by Lulu Pratt
“I’ll send a car to pick you up on Saturday night,” I inform her.
She nods in agreement.
“That is unless you want to get ready here,” I add hopefully.
I never want her to leave. My home felt so much warmer when she was here, a feeling I never wanted to end.
Even the thought of dropping her off at work later has me irritable.
But she shakes her head, dowsing my dreams.
“No, I’ll need Stephania’s help getting ready,” she reasons and I can’t object.
I’d be no help when it came to getting ready. In fact, I’d probably delay the process quite a bit, trying to fit in a quickie or two before we left.
The visuals have me heated in an instant and I shake my head.
Getting ready in separate places is a good idea.
“Whatever you want,” I say easily.
Luckily for me, the guess work of finding something to wear had been eliminated. All I had to do was throw on my uniform and show up.
I can’t believe it, but I’m actually looking forward to it.
With Grace on my arm, I know for sure that I’ll be the envy of every man there.
The thought makes me grin.
Chapter sixteen
GRACE CHAMBERS
Hiking through Grandfather Mountain on a Thursday evening isn’t exactly what I had in mind when Jameson picked me up from work and asked me on an impromptu date.
But as I take in the colorful wildflowers and lush green vegetation along our trail, I’m thankful for the opportunity to interact with nature. The mountains have always had a calming effect for me and the addition of Jameson only amplifies it.
I love any time we spend together. But this setting is especially nice.
Watching the powerful muscles in his legs shift as we climb higher is the highlight of my day so far.
He’s so damn sexy. Effortlessly.
“You okay back there?” he calls out, throwing a glance over his shoulder.
“Mhmm,” I reply, trying to keep up with his long strides.
“Are you sure?” he sounds skeptical. “You’re mighty quiet.”
“Just enjoying the view, Mr. Wilcox.”
My smile is involuntary and covers my face when he stops abruptly to look back at me.
Squinting, Jameson uses his forearm to swipe away the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead.
“Are you flirting with me, Grace?”
Hell yes.
I love the way he says my name. Sometimes it’s a gentle caress. Other times it’s a hoarse warning that he’s on the brink of coming. But each time I love the sound.
I come to a stop in front of him, reaching out to trace his sweat-slicked biceps. I’m always pulled to him like a magnet.
The shirt he’s wearing is saturated with sweat and I must admit the front view is just as mouthwatering as the one from the back.
He catches my hand and brings it to his mouth for a kiss before lowering it.
“Let’s take a break,” he suggests, tugging me in the direction of a well-shaded clearing.
Though I’m not yet fatigued, I’m grateful for a break from the beating sun.
“I got something for you,” he says as we lean against a tree.
I take a generous sip from my water bottle, eyeing him curiously.
From the pocket of his cargo shorts, he reveals a silver keychain in the shape of an anchor. He runs his rough fingers over it, before extending it in my direction.
As I take the keychain, the symbolism of the anchor is not lost on me.
Who knew Jameson was so sentimental?
It’s the sweetest gift I’ve received.
At least that’s what I think until he starts speaking.
“I want you to carry this with you at all times.” He takes the keychain from me before I can get used to the weight of it in my palm.
Flipping it over, Jameson hits a small lever and I gasp as a small blade folds down from the side, extending past the curved edge of the anchor.
He wants me to start carrying a knife?
“Don’t you think this is overkill? I think my pepper spray will do just fine,” I say defiantly.
Jameson isn’t amused when he makes eye contact with me.
“As much as I would like to be, I can’t be by your side every second and I would feel better if you had a little backup.”
His words are sobering, dredging up thoughts that I would like to keep buried.
“Please carry it.”
“Okay,” my voice is barely audible as I agree, tucking the keychain into my pocket.
Jameson looks pleased and steps forward to kiss me. “Thank you.”
In an instant, I’m wrapped in his arms as he deepens the kiss.
His tongue strokes mine masterfully, reminding me of a different caress and that thought alone is all I need to set off the throbbing in my panties.
“Fuck, Grace. I always want you,” he growls against my lips.
Strong hands trail down my front and underneath the waistband of my denim shorts.
My lips part but words fail me as his rough hand palms my pussy through the scant lace of my panties.
“You drive me crazy, Grace. Do you know that?”
Sharp teeth nip at my earlobe before wandering down my jaw and finally my collarbone.
“People will be able to see us,” I whisper cautiously even as my eyes roll upward in ecstasy.
“Then I guess you’ll have to be quiet,” he says as his lips return to mine.
That deep voice and his skillful tongue have me under a spell.
Jesus Christ, I want this man to fuck me against this tree.
His grip on my leaking sex is maddening and I try to grind my hips to create more friction but he stops my movements with a firm grasp.
“Please,” I beg, frustrated and turned on by his dominance.
In a flurry of movements, he has my shorts around my ankles and the crotch of my soaking panties shoved to the side.
I hear his zipper as he lifts my left leg up and around his waist. My right foot stays rooted on the ground as he pushes into me in one fluid motion.
With his eyes trained on mine, he starts moving.
His thrusts are powerful and fast, leaving me gasping and in need of more.
So much more.
He feels so good. I don’t think I will ever get used to his thickness or the depth of his strokes.
Being stretched by him is my favorite form of torturous pleasure.
“Just like that,” I breathe as his eyes continue to bore into my soul.
Jameson pumps steadily, rocking our bodies as one.
The friction caused by our grinding pelvises is enough to send me over the edge.
When my spasms start his mouth crashes over mine forcibly, capturing any sound that threatens to spill into the evening air.
I come violently around his thrusting dick, my juices gushing and muscles tightening to hold him captive. With the added lubrication making me more slippery, Jameson continues to push into me rapidly.
Seconds later, I feel the muscles beneath my palms tense and Jameson releases a guttural groan as he rocks into me one final time.
Chapter seventeen
JAMESON WILCOX
As I finish dressing for the ball, my phone sounds and I smirk when Grace’s name appears on the display.
I swipe up, revealing a picture she snapped of herself in black lace lingerie.
Groaning, I take in every addicting curve of her body and run a hand over my freshly shaven jaw.
She doesn’t play fair.
Seconds later, another picture appears. This time she’s wearing her gown for the evening.
I want to salivate at the way the cerulean material clings to her tits and the dip of her waist before cascading over her perfect hips.
Her thick hair is flowing in big brown waves over one shoulder and her plump lips are coated in red lipstick.
She looks fuckable. And i
t’s my intent to fuck her hard.
I got us a suite at the hotel where the ball is being held and I can’t wait to put it to use.
Looking forward to the evening, I whistle while adjusting my bowtie.
My movements still when I hear rustling behind me.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as someone clears their throat.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Tension locks my jaw and I turn slowly to see Brick crowding the doorway of my room.
“The weight she’s put on is fitting. Grace was a little waif of a thing when we were together. What’s your secret?”
I don’t answer, refusing to engage in a dialogue with this lowlife.
“This is why you needed extra time, huh? I sent you to do a job and you fell for her conniving little ways.” He shakes his head at me. “Rookie mistake.”
As he throws his insults, I just glare from across the room.
Brick shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “I can see why you were hesitant to do the job. Grace has a way about her. Makes it impossible to focus on anything but how she’s making you feel in the moment. Lost under her little spell, you don’t consider anything else except the present. Time and consequences don’t exist anymore. Or so you think.”
He chuckles again.
“Trust me, I’ve been there, Wilcox. The little bitch is quite crafty. Plays the victim and then disappears with a shitload of my money.”
Barely leashed fury makes me clench and unclench my fingers at his assessment of Grace.
I’m going to kill him.
“I hired you to do one job and you couldn’t deliver, Wilcox.”
Brick steps further into my room, his hand resting against the pistol on his hip.
“I’m disappointed in you,” he continues his monologue. “Your dumb ass fell in love with her. Do you think she will ever love you when she finds out what you did? I have a better chance winning her back.” He laughs. “At least she knows I’m a snake. You lied to get close to her. She’ll never forgive you for that,” he says knowingly.
I keep my face impassive as I absorb his words, refusing to let him witness my grief. I shove down the regret and focus on what’s important.
Watching him closely, I know that time is not on my side.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing,” he sneers. “I think it goes without saying that you’re fired.”
I continue to stare at him.
“Someone else is on the job. She’ll be back in my bed tonight.”
Shades of red cloud my vision. I can hear the blood racing through my veins as my body continues to tense, ready for attack mode.
“If you touch her, I’ll kill you,” I warn menacingly.
Brick pretends to look affronted.
“I haven’t had the pleasure yet. But my guy is on his way now. Send my apologies to the driver you hired. Make sure he knows it’s nothing personal.”
I need to call Grace and warn her not to get in that car. Beg her not to open the door at all.
While Brick stands there looking proud of himself, I retrieve my phone from the hard surface of my dresser and call Grace.
Brick watches me mockingly as the phone rings three times, four times, five times before going to voicemail.
Swearing, I abandon my calm demeanor and charge toward him.
“You rat-faced bastard. Where is she?!” I yell, my hand shooting out to encircle his neck.
Not anticipating my attack, his eyes double in size before he tries to fix his face to appear emotionless.
“Where is she?!” I roar again.
Foolishly, he reaches for the gun. Before he can take aim at me, I release his neck and knock his arm off balance, swiping the weapon in one fell swoop.
With the butt of the pistol, I hit him twice over the head.
He croaks out in pain and I want nothing more than to end his life right there.
But I need the information he can offer first.
With the gun trained between his eyes, I break my silence.
“Tell me where she is. Now.”
Even as blood trickles from his temple, he smirks at me cockily.
“Like I’d ever tell you.”
“Tell me or you die,” I threaten pressing the gun against his forehead.
“You’re not stupid.”
At his taunting, I pull the gun back and shoot his left leg without a single emotion claiming my face.
“Tell. Me.” I demand again.
“Son of a bitch!” Brick screeches reaching down to touch the wound.
“Tell me where she is or next time it’ll be your head!” I spit angrily.
Wheezing from the pain, Brick relents and falls to his ass in the process.
Disgusted by the prospect of having to clean blood from my carpet, I level the gun at him again.
“He’s taking her back to Ravenwood,” he forces out between shallow breaths.
I deliver a swift kick to his face, pleased when I hear a crunching noise.
“You know I need more than that, Brick. Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t look too good on you,” I sneer down at him.
“His name is Nate…” Wheezing prevents his words from flowing naturally. I wait patiently. “He intercepted the driver you hired and picked her up.” A long pause stretches as he gathers his breath. “They were on Route 264 headed east the last time we spoke.”
With that tidbit of information, I finally allow the pistol to crash against his skull knocking him unconscious.
Phone in hand, I head to the front of my house to leave.
I’ll send someone to deal with Brick later.
Again I try to call her but there’s no answer.
Assuming the worst, I kick the door in frustration.
Is she hurt?
The thought is an unwelcome one and I know I just need to get to Grace. I need to know that she’s okay.
On my personal cell, I call the limousine company that I’ve always used.
The owner picks up and recognizes my voice right away.
I loosely explain my situation and request the info he’s able to see from the tracking device on the limo.
With the info saved in my memory bank, I urge him to call me if the limo changes course. He promises that he will and also states that he will get local law enforcement on the trail as soon as possible.
Speeding out of my driveway, I steer my car in Grace’s direction.
Chapter eighteen
GRACE CHAMBERS
“A black limo just parked behind your car,” Stephania gushes with her nose pressed to our living room window.
I’m standing at the island in our kitchen, hurriedly changing my purse selection for the millionth time.
At her words, I frantically empty my small wallet, mascara, cell phone and keys onto the hard surface and grab the desired clutch.
“Do you want me to walk you down?” Stephania offers and I can hear the excitement in her voice.
You’d think she was the one being swept off to a ball tonight. She’d fussed over me for hours, attending to my hair and make-up as if she’d been appointed my fairy godmother for the night.
I absentmindedly deny her offer as I continue to transfer my things to the smaller bag, remembering Jameson’s very clear instructions for the evening.
“The car will be there at 7:15 sharp, okay? Black limo, the driver’s name is Ernest. He will come to your door. Don’t go downstairs alone, he will come to your door and escort you to the car. Got it?”
I’d agreed, nodding even though it was impossible for him to see me through the phone.
I scoop up my keys as a knock sounds on the front door. I hurriedly toss them into my clutch.
At the door, I peek through the peephole and see a tall man in a black tuxedo and chauffeur hat.
My eyes travel down the front of him until I spot a name tag with “Ernest” in black typeface.
Confidently, I pull open the door and smile.
&
nbsp; “Ms. Chambers. I have orders from Mr. Wilcox to collect you for the evening. I’m Ernest and I’ll be your driver.”
“Of course, give me just a second and we’ll be off.”
I turn to go say goodbye to Stephania but I don’t have to walk far. She’s standing right there near the entrance.
Smiling eagerly, she readjusts one of the pins in my hair and shoos me out of the door with air kisses, requesting that I take lots of pictures.
*
Twenty minutes into the ride, I reach into my purse to touch up my lipstick.
Right away, I notice the empty space where my phone should be and I curse under my breath.
Done with the lipstick, I close my clutch and settle back in for the ride. We should only be about another twenty minutes away from Jameson’s place by now.
Though Jameson was hesitant, we’d agreed that I would get picked up first because it wouldn’t make sense for the driver to crisscross around town.
We could go directly from Jameson’s house to the expressway leading to the hotel where the ball is being held.
Brimming with excitement to see Jameson in his uniform for the first time, I clasp my hands in my lap and study the opulent interior of the limousine.
My eyes trace over the leather seating, the bar adorned with crystal glasses and finally the privacy screen.
Then my thoughts wander to the silent driver.
Ernest is a man of very few words. Since escorting me to the car, he hasn’t made a peep.
As we round a corner, I frown out of the window not recognizing my surroundings.
Though the windows are tinted pitch black, I don’t pick up on any of the landmarks along the route that I’ve become familiar with in the last couple months.
With my forehead pressed against the window, my frown deepens as I take in the long, empty road stretching before us.
I have no idea where we are.
Had we turned east after leaving my house? West?
The answers to those questions aren’t forthcoming but the dread creeping into my veins is.
With a shaky fist, I tap on the privacy screen and wait for a response.
When the window slides down, I meet the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“I think we’re headed in the wrong direction.”