by Bethany-Kris
The idea made Sargon sick.
So disgusted.
“Why California?” Sargon asked.
He needed to get far away from his thoughts, so he moved onto something else entirely.
“Pardon?”
“You showed up in California at nineteen to get a proper license. Why?”
She smiled—softer and genuine this time. “Someone taught me how to drive. It was … a big thing for me to go and get my license. I never had a real piece of ID before that. It was all faked. Good enough to get me by, essentially. Certainly never under Cozen Taylor.”
“And what were the other names you used?”
Cozen shot him a look. “Nice try.”
Sargon laughed. “Worth a shot.”
“The tiger lily was a nice touch.”
He stiffened on the stool which earned him a light laugh from Cozen. Shooting her a look from the side, he asked, “Liked that, did you?”
“You even got the color right.”
“Fire-red, like your tattoo.”
“Mmhmm.” Cozen used the tip of her finger to trace around the rim of the martini glass. “You never asked me that night why the tiger lily is my favorite flower.”
“I had other things on my mind, Cozen.”
Her grin turned suggestive in a blink. “I bet. Go on, ask me.”
“Now?”
She took another drink. “Right now, yeah.”
“Why the tiger lily?”
“A fire-red tiger lily.”
“Why that flower, Cozen?”
She winked. “I always thought all women loved roses. It’s the flower of romance and love, right? Petals spread out on the bed, or a trail leading a woman to the altar. They’re in the backdrops of movies, and men shell out ungodly amounts of cash for a decent bouquet. On Valentine’s Day, teenagers send out a single rose to their crushes all through high school. Roses are a staple.”
“True.”
“Someone once told me that roses were like women. All women were soft, beautiful, sweet, and could draw attention. All women were like roses—dangerous with their obvious thorns, but the surface beauty was a bit of trickery.”
“But?”
“Only a few women could be the tiger lilies. Striking, different, strong, and resilient. Those kinds of women could not simply blend in with all the other roses. They stand out far too much. I was told once … well, I suppose what I was told taught me more than anyone else ever did.”
“And what was it, Cozen?”
“Never aspire to be a rose when you have always been a tiger lily.”
“They make a good point.”
Cozen tipped her glass in his direction. “Is that enough talking for the night?”
“Have I reached my limit of questions?” he asked back.
“I really didn’t come here to talk.”
“I figured, Cozen.”
She eyed him curiously. “Did you?”
“I’m not stupid or blind, woman. I know what you want.”
“Are you playing games with me now, Sargon?”
He spun off the barstool with a laugh, grabbed her wrist, and tugged to make her follow him. “You’re the queen of games, aren’t you? You tell me if I’m playing games, Cozen.”
The parking lot across from the club was dark, but not entirely empty. A few people lingered near cars twenty stalls away, but the thick cloud of weed seemed to keep the people distracted from the couple slipping into the back of the back town car.
“Jesus, you won’t even shell out money for a hotel for me?” Cozen asked as she hiked up her skirt. “We can’t even go to your place?”
Sargon slammed the door behind him. “First—I don’t feel like fucking waiting that long. Second—my place is almost two hours away from here.”
“Oh.”
He reached out and snagged her jaw with his hand, and yanked her toward him. Her mouth crashed against his with a bruising kiss that left his lips numb in the best way.
“Open up and let me taste,” he demanded.
She did just that, and parted her lips enough to let his tongue snake into her mouth. She tasted like that martini she had been drinking with hints of cherry and black licorice undertones. He controlled the kiss, and she let him.
Something else to make his dick rock-hard.
Cozen slid into his lap when his hand curved around her waist, and pulled her closer. He let go of her jaw just long enough to slide his hand between her thighs, and under the gusset of her panties.
A slick, hot pussy met his fingertips. Her cunt was still waxed bare along the soft folds but trimmed short at her pubis. He stroked his fingers through the folds, and teased her entrance with the tips of his digits just to make her whine.
Christ.
She sounded so good when she whined.
Even better when she begged.
“Someone is going to see us,” she whispered in his ear.
Sargon kissed the underside of his jaw. “I bet you like that, too. Someone might see me eating or fucking your pussy—watch you come, and get hot. Shit, maybe they’ll think you’re my little slut, Cozen.”
She shivered.
He grinned.
“Yeah, you like it,” he murmured against her throat.
“I am, though.”
“What?”
“Your little slut.”
Sargon pulled back from her sweet-smelling skin just long enough to see her eyes lock on his. “And don’t you fucking forget it, either.”
“How can I? I’m here, aren’t I?”
She was.
As crazy and stupid as it was, she was here.
With him.
No one else.
Sargon slipped down against the door until his back was flat against the seat, and Cozen hovered above him. He said nothing as his hands slid beneath the back of her skirt to grab tight to her ass.
“Keep your panties out of my fucking way, or I will rip them off,” he told her.
“Jesus.”
“No, try again.”
Cozen let out a shaky breath. “Just let me ride your face.”
“Say it right.”
He punctuated that with a slap to her ass. The sweet pink that flushed her skin was addictive. He loved making her blush.
“Fine …” Her hand fell between her thighs to move her panties aside, and keep them like that. Less work for him. “Sargon, let me ride your smug face.”
She didn’t technically ask, but it was just as good. His name in her mouth was something else—he wasn’t ever going to get tired of hearing it. He let his fingers dig into her soft skin roughly, and then yanked her down to meet his mouth.
He lapped at her cunt first, tunneling his tongue into her clenching pussy and taking in what sweet juices of hers had already slicked up her folds. He felt the way she grinded her hips against his mouth in an effort to get him to go higher, but he held firm to her ass, and kept her in place.
He would get there when he wanted to.
When he was ready to.
Not one second before.
Cozen’s teasing little whines turned in to breathless moans when he did finally move up to her clit. There, he held nothing back. His tongue flicked hard against the throbbing nub relentlessly. With the taste of her sex in his mouth, and the smell of her pussy soaking into his lungs with every breath he took—this was heaven.
He didn’t need or want to stop.
“Make me come,” he heard her say.
A mantra, really.
Mixed in with her please, and fuck, fuck, fuck.
This woman was unashamed. He looked up to find her staring back—the most beautiful sight, really. She was wild like this. Amazing like this.
Perfect like this.
Soon, her legs were clenching tightly around his head, and her inner thighs shook. He felt the way her muscles clenched all over her body, and her pupils blew wide as his name fell from her parted lips one more time.
“Sargon.”
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nbsp; He fucked her pussy with his mouth through the orgasm, and didn’t waste time to get what he wanted when she was finally done. Cozen lifted just enough to let him sit back up against the door, and then her hands worked at his groin to undo his belt and pants.
A soft, warm palm fished his cock from his pants.
Commando, as always.
It just made shit easier.
Her shaking thighs came around his waist, and she fit his hard cock between her legs. She came down on him hard. No hesitation, and no waiting. She was hot and wet all over, and fit him like a velvet glove.
Sucking him deep, filling her full, and making his lungs ache.
God.
It was good.
Something sinful.
Something wonderful.
Something so fucked up.
Sargon grabbed hold of her throat, and squeezed as he forced her head back. Cozen’s wide eyes met his, and a sneer worked its way over her lips as she started rocking her hips back and forth in the slowest way.
Jesus.
She would kill him like this.
“Are you going to fuck me good?” she asked breathlessly.
His fingers tightened more on her throat. “Who else can fuck you like this, woman?”
Her throat bobbed under his hand with a swallow. “No one.”
“You didn’t even give me the chance to get a fucking condom, Cozen.”
“I take the shot. I don’t need one. I just needed you to fuck me.”
His gaze drifted over her lax, red lips as she continued that teasing rocking motion. “I could be fucking someone else. You don’t know.”
“I know. You’re not.”
She was right.
Christ.
She was so right.
“And neither am I,” she added. “So shut up, and fuck me.”
He did—diving his hands into her hair, and pulling on the strands close to the scalp. He dragged her closer to him. Close enough that he could bite her lips, and suck on her throat while he fucked them both to oblivion.
Her pretty little cries turned high-pitched, and then breathless in a blink. Sweat slicked up her back, and then she raked red lines down his chest.
She took every one of his thrusts no matter how hard to deep they came. She met him on every one. The slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet car mingled in with her moans, and his grunts.
And even after she came again, she still wanted more.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she begged again.
Bent over, ass high, and her arms pinned at her back that time.
“Fuck me, fuck me … fuck me.”
He heard more, though.
He heard so much more.
I’m yours, I’m yours … I’m yours.
Fuck.
He wanted her to be his.
Maybe that’s why he heard it.
Cozen paced the length of the living room in her small apartment. It wasn’t a very big space, but gave enough room to move. When her mind was racing, all she wanted to do was let her restless legs walk it out.
Since someone seemed to be following her—Sargon, she now knew for sure—her options were limited. She didn’t want anyone to see her in something they might consider a state to report back. She didn’t need to give anyone any inkling that something was wrong with her.
Even if everything was wrong with her.
Well, not everything, no. Just a small part in the grand scheme of things. That small part, however, was a big complication for Cozen.
That part being Sargon.
She slowed in her pacing just long enough to watch early morning sunlight filter in through the crack in the curtains. Specks of dust danced in the yellow stream, and for a moment, took her attention away from her chaotic thoughts.
It didn’t last long.
It couldn’t.
The morning light only served to remind her that she had just gotten home an hour before. A single hour before the sun rose in the sky. And why was that?
Because she spent the night with a man she had no business spending the night with. Fucking in the backseat of a car, and then dancing in a club. Coffee at a little shop down the street, and then a quick breakfast at a small, tucked away diner in Little Odessa.
Before she even realized how much time had passed, Sargon was the one who told her that he needed to get back to his place. He said goodbye with a kiss.
To her forehead.
A sweet, loving kiss.
This game was becoming dangerous. Far too dangerous, really.
Sargon had become a giant complication in Cozen’s plans. Probably without meaning to, she knew. He had—without barely trying at all—taken her entirely off her game when it came to this goddamn job. Instead of focusing on getting closer to Jett, she was dreaming about a man with a Persian bloodline. Where she should have been getting Jett to trust her, she was looking for the dark eyes she knew would be watching her.
She was seeking Sargon out.
Already, she wanted him again.
To see him again.
To fuck him again.
Anything.
It wasn’t like Cozen to get emotionally or physically invested in something—or someone, rather—during a job. She went in, did what she needed to do with a clear, clean conscience, and came back out successful.
Always.
Or … that’s how it normally went.
That’s how it should have went!
Frustrated, Cozen tossed herself into the pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the living room. She still refused to buy a bed
Cozen settled herself on the things she knew for sure.
One—the job was the job, and it was all that mattered until it was done. She was going to have to do whatever she needed to fucking do to get this job done, and be successful. It didn’t matter; the job was number one.
Two—she needed to screw her head back on straight, so to speak. Fucking Sargon once should have been enough, but apparently she needed a second go. The second time was nothing more than a mistake. She couldn’t afford more of those. It was too dangerous. For her, and for her stupid heart that liked to play tricks on her.
Three—she didn’t have time for anything else but getting this job done. No time to entertain the feelings she had for Sargon, or the way he kept drawing her in like a moth to the flame. She didn’t have time to play games anymore.
No time.
After all, the deadline for the Astors was now almost up. Five more weeks.
She knew enough about the Astor family to know that if she wasn’t successful in returning Pearl’s ring, it was not going to end well for her.
The ringing of the cell phone broke Cozen from her thoughts. Reaching above her head, she snatched the device where she had tossed it to the big pillow when she got home. She was smart enough to check the caller ID before answering.
Good thing, too.
An Astor number stared back at Cozen. She chewed on her bottom lip, and glanced at the number in the left-hand corner of the screen. It showed a seven. Seven times they had called her in a couple of days. Seven times she had ignored them.
Cozen knew that didn’t bode well for her, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She had nothing good or new to tell them, and she had a feeling Pearl would not be amicable to allowing Cozen more time on this job.
She gave six months.
She was going to do it in six months.
Cozen tossed the phone back to the pillow, and buried her head into the blankets. She let the call ring until it stopped completely, and heard the beep that said there was a voice mail left behind. She would delete that later without even listening to it, too.
What did they want other than to make demands, or yell at her? Threaten her, maybe? All that could wait.
It wasn’t just Sargon she needed to get out of her head. She needed to keep her mind clear. She was not adding angry Astors with their crazy demands to the mix, too.
Cozen would deal with t
hem later.
Maybe.
Smooth, almost too-hot rocks rolled over the muscles in Cozen’s back. From her shoulders down to the spot where a thin sheet rested over her ass to hide her nakedness, the hot rock massage took away the stress lingering in her body.
Hot rocks was a preference for her. That, and a damn good deep tissue massage. She also didn’t mind the occasional soak in mud, or a stint in the steam room for long enough to draw the toxins out of her body. Whatever could remove the tension from her body, and take the stress from her mind, she was game to try it.
Cozen almost always came back to hot rocks, though.
“Your muscles are very tight,” the woman said.
She hadn’t even gotten the masseuse’s name.
“Mmm,” Cozen muttered into the hole on the massage table. “A lot going on lately.”
“This will help.”
Obviously.
That’s why she came to the spa. Sometimes, Cozen just needed a single day to recharge her body and mind. That’s what today was dedicated to. Herself, basically. Self-care was just as important as physical care.
Maybe that had been her problem.
She neglected herself.
All too often when doing a job, Cozen became lost in the person—the persona—she took on for a spell. This time, she was the waitress with a job that put her in high heels for a ridiculous amount of hours. A woman who lived in a tiny Manhattan apartment with barely any furniture. She had no friends, no social life, and very little to show for all of it.
But that was who she was.
This time.
In the process, she lost who she actually was until she could get back to that woman. Sometimes in the midst of a job, she needed to be reminded that she was someone else, and she would be getting back to that person soon enough.
The hot rocks rolled over the lines of her shoulders once more, and Cozen couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped from her lax lips even if she tried. The masseuse even laughed lightly at the steady stream of soft air Cozen didn’t try to hide.
“Yeah, that’s … good,” Cozen settled on saying.
“The lavender oils help in the air, too.”