Colton disconnected the call. He stood motionless for several long and tense seconds. Brigit didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should she go to him? Should she give him space? And what was that conversation really about? That was the most bizarre call she’d ever heard. Wilson Montgomery didn’t even conduct himself with basic business etiquette.
“I have to leave.” Without looking at her, Colton blurted, “I’m losing control.” And with that, he strode out of his office.
As Brigit stared at the empty doorway, she shivered from the brusqueness of his frigid voice. Where was he going in that kind of hurry? The gym! Should she go after him or respect his privacy? The large wall clock in Colton’s office thundered in her ears as she contemplated what to do.
An agonizing minute passed. She needed to know he was okay and bolted. Pushing open the gym door, she glanced around the quiet room. It would be another hour before anyone started working out. Though she didn’t expect he’d be swimming, she checked the pool anyway. It was empty, as was the sauna.
Kitchen!
Elliott and Shane were cooking sliders and fries for happy hour. Red and Dez sat hunched over a document at the center island. Brigit stopped short. “Excuse me. Did Colton come in here?”
They looked at her and shook their heads. “No, dear,” Elliott replied.
He’s changing into gym clothes. She headed upstairs and raced toward Colton’s bedroom. The door was closed, so she knocked. No answer. She knocked louder, then peeked inside. “Colton, are you in here?”
He wasn’t, but light streamed from his walk-in. She ran in and stopped short, gasping for breath. The last and scariest mask—the white one outlined in ornate gold scroll, with the long, white nose and black-rimmed hat—was missing from its hook on the far closet wall.
Colton had driven all of ten minutes when he pulled the Mercedes onto a residential side street and slammed on the brakes.
“Dammit!” He tapped the gearshift into park. Why couldn’t he be like other men who took out their frustrations at the gym or drowned them in a bottle of booze? I’m not like other men.
Montgomery had gotten under his skin and he had to do something about it. Masked fucking at Burke’s Playroom would relieve his seething frustration.
Brigit had looked stunned. And what about the tiny seed, nestled safely inside her beautiful body? His child. But was it? The baby could be someone else’s. He knew nothing beyond what the background check had provided. Maybe she had a nasty habit of getting sloshed and inviting strangers into her home. No fucking way. That baby is mine.
Dusk bowed to nightfall. The street lamp illuminated the mask on the passenger seat. That thing was scary as hell. Alone, under the cloak of darkness, he could admit the truth. “I’m no role model for this child.”
Though born of evil, he didn’t need to perpetuate it. Time to man the fuck up. Be a better father than his loser of a dad. Now was the time to make that break. Before it was too late. He punched up Ludovico Einaudi on his playlist and drove home.
He cut the engine at the circle, grabbed the mask, and followed the sound of buzzing happy hour chatter into the kitchen. “Excuse me,” he called.
All eyes shifted to him. “Where’s Brigit?”
“Thought she was with you,” Chad said.
“She’s not?” Taylor asked.
Had Brigit followed him again? Colton bolted from the room and up the staircase. Maybe she was napping. He knocked on her bedroom door. No answer. When he opened it, her bedside lamp shone on her bed empty. The bathroom light was off. He left her bedroom, closing the door behind him.
At the end of the hallway, his bedroom door was wide open. He’d closed it. He always closed it. As he ran inside, light from his closet spilled into the darkened room. Brigit was curled in a ball on his closet floor.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”
Sniffling, she turned toward him. Her eyes and nose were red. He dropped to his knees in front of her. Panic churned in his gut. Was it the baby? “Are you hurt? Jesus, what’s wrong?”
Propping herself onto her elbow, her eyes drifted to the mask in his hand. “Did you?”
He searched her tear-streaked face. “Did I what?”
“Did you fuck some random woman in that mask?”
42
His Erotic Needs
Who did Brigit think she was, demanding that kind of information? Colton answered to no one. His chest tightened from his callous thoughts. Stop being fucking selfish.
She eyed the mask like it was the bogeyman, and the need to take away her pain pounded through him. “No.” Colton gently wiped her tears. “I never went to the party. Couldn’t do it.”
The sorrow in her eyes faded, replaced by a flicker of hope. She rose on her knees and faced him. “I shouldn’t care,” she murmured.
“No, you shouldn’t.”
But now I know you do. And so do I. “I don’t deserve it,” he bit out.
She lifted the mask, still in his hands. In a millisecond, her expression turned dark, her green eyes bled black with unrelenting passion. “Put this on and fuck me.”
He’d seen that look before. Why would she want this? He was damaged goods, but her soul was pure. He would never tarnish her in this way. “No.”
She stood and pointed to the black mask he’d worn at the Halloween party. “Then use that one.” Her voice sounded husky and breathy. Sexy. Needy even.
His dick grew firm while his heart hammered against his chest.
She turned back toward him. “Is my mask still on the bench?”
It was. He’d assumed she didn’t want it or had forgotten it was there. Maybe she’d left it for this moment. Didn’t fucking matter the reason. She wasn’t going to get her way. Not this time.
“Do you need to watch others screw while you fuck me? Is that how you work through your anger or frustration?” She stepped close and placed her soft hands on either side of his face. “Help me understand.”
“I never invited you into my world.” Staring into her fiery eyes wasn’t helping. He caught her beautiful scent, the sweet aroma luring him closer. “This isn’t what you think it is.”
Her lips parted. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him, hard. He squeezed her tiny waist and grabbed a handful of her thick mane, pulled her head back and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Her sexy, throaty moan made his cock throb.
Abruptly, she jerked away. “Take me, Colton. Fuck me. I need this. Do it for me.”
Panting, he stared into her eyes. Why would she want this? “I don’t kiss them. There’s no tender touching. It’s not romantic. It’s hard fucking and meaningless screwing. Is that what you want?”
“I want you more than my next breath.”
He locked his bedroom door and grabbed the condoms from his drawer. Until she told him her baby news, he’d wear the damn rubber. On the way, he scooped up her mask and bolted back into the closet to find her waiting in a black and fuchsia bra, matching thong, and black stilettos.
Fucking nirvana. Hell, he didn’t deserve this sexy angel. Her cascading hair rested softly on the swell of her breasts. She gripped her hips, the steamy look in her eyes concealing any fear she might have.
Yes, his needs were extreme and bizarre, but he’d never hurt her. He’d never hurt any woman. Difference was, all the women from his world wanted to be fucked by a masked man. They sought him out. They knew the rules and abided by them.
She took her mask, placed it to her face and turned. Once he’d tied the ribbon, he kissed her shoulder. With her mask in place, she faced him.
His breath came fast. His needs front and center. Seeing her like that made his balls ache. She looked incredible. He gritted his teeth because he wanted to fuck her, hard. Slam into her and take her with everything he had. He lifted the black mask from the hook, placed it over his eyes and tied it. Seconds later he stood naked before her.
She ran her nails down his chest and wrapped a firm hand around his cock. “Mmm, you are so fuc
king hot.”
His balls tightened.
“Do they suck you?” Her breath was coming fast.
“No. I only fuck.”
“But blow jobs happen at these sex parties?”
“Yes.”
Kneeling, she lapped his head and took him into her mouth. And she sucked, hard. In and out, again and again. Unleashing her own aggression and unrelenting ferocity stole his breath. On a guttural groan, she fondled his balls and pumped his shaft with her other hand. And she sucked him like she wanted him to come ten minutes ago.
She felt so good, too good. He grabbed the clothing rack for support and placed his hand on her head to caress her silky hair. And then he looked down. She was deep-throating him, her head bobbing at a frenetic pace. He bit out a low growl.
So. Fucking. Good.
Her husky groan, paired with the way she rolled her teeth over his head and gobbled him up while massing his balls, sent him careening over the edge. The orgasm shot out of him. He couldn’t even warn her or pull out. Moaning, she slowed down, then pulled off. She lifted her face toward him, her mouth glistening with his juices, her breath coming hard and fast.
He stared at her for several long seconds.
“You taste good.”
Fucking hell, she’s amazing.
“First, I’m going to finger-fuck you,” he rasped. “Then, I’m going to fuck you, hard.”
“God, yes.” She unhooked her bra and tossed it on the floor.
In one quick tug, he ripped her thong off. Latching onto her erect nipple, he sucked and bit one, then the other—red nibs that plumped from his rough touch.
“Harder.” She raised her arms and arched her back, offering him her sublime body.
Kneeling, he placed his hands on her breasts and while fondling them, pressed his mouth to her torso. “Lie down.”
She did as he commanded, bent her knees and spread them wide. “Please, I’m going to explode.”
He moved between her legs and with his gaze pinned on hers, slipped two fingers inside her dripping core. She threw her head back and whimpered. A charge shot through his body, the energy landing between his legs. His dick stirred. He wanted to drive himself inside her until she couldn’t remember her own fucking name.
He withdrew, ran his fingers over her clit and plunged inside. Again and again. Her eyes, framed by the mask, rolled back in her head. Bucking her hips, she whimpered and threw her head from side to side. Her hands tightened into fists.
Watching her, he started hardening. Her movements changed to short, jerky thrusts and she arched off the closet floor and came, crying out his name.
Hearing her say his name, he grew rock hard. Boneless, her tightened muscles relaxed. He withdrew his wet fingers and rubbed them over her nipples.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. “That was so…fucking erotic,” she said between gasps.
She stroked his erection until it seeped, then ran her tongue over his head. He needed to be inside her when he came. He tore open a packet and sheathed himself.
Rolling onto her hands and knees, she dropped onto her forearms. He caressed her soft ass, then slipped two fingers inside her dripping core. She was more than ready for him and he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside her heat.
She craned her head around. Seeing her masked triggered his dark need. Taking himself in hand, he tunneled inside her. They cried out, the pleasure stealing their thoughts. “Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he bit out.
“Take me until I have nothing left to give you.”
Pumping faster, he arched over her and fondled her breasts.
“Pinch my nipples.” She rocked against his thrusts. “Deeper, harder.”
He gritted his teeth as the orgasm took hold. “Ah, so fucking good.” Thrusting deep, pounding waves of ecstasy rocketed through him as he came inside her.
After a moment, when his brain had kicked back on, he slowly pulled out and dotted her back with soft kisses. Rising on her knees, she turned and faced him.
He stared into her bright eyes, framed by the mask, for any signs of her sadness that had ripped his insides apart. With her hands hoisted on her hips, his Brigit stared back. The fiery gleam in her eyes confirmed he’d done right by her. He took her face in his hands and dropped a kiss on her mouth. She intensified the kiss until they were both breathless again.
“I like your masked world and hard fucking,” she murmured. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever done.”
He’d never had masked sex with someone he cared about, and when he pulled her into his arms and hugged her, he knew no other woman would ever measure up.
43
From Bad to Worse
The Mitus business team spent the entire weekend in one long strategy session via video chat with Francesco’s team, led by Marjorie.
MobiCom’s public offer to buy Francesco stock held at eight percent despite the recent increase in share price. This devious move had forced Francesco to schedule a special stockholder meeting in mid-December. By a simple vote, shareholders would decide the fate of Brigit’s company and her possible future with Francesco. If stakeholders didn’t understand the ramifications of Crockett’s revolutionary invention, or if they wanted to cash in and make the eight percentage points over market share, MobiCom would win. It was that easy for things to go horribly wrong.
Over the weekend, each hostile takeover prevention strategy was white-boarded and analyzed in minute detail. One such shark repellent tactic in particular caught Brigit’s attention: White Knight—an investor acquires a publicly traded company to protect it from a hostile takeover.
Could Colton stop MobiCom’s hostile takeover by taking Francesco private? By doing so, he’d buy her out of her vested shares and own the Francesco Company…again. Her gut had churned for the past three days.
Come late afternoon on Monday, the only thing the group could agree on was to disagree. They’d reached a stalemate. With Thanksgiving three days away, they needed to resolve the problem before the long holiday weekend. Time was running out.
Colton’s phone rang and he glanced at the Francesco crew on screen. “Excuse me.” He answered. “Hey, I’m in a meeting. Can I call you later?” As he listened, he clenched his cheek muscles. “Don’t cry. I’m right here.”
Side conversations ceased. Even the Francesco team shifted their attention to Colton.
“I’ll pack a bag and be ready. No worries.” Colton listened, then hung up.
His eyes were laced with concern. With a tight nod, he acknowledged his employees then shifted his attention to the Francesco team via the large monitor on his conference room table. “Terrible timing, but I have to go. We’ve got to agree on a strategy and present a united front. If MobiCom gets wind we’ve reached an impasse, they’ll annihilate us. Let’s vote tomorrow on which tactic will best stop their hostile takeover. Marjorie, can you handle that?”
“I’ve got it,” she replied.
Colton strode out without even a backward glance at Brigit. He’d abandoned their strategy session for a woman. From the soothing timbre of his voice, who else could it be? Colton wasn’t hers, but her aching heart felt otherwise.
“We’ve been going in circles for hours,” Marjorie said. “Before we call it a day, any questions?”
“My brain is mush,” Red mumbled.
“Okay team, get some rest and we’ll vote tomorrow.” Marjorie disconnected and the monitor went black.
“I’m going to work out.” Red shut her laptop.
Dez removed his glasses and stood. “Brigit, I need to know if Colton can swing the White Knight. Do you have a recent overview of Mitus financials I can review?”
“I do.” Brigit jogged into her office, retrieved a folder from her desk and handed it to Dez who’d strolled into her office.
“Knowing Colton, he’ll need convincing to make the purchase.”
“Why?” she asked.
“If he does this, the lion’s share of his finances will be tied up
in this one investment. That strategy failed him years ago and he vowed he’d never do it again.”
“I don’t think he’ll have a choice,” Brigit said.
“Thanks for this.” Dez held up the folder and left.
Alone in her office, Brigit struggled with the reality of her situation. After all these years, she’d come so far only to fail her parents again. Losing Francesco was inevitable.
And who was the mysterious damsel in distress responsible for Colton’s abrupt departure at such a critical time? Was Brigit fooling herself into believing that what she and Colton had was more than a casual hookup? Maybe she should have heeded Vanessa’s warning. Unable to distract herself with work, she shut down. Time for a drink. Wine would help blur her reality, if just for a few hours. She ventured toward the kitchen.
As she rounded the corner, a blast of cold air smacked her face. The front door was ajar. Fear punched her gut and she whirled around. The foyer and living room were empty. Calm down. Vinny Ray is in prison and his accomplice long gone.
She started to close the door, but froze mid-swing. Colton placed his overnight bag into the trunk of a white sedan parked at the fountain. Alexandra Reed exited the driver’s side and hurried into Colton’s waiting arms. Nose to nose, the two spoke briefly. He kissed her forehead, escorted her to the passenger door and waited while she folded onto the seat and pulled her long legs inside.
Stabbing pain in Brigit’s chest crushed her lungs. She could barely breathe. Stop watching. But she couldn’t tear herself away from the unfolding scene. Colton got behind the wheel. The car rolled down the driveway and vanished around the bend. Brigit stood there mouth agape, feet cemented in place.
Her cell phone buzzed, snapping her out of her catatonic state. The Pennsylvania District Attorney’s number flashed on her screen. Why are they calling again? She felt numb, but she had to take the call. Sucking in a monster breath, she answered. “Hello.” Brigit stepped outside and closed the front door for privacy.
“Eve, Jim Sausalito. My apologies for not getting back to you sooner. I had an unexpected death in my family.”
THE MITUS TOUCH: Book One of The Touch Series Page 25