by LP Lovell
“Look at me.” He says under his breath.
I inhale a shaky breath and even though I know it’s a bad idea I open my eyes, meeting his dark gaze. Everything around us stops, as though we’re completely invisible, caught in our own little bubble. His grip on my chin slips and he drags his thumb across my bottom lip until he’s cupping my cheek. My heart hammers in my chest, thrumming in my ears like a drum. I spot the flash of desire in his eyes a second before he kisses me. His lips press against mine almost reverently, teasing, tentative as though he’s unsure of his actions. I try to remember why this shouldn’t be happening, but he renders me stupid, incapable of thinking. My hand moves up his chest until I’m gripping the back of his neck, pulling him down to me while I push up onto my tip toes, desperate to get closer to him. His tongue swipes across my lower lip, and I part my lips, allowing him in. I kiss him until I’m drowning in him until he grips my face with both hands and physically breaks our connection. When I open my eyes, the look on his face is animalistic, as though he’s on the edge of snapping. We remain like that for a second, and it seems as though he’s warring with himself, the indecision written all over his face.
“Go, Georgia.” He orders, moving back a step and dropping his gaze to the floor. He rubs a hand over his mouth. “Take the car. I’ll see you tonight.” And then he turns around and walks in the opposite direction, leaving me standing there.
I turn and walk as fast as I can across the street, hopping in the waiting town car. So much for our supposed clear lines. I’m not sure that either of us really has any control of this.
I take the car to one of the local bars just around the corner from Quinn’s office. It’s seven, so I’m deeming this appropriate drinking time. I shoot Quinn a text telling her to meet me here.
Fifteen minutes later she walks in, glancing around the place and looking like she just sniffed dog shit.
“Okay, why the fuck are we here?” She asks.
“To get drunk.” Granted the dive bar isn’t exactly our normal scene and Quinn looks laughably out of place in her Armani suit.
“Can’t we do that somewhere else?”
I push the Cosmopolitan I ordered for her in front of her. “Nope. I don’t need to be seen drunk.” None of our social circle are likely to walk in here.
“Fine. What are we drinking to?”
“To fucking up.” I lift my half glass of vodka because I skipped the attempt at class and went straight to drunken mess.
She rolls her eyes as we clink glasses. “What happened?”
“Landon accused me of being unprofessional.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Then he kissed me on the street and I pretty much assaulted him back.”
She flashes me a disapproving look. “If you can’t keep that dog on a leash then you need to cut him loose.”
I snort. “You have met Landon Banks, right? That man can’t be leashed.”
She shrugs. “You know what you should do, George. You don’t need me to tell you.”
I do, but for some reason, when it comes to him, I’m rendered incapable of thinking past my fucking vagina. Does that make me weak for allowing him to consume me, or strong for taking what I want? Stupid. It makes me stupid for even getting in this, let alone staying in it. Landon is not a dog; he’s a fucking wolf. And I’m the tigress who turns into a kitten as soon as I’m near him. Fuck him. I hate him.
The longer I think about it, the angrier I get. Landon Banks is a fucking arsehole.
When I get to Masque, I head straight up the stairs. I’m pissed off--like really pissed off…and tipsy. I keep replaying that kiss in my head over and over, and each time it makes me a little more indignant. So much for his contract. I should declare it void and tell him to fuck off back to Dubai. That would be best for both of us!
His tie is wrapped around the door of room 12, the same room we always use. I push the door open and slip inside, closing it behind me.
Landon is standing in the middle of the room, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up past his forearms and his top few shirt buttons undone. He watches me as I push away from the door and storm towards him. Before I even have a chance to think it through I swing my arm back and slap him. Hard. The clap of my palm meeting his face rings out around the room and his head snaps to the side.
When he swings his gaze back to me, I take a wary step back. “Georgia.” He growls, ripping his mask off. Every natural instinct is telling me I should run right about now, but anger wins out.
“Fuck you, Landon!”
His eyes flash dangerously and then he’s barreling towards me. I back up a couple of steps, and his hand flies to my throat as he continues to press me. I stumble back into the wall, and he slams me against it by my neck, crushing my shoulder blades into the plaster.
He brings his face close to mine, and I can see a muscle twitching in his jaw as his finger tips flinch into the skin of my throat. “I will tell you once. Don’t ever fucking hit me.”
I wrap my hand around his wrist, squeezing tight enough that my nails cut into his skin. “Get your fucking hand off me.” I grate.
He makes a show of slamming me back against the wall again and tightening his grip. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I laugh. “You! Go Georgia.” I mimic his voice. “You tell me I’m unprofessional…”
He cocks a brow. “So that’s what this is about.”
“…and then you kiss me. In the middle of the fucking street, Landon!” My nails are screaming as they bend back against his skin. Finally, he releases me, but his body remains pressed against mine. “The contract was there for a reason, not just so you could get between my legs.”
His lips pull into an infuriating smirk. “Kitten, we both know the contract was just an excuse for you to let me between your legs.” Arsehole. Fucking arsehole.
I shove my hands against his chest, but it barely moves him. “I’m done.”
He thrusts a hand in my hair and wrenches my head back, bringing his lips to my ear. “You kissed me back, kitten. I had to stop you before you started humping my leg. So don’t preach to me.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he slams his mouth over mine. I force myself not to kiss him back, but he keeps going, forcing his tongue inside my mouth until I can’t help myself. When it comes to him, I don’t seem to be able to. Ever. Even if everything I’ve worked for is at stake.
“It won’t happen again.” He murmurs against my lips.
It’s not an apology, but it’s enough. Enough to make me just a little less indignant, and enough that when I give in and press my lips to his, it doesn’t dent my pride.
An hour later I leave Masque after a serious round of hate fucking. I didn’t think it was possible to hate someone while you’re fucking them and to hate the fact that you’re fucking them but be so consumed by them at that moment that it overrides mere hatred. Apparently it is. With him, it is, because no matter how many times I want to stop, I can’t. He’s become a fix, a strange sort of salvation.
If I’m honest, I don’t hate him; I hate the person he turns me into. And it’s easier to hate him than admit that he’s so far under my skin I can’t seem to dig him out.
Eva bustles into my office on Friday morning, placing a Starbucks cup in front of me. “Chai Latte.” She says as she starts picking up documents and filing things away.
“I need that in a minute.” I tell her.
“Well, then you can get it out of the filing cabinet in a minute.” She replies, completely ignoring me.
“You have issues.”
“Yes, my messy boss.”
“I am not messy!” I say indignantly. “Jesus, you should see Landon’s desk.”
She turns on her heel, lifting one perfectly plucked brow at me. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not as close to the big boss as you are.” I narrow my eyes at her and pick up the coffee, saying nothing. “Don’t tell me some of those morning meetings don’t involve a quickie.”
“My meetings are with Angus,
so no.”
“Oooh, but you’re not denying the idea of a quickie with Landon. Good to know.” She smiles smugly and heads back out to her desk. “Oh.” She pauses. “I forgot, he asked me to give you this.” She turns around, pressing her lips together, trying to suppress a smile.
I frown as I take the envelope from her outstretched hand. She walks out of the room with a little spring in her step. She knows. Eva has some freaky intuition for pretty much anything, and if the chemistry between Landon and I is even half obvious to anyone else, then yeah, she knows. I refuse to confirm her suspicions, though.
I open the envelope and scrawled over thick letter headed paper is Landon’s handwriting.
Tonight. 10.30pm.
L
A text would have sufficed.
I open the door to room 12 and close it behind me.
I narrow my eyes at the figure sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s not Landon.
“Apollo.” I say, tilting my head to the side curiously. I glance around the room quickly and can’t see Landon.
Apollo smiles that mischievous smile of his. “Did you miss me?” He asks.
I take slow steps towards him, crossing one leg over the other as I walk. “Hmm, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” The closer I get to him the more the room opens out, and my eyes finally fall on Landon sitting in a chair in the corner, his face cloaked in shadow. His ankle is propped on the other knee, and his hands are resting casually along the arms of the leather chair. The shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned, showcasing tanned skin over rippling abs.
I swing my gaze back to Apollo, and a slow smile pulls at my lips. “I always miss you.” He winks.
I raise my eyebrow and turn away from him, walking towards Landon. He remains completely still as he watches me walk towards him. I bend over, gripping his bare forearms beneath his rolled up shirt sleeves.
“You brought me a present?” I say quietly, my lips barely an inch from his.
He slowly snakes his hand up the back of my neck, fisting my hair as he presses his lips over mine. I try to deepen the kiss, but his grip tightens, restraining me and sending a flash of pain over my scalp.
“I did.” The second time I met him here after I signed the contract, he met me at the bar where I was talking to Apollo. As far as I know, it’s the only time he’s seen him, and yet he went out of his way to seek him out. For this. For me.
He pushes to his feet. His hand is still buried in my hair, my face forcibly tilted up to his, my body pressed to his. When he steps forward, he forces me back with him.
“Move.” Landon barks and I hear the bed creak before the mattress hits the back of my knees, and I’m shoved back onto it. Landon towers over me, his gaze flicking off to the side where I can see Apollo lingering in my periphery.
“Feel free to watch this part.” He rumbles, and it takes me a second to realise that he’s not talking to me. Apollo steps back out of view, and it’s like watching a pup bow down to the alpha. I’ve always found Apollo attractive, but he suddenly seems so inferior. I watch Landon approach, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as he walks. His face is serious, the teasing playful side of him nowhere to be seen. He wears that crippling power of his like armour, his body bristling effortlessly with it, and it makes me want to both recoil and throw myself at him at the same time.
I catch sight of Apollo moving into the chair in the corner. I’ve never been an exhibitionist. The idea of being watched has never done anything for me, but it’s kind of hot.
He drops into a crouch, grabbing my knee’s and dragging me to the edge of the bed whilst forcing my legs apart. He looks up at me, our eyes locking and that familiar electricity sparking between us. His hands slowly skate up my thighs, pushing the material of my dress higher and higher until my lace thong is exposed. One hand drops between my legs, his fingers slipping beneath the lace and brushing over my pussy. He touches me like it’s his right, as though he can do what he wants with me. And truthfully, his touch renders me weak, any morals or thoughts of pride disappear and all I can think about is the next caress of his fingers, the brush of his lips over mine.
He thrusts two fingers inside me, watching intently as I buck and writhe under the sudden onslaught. He pulls out and thrusts back in, and my eyes drift shut as I bite down on my bottom lip, stifling a moan.
“Look at me.” He commands.
I open my eyes and watch as he lowers his face between my legs. He kisses the lace covering my clit and my pussy clenches around his fingers. His gaze darkens, and he shoves my underwear to the side and drags his tongue over me so fucking slowly.
I whimper, fighting not to tear my eyes away because it’s so intense. He starts circling his tongue over my clit whilst burying his fingers even deeper in my pussy. I hear a low groan from the corner, mingled with the sound of skin softly slapping.
When Landon spreads his fingers and swipes his tongue over my clit I throw my head back, a broken moan working its way up my throat. My arms give way until I’m flat on my back. I’m close, so fucking close, and then he pulls away, and I want to cry out in frustration. He laughs as he rears up on his knees, grabbing my hips and flipping me over. This man seems to enjoy throwing me around like a rag doll.
“What are—” The material of my thong bites into my skin as he tears it from my body. Another pair of underwear ruined. I’m going to start billing him for them, I swear.
“Don’t ask questions, kitten.” He says as he wrenches my legs apart and slams two fingers back inside me. I choke on a groan, raking my nails over the satin sheets covering the bed. I’m soaking wet, my pussy throbbing with the need to come, yet still he teases, pulling his fingers out and smearing the moisture along my arse crack slowly. When he slides his fingers deep inside me and presses his thumb against my arsehole, I understand why. My mouth opens on a silent moan as his fingers thrust in and out of me. God, he’s so fucking good with his hands. He waits until I’m moaning like a whore before he pushes against my arse again, slipping inside easily. I clench my teeth, gripping the sheets beneath me as he starts to fuck my pussy and my arse with his hand. This isn’t him letting Apollo watch; this is him laying claim, filling me to the hilt to let me and Apollo know who owns this.
He works over me until I’m crying out, screaming desperately as the orgasm washes over me, him milking me for everything I’m worth as I come all over his fingers. When he’s done, he slowly removes his fingers, dragging them over every sensitive nerve ending as he does. I roll onto my back, my chest heaving as I watch him stand, bending over me. His fingers clamp around my neck, pulling me up into a sitting position, forcing me to watch as he brings the two fingers that were just buried in my pussy to my mouth. He says nothing, but his eyes flash dangerously as he presses them against the seam of my lips. I open for him, and he slides the digits inside, groaning when I wrap my tongue around them. I can taste myself on him, the saltiness mixing with the taste of his skin. I slowly pull my head back, sucking his fingers dry and releasing them with a little pop.
A pleased smile pulls at his lips, and he strokes his thumb gently over the side of my neck before he releases me, standing and clicking his fingers at Apollo, who is still sat there tugging on his dick. Yes, clicks at him like a fucking bus boy or some shit.
Apollo stands up, moving over to me. “Have fun, kitten.” Landon says, winking at me before he steps back. I smile, pushing off the bed and going to my handbag. I take out The Destroyer. Landon watches me with genuine interest; his head tilted to the side as I strip out of my dress, leaving my bra on. I don’t miss the way he steps in front of me, blocking Apollo’s view as I step into the harness and fasten the straps.
“Jealous?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
“I don’t share.” He says.
“Hmm, maybe this exercise isn’t for you then.”
His lips pull up at one corner as he steps closer, but not close enough that he might risk getting poked with The Destroyer. “You can fuck him, but this…” He
cups my crotch just below where the purple dick protrudes between my hip. “…is mine.” He says, his voice low. I should tell him to go fuck himself and let Apollo fuck me on pure principle, but truthfully I don’t want to fuck Apollo. Instead, I just roll my eyes and put my hand on his bare chest, shoving him out of the way.
I approach Apollo, and his eyes drop to the cock bobbing with every step. “No blow job?” He says, amusement lacing his voice.
“You know I don’t suck cock.”
“Worth a try.” He says. “Is your friend going to participate or is he more of a voyeur?” He asks, smiling. Apollo is not opposed to dudes. The guy just likes sex. Anyway he can get it. He’s a raging slut. That’s how I originally found him. I saw him in Masque one night, bent over a dresser in the hallway as you walk in, a guy balls deep inside him, while a girl was sat on the dresser, legs spread wide and Apollo’s face in her pussy, eating her like it was his sole fucking purpose in life. I found him hot because any guy who is that comfortable that he will fuck, or be fucked any which way, is attractive. The next week I approached him and thus our strange arrangement came to be. He told me that first time that I fuck better than a guy. I take that as a compliment.
“Bend over.” I tell him. He knows the drill, but I think he likes it when I tell him what to do.
He gets up on the bed, crawling to the centre and getting on all fours with his arse facing me. I slide up behind him and pick up the bottle of lube off the side table, squeezing it all over the purple silicone before throwing it to the side. Landon has resumed his position in the chair, his ankle propped on his knee in the exact same pose he had when I walked in. His expression is completely indifferent as he watches me shuffle forward an inch, fisting the silicone dick and lining it up with Apollo’s arse. I grip his hip, my fingers slipping as I smear lube all over his skin. He flinches when I press forward against his hole, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s scared of me, or if it’s because that’s just a natural reaction to having something pressed against your arsehole. Once he relaxes again, I push on until the tip disappears inside him. He hums a low moan in the back of his throat, dropping his head forward between his braced arms as he takes more and more of the silicone toy.