The Big O Series

by M. S. Parker

  “Please…” she said, tugging me closer, as if she had the same thing on her mind.

  Grateful, I caught her hips and tugged her closer.

  She whimpered as I tucked the head of my cock against her entrance, then arched up, a gasp lodging in her throat, all but freezing as I sank a little deeper inside. She grabbed my wrists and squirmed, wiggling as I worked deeper, deeper.

  Her tongue slid out, wetting her lips. Hunger grabbed me. Bending over her, I cupped her chin, nudging her head back. She gasped out my name and arched under me, her pussy yielding another precious inch or two. Slanting my mouth over hers, I grabbed her hip and lifted her.

  She cried out, and I swallowed the sound down, shaking as I slid home.

  “Bastian…”

  I lifted my head, staring into her eyes.

  The dark, luminous gray met mine as harsh, shallow breaths shuddered out of her.

  “Are you okay?”

  She wiggled under me. “I’d be better if…you’d…move…” She moaned, her pussy clamping down around me as if that particular angle had been just perfect for her.

  “I’m your servant,” I murmured against her lips. Gathering her up close, I started to thrust into the cradle of her hips, shudders of delight already rolling down my spine to lick at my balls, a telltale warning of how close I was.

  Sliding a hand down between us, I sought out her clit.

  She tensed, her entire body arching into mine, going taut as a bowstring while her nails dug into my shoulders, piercing skin. She brought up her legs, gripping my hips, tight and rhythmic, as her pussy started to convulse, milking my cock.

  “Regan…”

  I groaned, so close to losing it.

  She shattered then, and it was beautiful, perfect, exquisite. Her eyes flew open and met mine, and she stared at me, the connection deepening, and I realized I’d been wrong.

  This was perfect. Perfect. Exquisite. Intimate.

  Everything I’d been missing.

  The incessant buzzing of my phone had me stirring on the couch, although the last thing I wanted to do was leave the warmth of Regan’s body. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder as the buzzing kept going, I said, “I should take care of that.”

  “Mmm…fine. I need to move…or something.”

  Stroking a hand down her hip, I said, “Just wait.”

  “Hmmm.” The sound was low and deep, and she snuggled close to me, tempting me to join her on the couch again, but I didn’t give in.

  Slipping from the main room, I stepped into the suite just as the buzzing went quiet.

  “Now you stop calling,” I muttered, lifting the phone so I could glare at it.

  Since that wouldn’t keep Isaak from calling again, I swiped my thumb across the screen, then used my thumbprint to activate it before entering my passcode.

  Once the screen flashed on, I opened the phone app and hit Isaak’s picture.

  It dialed, and he answered halfway through the first ring.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Your Serene Highness?”

  “Fuck off,” I said sourly.

  “That bad?”

  “No, that good, which is why I’m telling you to fuck off.”

  “Bastian…” Isaak sighed, his voice heavy and tired. “You know I’m only doing my job.”

  “Yes. I know. I’m fine, Isaak.” Dragging a hand down my face, I looked around. “Everything is fine, my cousin. You can sleep.” Summoning up a smile I knew he’d hear in my voice, I added, “After all, I already know you placed a team in the hotel across the street, and they’re watching the terrace in shifts. I can’t even step outside for a breath of fresh air without somebody watching my every move. I have more freedom back in Vaduz.” Blowing out a breath, I added, “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, expecting some level of anonymity just because I’d had it here before.”

  A taut moment of silence passed, then Isaak said softly, “You’re no longer the man you were when you were here before, Bastian. You know that. I know that. And…I’m sorry for it. Go on now. Enjoy the rest of the night with your pretty lady, if she doesn’t slip out on you.”

  I had to admit, it was a worry.

  “I will.”

  The line disconnected, and I dropped the phone down on the dresser, shoving the heels of my hands against my eyes.

  Giving myself a few more seconds, I sucked in a deep breath, then another.

  I sure as hell didn’t want her slipping out.

  With that thought in mind, I left the suite, already formulating what I’d say. Striding into the living room, mouth parting on the first words, once again, I came to a halt, although this time, befuddled amusement was the cause. Regan lay stretched out on the couch, looking every bit the Botticelli muse with one arm flung overhead, her lips parted, and one knee drawn up. Her breasts were plumped up with the way she’d brought her lower arm up.

  Damn.

  She was gorgeous.

  And I felt utterly lost to her.

  I shot a glance over my shoulder at the bed, then went back and grabbed the blanket. Returning to the couch, I curled up behind her warm, naked body and dragged the blanket over us.

  The couch was wide enough but nowhere near as comfortable as the bed. Working my arm around her waist, I closed my eyes and pressed my face into her hair.

  I was asleep in minutes.

  Eight

  Regan

  My alarm clock went off, sounding more distant than it should. I groaned and swept out an arm, wondering if I’d knocked my phone down between my bed and nightstand again.

  It continued to go off, playing Louis Armstrong’s “What A Wonderful World,” just the chorus, over and over.

  Grumbling, I kept searching for the nightstand without success. Had I fallen asleep on the couch?

  Popping one eye open, I looked around.

  Wait a minute…

  Lifting my head, I scanned the room around me. Slowly, awareness swept in, sending adrenaline crashing through me to chase away the cobwebs of sleep.

  I was on a couch all right, but not my couch.

  A low mutter, clearly masculine, came from behind me.

  Just like that, the cobwebs disappeared, and I remembered where I was and what was going on.

  The blind date.

  The asshole.

  The knight in shining armor.

  The kiss.

  The sex…

  My pulse skipped a beat, and I shivered, memory washing over me, incredibly vivid. It flooded my body with tingling satisfaction even hours later.

  Bastian shifted behind me, his arm tightening around my waist.

  Slowly, I eased out of his embrace and sat, holding my breath. He didn’t wake.

  I didn’t let myself look at him yet, arms wrapped around myself to battle both the chill and my lingering embarrassment at waking in the hotel room of a veritable stranger.

  A shiver raced down my spine, and I got up, following the sound of my phone until I located my purse. After silencing it, I straightened and looked around. Spying his long-sleeved vee neck sweater on the floor, I grabbed it and tugged it on. The wool was so finely woven, it slid over my skin with the smoothness of delicate cotton. Warmer now, I paced a few feet away and glanced out one of the big windows and spied a long terrace, complete with a small garden, already prepared for winter, and an outdoor dining set, plus a sitting area that flanked what I assumed was a gas firepit.

  “Wow,” I murmured, a little dazed by the elegance and lavishness of the setting.

  I wasn’t unaccustomed to luxury.

  My mom’s family had once been one of the richest families in the US, but the stock market crashed that had devastated much of America back in the 1920s had hit the family fortune pretty hard too. Before the Great Depression, Elsons had been shipping magnates, with an interest in architecture and engineering.

  Those expanded interests kept them going for a while, but in the forties, my great-great grandfather, desperate to reclaim the status the
Elsons had once known, had made a series of bad investments. Once finding out just how bad they’d been, he’d killed himself, leaving his wife to clean up the mess…and take control of the one investment that, months later, actually turned out to be worthwhile. He’d backed an inventor who’d been looking to improve the efficiency of the vacuum, and the invention had paid off, in spades.

  Clever investments by her turned the tidy sum into a modest fortune that had cared for her and her two sons, my grandfather and uncle. Polio had claimed my uncle in the fifties, paralyzing him, and she’d spent a substantial amount first trying to find a cure, then in caring for him.

  He died before his thirtieth birthday, and she followed less than three years later.

  The fortune she’d amassed was still a fair amount, according to my mother, enough to allow my mother to attend the college of her choice and live the carefree life of a socialite for the most part.

  There had even been enough left over for her to take care of me and put a sum aside in an account for college, plus a trust fund once I graduated. I’d sold the family home after she died, too many memories there, and rattling around inside the old place filled me with loneliness. I lived a comfortable life and had never really wanted for anything.

  And from time to time, I could indulge in a shoe or purse buying spree on Fifth Avenue. If I went a couple of months in between one show closing and landing another role, I didn’t have to worry.

  Thanks to my family’s lingering reputation in New York high society, I’d been to parties with the rich and famous, had rubbed elbows with what could be considered the elite in our society.

  But I’d never known elegance like this.

  Everything in this hotel suite spoke of the kind of understated, sophisticated elegance that only the very rich could afford. Surreptitiously, I shot a look over my shoulder at Bastian, wondering just who it was I’d twisted the sheets with the past night.

  You don’t have time to wonder over it. You’ve got an audition in two hours. You need to get home, shower, dry your hair…

  Mentally kicking my ass, I looked around for my clothes. Spying my panties and pants, I scooped them up. As I did so, I spotted my sweater. Okay, bra…

  “Going somewhere?”

  Surprised, I jolted upright and looked over to see Bastian sitting up, staring at me.

  His hair was tumbled, spilling into his eyes, eyes such a lovely shade of sky blue I could imagine getting lost if I stared into them for too long. A blanket lay pooled around his waist, leaving a wide, muscled chest and his delineated abdominal plane on full display.

  My mouth went dry.

  Wow.

  He was a work of art.

  “Venus?”

  My face heated at that, and I cleared my throat as I met his eyes once more. “I need to get moving. I’ve got an audition, and I have to get home, shower and change, then get back here to the Theatre District. I have to hurry, or I’ll miss the next bus.”

  I might miss it anyway, then I’d be taking a cab. That might be quicker, in all honesty, but I had a dodgy history when it came to NYC cabbies. Either they were perfectly fine…or they were flat-out terrifying. No middle ground.

  “I promised you a car. Let me handle it.” He offered a hesitant smile, then added, “I don’t know if it’s possible, but if you were open to the idea, I find the idea of seeing an audition fascinating. Maybe I could go with you…?”

  Tell him no.

  The voice of common sense and rational thinking was a soothing, steady, pragmatic voice, kind of like Robin Williams when he was playing Mrs. Doubtfire. Normally, I found a fair amount of comfort in my inner Mrs. Doubtfire.

  But as Bastian watched me with that hesitant look, I decided Mrs. Doubtfire was being a stick in the mud.

  “Sure.” Smiling at him, I lifted a shoulder. “Why not?”

  Mrs. Doubtfire’s voice had been overruled, but the stern voice of my inner Professor McGonagall wasn’t about to be.

  Don’t you have somewhere to be, Ms. Elson?

  Huffing out an annoyed breath, I checked the time. “But I do have to get going…like now.”

  “Can you give me ten minutes?”

  I bit my lip, then looked down at myself. “Since I’m still wearing your sweater, and I kind of have to visit the bathroom…yes.”

  It took twelve, but part of that was my fault. Female vanity kept me in the bathroom long enough to deal with my hair, wash my face and brush my teeth, using the toiletries provided by the hotel.

  No cheap, off-brand shit here at the Chatwal. No, they even had artisanal toothpaste. I’d resisted the urge to shove the tube into my pocket. I had a mad love for the fancy little toiletries some hotels offered. I hadn’t traveled much since Mom died, so I didn’t get to indulge that weird little quirk much.

  After twisting my hair up into a ponytail, I headed out to meet Bastian and found him having a quiet but clearly intense conversation with the same man who’d been with him the previous night.

  They both went quiet when they saw me, Bastian flashing me a bright smile while the other man gave me a polite nod of his head, his smile much more subdued and formal.

  He gave Bastian a look and a dip of his head that was even more formal before saying, “Jakob will have the car brought around momentarily, if you are both ready to go down.”

  Bastian looked at me, brows arched.

  Grabbing my purse and trying not to feel out of place, I nodded. “I’m ready.” Reaching for the smile and faux confidence that had gotten me through any number of auditions and fashion shows, I met the other man’s eyes. “I don’t believe we were introduced. I’m Regan Elson. Thank you for your help last night.”

  He eyed the hand I offered, and something in his eyes warmed minutely. “It was…Bastian who provided assistance. I simply gave the police officer a better insight as to what happened, since your escort from earlier seemed to have some confusion to the actual events.” Something decidedly devilish twinkled in his eyes as he added that last bit, hinting at a dry sense of humor.

  It made me laugh, and tension faded from the air.

  “I am Isaak, Ms. Elson. I’m Bastian’s driver and assistant. He’s juggling a great many appointments and business matters while in New York, so I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be a third wheel for much of the day to keep him updated on adjustments and changes to his schedule.”

  I frowned, looking over at Bastian. “I don’t want to cause complications on your trip, Bastian. I can take a cab.”

  “No.” Bastian gave Isaak a quelling look and picked up my coat. “My schedule is somewhat flexible until later this afternoon. It is fine.”

  I hesitated a moment, then allowed him to help me into my coat. He grabbed his and slung it on as he headed for the door. “Let’s get moving,” he said. “You can’t be late for your audition.”

  The brilliant smile on his face was infectious, and I found myself returning it.

  No, I wasn’t about to be late for the audition.

  Nine

  Bastian

  “Oh, man.”

  At the despondent note in Regan’s voice, I looked over to see her glaring out her window in the direction of the door.

  A big, burly man with red hair and a sour expression on his face stood there, glowering at the empty air as if it had just yanked on his testicles.

  “He looks friendly,” I said.

  “He’s an asshole,” Regan said in disgust. “That’s Mick. He’s part-time security, full-time dickhead. He doesn’t usually work this shift, but he won’t let anybody in who isn’t on the list. Usually, the regular guy will let the people he knows bring a friend in, but Mick…?” She shook her head and looked over, giving me an apologetic look.

  Realizing what she was trying to say, I took her hand. “It isn’t your fault.” Lifting her hand, I pressed a quick kiss to it. “I’ll walk you to the door at least.”

  “I…that’s not necessary.”

  “My mother would insist.” Fl
ashing a smile at her, I slid from the car before Isaak could realize I was about to do so, then went around to her side and opened the door, offering her my hand.

  She gave me a bemused look. “You should have been born a hundred years ago with these courtly manners of yours.”

  “Treating a lady with the respect she deserves should never go out of style.”

  “Some people would say that’s sexist,” she told me, a smile tugging at her lips.

  “I would disagree. A woman is an exquisite creature, worthy of every respect and grace a man can bestow upon her. Opening a door, offering a hand as she exits a vehicle are merely ways to show that respect.”

  Her brows rose. “And do you…show that respect to all women?”

  “As much as I’m allowed.” Winking at her, I said, “My little sister lives at the speed of light, and I never have a chance to reach the door before her, unless I wish to race her for it.”

  A laugh bubbled out of her lips.

  It faded as we reached the solid metal door with its chipping black paint.

  Staff and theatre personnel only.

  The man in front of it loomed at his position like a giant with a bad attitude, shooting a dark look from Regan’s face to mine.

  “No visitors allowed, Regan,” he said, voice oddly high and soft in contrast to his enormous size. He was easily as big as Isaak and probably outweighed him by a good twenty kilograms. That voice didn’t belong on a man of his stature.

  “Bastian just gave me a ride, Mick,” she said, offering him a polite smile.

  I smiled as well, but as I did so, I pulled a bill from my wallet and held it out.

  Money, I knew, opened many doors.

  He eyed the hundred-dollar bill for a lingering moment, then lifted his gaze to mine.

  I cocked a brow.

  He scowled, then swiped the bill.

  “I didn’t let you in,” he snarled, stepping aside and glaring at both of us.

  “Of course.” I smiled at him, then, with a hand on Regan’s lower back, ushered her in.