The Neighborhood (Twin Estates #2)

by Stylo Fantome

  His eyes landed on his desk, where the empty bags and containers from last night's dinner were still laying. The awkward taco dinner he'd had with Wulfric and Katya. He groaned and dropped his head.

  Fuuuuuuuck. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I have a disease, I swear to god.

  “It's too early,” a voice next to him mumbled.

  He glanced to his right and sighed, then turned so he could fully appreciate the view.

  Then again, as far as diseases go, I suppose this one isn't so bad …

  A woman was sleeping on her side, her back to him. The sheets had slipped down throughout the night and were just draped over her hips, barely hiding her naked ass from sight. An ass that was absolute perfection. He also knew that hiding from view on the other side of her was a pair of equally amazing breasts that defied gravity to the point one would almost think they were fake. But after handling them multiple times, he was positive they were real. Real, and tan, and soft, and delicious, and …

  “If you keep staring at me, I'll leave,” she grumbled.

  … aaaaaand I always forget that part. God, what a bitch.

  He only knew her as Halsey – her last name. They never seemed to get around to first names. She'd shown up at his club the night before, shocking him a little. He'd only met her once before, at the Toccis' barbecue. After his fist fight with Wulfric, he'd gone to blow off steam by sulking in the Toccis' pantry and she'd already been hiding in there, sneaking a joint.

  He had eyeballs, so of course right off the bat, Liam had found her attractive. Then she'd opened her mouth and he'd quickly learned that sarcasm was her middle name. They'd butted heads and had both refused to leave their little sanctuary on account of the other. They then got into a heated argument about Katya and Wulf, which had caused the tension between them to rise, which had bizarrely evolved into a sexual kind of tension, and before he knew what was happening, he had his tongue down her throat and she had her hand down his pants, and suddenly he was fucking a stranger against a sink in the home of people he'd just met.

  I'm going to the nastiest parts of hell, I'm sure of it.

  “Get up, I have to get out of here,” he snapped back, though he made no move to leave the bed. Instead, he actually laid back down, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

  How did he always find himself in these situations? One moment he was looking into Katya's eyes, and he was so sure he could be perfect for her. The next, he was looking at Wulf's smug little shit eating smirk, and he was so sure he could beat the other man at something.

  Then a pair of tits and ass walks into his club, and Liam's thought process goes out the window. He'd told Halsey his name in that pantry, somewhere between a blowjob and her second orgasm. Apparently, she'd remembered it and had decided to run it through the ol' Google. His sex club had come up immediately.

  “I'd never been to a sex club,” she'd informed him. “And I was in town, so I thought … why not come say hi.” Then she'd scooped a cherry out of her drink with her incredibly dexterous tongue, and that's right about when his brain had started shutting down.

  He hadn't intended on sleeping with her. Despite the “fuck me” vibes rolling off her, she still had her acid tongue firmly in place. As he gave her a tour of the club, she'd turned up her nose at the upstairs bar, criticized the décor in the private rooms downstairs, laughed at the size of the conference room, and made a face at his somewhat unkempt office.

  In response, he'd told her he didn't really care what some slutty brat thought about his club or what he did for a living. She'd told him she didn't really care what some slutty club owner thought about her or her attitude. He'd told her he was seeing another woman, and she'd asked if he understood that literally seeing someone and dating them were two very different things.

  “You sad, sad man.”

  It had hit too close to home – he was sensitive about the whole Katya-Wulf subject. Even if this Halsey chick didn't know anything about it, it still pissed him off that she'd made fun of him about it.

  He'd told her to leave, and she'd laughed that she was a paying customer and she would stay till she'd finished her drink. He'd warned her that he would make her leave. She'd dared him to try. He'd grabbed her arm and tried to propel her out of the room. A drink to the face and a couples shoves and swats with a handbag later, and he'd had her pressed against the door, his hand already up her very tight skirt.

  He blew out a deep breath and finally let his arms drop to his sides. He could admit it, he was frustrated with the whole Katya thing, and having someone let him be a little mean, let him work out some of those frustrations … it was nice. Clearly, Miss Halsey had her own demons, and if she wanted to work on them by fucking Liam's brains out, he supposed he couldn't really fault her.

  “You have to get out?” she chuckled, and he listened as she rolled onto her back, the sheets rustling as she pulled them up her body. “Do you punch in and out? Have a time card? I thought you owned this business, my bad.”

  “I do,” he said. “But that doesn't mean I like spending all day and night here.”

  “Hmmm, I don't know. Spending all of last night here wasn't so bad.”

  Don't look. Do not look. You cannot keep doing this! You have someone else you care about, remember!? And you have to be at that someone's apartment tonight, you're celebrating her best friend's promotion. DO NOT LOOK.

  Liam totally looked.

  Halsey was on her back, in the middle of a big stretch. She had her arms above her head, her hands pressing flat against the wall. Her spine was arching, thrusting her breasts high and into the air, her peaked nipples poking through the sheets. He licked his lips and let his eyes wander down farther, to parts that were shrouded by blanket, yet he could picture them perfectly.

  “I thought I told you not to stare at me.”

  He cut his eyes back to her face, expecting some more of that bitchy attitude. But she seemed to be done with being bitchy for the moment. Instead, she was giving him bedroom eyes and her teeth were biting into her bottom lip and as she rolled towards him, he couldn't help but fall on top of her.

  “This is so, so wrong,” he breathed, then he drove his tongue into her mouth, over and over as he moved to lay on top of her.

  “Then we'd better be very, very bad, and make it worth while,” she panted when he moved his mouth to her breasts.

  As her hand wrapped around his dick and his teeth clamped down on her nipple, he had a brief moment where he could've stopped. He knew he should've stopped, and if he'd been just a little more sure of Katya's feelings for him, he would've stopped.

  But then Halsey began stroking her hand up and down, and there was simply no stopping anything at all.

  Might as well enjoy this as much as I can, before I'm cast down into hell. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll be a better person.

  Tomorrow.

  The Kane Trilogy Excerpt

  DEGRADATION

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  If you liked Wulfric Stone, then you'll love his inspiration – the Jameson Kane …

  Tatum plucked at her shirt in a nervous manner. She had tucked it into a tight pencil skirt and even put on a pair of sling back stilettos. If someone had personally requested her, she wanted to make an effort to look nice. She had blown out her hair and put curls in the ends, and toned down her make up. Even she had to admit it, she looked presentable.

  For once.

  Men in expensive business suits began to file into the conference room and she stood still, giving a polite smile to everyone who entered. A team of lawyers was meeting with their client. Six chairs were lined up on one side of a long table, with just a single chair on the other side.

  Tate had been positioned at the back of the room, next to a sideboard filled with goodies and coffee and water. She fussed about, straightening napkins and setting up the glasses. When all six chairs were filled on the one side, she stared at their backs, wondering who the big shot was that got to stare them all down. The perso
n who would be facing her. A door at the back of the room swung open and her breath caught in her threat.

  Holy. Shit.

  Jameson Kane strode into the room, only offering a curt smile to his lawyers. His eyes flashed to her for just a second, then he looked back. His smile became genuine and he tipped his head towards her, almost like a bow.

  She gaped back at him, positive that her mouth was hanging open. What was he doing there!? Had he known she would be there? Had he been the one to request her? Impossible, he didn't know what temp agency she worked for – but what would be the chances? She hadn't seen him in seven years, and now twice in two days.

  Tate felt like swallowing her tongue.

  “Gentlemen,” Jameson began, seating himself across from the lawyers. “Thanks for meeting with me today. Would anyone care for any coffee? Water? The lovely Ms. O'Shea will be helping us today.” He gestured towards Tate, but no one turned around. Several people asked for coffee. Jameson asked for water, his smile still in place. It was almost a smirk. Like he knew something she didn't.

  She began to grind her teeth.

  She delivered everyone's drinks, then carried around a tray of snacks. No one took anything. She moved to the back of the room, refilled the water pitcher. Tidied up. Felt Jameson staring at her.

  This is ridiculous. You're Tatum O'Shea. You eat boys for breakfast.

  But thinking that made her remember when he had said something very similar to her, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

  She was pretty much ignored the whole time. They all argued back and forth about what business decisions Jameson should, or shouldn't, make. He was very keen on dismantling struggling companies and selling them off. They tried to curb his desires. His tax lawyer explained how his tax shelter in Hong Kong was doing. Another lawyer gave him a run down on property law in Switzerland. Tate tried to hide her yawns.

  They took a five minute break after an hour had passed. Tate had her back to the room, rearranging some muffins on a tray, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck start to stand up. She turned around in slow motion, taking in Jameson as he walked up to her.

  “Surprised?” he asked, smiling down at her.

  “Very. Did you ask for me?” she questioned. He nodded.

  “Yes. You ran away so quickly the other night. I wanted to get reacquainted,” he explained. She laughed.

  “Maybe I didn't,” she responded. He shrugged.

  “That doesn't really matter to me. What are you doing tonight?” he asked. She was a little caught off guard.

  “Are you asking me out, Kane?” she blurted out. He threw back his head and laughed.

  “Oh god, still a little girl. No. I don't ask people out. I was asking what you were doing tonight,” Jameson replied.

  She willed away the blush she felt coming on. He still had the ability to make her feel so stupid. She had been through so much since him, come so far with her esteem and her life. It wasn't fair that he could still make her feel so small. She wanted to return the favor. She cleared her throat.

  “I'm working.”

  “Where?”

  “At a bar.”

  “What bar?”

  “A bar you don't know.”

  “And tomorrow night?”

  “Busy.”

  “And the night after that?”

  “Every night after that,” Tate informed him, crossing her arms. He narrowed his eyes, but continued smiling.

  “Surely you can find some time to meet up with an old friend,” he said. She shook her head.

  “We were never friends, Kane,” she pointed out. He laughed.

  “Then what is it? Are you scared of me? Scared I'll eat you alive?” he asked. She stepped closer to him, refusing to be intimidated.

  “I think you're the one who should be scared. You don't know me, Kane. You never did. And you never will,” she whispered. Jameson leaned down so his lips were almost against her ear.

  “I know what you feel like from the inside. That's good enough for me,” he whispered back. Tate stepped away. She felt like she couldn't breathe. He did something to her insides.

  “You, and a lot of other people. You're not as big a deal as you think,” she taunted. It was a complete lie, but she had to get the upper hand back. He smirked at her.

  “That sounds like a challenge to me. I have to defend my honor,” he warned her. She snorted.

  “Whatever. Point to the challenger then, me. Defend away,” she responded, rolling her eyes.

  He didn't respond, just continued smirking down at her. The lawyers began filing back into the room and Jameson took his position on the other side of the table. She wasn't really sure what their little spar had been about, or what had come out of it. She was just going to try to get through the rest of the conference, and then she would scurry away before he could talk to her again. She didn't want anything to do with Jameson Kane, or his -,

  “Ms. O'Shea,” his sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. Tate lifted her head.

  “Yes, sir?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice soft and polite.

  “Could you bring me some water, and something to eat,” he asked, not even bothering to look at her as he flipped through a contract.

  She loaded up a tray with his requests and made her way around the table. No one even looked at her, they just threw legal jargon around at each other – a language she didn't know. She stood next to Jameson and leaned forward, setting his water down and then going about arranging cheese and crackers on a plate for him. She was about halfway done when she felt it.

  Are those ... his fingers!?

  Tate froze for a second. His touch was light as he ran his fingers up and down between her legs. She glanced down at her knees and then glanced over at him. He was still looking down, but she could see him smirking. She tried to ignore him, tried to go back to setting up his food, but his hand went higher. Daring to brush up past her knees, well underneath her skirt. He couldn't get any farther, not unless he pushed up her skirt, or sunk down in his chair. She dumped the rest of the cheese on his plate and started to scoot away. She had just gotten back to her station when she heard a thunking noise, followed by groans.

  “No worries. Ms. O'Shea! So sorry, could you get this?” Jameson's voice was bored sounding.

  She turned around and saw that he had knocked over his water glass. He was blotting at the liquid as it spread across the table. The lawyers were all holding their papers aloft, grumbling back and forth.

  Tate groaned and grabbed a towel before striding back to the table. She glared at him the whole way, but he still refused to look at her. She started as far away from him as she could get, mopping everything up, but eventually she had to almost lean across him to reach the mess. She stood on her toes, stretching across the table top.

  As she had assumed it would, his hand found its way back to her legs. Only this time he wasn't shy, and her position allowed for a lot of access. His hand shot straight up the back of her skirt, his fingertips brushing against the lace of her panties.

  She swallowed a squeak and glanced around. If any of the other gentlemen lifted their heads, they would have been able to see their client with half of his arm up his assistant's skirt, plain as day. He managed to run his finger under the hem of her underwear, down the left side of her butt cheek, before she pulled away. She stomped back to the food station, throwing the towel down with such violence, she knocked over a stack of sugar cubes.

  When she turned around, Jameson was finally looking at her. She plunked her fists on her hips, staring straight back. His smirk was in place – as she had expected it would be – and he held up a finger, pointing it straight up. One. Then he pointed at himself. One point. Tied. He thought they were playing a game. She hadn't wanted to play games with him, but she hated to lose at anything, and she never wanted to lose to a man like Jameson Kane.

  An idea flitted across her mind. Tate wanted to make him as uncomfortable as he had just made her feel. She coolly ra
ised an eyebrow and then took her time looking around the room. The lawyers all still had their backs to her – not one of them had turned around the entire time she'd been there. Blinds had been drawn over every window, no one could see in the office, but she knew the door wasn't locked. Anyone could walk into the room. She took a deep breath. It didn't matter anyway, what was the worst that could happen? She would get fired? It was a temp job, that Jameson had requested her for – he didn't even work there. Did she really care what happened?

  She dragged her stare back to meet his and then ran her hands down the sides of her skirt. He raised an eyebrow as well, his eyes following her hands. When she got to the hem of the skirt, she pressed her palms flat and began to slowly, achingly, slide the material up her legs. Now both his eyebrows were raised. He flicked his gaze to her face, then went right back to her skirt. Higher, up past her knees. To the middle of her thighs. Higher still. If anyone turned around, they would be very surprised at what they saw. One more inch, and her skirt would be moot. Jameson's stare was practically burning holes through her.

  Taking short, quick, breaths through her nose, Tate slid her hands around to her butt. She wiggled the material up higher back there, careful to keep the front low enough to hide her whole business, and was able to hook her fingers into her underwear. She didn't even think about what she was doing, couldn't take her eyes off of Jameson, as she slid her underwear over her butt and down her hips. As the lace slid to her ankles, she pushed her skirt back into place. Then she stepped out of the panties and bent over, picking them up. When she stood upright, she let the lace dangle from her hand while she held up one finger. Point.

  Winning.

  Jameson nodded his head at her, obviously conceding to her victory, then returned his attention to the papers in front of him. Tate let out a breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding, and turned around, bracing her hands against the table. She leaned forward and took deep breaths. She had just started to gain some ground on slowing her heart rate, when a throat cleared.