Seven

by Amy Marie

  “I want to kiss you Embyr,” he growls, his intoxicating breath filling the air. “I’ve wanted these lips on mine all night. That little peck you gave me at the bar, last night, hasn’t been holding me over too well.”

  Not wanting to miss an opportunity to make him crave me even more, I lift my fingers up, griping the back of his neck. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” I ask, reaching up on my toes, colliding my lips with his. He doesn’t falter as he takes the kiss deeper. His tongue thrashing against mine. His leg pushing my thighs apart, and his hands gripping my hips, pulling me into him. I tug on his hair, earning me a rewarding moan and feeling his hard erection drive into my leg.

  I gasp at how massive it feels and inwardly smile knowing that is going to be the key to rock his fucking world into oblivion.

  The way to a man’s heart is not food. No—it’s pussy, and I plan on using mine to shatter his heart so completely, as he did to me all those years ago, that he’ll never look at another woman the same. I’m going to feel as bad for what I am doing to him as he did for what they did to me.

  I feel nothing.

  That’s wrong.

  I’m fucking lying.

  Tearing our lips apart, I push at his shoulders forcing him back a few steps. He looks like a man out of control. We look intently at one another until he breaks again. Driving me back into the wall, he lifts me up by the back of my thighs. His tongue starts another assault on mine and I nip at it. He rewards me with a thrust of his jeans between my legs. I ignore the wetness seeping through my panties and focus on the mission at hand.

  Our lips draw apart and his forehead falls to mine. “I really want to come in.”

  I turn my head side to side, letting him know that won’t be happening. He concedes, lowering me to the ground. When my gaze finds his hungry eyes, they are looking down. I follow the trail, discovering my dress hiked up and my bright-red see through panties are on display, and make a show of concealing them once again, slowly gliding everything back into position.

  Without another word, I saunter back to my door, leaving Casen in the hallway, and closing it behind me.

  I watch the swirl of creamer circulate before blending into my coffee. The background noise of the café, drowned out by the thoughts of my date the other night. When I left him at the door, I couldn’t help but feel triumphant over how twisted up I made him. I have no doubt that, if I would have let him in, he would have had me on my back in no time.

  When he pushed me into the wall, I could feel how rock hard I made him. How my body affected his. I’m sure with just the brush of my tongue over his dick, he would have come on the spot.

  Silly, foolish man.

  I haven’t heard from him since, though, it’s only been two days. But, I’m not the least bit worried. Men love challenges, and Casen is no different. If I would have let him in and allowed him to fuck me, he probably would have lost interest. That’s not the plan. I need to wrap him around my finger so tight that when he does get inside of me, he will never want to leave. Too bad for him that isn’t his decision.

  I look around, watching as one uptight business man meets with other uptight business men and glance at my watch. She should be here any minute. As if on cue, the door opens, allowing the bright sunlight to fill the dimly lit café. Tracy walks in, finding me in the corner. As she walks with purpose toward me, I find I’m jealous of her unique beauty.

  “Embyr!” She smiles, crinkling her stunning green eyes as she pushes her red locks behind her ears. “So glad we could finally make this meeting happen. I was hoping you weren’t avoiding me. I’ve had so many ideas, the past few days, flitting around in this crazy head of mine for your condo.”

  I return the smile and wave my hand dismissively. “Of course not. I’ve just had a lot going on.”

  Plopping down, she adjusts the strap of her purse over the back of her chair, and turns to face me. “I can imagine. Evan can hardly believe what Patrick got himself into. From what I hear, he stole a lot of money from his clients. I’m happy Evan never invested with him, even if they have been friends since high school.”

  Ah, Evan. The “E” in PITCREW. The awkward boy in high school. The one who was lucky enough to make friends with the “in crowd.” The one who went to MIT and now has more money that he knows what to do with. Evan McGregory, the one who has absolutely no appreciation for his beautiful, faithful wife.

  A few weeks ago, I told Patrick I was looking for an interior designer for my condominium. With my new found blackmail income from Wesley, I could now afford to hire someone highly sought after, like Tracy McGregory, to decorate my place. Patrick set us up.

  Coincidence that she is married to a PITCREW member? I think not. I knew who Patrick would recommend. He and Evan stayed close after high school. He would drop by the office once or twice a week to talk to Patrick; each time, shamelessly flirting with me. Not that he gave me the time of day in high school except to taunt me relentlessly, threatening to release the tape. He never asked me any favors or made me do something I didn’t want to do, but I was in constant fear because he was just evil enough to show the world what I had done.

  “Yeah,” I replied, taking a cautious sip of my coffee. “Good thing.”

  Evan didn’t need Patrick to make him money. His yearly income far exceeded the other six PITCREW member’s combined. Not to mention that Tracy is the go-to interior designer in Chicago. She could live a very handsome life without Evan, and soon—that may be proven.

  “So, let’s get started,” she says, smiling at me as she pulls out a notebook from her bag. “What sort of feel do you want for your place?”

  I take another quick glance at my watch, hoping our surprise guest gets here soon, so I don’t have to go through all of the niceties.

  He’s late. He’s never late. He’s always annoyingly fucking on time.

  As my shoulders slump slightly, about ready to accept that maybe today he won’t show up, the door chimes. Tracy looks at me expectantly as my eyes find the large, sandy-blond haired man walking in, beautiful blonde bombshell on his arm. My heartrate picks up as I watch his long fingers caress the side of her hip before he leads her up to the counter.

  “Embyr,” Tracy calls, trying to get my attention.

  I absently shake my head and look at her curious eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I was just thinking about all the ideas I have floating around in my head. My friend just moved out, so I feel like I can do just about anything I want. So many possibilities!”

  She smiles, a beautiful, Julia Roberts smile. “I understand. It’s a lot to think about, but if I could just get a general idea of what you want then, the next time we meet, I can bring some boards with me for you to look at.”

  I nod, looking once again at the couple, who are now making out like teenagers while waiting for their order. My stomach coils in disgust. I’ve never seen so much infidelity as I have since starting my little revenge project. There is so much deceit out there, it makes me never want to settle down. Not that right now is an option anyways. I have other things on my plate.

  My parents, despite quite a few bumps in their marriage, never cheated. Not that I know of, at least. They were the type to always touch the other some way, somehow. I watched them go through their struggles, loving each other unconditionally. Never once forgetting to say I love you before leaving the house. Before junior year, I longed to have a love like that one day. Now, I just want a good lay. No commitment. Just a good old fashioned fuck every once in a while.

  A laugh pulls me from my thoughts. “Daydreaming again?” Tracy asks, pushing her fiery hair behind her ears.

  “Yes.” I chuckle.

  She reaches over, taking my hand gently in hers. “Well, how about I tell you some ideas I have that I think would be perfect and we can go from there?”

  I nod. “Ok.”

  Tracy dips down, digging back into her bag and pulls out a large black binder, opening it up to the first page. Both of our heads lean in b
ut my sight lands on the couple making their way to their usual booth, close to our table, not paying any attention to the people around them. Obviously, because if he did, then he would walk the other way.

  “This right here,” Tracy points to a black couch with deep purple accent pillows. “I think would be perfect in a bachelorette pad. Do you have pets? Because black is not a good color for a house with pets.”

  I shake my head no, watching as Evan slides into the booth and is followed by the blonde. It makes me shake my head when a couple sits on the same side but they have a reason for it. A disturbing one. My heart beats faster, the rush funneling through my veins, as I try to figure out how to get Tracy to turn around.

  She continues on, showing me each and every page. I make comments when needed, not really giving a shit about what she is showing me because I’m pretty sure, after today, I won’t see her, again.

  I watch closely as the man’s hand slide up the woman’s thigh, higher and higher, and if I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t have heard her harsh intake of breath as he hit her sweet spot. Every week I watch him get her off with dozens of coffee drinkers surrounding them. None the wiser. Each time they think they have gotten away with it.

  Except, all the other times, Tracy isn’t here.

  Her shoulders stiffen as the woman’s breath becomes heavier and the man’s name slips from between her lips. “Evan,” the blonde bimbo whispers, earning an eyebrow rise from Tracy. I watch as Tracy slowly turns. My hands grip the table, waiting for the moment she sees it. Evan continues to move his hands underneath blondie’s dress, not noticing that his wife is watching him go knuckle deep in another woman. As he moves faster, the woman on the receiving end of his fingers slowly grinds into them attempting to get off. He licks his lips and takes the bottom one in between his teeth as he watches her with rapt attention. I look down at his lap noticing the bulge beginning to form. I know from weeks of watching the same thing occur, they head out to his car and have a quick fuck before he sends her on her way. Being in public is obviously not an issue for either one of them.

  Her whimpers get more frequent and just as I think Tracy is going to watch her husband finger bang another woman right in front of her I jump from the sound of her hand slamming down on the table. “What the fuck are you doing, Evan?” her loud scream earning the interest of the entire coffee house.

  Tracy’s face burns a shade of red that competes with the color of her hair. She shoves away from the table. Evan’s eyes grow wide, pulling his hand out from between the woman’s legs as he watches his wife grab the little home wrecker by the hair, pulling her as far away from her husband as she can.

  “Tracy!” he yells, standing up, still sporting wood. He notices and adjusts before Tracy walks over and knees him in the crotch. My shoulders come up to my ears. Fuck! That had to hurt.

  “You cheating, lying son of a fucking bitch!” she fumes, shoving a finger in Evan’s chest. He towers over her significantly, but you can see he is terrified of her. “What in the ever loving fuck are you doing?”

  “Tracy. Baby. Brandi means nothing to me,” he pleads, stepping closer before thinking better of it.

  Brandi? Huh. His begging and her name? How cliché.

  A slow smirk comes across my face and I watch Brandi’s face morph into anger at Evan’s words. “I mean nothing to you?” she asks, her voice echoing off the walls of the now dead silent room. “That’s not what you were saying when you’ve had your dick inside me for the past year!”

  A collective breath is taken from everyone. It’s like watching a damn soap opera.

  I need some fucking popcorn.

  “A year?” Tracy screeches, looking with absolute disgust at Brandi. In a flash, her entire body whips around and her hand meets the left side of Evan’s face. Evan barely moves at the contact and stares at her in disbelief. Brandi picks up her purse with a huff and stomps her way out of the shop.

  “You,” Tracy growls, getting into Evan’s face, “Better get a good fucking lawyer because at least half of your shit is mine!”

  And with that, she is gone, Evan hot on her heels. Out the door, leaving me to my coffee in peace. I almost feel bad for what just happened, but it’s not like I made him cheat and showed it to her.

  No.

  That fucker started banging that woman over a year ago, and I was just showing his wife that she deserves so much better than that pansy ass. She is better off without him, even without half of his millions.

  My foot knocks into something while I cross one leg over the other. I look down finding Tracy’s bag and groan. Damn it. I was planning on never having to see her again.

  I pick it up, but before I can place it over the back of my chair a hand falls over mine. I look up finding Tracy’s tear-filled eyes. Trails of moisture fall down her cheeks and, for a brief moment, my heart breaks for her. “I forgot that,” she says. I hand it to her and she pulls it over her shoulder, pulling her hair that tangles up in the motion. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she softly apologizes before turning and walking out of the door once again.

  I watch her go, and it’s the first time, since starting all this, that I feel bad for the wake from the deceit of these men. She could have gone on for years not knowing what he was doing. She needed to know.

  The café returns to normal volume, now that the show is over, and I quickly finish up my coffee while scrolling through my phone. I decide to wait a few extra minutes, in case the happy couple is still outside, screaming it out on the sidewalk.

  I smile realizing another PITCREW member’s life just became a little more screwed up, and then a cold chill hardens my nipples just before my cell rings in my hands.

  CASEN CALLING.

  I briefly consider not answering, but decide to accept the call anyways.

  “Hello.”

  I hear him clear his throat. “Embyr, its Casen.”

  His voice, deep and mysterious, sends a shiver through my body, but I laugh. “I know.”

  “Oh, well. What are you up to?” he asks and I can hear the busy streets of Chicago in the background.

  I look around, noticing a couple searching for an open table that isn’t there. “I’m at Coffee Bean. Well, actually, I’m about to leave.” I stand up, motioning for the couple to take my table and clear my stuff.

  “On Michigan?” he asks.

  Tossing my trash in the garbage, I adjust my purse and walk out of the front door, taking a right towards my condo. “That’s the one.”

  “In a sexy, red shirt and ass-hugging jeans?” His breath becomes harsh.

  I stop walking, the hairs on the back of my neck, standing up. “Yes,” I stretch out the word.

  “With torture me boots on?” he continues. I spin around just in time to see him walking straight toward me with purpose. He hits a button on his phone just before he gets to me. My hands fall to the side and his wrap around my face bringing our lips close. “I’m so glad I had to go to get my watch fixed around the corner this morning.”

  This is dangerous. Part of me wants to push his hands off of me. The other part wants me to move in that last inch. “Why?” I breathlessly ask.

  “Because now, I get to do something I’ve wanted to do again since Saturday.” His eyes look down to my lips before he gently places his on them. The kiss is slow and, even though I don’t want to I kiss him back, I allow his tongue to penetrate. It grows aggressive and, with a mind of their own, my fingers grab a hold of his shirt tightly as I grow wet between my legs. Shocked at my body’s reaction, I pull away and flatten myself against the side of the brick building. We stare for a moment before he speaks. “Are you busy right now?”

  Speechless, I just shake my head no. Casen reaches out for my hand, and I take it. “Good,” he says. “I want to show you something.”

  Patrick

  Ian

  Thad

  Casen

  Reece

  Evan

  Wesley

  My feet stru
ggle to keep up with his pace as he strides down the sidewalk. It’s unusually calm, considering the hustle and bustle of Chicago is always going, even at eleven o’clock on a Monday morning. We turn a corner and he stops so abruptly, that I have to keep myself from running into the back of him. “Where are you taking me?” I ask once I have secured more air in my lungs. He has yet to answer me or let go of my hand, so I take a quick look at what he is wearing.

  A gray t-shirt fits tightly over his torso with the letters CFD in black across the front, and he has on a pair of black work out pants. His running shoes are neon green. I stifle a laugh at how ridiculous the shoes look. When I meet his eyes, he is smiling at me. He points across the street. “The firehouse,” he answers before pulling me in that direction.

  I use as much resistance as I can. “I don’t think I’m allowed in there,” I tell him, attempting to gain possession of my hand.

  Spinning around he takes my head in his hands. “Embyr, I wouldn’t take you here if you weren’t.”

  I relent, allowing him to grab my hand, once again, and pull me through the enormous red doors. The large building houses one fire truck and one ambulance. I’m taken back by how huge they are once you are right up next to them. I used to seeing firetrucks as a kid and they looked enormous to me, but even now, years later, I am still in awe of their size. “Wow.”

  My father was a police officer and I visited him at the station numerous times. Although it was connected to the fire station he never allowed me in there, no matter how many times I asked him.

  Casen drops my hand and walks over to the driver’s side of the fire truck, opening the door. “Want to get in?”

  I immediately shake my head no. “Won’t that be against the rules?”

  He steps close to me, invading my space, and leans in. “You don’t look like a rule follower anyway.”

  “Well, okay then,” I whisper, dropping my head back slightly, allowing his lips to brush the side of my neck. After he steps away, I grab onto the handle on the side of the door and start to pull myself up. Halfway there, I feel his warm hands cover my ass, pushing me up into the seat. The truck is facing out toward the street, and from up here, I realize it has to be tough navigating this beast through the city’s narrow streets.