by kj lewis
“I trust you will let her know that is not acceptable?” Camilla says over her shoulder. I follow her down the hallway to my master wing.
“Certainly,” I placate. I really could give a rat’s arse about a little music.
“I need about twenty minutes,” she says, entering my room.
I sit on the edge of the bed and remove my tie and suitcoat. “I’ll just pop down to Finn’s and see about the girls.”
“Fine,” Camilla says from the closet.
I decide to stop into Sam’s room to ask her to lower the music and to remind her guests are allowed in her quarters, but not about the house as they please. Unbuttoning my shirt cuffs, I come to a stop just outside her door when I hear her. Jake is still here, and from this angle I can see his arms around Sam. She’s laughing as he kisses his way down her throat.
“They’ll be back in ten minutes,” she moans.
“Good. I only need three. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“It’s only been four days.”
“Like I said, forever.”
“We have to be fast,” Sam says breathlessly as Jake turns her to the wall. He pins her wrists in his hand while his free hand pushes her shorts down her thighs.
“Fuck me, you’re ready,” he says when his hand finds its prize.
“God, yes.”
He lifts his shirt and his dick is already sheathed. Sam’s T-shirt hangs over her body, but he raises it slightly, so he can guide his way inside her. I’m out of their line of sight, but I can see the curve of her backside. Her moans confirm that he’s found what he was looking for. There’s no foreplay. No preparation. Just fucking against the wall, and even though it’s wrong, I can’t pull myself away from watching her face—cheek pressed against the plaster—as he pleasures himself by way of her body.
“You like this, don’t you?” His hand snakes under her hair wrap and pulls her head back, allowing him better access to her jaw. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes,” she answers breathlessly, her arms still pinned above her.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I like it.”
“I like it, too,” he says before running his tongue along her jaw.
His body slaps against hers, the sound echoing off the bare walls and his free hand moves from her hip to her wrists. He pounds hard into her several times before releasing one of her arms.
“Get there Sam, we’re on the clock. Touch yourself.”
She does as she’s told, her fingers moving down her body. I can’t see them, but I’m aware the minute she touches herself by the look of pleasure on her face.
“Fuck yes.” He releases her other arm, so he can grip her hips with both hands.
“Get there, dammit,” he says between clenched teeth.
“I’m almost, almost…” she cries out in pleasure, shuddering as her release flows through her. Jake picks up his pace and slams into her one last time before unleashing a string of expletives, his body falling against hers.
“Talk about wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am,” Sam giggles, and it pulls me out of my reverie. My hand is massaging my pants-covered cock. I back out of there as quietly as I came and close my bedroom door behind me.
“I was thinking,” Camilla says, removing an earring before I lift her against the wall, plunging my tongue into her mouth. She whimpers and when I let her up for air she demands to know what I’m doing.
“I missed you,” I answer, but even as I say it, I realize it’s not true, but she’s grinding her sex against mine, so I store that thought away for a later day when I have time to evaluate what that might mean.
Setting her on her feet I turn her to the wall and pull her nightgown up her body exposing her arse. Her body is tight and flawless with no curves to be found. I palm her breasts and she shimmies her slender backside against me.
“Bed,” she hums.
“Here,” I tell her, rolling a condom down my length.
“No.” She maneuvers to face me. “I’m not some whore you picked up on the street. We’re not fucking against a wall. Especially not when you’re still dressed.”
I bristle irrationally when she unknowingly refers to Sam as a whore. My breathing deflates, along with my dick, as my forehead thumps against the wall.
“Walt?” Camilla calls from the other room. I don’t answer but take the time to remove my clothes, willing my dick to harden again. I don’t want to have this conversation right now.
By the time I’m on the bed, my libido is napping like it just had a margarita under a palm tree. I kiss down her body hoping it will ignite the fire, but it’s no use. By the time my mouth closes over her pussy, I know. It’s not happening.
Another twenty minutes passes before Camilla finally comes on my tongue, and when I move up to kiss her, she wraps her hand around me. I know there is no chance she is going to blow me. Her lips haven’t touched around my cock since she had that extra glass of wine a week after we started dating.
“Come on, darling. You can do it.” Camilla’s inert tone threatens to keep my orgasm at bay. My displeasure at the inevitable conversation if I don’t come shamefully propels me to close my eyes and remember Samantha’s moans, the curve of her back, the way her body shook when she came. And just like that I’m hard. A minute later, I come.
I close my eyes to it all. The late hours I’ve been keeping every night to take care of work and the girls. All this change Samantha has created with her moving and rearranging my life. My rising irritation with my fiancé, especially since it’s not her fault. She is nothing if not transparent about how she feels. She isn’t the one who’s changed. I am.
“I’ll call you after my fitting tomorrow. We can make plans for the weekend. The girls are still going to their grandparents for the gala?”
“They are,” I answer, eyes still closed.
“Don’t be lazy, darling. Walk me to the elevator.” She waits at the door while I wash up and throw on a pair of sweats that sit low on my hips. Her eyes see nothing. No glances at my body. No finger that lightly caresses the low crevice on my hips. I open the door and a moment later the lift stops on Finn’s floor. I exit, she stays, the door closes behind me.
Finn and Zinnie are playing a card game in the living room.
“Poppy?”
“Blue room,” Zinnie answers without looking up from her game. Her hand slaps at the stack of cards on the table and she declares “war”.
A sliver of light shines onto Poppy’s face when I open the door. She’s sleeping on her back, Edward given the prime real estate next to her heart.
Squatting down, I push curls off her face and my hand slides down to cup her cheek. In an unaware sleep, she nuzzles my hand. My heart feels like it’s going to explode. This child. She’s had so much heartache at such a young age. I wonder what she makes of it all. Her breath has a slight rasp to it, the remnants of her cold.
This is the first time I’ve touched her like this and I wonder why that is. I’ve spent many nights staring at the girls from their doorways while they slept, trying to burrow my way into their heads to figure out what it is that I’m not giving them. A peek into how to do this better. Maybe Camilla is right. Maybe the girls would be better off in a place where there are other girls their age, and they have people looking out for them that know more than I do. Just as quickly as the voices come, they leave when Poppy rolls on her side and pulls my hand to her chest where Edward once was.
And I feel it. Her heartbeat. I move to my knees to get into a comfortable position and sit there until mine syncs with hers. I kiss her forehead, thanking her for the encouragement.
“I was just about to send a search party out for you,” Finn says, knocking the deck of cards against the table, evening them up before sliding them back in the box.
“I sat with Poppy for a while. Wanted to make sure she wasn’t having any problems left over from her cold.”
He nods; he knows I’m full of shit.
“Where’s Zinnie?” I
ask.
“She went to bed. Had a call to take.” He adds air quotes to the last part. “Camilla coming down?”
“She left. Had an early appointment.”
“Are you sure…”
“Don’t.” I cut him off. “I can’t right now.”
“Okay,” he says with kindness in his eyes that frustrates me.
“I’m going upstairs. Call if the girls need anything.”
“They won’t. Quade says he and the rest of the Ox Five were going out for a drink. You should go. Meet up with them.”
“I’m rather exhausted.”
“It would be good for you. I’ve got the girls. You can go without worry.” He studies me. I know he wants to say more, but he’s holding back.
“Thanks, but no.”
I take the stairs up to my place, entering through the back entrance. The door to Sam’s room is closed and there’s no light coming from underneath. I groan at the thought of what she might be doing in there.
“Fuck it,” I say to no one as I stand in an empty apartment. Alone.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt headed out to meet my boys. Pierce responded within a minute, letting me know they were at Hush, the hottest club in town. I’m a bit underdressed, but I don’t give a fuck.
The night is warm and seeing as I am in an unusual mood, I lower the car window and watch the city and people around me fly by. I love London, it will always be my first love, but this city has something, too. It pulls at me. The excitement. The hardness. I watch tourists stopping to take their picture in front of the New York Public Library. People frustrated trying to get around them. People running to catch the bus. Storefronts still open. This city is alive no matter what time you step out your door.
My driver drops me off and, as expected, the bouncers open the roped entrance before I’ve even stepped onto the sidewalk.
A gentleman in an expensive suit greets me. “Mr. Nelson, your party is in the Penthouse.” I nod and the security men around him clear a path, guaranteeing me access to our roped off area with ease.
The music thumps around me and the day melts off. This is what I need, drinks with my boys. I’d find someone to dance and blow off some steam, but I know a picture would end up in the paper tomorrow and Camilla would flip her shit.
“Tell me it’s true. Are you really here?” Colin stands, pulling me into a hug that comes close to cracking my ribs. “Missed you,” he says in my ear over the music.
I return the hug and give a handshake to the others. The last time the four of us were together in a club was the night Everett was killed.
“I understand we have a meeting,” Pierce says. When it’s clear I don’t understand, he reminds me Samantha set it up to discuss the girls.
“Don’t remind me. I’ll probably cancel.”
“No, you won’t,” he says, suddenly serious. “You should have done this the day you found out. We will meet and get this taken care of.”And that’s it. No more discussion. When Pierce speaks, everyone listens.
“I thought you would be helping the girls unpack,” I say to Quade who downs the last of his beer.
“Nope. I talked them into coming.”
“What? Tell me you’re joking.”
“No. I’m not joking.” He attempts a bad English accent.
“Quade, I don’t want my work life and my personal life mixed up with each other.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? We all work together and we all play together. You’ve never cared before.”
“I mean with Samantha. The waters are already muddied, and I don’t need you inviting her to the things we do.”
“Pshaw,” he says, blowing me off as he finishes the last of his beer and makes his way to the dance floor. I watch after him, hoping the daggers I’m shooting at him will spear him in the back. But I’m not that fortunate. Not anymore anyways.
From our elevated platform, aka the Penthouse, I can see his destination. Samantha and her…squad, posse, whatever the fuck it is, have commandeered the dance floor. And I say commandeered because they are owning it. Every man and, apparently, a few women are watching them. The girls are clustered together, oblivious to the onlookers eye-fucking them as their hips swivel and dip, smiling like this is the best time of their lives. Quade muscles his way to them and easily turns his groove on when the girls encircle him, making him their dance bitch. Quade. He’s loving life hard and has no qualms about being used. In fact, he looks seconds away from blowing a wad. He tries grinding against Sam’s ass, but she laughs and slaps his hands away. She offers him a kiss on his cheek to soften the blow of rejection.
I get my first real look at her. She’s splendid, and she’s not even trying. Her hair is in a ponytail. If she’s wearing makeup, it’s not visible from this distance. She’s wearing a black T-shirt dress that hits just at the top of her thighs. To boot, she’s wearing a pair of killer heels.
A blur moves in front of my face. Peirce is waving his hand in an attempt to draw my attention.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked,” then he smirks, “how Camilla is.”
“She’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”
“You said that.” He laughs then raises a hand to our server for another round.
“I was happy to hear you hired Sam.” He waits, but I’m sure as shit not going to make this easy for him. I already know it’s going to be painful for me. When he realizes I’m not to be baited, he gives his opinion anyways. That is why he is Pierce.
“I was a week away from stepping in,” he says. I think he’s watching me for a reaction.
“Be my guest. I completely concede that you would have been the better choice.” I raise my drink in a toast to him. The lights move around us, the air cloudy from the mixture of body heat and the cool air from the air conditioning.
“But I wasn’t their choice. You were. And you did the best you could for the first few months. Now it’s time to do what’s right.”
“And what would that be exactly?” I raise a brow in defiance, looking for a fight.
“Don’t.” His voice is low but easily audible over the music. He slides forward in his seat, and locks me in a stare. I’m a tough son-of-a-bitch, but Pierce can be ruthless and we both know I lose when matched against him.
“Don’t fucking fuck with me. We all know you are doing your best. Hell, you haven’t even grieved the loss of your best friend. You went straight into guardian mode. You did the best you could at the time, but the shock wears off more and more each day and your best is different today than it was four months ago. As it should be. You don’t need me to tell you that. So, man the fuck up.”
“If everyone knew Sam was the fucking answer, why didn’t anyone tell me?”
He closes his eyes for a minute and releases a breath like he’s lost all his patience. Colin steps in, sensing he’s moments away from pummeling my arse.
“Sam is not the answer. She’s just proof that you are starting to make the right decisions.”
We both smartly choose to ignore the standoff of silence, neither of us wanting to give into the other, and divert our attention to the scene folding out on the dance floor.
A wall of three very pissed off women stand between Sam and Jake. Sam still visible, but slightly offset, guarded behind their shoulders. She must have said his name, because it’s clear the minute he realizes she’s here. And instead of remorse or a deer in the headlights guise, he raises his arm and puts it around the girl he was tongue fucking and groping just a moment ago. That stupid fucker.
I stand and watch the scene unfold. It all happens in the matter of seconds, but it plays itself out in slow motion.
Sam nudges herself in front of her girls; they make room and stand shoulder to shoulder with her. It’s clear Zoe is giving him a piece of her mind, and he’s made the mistake of engaging her. I don’t know what he’s said, but Pierce has summoned one of his security men when Quade catches his de
ath glare. He turns over his shoulder, murmurs something with the word fuck in it and darts to the girls. But it’s too late. In all my days of anticipating an opponent’s move, I never would have thought it would be Charlotte. My money was on Zoe. Jake must have made the same mistake, because he never sees the small fist jabbing towards him. The little dark-haired pixie can throw a punch, and, based on her stance, she’s been trained to fight.
That’s when all hell breaks loose. Jake lunges for her and the girls are on him like ants on sugar. Quade seizes Sam and Grace—one in each arm, their feet flailing about—and it’s clear they weren’t finished with their quest. Charlotte has been hoisted over Pierce’s security guy’s shoulder and Zoe is standing, arms crossed, glaring at Jake. Her posture begging him to try something. The bar’s security escorts Jake out, who seems none too happy to be the one leaving.
“Put me down!” Charlotte yells over the music before she is righted on her feet. She’s a second away from unleashing a piece of her mind on the guard that carried her up here when Pierce yanks her onto the bench, telling her to sit her ass down. Quade has Grace around the waist with Sam following behind who takes a seat next to Colin. I count the girls and look around for the fourth. Zoe is on the dance floor bumping with a woman whose mouth is locked over hers.
“I get dumped and she gets the girl,” Sam huffs.
“That girl has been hot for her since we got here. Once Zoe went all badass on Jake, her fate was sealed.”
“Zoe is a…” Quade starts.
“Lovely lady licker?” Grace supplies. “Yes,” all three girls answer.
“Really?” Quade watches with apt fascination. “That is so fucking hot.”
“Quade, no,” Sam says, like someone scolding a dog.
“What a dick,” Charlotte says, still simmering.
“Forget it.” Sam waves her hand and grabs a shot from the tray of a passing waiter. The girls stop and watch her with unsure shock. Sam throws two more back and then stands, shifting her dress into place.
“You girls get some water and cool off. I’ll meet you back down there.” Sam reaches for a beer to take with her, but Charlotte pulls it back with a glare.