Completion (The Kane Trilogy Book 4)

by Fantome, Stylo

  “No thanks.”

  She heard the door shut, and then he was walking towards her.

  “I wasn’t asking, Tate,” he warned her.

  “I’m just really not in the mood, Jameson. I swear. Have your party, I’ll just hang out in here. You can wake me when everyone goes,” Tate offered, finally looking at him again. He had moved to lean against the dresser right next to her.

  “I thought you liked parties,” he said in a soft voice. She chuckled.

  “I like my kinds of parties. This is people chatting and smiling and trying to guess how much everyone is worth. What no one seems to realize is none of them are as rich as you, so the rest doesn’t matter. Boring. They don’t even notice if I’m there or not,” she told him.

  “I notice, and that’s all that matters,” he corrected her. She snorted.

  “I’m too tired to argue with you. Go to your party, flirt with your Brazilian, it’ll be over before you know it,” she instructed him. He moved to stand behind her.

  “I’m sensing a little jealousy,” he replied, then she felt his hand on her back. He slowly ran his fingers down her spine.

  “Not jealous. Maybe a little annoyed, but not jealous.”

  His hand kept moving, sliding over the material of her tight pencil skirt, smoothing over her ass.

  “And attitude, I’m sensing lots of attitude. I don’t care for that,” he said.

  His voice was getting hard, the pressure from his hand heavier. Tate stopped looking at her phone and without turning, tried to see if she could spot him from the corner of her eye. But he was completely out of her vision.

  “Not trying to be attitudey. Just telling you how I feel. And I don’t feel like partying,” she continued, her voice low.

  “I don’t give two fucks how you feel.”

  “Sounds like a personal problem.”

  He smacked her on the ass and she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Someone is definitely in the mood to play. I must not be the only one who finds this party boring.

  “Why couldn’t you just come find me and ask me to end the party? Why do you always hide away?” he demanded, his hand moving back and forth across her skirt.

  “Oh, right, like that would work,” she laughed, then gasped when he spanked her again.

  “There’s that attitude.”

  “Jameson,” she breathed.

  “Hmmm?”

  “You have forty people in the next room, all here at your request. You have to go back out there,” she told him.

  “Telling me what to do, Tate?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

  Spank.

  “Fucking attitude. Fuck, Tate. I fly you half way around the world, and half the time all I’ve gotten in return is your goddamn attitude,” he hissed.

  “Oh, c’mon, more like a third of the -,”

  Spank.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “You better be willing to finish what you start,” Tate panted.

  Suddenly, his hand was on her back, shoving her down. Her arms went out from underneath her and she dropped her phone as she was held down flat against the dresser.

  Rusty who?

  “What the fuck did you say to me?” his voice was deadly soft. She felt his fingers brushing against the back of her thigh, barely a touch. Then her skirt was moving. He pushed it up and over her ass, letting the material bunch around her hips.

  “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I do want to go back to the party,” she whispered, biting back a smile.

  “Too late for that, baby girl. You did this on purpose, you know I love these,” Jameson sighed, and she felt his finger run along the top edge of her stocking.

  “Not everything is about you. They went with the outfit,” she replied.

  “Did underwear not match your outfit? Because you aren’t wearing any.”

  “Well, couldn’t have any lines. That skirt is really tight. I don’t want to be tacky.”

  “What you want is to be fucked.”

  Tate kept her mouth shut, humming softly as his fingers ran up and down the inside of her legs. She stayed silent until his fingers were pushing inside of her. Then she gasped.

  “Jameson. There’s a lot of people out there,” she breathed, turning her head to the side, trying to see him. Because of his hand on her back, she couldn’t lift herself at all, so she couldn’t see anything. It was kind of a strange sensation, to be touched, but not see the touch-er. All the fun of being blindfolded, without the pesky blindfold.

  “Does that bother you?” he asked, hooking his fingers inside of her. She swallowed a moan.

  “No. I just …, know how you are with new people,” she whispered. The hand on her back moved into her hair, pulling sharply.

  “Please, Tate, enlighten me. How am I with ‘new people’?” Jameson hissed, forcing her to bend backwards.

  “You like to put on a good face. The deviant tycoon usually doesn’t come out till later,” she explained, then cried out when he pulled hard enough that she had to look straight up.

  “‘Deviant’? And keep it down, wouldn’t want to ruin the ‘good face’ I’ve put on so far,” he told her.

  “I didn’t come in here so you’d follow me,” she suddenly blurted out. She wasn’t looking for a pity fuck, not even from Jameson.

  “Too bad, cause I did. Stop talking,” he snapped. She groaned, moving a hand to the one he had in her hair, trying to loosen his hold.

  “Can’t stop, sorry,” she replied. He took his fingers away and she moaned at the loss. But then he was pressing against her, pinning her legs against the dresser.

  “Goddammit, Tate. I said shut the fuck up. Why can’t you ever fucking listen?” he growled.

  “Why can’t you fucking learn that I don’t like to listen?” she managed a laugh.

  He didn’t respond. Tate heard a drawer open and she tried to turn her head to look, but he held her firmly in place. There was a soft rustling sound, like he was digging through some kind of material, then the drawer slammed shut.

  “What are you -,”

  Tate couldn’t finish her question, because something was shoved into her mouth. It took her a second to figure it out. Her tongue was against something soft. Almost cool feeling. Smooth. Satin.

  He just shoved a pair of panties in my mouth.

  “You never fucking do as you’re told, so I’ll just have to make you,” he informed her, then he was shoving her down flat again.

  Her hands weren’t bound together, he wasn’t holding her in place. She could pull the material out of her mouth at any point. But she didn’t. Tate pressed her palms flat against the dresser and groaned loudly as she felt his cock pressing inside of her. She dragged her fingernails across the wood, shuddering when he was pressed up against her, filling her to the brim.

  She had come into the room to escape the party. To escape that uncomfortable feeling of being in a room full of people she didn’t know. Now, she was getting fucked in a room next to that room full of people she didn’t know.

  And she didn’t find it one bit strange that she finally felt comfortable again.

  She shrieked and cried out as he began pounding into her. The underwear wasn’t doing too terribly good a job of muffling the sounds, but she supposed it was better than nothing. His hand found its way back into her hair, yanking at the roots, but not pulling her up. His other hand was gripping onto her hip, pulling her back against his thrusts.

  “Fuck, Tate, it’s been too long,” he moaned from behind her. She managed a nod.

  “Mmmm hmmm,” she agreed, not able to manage real words.

  “If you weren’t so busy being a bitch half the time, we could be doing this more often,” he informed her.

  “Hmuck hoff,” she snapped back.

  “What was that?”

  He pulled the underwear from her mouth and she gasped in air.

  “I think …, you understood me …,” she panted. He let go of her hip
and spanked her, eliciting another groan.

  “Watch your fucking mouth.”

  “God, you’re so eager today. Did your Brazilian get you all heated up?” Tate taunted him, wanting more from him. More hands, more words, more everything.

  “She’s pretty fucking hot, but I couldn’t seal the deal,” Jameson replied, almost pulling out of her entirely. Tate held her breath while he slowly slid back in, then wham, he was slamming against her. She shrieked and he repeated the action.

  “Too old to land them anymore?” she managed to ask, then bit down on her own finger as he slammed home once again.

  “She’s too busy blowing Angier in the bathroom. Maybe I’ll get next go around.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  He pulled away abruptly and yanked her back around to face him. She was gulping in air when he forced her head up to face his own, his mouth covering hers. It was an angry kiss, full of clashing teeth and aggressive tongues. He walked them backwards, around the bed, and then he sat down on the side of it, pulling her on top of him.

  “You want to be the one sucking his dick right now?” Jameson asked, helping her as she struggled to unbutton his shirt.

  “It has been a while,” Tate taunted. He shoved her hands away before just pulling the shirt apart, popping off the buttons.

  “Whore.”

  “Only for you.”

  “If it’s only for me, why are you talking about blowing him?”

  “You’re the one talking about Ang’s dick. If you’re so curious, I’m sure we could -,”

  His fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing so tight, he froze the words in her throat.

  “Don’t ruin this by making me ill, Tatum,” he snapped.

  She wanted to respond. Come up with a retort that would really make him mad. But he was pulling up on her throat, forcing her up onto her knees. Then his free hand was between them, guiding her back onto his dick. She sighed, settling herself on his lap.

  “This is so much better than your party,” she whispered, nibbling on the edge of his ear.

  “No shit.”

  “Better than Ang.”

  “It had better be.”

  “Better than a Brazilian.”

  “Let’s not get crazy.”

  “You can fuck yourself.”

  Tate went to pull away, disgusted, but his arm wrapped around her waist. The shift was lightning quick – first, she was straddling him. Then, she was underneath him, and he was plowing into her like it was a race.

  “Watch how you fucking speak to me, and keep it the fuck down. Goddamn, Tate, I know you love being a whore, but not everyone needs to hear it,” he cursed.

  “Then stop fucking me,” she challenged, her breathing starting to hitch. He leaned back, pulling himself up onto his knees.

  “Oh, I always finish what I start.”

  “Really? I can remember a couple times -,”

  He slapped her across the face, then his hand was back on her throat. She began to cry out in time to his thrusts.

  “Why do you make me do that!?” he demanded.

  “Because … I love it,” she whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head.

  “Apparent-fucking-ly. Such a stupid cunt, couldn’t wait a couple fucking hours. We could be doing this with you bent over the railing on the balcony, but no. You had to throw a fucking pity party, hide in here. Ruin the night for everyone,” he growled at her.

  “Doesn’t seem like it’s ending so bad for you,” she pointed out. He let go of her throat, grabbed one of her legs instead. Pushed it up so her knee was almost touching her chest. He was so deep inside her that she was seeing spots with every thrust.

  Just how I like it.

  “That’s what you think. If I wanted a lousy fuck, I would’ve stuck with Isadora.”

  “Funny, I had the same thought the other day about Ang.”

  That earned her another slap.

  “Shut the fuck up, you love everything I give you.”

  “Jameson, I can’t … please … I want …,” Tate couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Couldn’t form a coherent thought. The orgasm that was approaching was starting in her chest, making her breasts tighten; making it hard to breathe.

  “I know what you want,” he whispered, letting go of her leg and leaning down close to her. She met him halfway, kissing him hard.

  His fingernails digging into the back of her thigh started it, and when she cried out, he bit down on her bottom lip. That finished it. She came immediately, her whole body going into a spasm before it locked down on him. He groaned, pressing his forehead to her chest while he waited out her orgasm. It took a while.

  “Fuck. Fuck,” she panted, rubbing her lips together.

  “We’re going to kill each other someday, while we’re doing this,” Jameson breathed as well.

  “Totally.”

  “Get up.”

  Tate barely had the feeling back in her legs and Jameson was rolling off of her. She sat up, but before she could even ask what he had in mind, his hand was in her hair, pulling it. Pushing her. Forcing her down his length. She didn’t even hesitate, just wrapped her lips around the head of his shaft and began bobbing away. She had barely gotten three good pumps in, still trying to catch her breath and find her rhythm, when Jameson groaned and pushed down hard on the back of her head. Dick met back of throat and Tate swallowed against her gag reflex, forcing herself to take it.

  Cause I’m a fucking champion.

  One of Jameson’s favorite things about her were her legendary blowjob skills, so she always tried to put on a show for him. She found her stride after that, shifting and moving on the bed so she was bent over him, a hand on his thigh. Her fingernails scratching into his skin.

  “God, you’re so good at that, baby girl,” Jameson groaned, and she felt the hand on the back of her head relax. “So fucking good.”

  “Better than a Brazilian?” she asked, coming up for air. He chuckled and forced her head down again.

  After a couple minutes, she could tell he wouldn’t last much longer. She could feel him literally throbbing. But by that point, she’d been working at it for a while, and the whole scenario had gotten her heated up again. Her fingers found their way between her legs, and suddenly her attention was divided in two.

  “Tate … fuck, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” Jameson warned. Tate pulled away and he actually growled, but she moved fast, swinging her leg over his hips.

  “Not today,” she breathed, lowering herself onto him.

  “Did I fucking say you could -,” he started to snap, but was cut off when she tightened all of her muscles around him. Both of them gasped and his hands went to her thighs, gripping hard enough that she knew there would bruises. She began rotating her hips against his.

  It didn’t take long. Jameson actually came before she did, a rarity for them, but his orgasm set off her own and she practically screamed, collapsing on his chest. She shook and panted, clenching her fingers against his rib cage.

  “Holy shit. Holy fuck,” she gasped for air.

  “What the fuck was that? A second wind?” Jameson asked, breathing hard as well. Tate slid to the side, moving off of him till she was laying flat on the mattress.

  “Something like that,” she agreed, swallowing thickly. She felt his hand against her back.

  “Feel better?”

  “Immensely. Thank you.”

  “Good,” he said, then lurched upright. He stood up and she could hear his belt buckle jangling. “Now get the fuck up and get back out there.”

  “Can’t. My bones don’t exist anymore,” she chuckled. He smacked her on the butt, then pulled her skirt back into place. Grabbed her hips and rolled her till she was on her back.

  “Tough. I rewarded your pouting. You owe me,” he said. One of her stockings had come completely loose, just a bunched up mess around her ankle. Jameson took her shoe off and pulled the hosiery free. Straightened it out.

  “I don’t owe you shit. If anyth
ing, I just gave you a reward,” she challenged him, stretching her arms above her head. He moved over her, his knees on either side of her hips.

  “I just fucked you, and you’re already getting attitudey again? Do you ever learn?” he asked, and she suddenly felt his hands near her throat. Silk against her skin. She realized he was wrapping the stocking around her neck, and she opened her eyes.

  “Apparently not,” she said, her voice husky. He knotted the material and pulled it tight enough for her to feel it pinch.

  “We could have a lot of fun with this,” he murmured, coiling the excess silk around his fists. One jerk, and Tate wouldn’t be friends with oxygen anymore.

  “A lot more fun than some boring party,” she whispered back.

  “You’re such a fucking whore. I love it. I’m going to -,” Jameson started pulling tighter on the stocking, when suddenly the bedroom door opened.

  “Hey, can I borrow your -,” Ang’s voice began blurting out, then he stopped. Tate tilted her head back, smiling up at him. Ang stared down at them, a grin spreading across his face. Jameson just glared.

  “What’s up?” Tate asked casually.

  “You could fucking knock, you know,” Jameson pointed out.

  “Thank god I didn’t, I would’ve missed all the fun!” Ang joked, sliding in the door and shutting it behind him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jameson demanded.

  “Enjoying the show. God, I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen your tits, Tate,” Ang almost whined. Tate burst out laughing and looked down. She still had her bra on, but some how during their little tête à tête, Jameson had ripped open her blouse.

  “What do you want, Angier?” Jameson sighed, letting go of the stocking and crawling backwards off of Tate. Once he was standing, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a sitting position.

  “Oh. Yeah. Can I crash in your guest bedroom?” Ang asked. Tate pulled the stocking away from her throat and stood up as well.

  “What’s wrong with your room?” she questioned, turning to face him as she attempted to close her shirt.

  “My room doesn’t have the same …, amenities as yours,” he answered, but he was speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. She stared at him.