kale’s words ring true. In Jagger’s world, I’m viewed as the help they hire. My dad has done well for himself, but I have no trust fund, no fancy car, or mansion on the beach. No super-rich parents. I can’t help but remember my dad’s words fourteen years ago. “It’s like forcing two puzzle pieces together. At first you think they fit perfectly, but then the more pieces you fill in around them, you realize they were never meant to fit in the first place.” Is that Jagger and me? Does some weird force pull us together even though there’s no happily ever after to be had?

  A few minutes later, I’m thankful to see the front door open and Jagger step out, my keys dangling from his finger, my purse and the bag of supplies gripped in his other hand.

  “Let’s go.” He nods to the
passenger side, opening the driver’s door, throwing the bag in the back and folding himself into my small car.

  “What about your car?” I ask as he pulls down the small street, his foot testing the limits of my gas-efficient car.

  “I’ll come back later, or send someone to get it.” He never looks over at me and I’ve never seen him shift this fast from scorching-hot desert to Antarctica. Not that I can blame him.

  “You might want to remember, this is a domestic. Pretty soon smoke is gonna be barreling out of the hood.”

  He rolls to a stop at the light, his gaze finding mine in the glow off the streetlights above. He reaches over, entwining his hand with mine, a sad smile playing on his lips. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being you.” He leans over the center console, his lips meeting mine.

  Jagger isn’t making it easy to second-guess him and a part of me worries that I’ll stop.

  14

  Jagger

  My pen taps on the desk, my mind momentarily far away from Greg’s rambling on about which author he thinks we should reach out to. The new division is a slow process because I’m much different than my father. I don’t believe in being a dictator. I want my team to love the project as much as I do, so they need to be invested in our goal. Today is Greg’s day to pitch where he thinks we should focus our attention. He’s a sci-fi lover, so he tosses us each a book. I pick it up, the glowing spotlight from a spaceship intriguing me.

  “My only concern with sci-fi is that there’s so much on the market right now,” Trina argues, pushing up the rim of her glasses.

  “Name some,” I say. “Movies or television.”

  “Resident Evil, Star Wars, not to mention all the Justice League and superhero crap the studios keep putting out.”

  Greg sits down, the screen behind him turning off. “That’s fantasy, not sci-fi.”

  “I agree with Trina.” Hank wipes his hands down his pants.

  I’m pretty sure my dad hand-picked Greg, Hank and Trina because he thinks since they all wear glasses, they’re nerds. Don’t get me wrong, they know their shit, especially where books are concerned.