by S. M. Soto
Fucking ridiculous.
I rake a frustrated hand over my face as my mind drifts to last night. Again. My mystery girl, the dirty girl Mackenzie, has been stuck in the back of my mind ever since I slid through her wet heat. Scratch that, she had me intrigued before she allowed me to fuck her. The second she walked into my hotel, my restaurant, on that damn phone, my dick was rock hard for her.
She intrigued me. Beguiled me. Made me want to spend the entire weekend figuring her out all the while making her come. That intrigue has now turned into a burning curiosity.
Who is she?
Where is she now?
Who the fuck is Mackenzie, and where has she been hiding all these years?
That little tidbit about her never having an orgasm before nearly brought me to my fucking knees. Who in the hell was this gorgeous woman sleeping with and how the fuck did they lack the knowledge of how to please her? Fucking Christ, I didn’t understand it. Not then and certainly not now. Not after wringing those orgasms out of her, watching her skin flush with arousal, and seeing her juices coat my shaft. She was perfect.
She is perfect. And it’s becoming a problem.
For some reason, I can’t get the littlest details about her out of my head. The way she laughed. The way she smiled. How pink her cheeks would get when she blushed. The throaty, sexy as fuck way she’d moan my name when she was coming. The way her pussy gripped my cock while I was—
Fuck, I need to get a grip.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and when I swipe the screen, I’m not even surprised that it’s a group chat from the guys. They’re ready to start.
I roll my eyes.
This game of sharing and bedding the same women is getting old. We’re not kids anymore. Yet, they all still act like the playboy lifestyle is going to last forever.
It fucking won’t.
In high school, we may have shared and fucked the same girls. Hell, everyone probably did since Ferndale was small as shit, but it was never because I wanted to. Running trains, passing around the same chick, never appealed to me as it did to the rest of them. They get off on that shit, comparing notes, sharing women like they’re fucking pocket pussies. But now? As I’m closing in on thirty, sharing the same women isn’t on my to-do list. I may not be looking for a committed relationship, but I also don’t want my fucking dick to fall off.
Heaving a tired breath, I head up the stairs and nod at Bryce, one of our security guys, before pushing through the door. I clear my face of all emotion and stifle the urge to grind my teeth together when I take in everyone they’ve invited for the night. And that’s when I see her. Fucking Mackenzie. I guess fate decided we weren’t done with each other, after all.
I pause, blinking rapidly as I stare at her, wondering if I’m losing it. Images from last night slam into me, from us fucking against the wall, over the couch, and in the Jacuzzi. All of it is drilled, embedded into my mind, and fuck, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t start to feel my dick stirring against my slacks. But like a bucket of cold water being thrown on me, I take in the scene around me, and it hits me.
She could only be here for one reason and one reason only. The realization is a fucking disappointment if there ever was one. I’m so focused on my thoughts, I haven’t been paying attention to what the guys are saying. I catch the tail end of the conversation and narrow my eyes when I hear Zach refer to Mackenzie as Scarlett.
What the fuck?
I dart my gaze to Mackenzie, and her shoulders are tense as she stands stock-still with her gaze rooted to the ground. So she lied to me last night, or she’s lying right now. I don’t know this woman well enough to defend her, but do you want to know what’s insane? I want to. I want to haul her ass over my shoulder and carry her out of here, even if she is kicking and screaming as I do it. She doesn’t belong here. Not after last night. And the worst of it? Trent chose her for tonight. I see it in his eyes and in the way he’s watching her every move. He’s calculating, plotting what his first move will be.
I grit my teeth together, suddenly feeling angry. At myself, Trent, the rest of the guys, and most of all, Mackenzie. She shouldn’t be here. Not tonight. Not ever.
Over my dead fucking body.
A sudden train of thought strikes me. Maybe she’s right where she’s supposed to be, and she fooled you last night? The thought alone has my lips thinning into a grim line. The only thing that has me feeling marginally better is the fact that when I walked in, she wasn’t staring at any of the guys with hearts in her eyes or more accurately, money signs—she was staring at them with anger and, if I’m not mistaken … fear. I could be wrong—hell, I probably am wrong—but I can’t help but wonder why she’s up here if she’s looking at the rest of the guys like they’re criminals.
The air is taut, charged with tension, and I know it’s only going to get worse once I do what I need to do. I can feel Trent’s anger radiating off him once I try to get Mackenzie by herself. There’s a fire brewing in his eyes. He wants to fight, battle it out over what he thinks is a simple fuck for the night.
Not fucking happening.
Once everyone respectively pairs off, leaving just Mackenzie and me—or Scarlett, whatever the fuck she wants me to believe her name is—I hound her with questions. And with each one, she continues to look over her shoulder covertly as if she has something to hide, and fucking hell, maybe she does.
At the mention of my birth name, there’s a change in Mackenzie. In her whole demeanor. The softness of her features abruptly morphs, sharpening and leaving her with a hard expression on her face. Her brows draw in, and if I’m not mistaken, pain flits across her face. It’s a deep-rooted pain, one that doesn’t make sense or belong with anything in this scenario.
It only gets worse when she learns King isn’t my surname. Kingston was my mother’s last name, and once I was old enough, I decided to use that name and shorten it for business purposes. Anything to distance myself from my father. Being a Pierce comes with many perks but also many disadvantages—one of them being my father is a fucking prick. Using the shortened version of Kingston for my success was one big “fuck you” to the incomparable Mr. Benedict Pierce.
Her face swiftly pales, and she takes a shaky step back away from me, wobbling on her heels. I take a wary step toward her and reach my hand out to steady her, but she shies away from my touch, and her lips purse with disdain, causing my brows to dip down even more.
“Mackenzie?”
Her eyes snap up to mine, and all the emotion is hastily wiped away. “It’s Scarlett,” she hisses. “I told you that already.”
The muscle in my jaw clenches with frustration, and I quirk a brow. “Right. You did. I just don’t know if I believe you, Scarlett,” I taunt.
Her eyes narrow. “Knock it the hell off, all right? You don’t know me.”
I watch in fascination as whatever she’s dealing with internally plays out on her face. I don’t think she realizes just how expressive she can be when she forgets to conceal her emotions. At times, she’s good at hiding her pain and anger, but right now, they’re written all over her. I can’t even pin it down to one in particular.
I take a predatory step toward her, closing in on her. “I think I know you just fine, dirty girl,” I whisper just as a smirk twists the corners of my lips. “And what I do know is, you’re fucking lying about the name Scarlett. See, the thing is, you don’t look like a Scarlett, you don’t talk like a Scarlett, and you sure as fuck don’t ride cock like one either.”
I watch as a tremor travels through her body. A deep red flush of paint colors her skin; starting from her chest, it goes up her slender neck to her cheeks. My hand curls into a fist at my side as I fight the basest need to yank her into my arms and strip her completely bare. I bet that flush has traveled all the way across the expanse of her flesh.
“Well, I’m telling you the truth now,” she states matter-of-factly. Of their own accord, my eyes settle on her chest, and a sinister smile curves my lips when I s
pot the two hardened peaks through the thin, satin material of her dress. She’s enjoying this. Even if she doesn’t want to, for whatever reason. I’d bet my left nut her pussy is soaked. I can practically smell the musk from here, and fuck me, all I want to do is bury my face between her thighs and taste her.
“Oh, yeah?” I cross my arms over my chest, staring her down. “Since we’re being honest, mind telling me what’s got your panties in a bunch? Not too long ago, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
Her lips thin. “I-I … well, I …”
I chuckle, taking another step toward her. “Ah, there you are, dirty girl. I was wondering where you went.”
Her plump lips part as she inhales gulps of air through her lips. That blush tinting her skin deepens, if possible, and it makes me rock fucking hard.
Snapping out of it, she shakes her head and takes a threatening step toward me. “Nothing is wrong,” she growls, jabbing a red-painted nail at me. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you here is all. I wasn’t even expecting to be invited up here for … whatever this is.” She throws her hand around the room wildly, indicating she still doesn’t truly understand what this place is. “You made it abundantly clear last night that it was a one-time thing. Of course, I’m going to look like I’ve seen a ghost! I didn’t want things to get awkward.”
I contemplate her answer. I didn’t realize I was so harsh about the possibility of a repeat yesterday. I’m so used to rules and making my intentions clear with the women I sleep with beforehand to avoid any misconceptions or broken hearts. It’s happened, and it’s never pretty.
There’s no denying that I felt myself getting too lost in Mackenzie yesterday. It’d been a long time since I felt that content around a woman when we weren’t fucking. Telling her our tryst was a one-time thing helped give me the upper hand and perspective when I needed it. Only now, I just feel like a fucking asshole.
I close the distance between us and trail my finger up her delicate neck and around the slender curve of her jaw toward her lips. “I think an exception to my rule is necessary with you, dirty girl.”
Her breath hitches as my finger traces her plump lips. Her eyes flutter, and it looks like she’s struggling against the need to close her eyes and lean into my touch.
“W-Why is that?” she breathes out so quietly that if I wasn’t standing so close to her, I wouldn’t have heard it.
“Because Mackenzie. Your pussy is divine, and fucking you will always be at the top of my priority list. Don’t you agree?”
I watch her suck in a sharp breath. Her lips part, but no words come out. The effect I have on her thrills me. My smirk widens as I step in closer. I trail my eyes up and down her delectable body in that dress, and unable to help myself, I find the swell of her creamy breast and stroke her flesh with the pad of my thumb. What I’m really dying to do is tug the material down and free her tits, which I know are more than a handful, and take one of those pale, pink nipples into my mouth.
“I asked you a question, Mackenzie.” The pad of my thumb traces circles on her skin, distracting her. It dips dangerously low, almost freeing her nipple.
A whimper slips past her lips, and her eyes slam closed as she utters the word, “Yes.” Her chest rises and falls almost violently. Her nipples are hardened peaks, just dying to be licked and sucked. I can smell her pussy; her sweet nectar is wafting through the stifling air and fucking with my head. This woman standing before me drives me fucking insane, and I can’t even explain why.
It also doesn’t escape my notice that she answered to Mackenzie and didn’t bother to correct me. I smile wickedly.
Seems I do have a little liar on my hands.
“The things I want to do to you.” I growl right next to her ear, my lips grazing the shell. A shudder works its way through her body. I slide a hand around her hip and squeeze the flesh of her curves.
Her swallow is loud. “What kind of things?”
With my hand firmly placed along her lower back, I yank her hips flush against my body and rub her against my cock that’s straining to get out of these slacks. I burrow my face into her neck, nuzzling her skin and flicking her earlobe with my tongue as I go. She smells fucking divine. Like trouble and mine all wrapped in a sexy little package.
“See that window right there?” I ask in her ear, guiding her head toward the dance floor below. “I want to fuck you against that window. I want to drive so far inside you, so deep in your cunt that whoever is dancing below will see you squirming and screaming my name against the glass.”
Mackenzie’s hands latch onto my chest for support. Her nails embed themselves into my skin as she tries to keep her knees from buckling. She’s imagining it. Picturing my cock driving in and out of her while hundreds of people below are none the wiser, unless they stare long enough.
I palm her full ass, grinding my pelvis into her to drive my point home. “Your tits will feel cool against the glass, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like the thought of someone watching me fuck you. You’d get off on it because I told you so, right, Mackenzie?”
“Oh, God, yes,” she moans, dropping her head to my chest, squirming against my hard-on.
“Look at you,” I breathe, staring down at her with a fire brewing in my gut. “Such a fucking dirty girl,” I praise, my fingertips digging into her skin as I try to restrain myself. I want to slam her against that window and fuck her senseless. I want to fuck her into next week. I want to keep fucking her until my name is ingrained in her mind, and my touch is imprinted on her soul and body.
“Do it,” she whispers, lifting her forehead off my chest and staring into my eyes. Her eyes—a hazel storm of colors—are swirling with fire and lust. She’s fucking incinerating me. She’s burning me up from the inside out.
A grin spreads across my face.
“Turn around,” I command, and she does as I say, just as I knew she would.
I’m dripping. Christ, I’m dripping like it’s no ones business.. Just from his command alone, my panties are soaked, and my core is painfully throbbing at this point. And of course, I do as he says. I don’t care that this isn’t what I came here for. I don’t even care that I know who Sebastian really is. I just need him like an addict needs her next fix. After one night with this man, I’m a fiend. I need him inside me. I need to feel that same connection I felt with him last night.
As I move toward the glass that overlooks the lower level of the club, I keep telling myself this is all part of the plan. This is me getting close to him, weaving my way into his life and his friendships with the other guys. If I have to keep lying to myself in order to believe it, I will. I’ll do it over and over again because when I’m with Baz, he makes me feel things I shouldn’t. I can’t tell yet if it’s just the great sex or something more, but I don’t want to analyze it any further.
“Take your underwear off, dirty girl.” The command sends a thrill down my spine. It settles at the base, tingling as though it has a mind of its own. I follow his directions and slide the red scrap of material down my legs. I rest my back against the glass, the cool window like a shock to my overheated skin.
Baz stands there watching me for a beat. His eyes move from the red material dangling from my hand to the bare apex between my thighs. He closes the distance between us, and my eyes are riveted on the sight of the thick, formidable bulge dying to rip through his slacks. He looks devastatingly handsome in his suit. I want to tear it off him yet keep it on for pure aesthetic enjoyment in equal measure.
With my damp underwear clasped in my trembling hand, I wait for his next request, or I should say demand. He splays open my palm, and with deft fingers, he takes my underwear, spreading them out in his large hand. His eyes widen and go impossibly dark when he feels how damp the material is. The dark patch is unmistakable, and the urge to dip my head in embarrassment is all-consuming.
“Fuck, Mackenzie,” he hisses. “Your pussy must be dripping.”
I trap my bottom lip between my teeth a
nd bite down. Hard. Just to prevent myself from releasing an embarrassing moan.
“Now, dirty girl, this next question is all you. Do you want me to fuck you and let everyone else hear? Or do you want to remain quiet?”
My brows dip. I’m not sure how to answer that.
“If you want to remain quiet, I can stuff these”—he gestures to the panties balled in his fist—“in your mouth while I fuck you. Which will it be?”
My legs snap together in anticipation, and I slap my palm against the glass behind me for support.
Fuck me.
Why does the thought of being gagged with wet panties make me want to come?
“The panties,” I whisper, mortified that that’s what I want.
Baz pauses, likely struck with surprise. He rubs his thumb over his plump bottom lip in contemplation as he watches me. That dark smirk rapidly steals across his features, making me weak in the knees.
He leans into me, crowding my space, filling the very air I breathe with him. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me with the panties. In my mouth.”
He grins down at me. “Good girl.”
Baz possessively places his palm on my stomach and applies subtle pressure to press me fully up against the glass. He trails his other hand between my thighs and pushes my dress over my hips, exposing my center.
“Open that pretty mouth for me.” When I do, he slips the material inside and watches me with heat in his eyes. “So fucking sexy.”
The globes of my cheeks are smothered against the glass, and a thrill shoots down my spine at the thought of someone looking up. What would they see? Would it turn them on?
Baz drops to his haunches and slides his palms up my thighs, the pads of his fingers squeezing and digging into my skin as he goes. His touch is like a blazing trail of fire, and I’m burning. Every vital organ is on fire with what this man is doing to me. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, aligning his eyes perfectly with my soaked center.