GUNS: The Spencer Book

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GUNS: The Spencer Book Page 9

by JA Huss


  But that was Denver. This is FoCo.

  The lighting is dim in here, so it takes me a few seconds of walking towards her to realize what she’s wearing. I stride up, my boots making a dull thud on the polished floors, and look down at her as she talks, waving her hand at the guy at the desk.

  I don’t even see that guy. I see her. Wearing my fucking bike jacket. Wearing biker boots. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s sporting a backpack instead of a purse. She has a chipped nail on her right hand.

  I completely ignore every word coming out of her mouth and grab the sleeve of her jacket. “What the fuck is this?” I ask, my eyes blazing.

  Her words cease mid-sentence. “Uh…” She looks nervously at the desk guy. “You left it at my house years ago, Spencer. I’ve always had this jacket.”

  I figured that much. I know I left it there. But that’s not what’s bothering me. “Why the fuck are you wearing it?”

  She gives me the I’ll-get-you-back-for-this-caveman-shit-later laugh, and once more looks at the desk guy. “Spencer,” she starts calmly. “Do you mind curbing the language? We’re here to look at the penthouse.”

  I glare at the desk guy. “Let’s do it, then.” I need her alone anyway. I’m not gonna get any answers out of her with this guy hanging around.

  He gives me one of those disgusted sighs most people reserve for guys who look like me, then hands her the keyless remote for the condo.

  Veronica reaches for it with her dainty hands. “Thank you, Charlie.” She beams at him. And then she turns and walks over to the elevators.

  I give Charlie another glare, complete with eye narrowing and growling, and his eyebrows go to the ceiling in surprise. I turn and follow Ronnie, who is now holding the door open. I walk in and she clicks the remote and the penthouse button lights up as the doors close.

  “I don’t like that guy. In fact, I don’t like this place.”

  Veronica sighs and shakes her head, but she says nothing. We stand in silence and I get angrier by the second as I ponder the limited reasons why she might be dressed up as a biker. She’s scowling at the doors, pretending I’m not here.

  The doors ding open and I follow her into the condo. It’s massive. The entire floor. “How many square feet?” I ask as I walk over to the windows to take in the view of the mountains. Nice.

  “Three thousand plus, two bedrooms, three bathrooms, office, formal living, formal dining, and a media room. The kitchen is this way.” She leads me past the dining room and into the kitchen. “It’s staged for an open house tomorrow, but if you’re interested, I can see if Mr. Mansi wants to sell the furniture too.”

  Uh-huh. She wants to play tour guide with me? Pretend like this day never happened? I can play. “How you get over here? You walk?” I look her dead in the eye as she lies.

  “Yes.”

  “Why you carrying a backpack? Just trying to make shit easier as you hoof it around town?”

  “Uh…” She squints her eyes at me. She knows I’m trapping her. “Yes, actually. It’s more practical. Carries more, too.”

  “Have you made plans to buy a new car?” I volley back.

  “Yeah, my friend Carson is gonna take me looking later,” she lies again.

  “Did you know Rook went to the doctor today?”

  She sighs in defeat. “What do you want, Spencer? You want me to say no? Yes? Which one is the right answer? You want to know what the fuck I did today? Huh? You want to know how I found this place? You want to know who Mr. Mansi is?”

  “Yes, yes, and motherfucking yes,” I reply as I pace the kitchen. “I want to know all that and more.”

  She smiles and I steady myself for the explosion.

  “Well, Mr. Shrike, I’ve been a very busy girl today. And since I’m on the payroll, I guess I do owe you an answer.”

  I nod my head. “Damn fucking right you do, woman.”

  She laughs a little at my caveman impersonation. Bomb loves the caveman, so I’m not worried.

  “Well, I didn’t go to the doctor with Rook, nope. But I did see her today. She had to go out to your farm to pick something up.”

  “Hmmmm,” I hum out as I start putting the pieces together.

  “And since I had all that money from selling the car you bought me for graduation, I decided to buy her bike instead. And I actually did get an invitation from my friend Carson to go car-shopping with him, but I turned him down because I’m good as far as the whole ride thing goes.”

  “You bought Rook’s bike? You bought my fucking bike? You purchased my fucking bike?”

  She smiles a smile that’s so big, the sun bounces off her perfect teeth and makes them sparkle. “I sure did.”

  I just stare at her. “Are you fucking insane? What the hell is wrong with you?” I pace the kitchen and rub my hands over the short stubble on my head. “Goddammit, Veronica! Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  I turn back, waiting for an answer. But she simply smiles.

  “You’re gonna sell me that bike back.”

  “I am not,” she says calmly.

  “Are.”

  “Not. I bought it, I just had it registered, I have insurance on it. And I’m gonna ride the fuck out of that bike all damn summer.”

  I realize I’m going about this all wrong. All wrong. So I stop and take a deep breath. “Veronica,” I say softly. “Bombshell, listen—”

  Smack! My face is stinging from her slap.

  “What the fuck was that for? Jesus Christ, Ronnie—”

  Smack!

  I palm my face and stare at her. Her brows are knitted together, the tight muscles in her jaw are contracting, her little fists are clenching. “Don’t call me that name again, Spencer. I mean it. We’re done. You think you can use my body any way you see fit in the back alley of a donut shop, then walk away like I’m some piece of trash not even worthy of reciprocal pleasure?”

  I spin on my heel so I can smile and she can’t see me. She’s pissed that I left her hanging?

  No, that can’t be all of it. She’s had this day planned. She knew what she was doing before I showed up and fucked her in the alley.

  She’s still yelling at me, calling me names, insisting I’m a pig. But I tune it all out as I plan my next move. I only got one as far as I can tell. I mean, I can bring out the big guns, but it’s not time for that yet. So this will have to do.

  I turn. She’s all red-faced, still spouting off about this and that. I walk slowly up to her and she points her finger in my face. I grab it and she gasps.

  “What are you doing?” Her eyes are wide as I bring her finger to my mouth.

  She swallows.

  My other hand comes up and grabs her at the wrist so she can’t break away when I start to suck on her fingertip. I bite it, and she tries to pull back, but I have her good now. “Come closer, Veronica. Don’t back away,” I say in a low rumbling voice.

  “No,” she gasps. “No. No, no, no. I’m not getting caught in your—”

  I lick the length of her finger, then dip to the sensitive webbing of skin just above her knuckle.

  “Ohhh, hell,” she whines as my tongue flicks back and forth between her fingers.

  “I can do more than this, Bombshell.”

  I wait for the slap, but she opts for the hard swallow again.

  I push her gently over towards the granite-topped island in the middle of the kitchen. It hits her at the waist and she has to bend backwards, because I do not stop pushing. “What are you doing?” she whispers and looks around nervously.

  “I’m gonna make it right,” I say as I nip her finger again.

  “Oh, God, Spencer—”

  I lift her ass up and place her on the island, still pushing forward hard enough to force her to ease back. She resists placing her shoulders and head on the stone, but I let go of her finger and place my hands on either side of her, rubbing up against her tits.

  “You’re mad at me?”

  She nods.

  �
�For leaving you feeling like a whore this morning?”

  She nods again.

  “You want me to treat you like my princess? Like I care?”

  She looks away at this part and my heart cracks a little. She wants that so fucking bad. I pull her up and kiss her mouth. I lick her lips and she opens for me, pushing back against my tongue. I know her mouth. I know her tongue. We don’t kiss. We dance.

  She moans.

  “Veronica,” I breathe into her.

  “Spencer, please don’t do this to me. I can’t take it anymore. I’m at the end here.” She starts to cry.

  “Veronica,” I say again as I undo her jeans and drag the zipper down. I pull her off the counter and hold her until she stands up.

  She won’t look at me. She can’t tell me to stop because she wants it so bad, but she can’t look at me either.

  I put her back on the counter and then tug off her boots, letting them thunk to the hard tile floor.

  She covers her face with her hands.

  “Lie back, beautiful. And take your hands away from your face.”

  She obeys without hesitation but her face is red and her eyes are wet once she uncovers them.

  I pull her jeans and her lacy pink panties down in the same motion, then let them drop to the floor. She stays still until I lift her by the shoulders and make her sit up again. “Open your legs, Ronnie,” I whisper in her ear. She tucks her head into my shoulder, but her legs obey.

  I scoot her hips to the edge of the counter and then slip my finger between her legs, tracing her opening until I get the shudder.

  God, how I wait for that shudder.

  “I love you,” I say softly. She jerks her head back, her chest extended like she just inhaled and she’s afraid to let it out. I look up into her sad blue eyes and say it again. “I love you, Ron. It’s always been you, baby.”

  I say it because my Bombshell needs to hear those words so bad right now. She’s so desperate for all my bullshit to be over, I am powerless to deny her.

  My cock is free, pushing against her entrance when she starts to sob.

  “Stop, Ron. I’m here,” I say. I thrust into her all the way and she gasps and pushes back. I lift her up off the counter, then turn us both around and take her place, setting her gently in my lap. Her arms are wrapped around my neck like she’s afraid to let go.

  We sit like that for a few minutes. Her crying as silently as she can. Me feeling like a total piece of shit, whispering nice things in her ear. “I love you. I want you. I want you so bad, Ronnie, you have no idea.”

  “I have no idea because you never tell me,” she sobs.

  “I’m trying to protect you. I need to keep you safe.”

  She stays silent after that, just keeping still as she gets herself together. And then, after many minutes of waiting, she begins to rock against me.

  I smile.

  She lifts up and eases back down on top of me.

  My dick becomes rock hard with these small movements.

  She moans. And then she lifts up farther and slams down harder, making me moan this time. She does it again and it takes every bit of self-control not to turn around and throw her down so I can fuck the sadness out of her.

  I hold it together, letting her take control at the same time. This is Ronnie calling the shots. I want her to know she counts. What she wants matters. She pushes on my shoulders. “Lie back,” she says with urgency. “Please, lie back. I’m so close.”

  I do as she asks and flatten my body out against the cold stone. She bends over my chest, her tits heavy on top of me, her golden hair spilling over her perfect shoulders as she moves her hips back and forth, dragging her clit over my skin, both of us so wet we’re slippery.

  “Oh fuck, Spencer!”

  “Tell me you’ll stay off the bike, Ronnie.”

  “No,” she moans. “No, I love that bike, Spencer. It means so much to me.”

  I thrust into her again and she gasps.

  “I want you off the bike, Veronica.”

  “No,” she says as she continues her movements. The friction against my skin as she dips and rises is too perfect to argue with her, so instead I thrust upwards. Hard. Hard enough so that my balls slap against her asshole and that about drives me wild. I reach around and play with her back there, reaching down into her pussy to wet my finger, then slipping it inside a fraction. Just enough to make her clench against my cock and drive us both to climax.

  I shoot into her as she whimpers, bucking and arching her back as she finds the release I denied her this morning.

  The waves of satisfaction continue for several seconds and then we both sigh. I smack her ass and it echoes off the tall ceilings of the kitchen. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close so I can give her a squeeze. “No bike, you need to promise me. I’ll go crazy thinking about you riding.”

  “Hello?” a voice calls out from the other room.

  Ronnie and I bolt upright. Listening.

  “Hello?” the voice says a little closer now.

  I place her on the floor and pull myself together as she wiggles back into her jeans and starts tugging on her boots. I grab her panties from the floor and stick them in my pocket just as a man in a suit walks into the kitchen.

  “Miss Vaughn?” he calls out again before he notices us.

  I smile. When I look over at Ronnie she’s wincing. Like she just got caught.

  Hmmm… I walk over to the guy, who is looking at us like we just fucked on the ten-thousand-dollar slab of granite in a kitchen that does not belong to us.

  “Did you find the place to your liking, Mr. Shrike?” he asks with clear disdain.

  People have this thing about bikers with tattoos. Like they’re better than us. Most of the time I let it slide. I know what I am. I know what I’m capable of. I know my true value. But for some reason, I hate this guy on sight. “Uh, yeah, it’s real nice.”

  “And your condo is fine as well, Miss Vaughn? Or does it not meet your…” He looks over at me. “Specific needs?”

  “Wait,” I say, puzzled. “What condo?”

  And now the suit guy smiles like he’s got a secret.

  “Oh, uh, Spencer,” Veronica interjects. “This is Mr. Mansi, the owner of this building. Actually he owns my old apartment building as well—”

  “What do you mean old apartment building?”

  “Please, Miss Vaughn, it’s Bobby.” He smiles at her like he’s making a claim and my insides go hot with anger. “She’s moved into my building, Mr. Shrike. She lives in one of my condos on the second floor as of today.”

  Chapter Twelve

  VERONICA

  Oh, fuck. This is not gonna be pretty. “So, funny thing happens when I get home from the DMV today, Spencer. There’s all these construction workers…” My words keep spilling out of my mouth but all I’m thinking about is how this will go down. Spencer just fucked me in this two-million-dollar condo that belongs to a man who is looking a little too much like a challenger for my comfort level.

  How did that happen? The guy was nobody an hour ago. He barely had time to show me into my new condo before he had to leave and now he’s giving Spencer the territorial look?

  Neither of them are listening to me so I just shut up.

  Mr. Mansi looks over at me. “I’m sorry to… interrupt. But Charlie downstairs called and was worried about you meeting your… boss up here alone.”

  “Is that right?” Spencer says, puffing up his chest. “He was worried about me talking to my… employee?”

  Oh God. There it is. So much for he loves me, right? I’m his employee. Why doesn’t he just fucking say girlfriend! Arrrggh! I’m so pissed off.

  They do the silent, teeth-clenching bro-down for several seconds and I sigh and decide to just take over since apparently both of them have caveman tendencies. “Spencer’s not interested in the condo, Mr. Mansi, sorry to have wasted your time.” I turn to Spencer to tell him I’ll look for something else, but he cuts me off.

&nb
sp; “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who says I’m not interested, Miss Vaughn?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s out of your price range,” Mansi says back. “But I have a friend with some economy units available across town. Perhaps you’d like me to put in a good word for you?”

  Spencer smiles. I know that smile. I’ve seen it before. Usually it’s during a fight with my older brother Vic and it almost always ends up with a trip to the ER. For both of them.

  I eye Mansi cautiously. He looks like a guy who bails himself out with money, not fists. But looks can be deceiving.

  “Besides,” Mansi says with a grin. “I’ve decided to keep the penthouse for myself. It’s no longer for sale.” Then he looks straight at me and winks. “So you and I will be neighbors, Veronica. Maybe we can have dinner one night this week? Unless you have a boyfriend?”

  His gaze never leaves mine, nor mine his. I wait for Spencer to interrupt and tell him I belong to him. That he and I are soul mates. That I’m his one true love. That he’s loved me since the day he met me. That he just fucked me right here in this million-dollar kitchen that belongs to the man standing in front of him.

  But he doesn’t. So I suck it up and swallow down the sadness. “Yeah, Bobby. I’d like that. I’ve got some shopping to do now, so if you two will excuse me, I’m gonna get out of here. Spencer?” I finally turn to look at him and even though I didn’t expect much, I expected something. Some expression of disbelief. A small tilt of his head to ask, What the fuck are you doing? Some twitch of his eye or a clench in his jaw to say he’s gonna kill that motherfucker Mansi.

  But he’s got nothing. Pure poker face.

  I wave. “I’ll find you another place to look at tomorrow.”

  I walk to the elevator alone. Press the button. Take a deep breath. Enter as the doors open. Smile big as I turn to press the button for the second floor. And pretend everything is just perfect as the doors close in front of me.

  And then I break down. Because that asshole did it again! I’m so sick of the fuck-and-deny I can’t stand it.

  In the few short seconds it takes for the elevator to reach my floor I’m a sobbing mess. The doors open and thankfully no one else is around as I bolt for my door. I push the key in, fling it open, and then slam it behind me.

 

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