Gigi and I talk for a little while longer, and she makes me promise that I will return at five o’clock tonight, for my surprise. I’m honestly a bit hesitant as to what my surprise is going to be, because I swear to God, if it’s Martha’s bare boobs, I’m going to officially have to commit myself. There’s only so much that I can handle in a day, and I’m quite close to my limit. Gigi makes her way out of the conference room, and after she does, I turn to Ciara.
“What in the hell have I gotten myself into?” She doesn’t respond. In fact, I don’t even bother to wait for it. Both of our attention shifts, as a kitten darts into the room, and as our eyes meet, it hisses at me and all of its fur stands on end.
“What in the hell?”
“Oops.” Gertrude, the fiery redhead who tends to test every single one of my boundaries, hurries in behind the cat, as fast as her frail little self can manage. “Please, ignore her. She’s a figment of your imagination. You don’t actually see a cat in here, JuJu.” I can ignore the nickname, but I cannot ignore the cat.
“Gertrude, seriously?” She completely ignores me.
“Don’t you make any moves towards her.” Gertrude waves her finger at Ciara as the cat continues to hiss at me. For a fleeting moment, I worry that it might attack. “This is one pussy that you cannot persuade to your side of the fence there, devil woman.” The cat is snatched into her hands, and all that I see leaving the room is a flash of red.
“Tell me that did not just happen,” I mutter, trying to take a deep breath and count to ten before I have an aneurysm. “Tell me…”
“What are you freaking out about? Calm down.” Ciara rolls her eyes. “You’re not the one who was just called the devil.”
I would have preferred to have just been called a name. Now, I’ve got to deal with the cat. It’s always fucking something.
8
Willow
“Front motorboat.” Good grief. I just had to stand here quietly and listen to my brother and his teammate, Declan Sanders, discuss which route that Jude would prefer tonight, courtesy of his live entertainment. I’ve got to give it to the girl, she seems very dedicated to giving the best possible performance that she can. If it were anyone other than Jude receiving this gift tonight, I might have even laughed. I mean, watching her demonstrate the front and the backside motorboat for both Wyatt and Declan, while they actually sat and discussed which was better, was quite comical.
“Masters is an ass man.” Declan sounds so confident. “He’s going to want that apple bottom right up in his face.”
“I don’t think so, Dec.” Wyatt shakes his head. “Jude’s way more into tits. Stacey, that redhead from last night?” I watch as Declan nods at him, like a little puppy dog. “She said that a few months ago, Masters motorboated her so hard that she had razor burn in between her knockers. She said that she was out of commission for an entire week.”
“That’s a real shame.” Declan’s face falls. “Stacey is really talented at what she does.”
“Ok,” I interrupt, holding my hands up and waving them around wildly enough to get all three of their attention. “There will be no motorboating. Not in the front, not in the back. None.”
The hired help grunts and then looks over to Wyatt for help, as if he’s actually going to tell me to stop talking and mind my own business.
Please, sweetheart. That isn’t the way that this works.
“You’ve been hired to jump out of a cake and dance. You cannot have any contact with him, besides the dancing.”
“It’s part of the package.” She flips her long, blond, likely extensions, over her shoulder and snarls her nose at me. “I was booked for the entertainment plus package, which includes the dance, and a little tease of either tits, or ass. It sounds like tits are the mound of choice, so that’s what we’ll be going with.”
* * *
I cringe. I don’t want to witness Jude getting motorboated by this bitch, but that’s not what has me all riled up. I expected the guys, namely, my brother, to do something like this for him for his birthday.
What I am most concerned about, is the fact that my older brother is the one hosting the party, and the one paying. Which means he’s breaking laws that could ruin his career, without even realizing it.
“So, Wyatt, you’re fine with hiring a prostitute, then?”
“I’m not a prostitute! I am a dancer. It’s insulting that you don’t understand the difference.”
I’ve insulted her. What a shame. She looks me up and down, and after finding me of no threat to her, she glances back to Wyatt.
“Who is this bitch, anyways? Can you ask her to leave so that we can get back to business? I can actually take my top off and do a run through of the show if you’re still not convinced.”
Wyatt looks torn between defending my honor and having boobs in his face. Luckily, Declan isn’t torn at all. He immediately chooses me.
“Ah, Star? Don’t overstep. Willow isn’t going anywhere; she’s Wyatt’s baby sister. If you don’t apologize, then you can’t stick around. Tell her that you’re sorry, or you should just see yourself out.”
“I don’t need the apology. You should just go.” I march towards her, stepping between her and the guys. “What you are trying to sell my brother is prostitution, sweetheart. If you don’t understand that, then I strongly suggest heading to the library and looking up the laws regarding the buying and selling of such things. Stripping is one thing, but offering a plus package that includes letting someone suck on your breasts, is without a doubt, in the same category as selling your vagina. Now, get.”
I shoo her away with my hands, keeping my eyes locked on hers the entire time. She makes a few more disgusted sounds at me, but when neither of the guys try to stop me, finally, she flashes me her middle finger and storms out of the door.
Remember the part where I said that sometimes I have to be Wyatt’s mom? Well, this is a prime example of that. And there is usually something like this that I have to save him from, at least three times a week.
“Well, fuck.” Wyatt’s face mirrors what I would anticipate a child’s face to look like after they lost their favorite toy. “Now we have no one to jump out of the cake.”
How tragic.
By the time that Jude arrives to the party, my anxiety over having to see him is at an all-time high. I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m only feeling like this because I’m already irritated by the guests, but even I know that it has more to do with him than anything else.
It also hasn’t helped that the women around here tonight are buzzing with excitement over it being Jude’s birthday. I’ve already heard at least six of the women talking about the things that they are willing to do to him tonight, if they are the ones chosen to accompany him to the guest room, that is.
I shouldn’t be jealous about any of this, and yet, I am. That’s the part about this that bothers me the most. I’m jealous that I’m going to have to see him hook up with someone else tonight, because a small part of me wants to be the one that he crawls into bed next to.
I shudder at my own thoughts, fully and utterly disgusted with myself for even thinking such things. The man grosses me out, and yet, here I am, actually letting myself think about how good he made me feel.
Of course, he was good in bed, Willow. The little voice inside of my head is rolling her eyes at me and flipping her hair. He fucks everything with a vagina. How can he not be good at what he does?
True, true. That is precisely why I immediately sought medical attention. Jude Masters is a whore.
But he ended up being clean. You have the lab slip to prove it. Plus, do you remember how it felt when he backed you up against the wall? Or how about when he bent you over the bed, and fucked you so hard that you passed out? That was epic.
I passed out because I was drunk, I argue back. It had nothing to do with the sex.
Yeah, right.
I grip the beer in my hand tighter, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to force all of the
voices in my head to shut up. I take a few deep breaths, and once I’m finally able to collect myself enough, I open my eyes.
I find Jude standing in front of me, staring at me with a concerned look in his eyes.
My lungs seize in my chest as my eyes adjust to the man standing before me. Good fucking God, why? Why does he have to be so devastatingly handsome? He literally doesn’t even try, and yet, even at his worst, he’s still the most gorgeous man that I’ve ever laid eyes on. He is the only man alive who can make two day old scruff and a basic t-shirt with jeans look like perfection.
“Willow?” His voice sends shivers down my spine. It reminds me of how my name sounded, leaving his mouth in pants, as he spread me wide and made my toes curl.
My mouth is dryer than the desert, and my eyes are stuck, unable to pull away from his. It feels as if time stands still, however, I’m fairly certain that it doesn’t. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole, before I have the chance to say something that I’ll regret. Something in the form of offering myself to him, one last time. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine.” My voice doesn’t sound fine, in fact, it shakes as the words leave me. Get it together, for fucks sake! “Happy birthday.”
Still gripping my beer tightly, I manage to step past him. I ignore the scent of his cologne as it invades my nostrils, and I make certain to keep my eyes focused on my feet so that they can’t eye fuck him anymore. I’m almost past him and in the clear, when I feel his hand clamp down around my wrist, which causes an unwelcome explosion of need to erupt inside of me.
“Thank you.” His voice is a low, almost a whisper in my ear. Every hair on my body stands at attention, as his breath caresses my skin. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Talk?” I squeak and then immediately shake my head. “No way. Absolutely not. We don’t have anything that we need to talk about, Jude. And you have a party to enjoy.”
“Nobody even knows that I’m here yet, Willow. I literally just walked through the front door and came to find you. I really think that we should talk about what happened between us in Chicago.”
I stare at him, and I mean, really stare at him. At first, I’m trying to figure out why he wants to talk about the night that I would much prefer to sweep under the rug. I don’t want to talk to him about it, since I’m having a hard enough time trying to get myself to stop thinking about it.
The second that our eyes lock, however, I feel my resolve to walk away, fade fast. My body instinctively moves towards his, as if I no longer have the control to stop it. His eyes dilate, and his lips part. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me, right here inside of the kitchen, which would be ballsy, since my brother is literally in the next room. I manage to stop myself from getting any closer, pulling my eyes off of his right before I make a huge mistake. As my eyes travel down to his neck, that’s when I see it. A bucket of cold water couldn’t have snapped me out of my trance any faster.
“You just got here?” I raise an eyebrow, my eyes narrowing on his.
“Yeah.” He looks confused at the abrupt change in my demeanor, but I can’t help myself. Disgust fills me as I stare at the very obvious make-up stain on the collar of his shirt and the bright pink lipstick marks on his neck.
“Ah. Makes perfect sense now.” I planned on only having a few beers tonight, but I change my mind immediately, reaching past Jude and snatching a half empty bottle of tequila off of the counter, and then begin my retreat to my room.
“What makes sense?” I can’t even believe that he has the audacity to look at me with shock in his eyes. I’ll give it to him, the man is good. Too damn good. But he’s also a skank, one who I don’t care to spend another second thinking about, let alone, talking to.
“The reason why you’re late.” I flip my hair over my shoulder and shake my head in disgust. “You should have showered before coming here, Jude. One of your sluts left a makeup stain on your shirt and marked your neck with their pink lips.”
Without another word, I hightail it to my room, clutching the tequila in my hand, and vowing that today will be the very last time that I ever give Jude Masters a second thought.
9
Jude
I bang on the front door one more time, and still, no one answers. I’m guessing that everyone inside is still sleeping off last night, but I expected that at least Willow would be up and moving around today. She usually is, at least. Only because she doesn’t party until the wee hours of dawn like Wyatt does.
There’s a good chance that she is, and just doesn’t want to answer the door for me. I know that it must have looked bad last night, showing up here with lipstick on my skin and makeup on my shirt, but she didn’t even give me a chance to explain myself. If she would have, I could have told her that the makeup was from Gigi, and the pink lipstick, well, I’m not exactly sure which woman it came from, but surely she wouldn’t be angry to find out that it belonged to lips that are over eighty years old. Which honestly, I’m not even sure if angry is the right word to describe the way that she looked last night. She wasn’t really mad, she was just more disgusted. Which stings a bit more than the first option.
It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to think about what happened between us, and I’ll give it to her. She has every reason to feel that way. It’s not like I’ve always been a great guy or anything, but in my defense, I’ve also never hidden who I was. I’m not some asshole, out hooking up with women every night, contrary to her popular belief. Have I had some fun in my days? Hell yes, I have. Am I the dirty whore that Willow likes to depict me as?
Absolutely not.
Yes, she’s witnessed many of my indiscretions firsthand, but for fuck’s sake, people can change. I haven’t even looked at a woman sexually since I tasted Willow, and honestly, the sweetness that lies between her legs has soured me towards all other women indefinitely. If she would only give me a chance to explain it all to her, I’m sure that she would understand.
The only problem with her, though, is that she’s not big on second chances. That much, I know.
I bang on the door again, and this time, it flies open. An immediate smile spreads across my lips. Willow obviously just woke up, and the sight of her is sexy as hell. Her dark hair is twisted on the top of her head in a messy bun with a few stray strands falling down the back of her neck. Her tank top hugs tightly against the set of breasts that are hands down, the most beautiful creation that I’ve ever seen, and the long legs that wrapped tightly around my waist while I plowed into her, are on full display in her tiny, sleep shorts.
The sight of Willow has always made my dick grow. She’s literally the real life version of my fantasy girl, smart mouth and everything. But today, as I study her, the throb in my pants becomes almost unbearable. It was easier to calm my Willowrection when I hadn’t experienced what she actually feels like, wrapped around my dick. Now that I’ve had her, and know just how fantastic she is, the pain is too much and the need to claim her again is way too strong.
“Jesus Christ, Willow.” My voice is rough, coming out in pants, scratching across my suddenly dry throat. “I can’t believe you’re answering the door like this. For fuck’s sake, put a bra on or something.”
Her face immediately flames, as her hands fly up and cup her chest. Fuck me, seeing her holding her own tits is going to send me over the edge. I’m about two seconds away from messing my pants.
She grabs her robe off of the staircase, throws it on over her sexy little body, and ties it tightly. It’s only then that she meets my eyes.
“There, better?”
“Yes.” Her eyes roll, and then she returns right back to treating me with the same indifference that is typical for her. I watch her for just a second as she moves around the living room, clutching a garbage bag and tossing empty solo cups and beer bottles into the bag with enough force that I worry the bag will split open. Her irritation is radiating off of her, and the leave me the fuck alone vibe pulsates from her skin.
“Wow.” I st
are at the disarray that is she and Wyatt’s home. “This place is trashed.”
“This place is always trashed.” She glares at me, as she wraps the end of the garbage bag over one of the end tables and uses her forearm to slide the entire contents of the table into it. “You guys party like jackasses, with zero regards to who has to clean your shit up.”
I immediately hold up my hands. “Listen, I get it, ok? Wyatt’s parties get a little out of control at times, I’ll give you that. But I had nothing to do with the mess this time. I left early.”
“Ah.” She slams another beer bottle into the bag, as the distinct sound of glass breaking fills the air between us. “You already got what you were looking for before you showed up last night, so you didn’t have to stick around. Lucky you. I was stuck here, listening to women getting railed in the next room over. I’m personally shocked that you didn’t stick around for a second round. I guess some guys just aren’t built for that.”
Oh, alright. I see how today is going to go with her. Not only is she going to treat me like total shit, but she’s also going to poke fun at my manhood. Prior to what happened between us, I would just let this roll off of me. I might have made a snide comment about how she wouldn’t know since she hasn’t had me, and then I would have dropped it.
I can’t say that anymore and honestly, her comment fucking stings.
“Listen, sweetheart, I have more than two rounds in me. I could remind you that you thoroughly enjoyed round number three with me, but I’m not one to kiss and tell.”
“Stop talking about it.” Her voice is a hiss, and her eyes turn wild. “Do you want Wyatt to hear? He’ll lose his damn mind, Jude, and then, he’ll kill you. I’d prefer that my brother not go to prison for murder, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone else overhearing. I understand that you like the world to know about your dirty deeds, but I would prefer to keep mine strictly confidential. If anyone found out what we did, my reputation would be ruined.”
No Touch Zone (Saints of Love Book 2) Page 5