Hot Tycoons Boxset: A Contemporary Romance Boxset

by Emelia Blair

  “You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” Sarah tells me with a haughty sniff. “I don’t just let anybody haul me around like a sack of potatoes.”

  Laughing, I capture her pouting lips.

  I have never shared laughing kisses with someone. Sex and lust were always a dark intent with me. Show a woman a good time, take her out to a good restaurant, have wild, dirty sex in her apartment or a hotel, and leave the next day. My longest relationship has been a week, with a Victoria’s Secret model, whom I engaged in a conversation after her show. Even then, we spent most of our time in bed.

  With Sarah, I am discovering new aspects to a relationship every day. And I enjoy it. Over these past three days, I realized that I quite enjoy waking up to Sarah’s sleeping face. Watching her get dressed while I lay in bed makes me feel all these emotions that I have never been privy to. Cooking breakfast for her: all these small domesticated acts mean more to me when she is there.

  I know that our relationship is moving too fast, but I don’t mind. Deep inside, I know that I don’t plan on letting her escape from me.

  Sarah wraps her arms around my neck and bites my lower lip before sucking the hurt away. My eyes darken with lust at the gesture, and I slide my hands up to grip her hips.

  Her chest crushes to mine, I feel her nipples harden through her thin blouse, and my mouth waters. Pulling away, I immediately flick open the first few buttons and bend my head to bite one pebbled nipple through her deep red bra.

  She jerks. “Hey!” But then her voice trails off into a groan when I start sucking it with great enthusiasm, turning the cloth wet enough for the hardened pink nipple to show. Her hands thread through my hair, and I press my mouth on the round cups of her breasts, wanting to sink my teeth into them. Leaving a wet trail behind, I kiss her neck, making her tremble.

  She tips her head to give me better access, and her sigh is long drawn.

  I feel her hands on my waistcoat and blink when she moves them down to settle on my ass. “Are you groping the bartender?”

  Sarah chuckles, a low husky sound that goes straight to my cock. “I love your pants.”

  “What?” resuming my attention on her neck.

  She makes a delighted sound. “I never knew I was an ass person till I saw yours. Your pants fit you so perfectly that I could stare at your butt all day.”

  I pull away from her, choking on my laughter. “All right, you sexual deviant. Hands off my ass.”

  She gives me a wanton look that makes my blood stir hot. “Whenever you wear a waistcoat with your shirt sleeves rolled up to your elbows, it drives me crazy.”

  “I’ll wear it every day,” I swear to her as I discard the waistcoat on the floor, followed swiftly by my shirt.

  Feeling her hands on my hot skin makes me bite back a groan. She leans down to lick at my nipple, and my cock twitches. I am like a horny teenager right now, and I force myself under control as she caresses and licks my chest, her lips leaving behind her possessive brand on my skin.

  When her hands move lower and settle on the bulge in my pants, she looks up at me and then gives me a slow smile of anticipation before she neatly slides off the bar and goes straight to her knees, her hands making quick work of my zipper.

  “Sarah.” There is hesitance in my tone. “Are you sure?”

  She looks up at me and the sight of her on her knees, ready to suck my cock, makes me grit my teeth in an attempt to regain some control. “I don’t have any experience, but I want to try to make you feel what you did for me this morning.”

  Given that I ate her out for twenty minutes till she was begging me to just fuck her, I doubt I would last that long.

  She takes out my rock-hard cock and strokes it with her dainty hands, fascination in her face. Then her tongue reaches out and licks the head of it.

  She looks a little thoughtful and then darts her tongue out for another taste before she envelopes the bulbous head between her lips and sucks.

  I grit my teeth.

  I feel long wet strokes along the veins of my cock as she tries to adjust herself to the huge girth of it. Taking it into her mouth, she sucks on it like it is her favorite treat, making my mouth run dry. She paints my cock with her tongue, and I pump my hips a little, making her eyes widen.

  Looking down at her, on her knees, in her proper little cardigan and her breasts on display, a wave of lust flashed through me. My little school teacher, properly debauched.

  My hands go to her hair, and I weave my fingers into the silky strands, slowly fucking her mouth. Her hands come to rest on my muscled thighs as she lets me use her mouth to get off.

  “Relax your jaw,” I tell her, my voice harsh from strain.

  She does so immediately, giving me a trusting look.

  My hips move as I steadily fuck her mouth. I note the expression on her face and make a mental note that she enjoys me being a little rough during oral sex. I feel elated when I hit the back of her throat, my balls against her chin. My movements become harsher as I pump in and out of her pretty mouth, getting turned on by the drool escaping. Her eyes are dazed as I fuck her mouth and feel her hands fondle my balls and I am forced to pull out with a groan before I come.

  “Turn around,” I order, bringing her to her feet.

  Pushing her firmly onto the counter, front first, I pull up her skirt and tug down the matching red panties.

  One finger runs over her slit, and I lick the juices off of my finger. “Did you get turned on when sucking my cock?”

  When she just lets out a small moan, I part her legs until her glistening pink pussy is on display for me, and I can see the trail of her cum flowing down her leg. I massage her pale bottom before using one hand to deliver a resounding slap.

  “Fergus!” she cries out in stunned shock.

  I spank her other cheek and see the red color blooming. She shifts under my hand as I gently massage the bright color to soothe the hurt. Then, I use my fingers to flick her hardened clit, making her whimper out my name.

  A few more flicks have her in the throes of orgasm as she twitches while I hold her down.

  “Stop that,” she whispers hoarsely when I continue to play with the little nub, her tone begging.

  “Okay.” I give her an amiable smile, before thrusting two fingers deep inside her pussy. She shouts out my name, her hips pushing back to meet the thrusts of my hand, and I add another finger, pushing her into another orgasm with a weeping gasp.

  I ride out that orgasm with my fingers still pumping inside her, and then smirk at her groan of protest when I remove them.

  One hand on the small of her back, keeping her still, I bury myself inside her in one stroke. Her back arches but I force her down, keeping my strokes long and deep, making sure to hit all the right places.

  I am already so wound up that I have to grit my teeth to hold on to my sanity as I plow her wet pussy with a slow determination that culminates in her pleas. She sobs, her hands holding on to the edge of the counter.

  However, I am at my limit, and I increase my speed, my hips moving quickly in short and fast movements, drawing out her last orgasm, and as soon as she comes, I follow seconds later.

  Her breath is short as I turn her around, her eyes completely dazed. She takes one step, her feet unsteady, and then stumbles into me.

  “I think you screwed my brains out,” she mumbles to me, trying to regain her senses, and I wish I had the strength to tell her it runs both ways.

  12

  Sarah

  I stare at my phone and let out a heavy sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” Fergus’s beloved Irish accent reaches my ears.

  He is preparing some guacamole for a dip, and I spy the beginnings of a blueberry cheesecake.

  “Wrong question to ask a woman,” comes Zayn’s bored voice from where he lays sprawled on the sofa, wearing a maroon T-shirt and jeans, watching the rerun of a football game.

  It has been three weeks since Zayn shared the information he acquired. I could sense the frustra
tion from him on hitting dead ends on finding the identity of the leader of the Street Serpents.

  Ian managed to identify one of the people on the camera feed, and he asked Agatha to use her police connections to track down the man’s records. We are still waiting on them.

  Hearing Zayn curse at the screen, I eye Fergus. “Why is he here again?”

  Fergus grins. “Because Agatha wouldn’t play with him.”

  “Play with him?” I echo, confused.

  “They hang out on Sundays and watch whichever game is on, or binge watch something on Netflix. She told him she had plans today, so he turned up here.”

  “I don’t get it. I thought Zayn hated Agatha,” I say, slowly.

  “I don’t hate the stupid idiot.” Zayn turns his head from across the room to glare at us. “And if you two want to talk about someone in the same room, at least try to lower your goddamn voice.”

  “Language, asshole,” Fergus says, mildly.

  Zayn flips him his middle finger before returning his attention to the game.

  “As you can see, he clearly misses her.”

  I pop a blueberry in my mouth. “But they’re always fighting.”

  Fergus slices the tomatoes neatly. “It’s how they show affection for each other. It took us a few years to get used to the two of them. Now, what’s wrong with you? Are you waiting for a call from someone?”

  I put my face in my hands as I rest my elbows on the marble island counter that dominates the large kitchen area. “Seth’s insisting that I come to stay with him rather than live in a stranger’s house who can take advantage of me at any minute.”

  Fergus purses his lips. “If I recall correctly, you were the one taking advantage of me last night.”

  I grin, remembering the silk scarves. “Each day with you is an adventure. I learn some new kink about myself.”

  Fergus shakes his head, ruefully. “When we met, I thought you were a sweet and innocent school teacher. All my dreams, shattered.”

  “You corrupted me.” I pop another blueberry in my mouth and then stick out my tongue at him to show the purplish color.

  He chuckles. “Yes, I did. Very thoroughly.”

  “But,” I speak slowly, with a little hesitance. “I don’t think I would ever be this comfortable with another man, not when it comes to this aspect of the relationship.”

  When his eyes turn dangerously calm, I continue, hastily, “I mean that for some reason, you make it easy for me to explore our bedroom life, for lack of a better word. I don’t think it would have come so naturally with somebody else.”

  His knife slices the tomatoes in a sharp movement, and I wince at his silky voice, with undertones of danger. “It’s cute that you think I would ever let another man lay his hands on you, A ghrá.”

  His lilting Irish accent turns thick with arrogance. “What exactly does that mean?”

  Fergus grins at me. “Just a pet name.”

  “He’s lying to you, Sarah. Don’t buy into his deceit. That’s a deal-breaker,” Zayn called from his position on the sofa. “Page forty-five of Cosmo, January issue.”

  “You read Cosmo?” I ask, bewildered. The man has a lethal and deadly vibe about him. I find it hard to see him tucked in a corner, reading that rag.

  “Agatha left behind a copy in my bathroom. I was bored,” Zayn says, casually.

  “I put some chips in front of you so that you could stuff your face and shut up,” Fergus comments.

  Zayn gives him a calculating look. “Give me some guacamole and I will.”

  As I walk over with the guacamole, he tells Fergus, “Philip called last night. Charlotte caught a stomach bug. He’s losing his shit. It’s pretty funny.”

  Fergus is about to say something when my phone vibrates, and he picks up. “Hello, Sarah’s phone.”

  I wonder why he answered until I realize who it is on the other end.

  “I’m sorry, Seth. Sarah is otherwise occupied at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

  When Zayn gives me a questioning look, I shrug awkwardly. “An old friend of mine who’s being a little annoying.”

  Fergus smiles into the phone. “What I do to Sarah is our private business. I hardly see why you feel you have the right to tell her how to lead her life. You’re not her boyfriend.”

  I roll my eyes, whispering, “Stop it.”

  I know Seth can be a little overbearing and controlling at times, but he is a good person. I don’t want to see him getting upset.

  Fergus raises a hand, stopping me. “Really? That’s quite bold of you to assume. Let me assure you; I plan to see to all of Sarah’s needs quite thoroughly.”

  I snatch the phone from him, growling, “I’ll call you back, Seth!”

  And then promptly proceed to end the call.

  “That wasn’t very nice.” I scowl at Fergus.

  Fergus frowns at me. “No matter what he did for you, that man has no right to try to control your life.”

  I rub my temples in frustration. “Look, I have a complicated history with him. He’s always been looking out for me, and it’s taking him some time to realize that I no longer need his help. He’s like an older brother to me, Fergus. He means well.”

  Fergus tilts his head. “I don’t think he feels the same way you do about your relationship.”

  Hearing the front door open, I look over to see Agatha and Ian walk in.

  “Did we miss the party?” Agatha asks, stealing some of the chips from Zayn’s bowl and munching on them.

  “There is no party,” Fergus tells her. “Zayn’s been here since the noon. I think he plans to eat me out of food and home.”

  “We ordered pizzas,” Ian announces and sits down next to Zayn. “What’re you watching?”

  “Reruns.” Zayn studies him. “What’s that on your shirt?”

  Ian shrugs. “I picked Agatha up from her luncheon and then we got ice cream.”

  “Since when are you her chauffeur?” Zayn asks.

  Agatha sits down on the armchair adjacent to the sofa and settles her black stocking-clad legs on Ian’s lap. “Since I knew you would eat my ear off if I asked, and Fergus would offer to get me an Uber rather than drive down for me.”

  “She’s just using you for your car,” Zayn tells his friend. “You’re worth more than that.”

  I turn my attention away from them, my heart a bit heavy. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

  Fergus straightens. “At this hour? It’s dark outside.”

  “It’s six in the evening,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”

  I don’t give him a chance to respond and quickly grab my wallet and phone and shrug on my jacket. As I close the door behind me, I hear Ian ask, “What did you do to piss her off?”

  I don't want to hear his response, so I step into the elevator.

  It isn’t entirely dark outside for mid-November. There are some streaks of orange and pink in the sky, and I feel a little glad that today there is a stretch of sunlight; the air is less biting.

  As I walk, I see a bus rolling down the street. I wait for it to stop and hop on. Seth’s place is far from here, but I want to talk to him. Maybe it is time I come clean to him about what happened, about Bryan.

  I imagine several scenarios of how to tell him, but in my mind, all of them end badly. Sighing, by the time I get off at the last stop, I have to force myself to stop overthinking this. Fergus is slowly starting to become very important to me. I am finding it harder and harder to imagine my life without him.

  It is important to me that both Seth and Fergus get along.

  As I walk to Seth’s house, I pass the community center, and hearing a familiar gravelly voice, my blood freezes.

  That is Roy!

  Looking up, I see him leaning against a red car, talking to a young teenager. The boy looks terrified of him but is rapidly nodding his head.

  I quickly duck, hiding behind the small staircase. I can't hear them very clearly, but I can make out some words. H
owever, I don't get a chance to hear much because another man walks up to Roy.

  Roy tells the kid to scram, and I can see the relieved look on the boy’s face.

  It is difficult to make out what either of them is saying, and I just resign myself to wait here until they leave when I hear Bryan’s name.

  “He’s pissed, isn’t he?” the man asks Roy.

  Roy’s eyes are cold. “He’s gone to see Bryan; maybe take out some of his anger on him.”

  The other man winces. “Oh, man. Sucks to be him.” Then, as an afterthought, “You want to help me haul the chair back to the warehouse? He wants the chair there when he arrives.”

  He and Roy leave, and I stare after them, blood thundering in my ears.

  They know where Bryan is.

  And they are on their way to see him!

  My eyes fall on the red car. The lock to the trunk is detached.

  I stare at it for a few seconds, my heart ricocheting against my chest.

  This is a stupid idea, I tell myself, but if I simply follow them, they will most probably lead me directly to Bryan.

  Heart pounding, I try to ignore Fergus’s voice in my head, warning me not to do anything reckless. Taking a look down the street to make sure there is nobody there, I rush to the car.

  It is quite dark by now, so even if somebody is out, they wouldn’t be able to make me out. Climbing into the trunk, I push myself to the very back and cover my form with a large sack, putting some of the car tools in front of me to disguise my form. I leave a small space so that I can see through it.

  I moved just in time, because I hear somebody opening the door and throwing in something heavy. Then, a disgusted sound. “Man, I need to do something about this trunk.”

  “Get Jack to take a look at it,” Roy’s companion suggests. “He won’t even charge you.”

  Soon after, I hear the car start.

  Fear settles in my gut. I take out my phone and turn it on silent. Knowing how much trouble I would get into, I send a quick text to Fergus, telling him what is happening.

  I don't get a response, and I realize his phone is charging in his bedroom. Cursing, I send him a message telling him to track me through my GPS.