I looked to the panoramic window at the foot of my bed and saw the world at my feet. It was quiet in the hills, I was in my own space, but it still wasn’t a complete break from it all. Even in my own surroundings I felt guilty if I wasn’t doing something or looking into someone, or one of the businesses just to stay on top. Letting down your defenses was when things snuck in and fucked you up.
Making a split-second decision, I decided I was going to take a week off and go to my place in Hawaii. There would be a new shipment of girls coming in, and an auction on the lot we currently ‘housed.’ I say housed, but if you called taking runaways, bringing them to a foreign country and selling them as sex slaves ‘housed’ then yeah, we housed them. Some were lucky enough to come and work for me at one of my stable venues, the biggest being in Hawaii. Others were lucky enough to be bought by Sheiks and Arab Princes, others, well what happened to them wasn’t my problem. Hawaii was close enough that I could get back in a hurry if I needed to, but it was far enough away to chill with a beer, while wearing swim shorts and watching the world go by. Hell, maybe I’d even read a book or go on a hike or find my poor hand-battered dick some real action, preferably action that I didn’t own or was locked in one of my underground cells. Bishop could stay and look after shit. With a bit of luck, he’d scare the crap out of a few more of them and give me a couple of breezy months to return to. Jameson’s honeymoon was open ended, and I needed to get my shit in order before he got home.
I’d gotten into the bad habit of checking my cell the minute I managed to pry my eyes open, it was like my days were endless. For a change I googled the clubs nearest to my Hawaii house and was pleased with the prospects, some of the girls were smoking hot. I rarely visited the same hunting ground twice as going back for seconds only led to complications. I also had Google alerts set for all of my venues, main bosses and because I was a fucking stalker, Bailey.
That morning the gossip and media sites had picked up on Bailey painting the town red with some entitled-looking frat boy. When I opened the article, I was more than a little bit pissed off to discover it was the same fuckwit that I had Bishop run out Checkmate. It even quoted him as saying he’d met her at the Miami cocktail launch in my own fucking club.
Once again, something she’d done had left me feeling murderous.
I was more determined than ever to get some time away as I punched out a text to Bishop telling him to ring the Hawaii house team and get it ready. He read between the lines and suggested he book me a private jet, then all I had to do was to pack some clothes and get moving. As I finished that, my cell vibrated in my palm with a call from Jameson.
“S’up, bro? I take it little wifey is out stretching somewhere?”
He chuckled. “Fucking insatiable, but listen at you trying to be all down with the kids.”
“You know me. Why are you waking me up on a rare day off?”
“You never take a day off,” he laughed, completely convincing me that I needed a fucking vacation. “Dinner at Mom and Dad’s tonight, to welcome the new Mr. and Mrs. Roach home.”
I didn’t even know he’d come home. I expected him to be gone for at least another month.
“Not sure I can make it.” I went straight for the excuse, I always did.
It was one thing paying for his wedding reception as a gift and dancing with Grandma but sitting round the family dinner table was never fun.
“I’ll be offended if your ass isn’t sat at the table for seven o’clock, don’t be late, dickhead.”
Jameson hung up. He did this because he knew the longer that we debated it, the more solid my excuses would become. The cunning bastard also knew how to play me, and that was to put pressure on the impeccable manners and grooming his family expected from everyone in their lives. He never hung around long enough to give me the chance to decline.
“Fuck.”
Bishop had made the arrangements for my trip and I was leaving at noon the next day, but before that I had to head over to the Roach’s for yet another wedding celebration—I mean, seriously, how long were they going to milk this fucking occasion?
It was a rarity for me to drive myself anywhere which was insane because I had a garage loaded with cars and motorcycles. So, seeing as it was a balmy evening, I opted for my new convertible Maserati Gran Turismo, loving the feel of the tight leather seats as I slid into it. With just delivery miles on it, it was begging to be broken in, and when I turned the engine over, I planned to do that. I rallied her towards the Roach’s Mansion, driving way too fast in an effort to distract my brain, because I’d be lying if I’d said I wasn’t apprehensive about seeing Bailey for the first time since that night when she came onto me.
“Good evening, Mr. Teague.”
I was met on the driveway by a valet who opened my car door for me and then disappeared with it to a parking space. As I walked up the oval stairway to an enormous double-fronted Georgian door, it opened right on queue and I was greeted by Breda, their Irish maid, who offered me a glass of champagne.
I was dressed casually in a pair of grey pants and a grey shirt that was just a shade lighter. The sleeves were casually rolled up my forearms and I left the top button open, although flaunting my tattoo when I didn’t know the entire guest list was always a risk. I was opting for smart casual and like any other time I dressed for an occasion, I fucking nailed it.
I was shown into one of the many rooms where the Roach’s entertained with pre-dinner drinks and was glad to find the key members of the family and some of their friends already in attendance. Even as I told myself not to look for her, it was as if I couldn’t control my actions and with one quick, sneaky scan of the room I was disappointed to see she wasn’t here.
“Here’s my main man!” Jameson shouted.
Both him and his new bride, Kerry, headed in my direction. He reached for a handshake and awkwardly, so did she, until I brushed that aside and kissed her cheek, which she hated. She was part of this group of people now and I’d loved Jameson and his family since I was a young boy, so she needed to get used to having me around her husband.
“I don’t need to ask if you had a great time, your tan says it all. Spending too much time on balconies, I imagine.”
Jameson smiled and gave me a not very subtle wink while Kerry blushed, but turned an unhappy frown on her husband.
He just laughed at that and forged ahead with our conversation. “Thanks for coming, I wasn’t sure if I’d laid enough guilt at your feet.”
“I’m heading out tomorrow for a break, so if it wasn’t today, I wouldn’t have been able to make it, and that’s no bullshit,” I replied.
Just as I could see Jameson’s dad heading towards us, another member of the extensive Roach staff alerted us that dinner was about to be served and letting my manners and grooming kick in, I waited until all the females had exited the room first.
The long dining table was set for fourteen people, there was so much fine china and crystal about that the sun was bouncing off it and hitting the walls in a million different places. I was right, this was another fucking wedding celebration, they’d even laid out place settings and fucking favors. I found myself next to Jameson, which was a relief because I could already see Grandma giving me the cheeky glad eye. She was two sheets to the wind with a wine in her hand and every time she smiled, she raised it in my direction, the glass wobbling precariously. Her false teeth were stained with hot pink lipstick that would have looked awful on a person forty years younger, and I knew it would stain my cheek the minute it made contact.
“Oh, Bailey’s stuck in traffic, she’s forty-five minutes out and will miss the starter,” said the twins’ mom, “let’s begin, she can catch up.”
On hearing her name, the breath caught in my throat and it was all I could do to ignore Jameson, I knew he was looking at me, like he always did when she was the topic of conversation. We hadn’t spoken about our last heated discussion over her yet, even though I thought I’d made myself clear to him. Especia
lly, after I’d made it even clearer to her, hurting myself in the process when I had to shut down her play for me.
And still, the guy I thought of as a brother didn’t trust me with his twin sister.
The starter of shrimp cocktail was pleasant enough and the conversation was, as I expected, all about their honeymoon. Lots of people were firing questions at the two of them and it sounded like they’d had a great time. My so-called brother could lie with the best of them, he’d barely left his hotel and spent most of that time fucking his wife, they’d done no more sightseeing than I had. As the waiters came to remove the plates from our first course, there was a bit of commotion and in walked Bailey and that fucking no mark frat boy from my club, who I’d seen her with on that gossip website. If it was possible to kick myself, I would have done it. I was so worked up about seeing her that I’d not noticed that there were two empty place settings at the table.
“Sorry we’re late. Traffic was a bitch.” She flustered, before pulling back a chair and sitting opposite me. The cock couldn’t even treat her like a lady and seat her in a chair first.
Bailey was wearing another short dress, a few inches longer than the one she wore at Checkmate, but still, it was above her knees and in my view gave men the wrong impression. Let’s face it, I should know, I was a man and when I saw long, tan legs I often got the wrong impression, namely how snuggly they’ll fit around my waist as I fucked the girl hard between them. Her familiar scent hit me on a passing breeze, and it made my mouth water and my cock stir to life.
“Bailey! Language! I think you mean traffic was heavy,” her mom chided, but still gave her a smile of pure endearment at the same time. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“This is Thorn Mottram.”
He glanced at the table waving his greeting, but soon reached for the glass of wine that had already been poured, knocking a healthy mouthful back. His mannerisms told me that he thought he belonged here, with my family, with Bailey.
What a cock.
And what kind of stupid ass name was Thorn anyway?
I was powerless to stop my mood plummeting, but what made it worse was how Bailey completely ignored me. It was like we hadn’t grown up together, it was like we were no longer part of the three musketeers who had caused havoc in the school summer break, and it was absolutely like she hadn’t had her tongue down my throat and was pulling my hair out of my scalp with need not so long ago.
The main course was served, and I was painfully aware of how she interacted with everyone and was keen to get the people closest to her to like him. When she mentioned that he was part of the Mottram family, who practically ran shipping and commerce out of most of America’s western-based ports—well, the legal shipping anyway—I thought old man Roach was going to slap him on the back and offer Bailey’s hand in marriage instantly. The entire time I fidgeted with my cutlery, my napkin and my water glass wondering whether a butter knife could cut through more than butter, say skin, the skin of a rich frat boy when shoved repeatedly into his chest. In fact, if it didn’t have the capability of lodging between his rib cage and puncturing vital organs, I was going to be most disappointed. My need to disrupt this little family scene was gathering pace, it hurt too much to just sit here and do nothing.
As the dessert landed, I watched him falsely fiddle with the napkin on his lap and when his hand didn’t come back onto the table, I knew exactly where it was and what it was doing. I clenched the knife at the table so hard, it was a wonder it hadn’t fused with my hand. To make it worse, Bailey grinned and blushed, but didn’t discourage his actions. In fact, with the way she shifted down the seat a few inches, I’d wager she was making his access a little easier. It was all I could to not mount the table and hurl my fists repeatedly through his face and then drag her to a bedroom and show her who she really fucking belonged to.
And through all of this, not once did she look at me, attempt to talk with me or engage in any way.
The bitch was torturing me, and she fucking knew it.
When the meal was finished, we were treated to more fucking wedding speeches. If this was how long you had to drag this shit out to keep your bride happy, I was never getting married. Even when I was thanked for my generosity and paying for the wedding reception, which, let’s face it, Jameson’s family could afford, she still didn’t look in my direction. Bailey’s hand was under the table, desperately trying to keep his still and failing miserably at it. Was no one else aware to the hideous act that was being performed in front of me? Or was this just like normal and they were oblivious to any wrongdoing from the family princess?
I might have been a criminal of the worst kind and perpetrated unspeakable crimes, but I’d never disrespect her family at their dinner table like that. The guy was a complete cunt, nowhere near good enough for my Bailey, and he was going to have to pay for it sooner or later.
Finally, we were released from what felt like the never-ending pain of the dinner party. All I needed to do was to survive one final aperitif in the family room. Then I would be able to leave, pack my shit up and go for some fun in the sun. And if I had to fuck fifty different whores a night to wash the thoughts of someone else touching her out of my brain, I was game on for that task.
As I stood there letting Grandma tell me that I was a lovely young man who should be looking to settle down and have babies, I spotted Thorn. The fucker came into the room and made straight for a conversation with Jameson and his dad, when I heard them ask where Bailey had gone, I was already halfway to the door to track her down.
Her behavior was unacceptable.
To do that at a meal in front of her family was unacceptable, but to do it in front of me was not only unacceptable, it was reckless. I had a rage burning in my belly that was curdling the food I’d just forced myself to consume and she needed to pay for that. I’d held the need for disruption in long enough.
I made sure that no one spotted me as I slipped out of the room that was full of chatter and took the stairs to the bedrooms two at a time. I knew if she was using the bathroom or doing some other girlie shit, she would be in her own en suite.
I didn’t knock as I opened the door to her childhood bedroom and barely registered the wall by her bed covered in photos of the three of us growing up, thick as thieves. The room was still pink in a cutesy way, with frills and throw cushions propping up teddy bears from the life of a girl long since grown up. I heard the faucet running from the door in the corner and knew I’d hit the right place. Unable to reign my rage in, I burst through the door, nearly taking it off at the hinges and was more than shocked to find Bailey, the girl of my dreams with her leg cocked up on the side of the tub fingering herself.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growled, not giving the first fuck if someone heard me.
With a squeak of shock, she attempted to pull herself together, but it was too late, I was already slamming the door shut and locking it behind me.
“Zane,” she breathed, a blush rapidly creeping up her cheeks.
“Is this what that disrespectful fucker does to you? Touches you in front of your parents and then leaves you to sort yourself out?”
“What? No!”
A look of defiance quashed the blush and it pissed me off all the more. I stepped up to her quickly and forced her to shrink back until she was flush up against the wall.
“A real man would see through what he started.” Aggressively, I hitched up her dress waiting for her to protest and when she didn’t, I got started on making her feel as bad as she’d made me feel. “Does he do it for you, Bay? Does he?” I didn’t wait for an answer, but watched her eyes go wide as I ran a finger down the front gusset of her panties. “What would he think if he knew I was up here getting the feel of what he couldn’t finish?”
“He didn’t start anything,” she tried, but I dismissed it with a brow raise.
“I saw him touching you under the fucking table.” I forced the words out and her eyebrows raised up, shocked that she’d bee
n spotted. “I fucking saw him try and touch you and look at how wet that’s got you. You’re soaked. I hate that that dick got you going.”
As if possible, more juices leaked from Bailey and I felt it cover my fingertips through her panties. I’d never seen her like this in the flesh and never in my wildest dreams did I know she had this in her, not until I saw her kink firsthand in that fucking video.
“No… wait… stop…” she tried to call things to a halt before blurting, “It was you!”
The words tumbled from her mouth as I continued to rub her through the damp material. Her smell so intoxicating, it was hedonistic.
“What was me?”
I held her eyes and forced her to focus on me. I was so close to her face I could feel her breath panting on my cheeks. From how wet she was and how near she was to getting off now, she must have been already close when I interrupted her. Even during a rageful disruptive event my timing was impeccable.
“I knew you’d be here tonight, I wanted to make you jealous.”
“You fucking played me?”
Bailey clasped her hand on top of mine, forcing me to rub harder and faster. “It worked didn’t it?”
She had.
Bailey had played me and got me exactly where she wanted me.
As she looked to my face for a reaction, I watched her eyelids droop with pleasure, her mouth opening wider and her tongue bobbing up and down, telling me she was on the edge. All I could think about was the perfect O her mouth had formed and how amazing it would look around my cock as I skull fucked her into submission. Unable to resist her and knowing this could be my one shot to take something back, I kissed her. I forced my tongue into her mouth and continued to rub her panties, desperately wanting to rip the material from her body, but knew if I actually made contact with her bare skin and touched her cunt, I would be done for.
Our kiss was furious and needy, me wanting more but afraid to give it to her, her needing more, but both of us still holding back because it would be a step too far. A bridge we shouldn’t cross and something we couldn’t just sweep under the rug.
Disruption Page 7