LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2)

by Kristina Weaver

  “I can’t believe you’re doing her. Or that you did her either.”

  Griff chuckles and flicks a hand over his mouth, giving me a pointed look.

  “Already? That’s just nasty.”

  “What can I say, Ducky? The angry ones love me. I have a way of removing that bitter taste from their mouths.”

  Cameron chokes, and I roll my eyes, blushing and gagging at the same time.

  “If you think I don’t understand that very unsubtle reference to your dick and her mouth, you’re mistaken. Just make sure she doesn’t have the sudden need to chew or you’re screwed. Now stop grinning, idiot. Don’t think I forgot that you spent years doing that chick.” I growl at Cameron. “Your tastes have obviously improved for the better but still…yuck.”

  I walk away with a huff and a secret smile when they both color and mutter under their breaths. I’ve won Marge her jewels, and God alone knows what else from Millie, officially trounced trout-pout Lettie, and deflated Cameron’s hard on.

  All in one morning’s work.

  Oh, and let’s not forget that I’m awesome.

  Know what? Maybe marrying Cameron won’t be so bad after all. I am “the sexiest mama ever.” There are fates a lot worse than having your guy obsessed with you to the point of still finding you sexy at this stage of pregnancy.

  “You’re looking quite satisfied with yourself, Ducky.”

  I smile at Marge and give Millie a wink and a face that is slightly mocking.

  “I am Marge, after all it’s not every day a whale like me eats a shark for breakfast. Sorry Millie, I guess you’re gonna have to get your own emeralds after all.”

  Does it faze me that Griff probably scored me that win? Nope. A win is a win as far as I’m concerned, and all of a sudden I’m really excited to see what the next four days will hold. If nothing else, I’m really going to enjoy watching Cameron stalk around with the shit-eating grin I intend to put on his face.

  “I need a favor Marge.”

  Marge and Millie smile slowly, and I grin.

  Poor Cameron. Just poor, poor Cameron.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cam

  I almost swallow my tongue when Shaw and Molly stroll into the dining room hours later, their radiant faces a beacon to not only myself and Kent, but also every single or attached man in the room.

  Shaw is dressed in a lovely pink, off-the-shoulder dress that somehow manages to fall around her body in delicate waves while also clinging in all the right places.

  My dick goes hard, harder actually, since I haven’t lost my erection all bloody day as I watched her flit around and mingle with the guests while throwing me coy looks.

  Damn female knows how to get me all sorts of worked up with nothing more than a sultry look from below her lashes. I have plans for tonight, massive plans, pun intended, and I can’t wait to get through another one of Millie’s infernal eight-course dinners to get my hands on my girl.

  Over an hour into dinner, and I’m practically salivating as her scent hits my nostrils and wraps itself around every nerve ending I possess.

  I’m almost ready to just say fuck it all, grab her hand, and drag her upstairs when I feel her little hand settle on my knee and start a kneading caress that makes me jump and then tense when she smiles and continues her conversation with Allen Beet.

  “Er, um, Ducky…”

  I breathe the words through a choked, constricted throat when she caresses higher, stopping at the very top of my thigh and uses her fingers to start a circular caress on the sensitive skin so close to my dick that I feel the heat of her hand on my shaft.

  The sensation is white hot, blissful torture, and I fight to keep my expression straight and not growl out my frustration when she tease her hand lower before retracing her path with a coy glance that sets my blood pounding.

  “Stop this.”

  I reach a hand below the table to do just that when her wrist flicks upward and her hand lands where I both want it and do not. She cups me in a strong grip, her hand encompassing my balls and the bottom of my shaft, her fingers pressing delicately.

  The pleasure is equal parts bliss and torture when she tickles up to the head and then down again, attacking me with a slow stroke that makes me grind my jaw and clench my fists to keep from groaning.

  Never before have I allowed a woman to have control over my body. It’s a danger I haven’t allowed myself since I realized my sexual appetite is a lot higher and darker than some can handle.

  Not Shaw though. No, the woman is sitting at a dinner table, engaged in meaningless conversation by one of her many male admirers, calmly jacking me off and enjoying every minute of it.

  Her neck and breasts are flushed and heaving as she struggles to control her responses, and I see the exact moment when touching me becomes too much.

  Fool that I am, instead of letting her snatch her hand back, I grab her and press down, bumping myself closer and squeezing her hand harder around my blazing heat.

  Her head turns my way, and she licks her bottom lip with a flick of her tongue that I feel all the way to my dick and beyond.

  “I want you.”

  My voice is a harsh rasp of demand, the grating sound of a man who’s about to slip his leash and let out every fantasy and illicit need that has been safely buried for years.

  Part of me is terrified, and yet, I find my lips curving when her eyes meet mine and I see the same violent need reflected there.

  “Yes.”

  “Make an excuse for us Duck and we can go—”

  “Not before we set the terms,” she says, removing her hand from my grip and leaning closer, her breath wafting over my neck and ear.

  The soft caress only serves to heat me more, and I groan low, a little distracted and so bemused I can hardly string a decent thought together.

  “Terms?”

  “Terms,” she says, clearing her throat and breathing deeply. “If you want more, you have to give me tonight. I want control, for just one night.”

  I freeze and come crashing back to earth with a bump that leaves me stunned before the fog clears and the unrelenting need dulls to a throbbing ache.

  I can’t…not ever and especially not with her in this delicate condition. If she touches me, I will not be able to control myself, and I know it. Sophie is well aware of my proclivities and accepting of them, even though I have to admit that I have never lost control. Not even with her.

  “No Shaw.”

  “Fine.”

  I breathe easy at the acceptance and collapse back in the chair, feeling the tension drain away and obliterate the fear. Good, good, she understands that the only way for us to be together is if I have full control.

  “Thank you for accepting—”

  “Oh, I’m not accepting anything Cameron Stone. Like I said. Terms. If you can’t give up your precious control for one night, then I guess we’ll just have to wait until you can. That’s okay. We can take care of ourselves until you feel secure enough to let me in. I guess it’s for the best anyway. We still have the treasure hunt to get through, and I’m excited. I’m good at riddles and such.”

  I gape and feel my eyes widen at the words.

  “You, you cannot expect to leave me this way?”

  “No? Why? Because you say it? I’ve spent months doing everything your way, Cameron. You want me live in another country and uproot my whole life because it will make Marge and Vic happy, all the while believing that I’m a liar and a fraud. You want me to marry you and spend my days waffling around with no purpose. You want me to be whatever it is you need, but I’m not even allowed to touch you. Doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Shaw.”

  “I’ve agreed to marry you. I’m giving you my whole life, and you won’t even try. I want more than this, Cameron. I want someone who loves me, and I want the chance to love you.”

  I have nothing to say to that because I’m honestly speechless. She wants to love me? Does that mean she can? Does that mean I even stand half a
chance at something more than the empty existence I’d had planned for the two of us?

  Just when I’ve collected myself enough to venture forth and ask her, Millie stands and claps excitedly, making me groan.

  “Attention party guests! The treasure hunt will begin shortly. Margery is going to go around and give each pair a card. That card holds the first riddle that will lead you to the next. If you find the next clue, you will advance to the next stage whereupon you will be given another card and so on and so forth. The teams are as follows…”

  Bloody hell!

  I get a grinning Griff while I watch Shaw smile and skip toward Molly and a scowling Kent.

  I spend the next twenty minutes trying to follow Shaw, as Griffin growls and starts railing about the bloody card clue and losing. I finally give up on seeing Shaw and resign myself to half the night spent playing a fucking game before I can snatch her away and talk to her.

  I need answers and a few reassurances before…can I actually do this? Can I cede some of my control and trust Shaw to be what I need? I bloody well hope so because at this point I need to.

  “She’s a lovely lass and any man would be lucky to have her. You’re damned fortunate she sees more in you than she ever did in Rob. Don’t fuck it up, Cam.”

  I pause my search of Aunt Millie’s desk and turn to Griff, my expression a blank mask while I seethe and rage inside.

  “Don’t worry, cuz. I have no intention of ever letting that secret slip. They’re yours, I just hope you know how to cherish the gift you’ve been given.” He growls, staring me down. “Rob was a wanker. I loved him, but he was a true idiot. God rest his soul. I almost went to the States myself when he told me about her and the baby.”

  “He knew?”

  “Aye. She left him a few very heated voicemails at one stage. Don’t look that way, Cam. The lad was terrified.”

  “Too fucking terrified to ensure that his unborn child and its mother didn’t starve on the bloody streets! I found her in a shelter, Griff, half-starved from morning sickness and lack of food.”

  I’m so angry with them both right now that I can’t see through the red clouding my vision. And then I moan because I’ve fucked up just as badly.

  “Christ, I have to make this up to her—”

  I’m already walking out, intending to find her and grovel like a dog when a scream of terror rends the air, making my hackles rise. I’m running, with Griff hot on my heels before the scream can die down.

  Everything crumbles around me when I reach the foyer, and I feel myself lose the last vestige of humanity in me.

  “No.”

  I feel hands grasping me, wrestling me down to the marble floor. The shout of male voices. Feminine screams and cries. My own tortured voice bellowing like an enraged animal.

  “You cannot move her, Cameron! Dougal, where the fuck is the ambulance?”

  “They’re on the way! Knock him out if you have to, but bloody well do something before he goes crazy! Kent, move her slowly. Is she…?”

  “Breathing. She’s losing a lot of blood from a head injury and, oh Jesus…you’d better do something about Cameron before he sees—”

  Too late. I head butt Griffin and lunge Shaw’s way, almost crumbling when I see the skirt of her pink dress dotted with blood. Mum’s sobbing and keening, as Millie grasps hold of her to keep her from falling.

  I crawl closer and cup her cheek gently, praying and begging at the same time, pleading for another chance, just one more to right the wrongs I’ve caused her.

  She’s innocent of all wrong, and I should have bloody known it! This, this could have all been avoided if I’d just pushed past the bitterness caused by the betrayal of another woman. If I had, I would have seen right from the start that my Ducky is way too honest and guileless to have tried to deceive us.

  And now it could be too late.

  “Wake up, Ducky. Open those amazing purple eyes and tell me you’re alright,” I whisper. “I’ll let you tie me to the bloody bed if you’d just wake up. Please.”

  Her eyes don’t even flicker.

  “Move Cam! Come on old boy, the paramedics need to get to her,” Kent whispers, closing his own eyes in what I can only guess is a prayer.

  They end up having to wrestle me away, this time because a crying Molly is almost hysterical as she recounts the accident.

  “Someone pushed her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cam

  “She’s beautiful, Cameron. Won’t you just—?”

  “I said no, Mum. I’ll hold her when Ducky wakes and not before. Mums and dads do that together.”

  “But the doctors said—”

  “I don’t give a good fuck what those idiots said! She’ll wake up. She has to,” I say, taking her hand back in mine.

  The fall had caused Shaw to bleed and the baby to go into distress. We’d airlifted her to the nearest hospital and waited for the doctors to finally deliver a screaming, none too impressed, little girl who according to reports looked just like me but had a little bow mouth like her mum.

  And then they’d told us that my girl had yet to wake and that she is in a coma. It’s been five days of sitting at her bedside and holding her hand and still nothing. No movement, sound, or even an eye twitch to tell us that she will eventually wake.

  The whole family and the extended clan are all camped out in the waiting area, using influence and money to ensure use of bathrooms and the occasional bed. No one’s left yet, and I’m bloody grateful because I don’t think I could stand it if they gave up yet. Not yet.

  “Cameron.”

  “Mum, I said—”

  “Well just shut up! I think that if we put a little love beside her…it might spur her to wake,” Mum says, casting another hopeless glance at my woman.

  “Don’t do that; don’t look at her like that. Like you’re giving up.”

  “I’m not, Cameron. I’m just trying not to go raving mad right now. You weren’t there; you didn’t see…God have mercy, the fear on her face, the desperation as she tried to right herself.”

  I close my eyes and steel myself against the tears, as she plonks down beside me and sniffles into my shoulder.

  “What if—?”

  “Don’t say it. Please,” I say, my hand tightening around hers in a fierce grip that wills her to come back. “She can’t…I have so much to say to her. So many apologies to make.”

  “And make them you will, Cameron lad. Now stop giving your poor mum grief and bloody move over. I have a little girl who’d like to meet her mum, and I won’t let it rest another day.”

  I find myself grinning when Dad saunters in, the baby squirming in the crook of his arm as he stalks to the bed and bends to lay a gentle kiss on Shaw’s brow, directly over the yellowing bruise above her left eye.

  “Come on and wake, Ducky, your daughter is dying to meet you, my darling.”

  It’s a bittersweet moment when he unwraps the swaddled infant and places her on Shaw’s chest, his hand so gentle as he keeps the squirming bundle from wiggling off.

  “Feel that, lovey? That’s your mum right there.”

  The baby stops moving almost as if she understands and snuggles deeper into Shaw’s bust, her hands opening flat against the hospital gown.

  “Oh, there you are. Of course, she smells right, love.”

  When the baby starts rooting around and snuffling, he chuckles and gives me a pointed look.

  “I think your daughter needs to feed, Cameron. Come along Margie, I need your help getting the others to go eat and take showers. The bloody lot of them look and smell like the undead.”

  And just like that he steps away, forcing me to leap up and take the baby. I’m trembling as her weight settles into my chest and feel my eyes mist when she looks up at me blearily and blinks, her face taking on an expression that I swear is recognition when I breathe out a reverent hello.

  “You recognize my voice, love?” I whisper, feeling myself settle for the first time in five days.


  This, this tiny little scrap of perfection is mine. My daughter. My everlasting bond with the still woman lying asleep in the bed beside us. And if I have my way, she will be the first of many.

  Oh, yes.

  “Do you hear me, Ducky? This little love is only the first of the children we will have. So stop lazing about and open those beautiful eyes. Our daughter needs you. And so do I.”

  No answer springs forth, and I sigh and do what Dad ordered. He’s right, lovey needs to feed, and I need to pull my bloody head out of my arse and make sure my woman wakes up to meet our child.

  Being careful not to disturb anything I pull her gown to the side, exposing her breast and lay lovey over her chest, doing my best to guide her though it seems the tyke knows exactly what she’s doing.

  She latches on as if she knows exactly what to do, and I cradle her with awe as she suckles at Shaw’s breast, her little eyes rolling back in bliss.

  “That’s it lovey, wake Mum up. Let her know that we need her back.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Shaw

  I feel heavy and yet light at the same time. My brain is wrapped in cotton and feels muggy, like an overcast day just before a storm.

  I’m confused, really confused, when I hear a rhythmic beeping somewhere to the side and feel a warm stroking over my face. There’s something there, something just on the periphery of my mind, but as soon as I try to focus and grasp it, I feel it float away and dissipate as if a puff of smoke.

  “Come on, Ducky. That’s it baby, open your eyes.” I hear.

  The caresses are feather light and gentle, so at odds with that urgent voice and the slight tremble I feel from the hands touching me. I know that voice. At least I think I do, but I can’t…

  “She’s coming around.”

  “That’s good Mr. Stone. The scans showed that the swelling has subsided, and we do not anticipate any complications, but like I warned you…”

  I drift a little before a soft weight settles over my chest, and I smile, not quite knowing why. I feel, weird, out of sorts and just…detached when I finally manage to open my sticky eyes.