Bona Fide (Illusive Duet Book 2)

by Hazel Grace

  “Jed,” I voice. “What happened?”

  I just had to deal with eight of your stupid-ass groomsmen.

  “I couldn’t do it,” he replies. “I barely know her. And she drives me fucking crazy.” I stride towards him, pulling him into my arms to give him a hug.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter into his shoulder. “Are you okay, though?”

  I feel his head tuck into the crook of my neck, his face being suffocated more than likely with my hair. His arms wrap around my waist to return the hug before I give him a little squeeze.

  “Talk to me,” I whisper. “Are you okay with all of this?”

  “Yeah. I was.”

  Slowly, I pull myself away from his body so I can look at his face. “But?”

  His brown eyes meet mine, so full of sadness. “But then I saw you kissing my brother...again.”

  My heart falls right to my stomach, but his grip stays loomed around me to keep me close. It only urges my fleeting nature to leave this house because I can't hurt him for a second time, especially with the same person. I don't want to inflict my pain onto the man that would never mess with my emotions.

  “Jed,” I chant. “I’m—”

  “Don’t start that shit again,” Grant snaps behind me, annoyed. “You have or had a fiancée. Rea and I have a past, but we're not about to rekindle it. I'm not that big of a fucking idiot to know that."

  "Then why was your mouth on what was mine in the first place?" Jed chides, glaring at his brother from over my shoulder. I begin to take a step back, but Jed holds on firmly to me like I'm his lifeline, and he needs it so that he doesn't lose his shit.

  “Been there, done that,” Grant retorts. “We’ve had this fight. I’m not doing it again.”

  “Then stay the fuck away from her.”

  “She’s a big girl now. I’m not forcing her to do anything.”

  “Jed,” I hedge, placing my hand on his chest just to feel his rapid heartbeat. “We weren’t trying to hurt you. I’m just—it was just a kiss.”

  "Then why does it feel like you just stomped on my heart again?" he counters, flicking his eyes to mine. "Because it just hit the floor, Rea."

  “I’m sorry.” Tears begin to burn the back of my eyes as I push at his chest to let me go. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I broke my engagement off because of you. Because I can’t marry a woman who doesn’t make me feel whole inside. Who has the personality of a corpse. Then you come back and...I feel it again.”

  I shake my head. “Oh, no, Jed, please don’t—”

  "You don't feel it?" His eyes search my face. "Because you're trembling in my arms, and I'm not sure if you're scared of me or because you miss it—us.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, it’s just that we’re not—”

  “Together.” He nods behind me. “Because of him.”

  "Alright," Grant objects. "Stop giving her a guilt trip about shit in the past. It was my fault too, Jed. I wanted her, you had her, and when she came to me, I didn't resist it."

  “She meant more,” Jed rebuffs, still keeping his gaze locked on mine. “You meant more.”

  "I don't—" Grant's hand finds my forearm, but he doesn't yank.

  “You’re making her uncomfortable,” he accuses. “C’mon, Jed, you’ve had a rough—”

  “Am I?” Jed quakes. “Did I turn into someone that you can’t stand being close to? Because I’m different now, Rea. I’m so much different than before.”

  My fingers dig into the leather of his coat before I shake my head. “You’re still Jed to me. I’m not scared.”

  “I am,” he babbles. “I’m scared that you’ll rip me in half.”

  Grant gives me a weak tug. "She's not going to—" I seize his shirt to get him to shut up while I give Jed a faint smile.

  “I’m not going to insert myself into your lives again,” I deliver. “Because I’m a wrecking ball just waiting for a wall to go through. A life to fuck up. A mess for someone else to clean up. You won’t have to worry about me.”

  Jed leans close to me. "But I do." His lips gently press into mine, and when I don't pull away, he coaxes my mouth wider. Our tongues immediately meet, and a shrill of lust hits right between my legs.

  I feel Grant begin to step away, but I tighten my hold on his shirt because I'm not here to start a brotherly war again. I'm here to make peace, I guess of some sort.

  I broke both of them. So the least I can do is mend some of their pain like how I'm using them to forget mine.

  Jed moans before his fingertips press into my lower back, then I break off from him. Yanking Grant closer to me, I turn in his direction and plaster the same kiss to him, keeping Jed at my side.

  Grant’s hand leaves my forearm and starts a trail up my tricep and to my face, where he cups my cheek. Jed remains with me latched around his arm while his free one falls on my stomach.

  Our kiss breaks, and no sooner than I can catch my breath, Jed drapes his palm around the back of my neck and brings me back to him. Our mouths play the same dance while Grant’s chest hits my back. My body buzzes between the two, crushed into a Hardison sandwich.

  Grant’s hands roam my ribs then encase around under my breast as Jed continues to battle me with his tongue, sucking the breath out of me and replacing it with his.

  I feel the fabric of my dress slowly drag up my thighs, replaying the same scene that I did at the bar in Riverview. Knowing these two men, two parts of my past, makes me feel different. I’ve had both of them, their hearts in each of my hands, and I broke them.

  I hurl my mouth from Jed’s and bump into Grant’s chest.

  “Shit,” I mutter. “I don’t want to hurt—”

  “Kiss me, Rea,” Jed replies. “I’d rather have half of you than nothing at all.”

  "I'm going to have to agree with my brother," Grant whispers in my ear, his hand right above my ass. "How about we call this a trip down memory lane, but with two big dicks to tame you down." His lips clasp around the column of my neck, and an involuntarily moan escapes my lips.

  Jed's hand finds the front of my panties, and he gently begins to rub his finger over my clit. "You in, Rea?"

  I don’t answer because I don’t know what to do.

  I want the escape and memory loss. I've heard my phone vibrate in my purse three times already since Jed entered the room, and it makes me anxious and angry.

  Wade will never leave me alone. He's one to never give up when he wants something, and that's dangerous because that'll be three strikes for me.

  “Let me turn my phone down,” I whisper against Jed’s lips, pulling myself from between them while Grant lets his fingers graze my ass for added measure.

  Fishing it out, I turn it on silent and place it on the coffee table, peering back up to see both brothers silently waiting for me.

  If I was in a better place, this might be hotter. But in this headspace, I’m more numb and careless as I slowly approach them.

  Grant grabs my hand softly and pulls me into the thickness of testosterone and lust. Jed retakes my lips while Grant rids me of my dress. I'm lifted in the air, the inside of my knees over Jed's arms to open myself completely to each of them.

  Everything turns into a mist of hands, lips, and the loss of more clothes. It’s not until Jed enters me that I feel the first wave of betrayal. And when Grant slips inside my ass, I know I’ve passed the line of no return.

  They fuck me like they own me, knowing that when this is done, so is whatever this is. That we’ll never speak of it again because I won’t need them.

  Jed isn’t getting married anymore.

  Grant and I barely speak to begin with, and he's respected my wishes with leaving Mama's now burned down house alone.

  This is about sex—plain and simple.

  And I’m ready to dish out the main course.

  ♫ With or Without You — U2 ♫

  The wind clatters the windows, frosted over with the snowstorm outside. It matches me, I feel cold inside. My bo
dy is weak from the chill that lingers outside from being so high up in my penthouse. The lights across the way from other buildings flicker and dim. The storm coming and going in large spurts across the sky.

  And I want to go with it.

  I want it to blow me away and freeze my entire self until I can’t feel anymore.

  Everything doesn’t just hurt, it aches and feels. My energy is nonexistent, I don’t think I’ll ever leave this couch again. I’d rather just wither and die here alone with memories and faded thoughts just to pass some of the time.

  But even then...my traitorous mind always goes to that memory. The one Reagan sent me three days ago with her being fucked by, not just one, but both Hardison brothers at the same time.

  Followed by: You’re dead to me.

  I am. No longer am I alive or conscious. The days blur into nights and back again. I only know one trail, and that’s to my bathroom and back. I didn’t hear all of Emmy’s words when she started coming over yesterday in a panic.

  I want this over.

  I want it to all stop.

  I don’t want to think anymore, just be here with no one bothering me.

  Wade Lockwood, whatever was left of him, he died the moment I saw Grant and Jed thrust their dicks into her. When her soft moans echoed around them and into the speaker of her phone as she begged them to fill her. The deep pitch of their groans as they took what they wanted.

  Used her, fucked her, owned her.

  I never thought someone could get underneath my skin as deep as Reagan has. I knew I loved her, that I’d do anything for her. I just never realized how quickly my body and mind could shut down just to survive because it had to. Yet it wouldn’t fully power down as much as I wish it would.

  Nothing would ever be the same.

  I couldn’t even fake a smile if I wanted to. I couldn’t bullshit myself in a conversation to win votes and be what the people wanted to see—a human. Someone they could relate to.

  But I’m below them. So deep under the surface that the sun doesn’t warm me anymore. The coldness permeates through my skin, making everything solid and unmoving from being so frigid.

  I just don’t want to be in this world anymore.

  Any world.

  Nothing lies for me here. Everything is taken and sold off. Each emotion I have has been ripped into pieces, and I don’t have the spirit to put it back together because some of those fragments were burned never to be whole again.

  I’ll never be whole again.

  “Wade, please, for me. Just a bite and I promise I’ll stop bothering you.”

  Emmy.

  Damn, why couldn’t I just love her? Loyal and fierce, through thick and thin. A warrior and protector all in the same body. Except I haven’t done half the shit to Emmy that I’ve done to Reagan.

  A fork shows up in front of my face, the smell of fried rice filling my nostrils as I avert my gaze from my assistant.

  I just want her to leave and forget about me.

  “You can’t stay like this forever,” she chides gently. “I know it’s hard but…” She carries on, I don’t listen to the rest. There’s no point. Nothing will ever change how I feel. No component will tweak a spark in me to get up and try again.

  I’ve tried—twice—and failed both times.

  Except the devil wanted to stay and take the rest of me down to hell with her.

  “All you have to do is say the word, Wade,” Emmy alludes. “And I’ll make it happen.”

  Make what happen?

  No idea, as I said, I wasn’t listening. Nor do I care to ask her what she’s even talking about.

  Emmy was a lot of things, but fixing a broken heart wasn’t on her résumé. Repairing a broken soul and mind wasn’t within her power to do. I’ve wasted both her time and mine because becoming the next President of the United States—that journey became my demise. That path drove me here, where I was mentally battered, physically exhausted, and emotionally massacred. I never saved a small piece of me to keep locked up and safe. I left all my cards out, thinking it’d make me stronger. But what happens when someone takes a machete to your world and cuts deep holes into it?

  Everything falls and seeps out through the cracks leaving you with nothing behind.

  “I’m not leaving you. We’re going to get through this together.”

  There is no together. It’s just you. And me.

  And I’d never drag Em deeper into shit when she’s already neck-deep in it. She was worth saving, and by doing that, I had to let her go. Not deeper into the trenches of my fucked-up life where I was sinking deeper and deeper.

  “I’m going to grab you a pillow and blanket.”

  Go home, Em.

  The words don’t leave my mouth though, they’re numb and lodged in my throat. They’re caked with heartache.

  I love Reagan Shelton.

  She was my entire world.

  Until she took an atomic bomb to my soul and left me alive to be a cripple.

  It hurts to breathe because every breath I take proves I can’t live without you. — Unknown

  ♫ Killing Me Softly — Bad Wolves ♫

  Over a year later…

  My back hits her bedroom door, which immediately follows with her plush lips crashing into mine.

  It’s been forever since we’ve fucked.

  That I’ve gotten to feel the tightness between her legs and how amazing she smells and tastes. To get lost and out of my world for just a moment where I didn’t have to think about anything else but this—us. My little piece of euphoria that understands me and my life.

  Stepping into her space, she counters back, and I yank her Nirvana shirt over her head, prompting me to feel the soft skin at her ribs before roaming down to unbutton her jeans.

  “Seems like you missed me,” she breathes.

  “Ever since you moved, yeah.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “I have to keep reminding myself why I let you do it in the first place.”

  She smiles. “Because you wanted me to succeed.”

  Yeah, that.

  I chastise myself every time since she’s not within a few hours driving distance from me.

  Her eyes beam up at me like I’m everything to her, like she is to me.

  She has to be.

  Because Demi is still my so-called wife, and I can’t find a way to pry her claws out of my back. She watches her moves too heavily, knows that I’ll be standing there waiting on her to fuck up. I’m on standby so I can destroy her life like she did mine and my family’s.

  “Just remember I’m still making the mortgage payment on your house so you can come home whenever you want,” I assert before I slide the denim material down her hips. “In case you can’t stand being away from me for longer than a month.”

  She frowns. “Wade, you don’t have to—” I silence her with my lips because we’ve had this conversation before—a million fucking times.

  But if it means keeping a place where she feels comfortable and where she’s safe, I’ll pay whatever it is that she needs.

  "That's not fair," she mutters into my mouth, pressing her forehead to mine. "You can't silence me with your mouth, then pretend this conversation is over."

  “It is over,” I counter. “I already told you that I’d keep whatever to make you come back to me. New York is too far from D.C.”

  “Not that far.”

  I perk a brow. “I don’t see you coming to see me.”

  Her hands run down the length of my suit. “Because I’ve been trying to open up my business here.”

  “Mhm.” My fingers brush beneath her red lace panties. The ones I know she put on specially for me because she knows they drive me fucking wild.

  It was the first color I saw her in.

  The contrast to my political party and baseball team. The light to my darkness and sanity to the insane life of being president.

  The moment my index finger grazes her clit, she urgently starts to work at the buttons of my shirt as her breathing hitche
s, and her fingers begin to tremble with need.

  “Lose the bra,” I order. “And I’ll take my cock out for you.” Her arms promptly reach around to undo the garment that some idiot decided would be “suitable” for women to wear.

  It falls to the ground at record speed, and with my free hand, I undo my belt with her impatient help.

  She urgently falls to her haunches, her lips wrap around my hardness before she even levels with it, and I don't stop the groan that escapes my lips.

  My hands thread through her dark hair as she pumps me slowly with her mouth. She feels like heaven and hell, an addiction that is too real and unhealthy that it overcomes most of my senses.

  “What’s not fair,” I convey as her tongue rakes along my shaft. “Is the power to make me fall to my knees with those fucking lips.”

  She chuckles against my shaft, which sends small thrills of lust to my balls.

  I give her a soft tug to her tresses. “C’mon, baby, stand up for me so I can—” That’s when she deepthroats me, the head of my dick hitting the back of her pharynx to get me to shut the hell up.

  It works—Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

  My head falls back. My eyes close, remembering when Reagan and I were in Connecticut and we fucked for the first time in her home. Her waking me up with kisses and wanting me to take her right there. How she opened up to me finally because our attraction was like gasoline to fire, it spread everywhere and burned hot within us.

  “I want you to come in my mouth,” she says with my cock still in it.

  “Only if I get to taste your pussy first,” I counter, recalling that time on Emmy’s desk when all her shit ended up knocked over.

  She doesn't move from her position, so I give her a harder tug to her thick hair, and she comes to stand as I mock her previous position but drop fully to my knees.

  Dragging her panties down her legs, I don't let her step out of her jeans because I like her grounded so I can drive her fucking crazy.

  I lick her slit, making her knees weaken and hit my chest.