Wicked Favor

by Sawyer Bennett

  "I have this whole chart with a colored graph I can show you," I quip, loving the way his eyes drop to my mouth as my lips purse up. "Even I get confused sometime."

  "I expect you and Jayce aren't very close then," Jerico murmurs. "I mean... he was only around you a few years. He would have been around five when your dad left, right?"

  When I shake my head, the cute smile slides from my face and Jerico notices. "When I say my dad left, I mean he left. Left Jayce behind too. He stayed with my mom because he didn't want to go back to his mom, and besides that, she couldn't be found. My mom raised him with Danielle and me, and I can tell you it was no picnic trying to house, feed, and clothe three children on what she made as a waitress."

  Jerico's eyes furrow again in confusion, but unless I'm crazy, I see a bit of hardness there too. Perhaps he finds it as distasteful as I do that a man leaves his children and never looks back.

  But then his gaze softens, and he pulls me in close. He drops my hand, his arms going around my waist. Mine go up to loop around his shoulders. We sort of sway back and forth with our bodies pressed tight. Jerico's green eyes focus on mine with an unusual warmth. Tilting his head down until his face is close to mine, he asks, "So how did a girl such as yourself wind up working in The Wicked Horse, letting me fuck you in front of others, and learning how to be sexually uninhibited like I bet you never thought you could ever be?"

  His words slither through me, leaving tingles in their wake. If Jerico wanted to drop me to the floor right now and take me, I'd let him. But the man asked a legitimate question that needs answered.

  "She ended up at The Wicked Horse because she needed help and didn't have a choice," I murmur as I thread my fingers through the back of his hair. His eyes flutter closed briefly and his head pushes against my hands like a cat demanding more. "But she ended up underneath you learning all kinds of wicked things because she wanted to. It's as simple as that."

  Jerico's eyes open. They're dark and glittery at the same time.

  His lips curve up and just before he kisses me, he says, "Good answer, Trista. Very good answer."

  CHAPTER 23

  Jerico

  "I don't care if you're having employee problems, Seth," I growl into the phone. "My business is based on two things. First, that people like to explore their sexuality in a safe environment, and second, that if they're a little anxious about doing so, they can have a couple of drinks to loosen up first. That can't fucking happen when the liquor I ordered from you doesn't show up."

  "I know, I know," Seth hastily says in a soothing tone. "I've pinpointed the problems to the loaders. They're not double checking. But I'm getting it fixed, I swear."

  "You better get it fixed and fast," I warn him. "This is Vegas, Seth. You're not the only distributor in town, you know?"

  "I got it," he says with relief in his voice that he hasn't been fired. "I'm sending over the missing boxes that weren't in the delivery and only charging you fifty percent for them."

  "I appreciate that," I say as my frustration starts to seep away. It's all these petty little problems of running a business that cause stress, and they can add up.

  While it's true Seth isn't the only game in town, I don't want to lose him as my distributor because he has a special service that the others don't do. He carries drink condiments so I don't have to order those from a separate distributor. Salt for margaritas, cherries for Manhattans, or limes for your vodka tonic, Seth carries all that shit, which cuts down on one extra thing I have to do.

  "I'll have my truck there midafternoon, will that work?" he asks.

  "Sounds good. Thanks, Seth."

  I disconnect the call and look down at my written to-do list. It's my habit every morning. I have a digital list on my computer which I look at but then I take the five most important things and write them down on paper. I have to accomplish the tasks before I can go to bed at night.

  It's a Sunday, but that doesn't mean I don't work. I run two businesses at this point, and while I have good help to manage both, I still have the lion's share of the work. Which means I work pretty much every day.

  Looking down at my list, I take my pen and cross through "Call Seth and chew his ass out."

  That was number six on the list--an add-on item after my head bartender called me freaked out after realizing half the delivery of liquor was missing. To put his mind at rest, I pick up the phone and buzz his station, giving him the good news that more alcohol was on its way. When that's done, I look at my watch and realize that it's only eleven and I have finished six of my top priorities.

  I do work hard, but I also have some days where I knock off early and can do something I enjoy. That could be a rip-roaring, raunchy fuck in the club, a round of golf, or even just sitting in my apartment watching ESPN. Only the last two of those things are viable today since Trista's spending her day with Corinne.

  There's only baseball or NASCAR on right now, neither of which I'm a huge fan of, so it appears I'm going golfing, which is something I really love to do. I pick up the phone to call the country club I belong to so I can find out available tee times, but I don't even get to dial when there's a soft knock on my door and it immediately opens. Only two people walk in here without waiting for my invitation--Kynan and Trista. It used to be only Kynan, but Trista's now on my allowed list. I happen to know Kynan's in D.C. this weekend so I know it's Trista before I even see her. A zinging jolt of electrical excitement courses through me.

  Now that is a weird fucking feeling.

  She pops her head in first and gives me a tentative smile. "You busy?"

  "Not at all," I tell her as I wave her in.

  She disappears for a moment, and then opens the door wider. I see she's carrying a large, plastic container that's dome shaped and has a handle on top. My eyes only flick to it briefly before coming back to her. She's much better to look at.

  Shutting the door behind her, she walks up to my desk with a goofy grin on her face and sets the plastic container in front of me. I look down at it, and then up to her. "What's that?"

  "Something I made for you this morning," she says, unlocking the tabs at the bottom. She lifts the dome top off, and I'm staring at a cake in front of me.

  Slowly, I look back up to her. "You made me a cake?"

  "Not just any cake," she says while wagging a finger at me. "A four-layer, homemade red velvet cake with whipped mascarpone icing."

  "Jesus," I mutter as I look at the cake, wondering what this weird squeezing sensation is in my chest. When I look back up to her, I have to ask her again, "You made that just for me?"

  "Just for you," she says with satisfaction all over her face. "You said it was your favorite, and I had some time this morning after pancakes."

  I push out of my chair and wave a hand at the cake. "You just happened to have all these ingredients, huh? You routinely use something as odd as mascarpone?"

  Her grin turns mischievous as she shrugs. "Well, I may have had to go to the grocery store for a few things."

  Jesus fuck. I can't believe she did that for me.

  My mind races over the years, and I can't remember anyone doing something so randomly nice for me. So spontaneous and with the sole intention of doing it to please me.

  Picking up the cake, I round the desk and head for the side door that connects to my kitchen. "Let's take this next door."

  I don't miss the disgruntled expression on Trista's face as she clearly expected me to act differently. I'm sure she was thinking I'd be a bit more effusive in my praise, and I intend to be.

  Just... in my apartment.

  She follows me through the door as I balance the cake on my hand. I immediately lay it down on my kitchen counter and spin around just as she's walking through the door, taking her face in my hands and walking right into her. My mouth hits hers. She gives a huff of surprise as I turn slightly and back her into the refrigerator. Angling my head, I kiss her deeply. It's possible because she angles hers the other way, opening her mouth to give me
entrance.

  Yes, it's a deep kiss, but it's not sexual. It's a show of unbridled happiness that makes me feel like a kid, or perhaps it's gratitude that Trista perhaps thinks this is something other than "just sex".

  When I pull away, Trista's cheeks are pink and she's slightly panting. She whispers breathlessly to me, "I should make you cake more often."

  The grin that breaks wide is my answer, followed by another swift kiss. Then I'm turning away from her and grabbing a fork out of my drawer. Without any pomp, and certainly no circumstance to wait for a plate, I punch my fork down into the top of the cake and pull a huge chunk out.

  "Oh, my God." Trista giggles as she comes to stand beside me at the counter. I angle toward her as I bring the fork to my lips, open my mouth wide, and shove the cake in. Cheeks bulging and the taste of rich cake and lightly sweet, tangy frosting coating my tongue, I groan in satisfaction. Our eyes stay locked as I chew and chew and chew, and finally swallow the heaven in my mouth. Trista's eyes are sparkling with humor and a bit of pride.

  "Good?" she asks.

  I give a swipe of my tongue over my bottom lip to catch some stray frosting there. "It's amazing. Thank you."

  She beams a brilliant smile as she sets the cake carrier on the counter and turns toward the door that leads back into my office. "You're welcome. Now... I've got to get going."

  "Wait," I say as I snag her arm and turn her back to me. "You just got here."

  "And my work is done," she says impishly, going to her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. "I'm meeting Mom and Corinne for lunch, and I've got to get going."

  Well, there goes all thought of spending my afternoon with Trista in bed rather than golfing.

  But I'd never begrudge her time with Jolene and Corinne. Their unity right now is extremely important. I do pull her into me and wrap my arms around her waist after throwing the fork into the sink. Trista's hands come to my chest as she looks up at me curiously.

  "Take the night off," I tell her softly and I have to admit, the way her eyes go warm makes me feel fucking really good. "Make it an entire day and night thing with Corinne, okay?"

  "Really?" she asks with sweetest type of surprise in her eyes.

  "Yeah," I murmur as I tighten my arms around her. "I'll keep myself occupied with the cake tonight."

  Her lips quirking, she gets a playful look in her eyes. "We could... um... FaceTime each other later."

  My eyebrows rise with interest, but I play a little stupid. "FaceTime?"

  "Naked. FaceTime." She annunciates each word slowly, and my dick perks up at this suggestion.

  And for a man who has done about every dirty thing imaginable, it hits me hard that this is something new. Something I've never done with another woman and now, I'm glad she's not coming so I can have something new and unique just with Trista.

  "What time might you be calling me?" I ask in a husky voice.

  "Be ready around eleven," she says, pressing into me. "Clothing is optional."

  "Wrong," I tell her with a shake of my head. "Naked is mandatory."

  Trista giggles. It's a great sound. It's not girlish or immature. It's sweet and melodic, and while I like making her scream and cry out, I like making her giggle too.

  "Okay, I've really got to get going," she says with a smile, then gives me another quick kiss.

  With a hand behind her head, I ensure it's not quick, but one that's deep and meaningful. When I finally pull back, I rub my nose against hers. "Thank you again for the cake. It was the nicest thing anyone's done for me for as long as I can remember."

  Trista sort of jerks in my arms and leans her back to look at me. "Now that's just sad, Jerico."

  "Pitiful really," I agree with a pathetic downward turn of my lips.

  Patting me on the chest, Trista smirks. "I'll make you another cake."

  Yes, I'd like that a lot.

  I don't get to tell her that because she's pulling out of my arms. "I really have to go. When you're touching me, it makes it hard to remember that."

  Snickering, I make a playful grab at her, but she sidesteps me, blows me a quick kiss, and then disappears through the door back into my office. I follow, enjoying my view of her ass as she sashays out without a backward glance. Smiling, I walk to the door and lock it, intent on spending the afternoon in my apartment now, eating cake and watching TV. Not the most exciting of days, but I figure I'll spend part of my time thinking of interesting things I can show her while we FaceTime tonight.

  But first...

  I head to the built-ins, swing the Ansel Adams print away from the wall, and pull down on the lever that opens the safe. After I snatch the manila envelope out, I walk to my desk. Pulling my rolling chair back, I sit down and lean forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at the packet of lewd fuckery I hold in my hands. I'd even addressed it to Jayce, having easily found out where he lives due to my contacts through The Jameson Group.

  My revenge used to be very important to me, but I realize that the moment Trista showed me that cake, it's simply not anymore.

  I can't risk hurting Trista just to hurt her brother.

  Can't do it.

  She's more important than revenge.

  She makes me feel better than any retribution toward Jayce could ever do.

  I look at the gray box under my desk. It's my shred bin and it gets picked up once a month as I don't have a lot of paper documents that are confidential. Normally, there's a top on the box that locks but the slot to slide the papers in is really narrow which makes it hard to put a thick stack in there, so I took it off and God only knows where it is now. I'm not worried for the same reason I don't lock my safe. I've got a good security alarm and a lock on the door that's sufficient.

  I toss the envelope into the deep rectangular box without a single worry about the contents sitting there for a few days. No different than sitting in an unlocked safe, and I'm afraid I might forget and miss the shred pickup, which is at the end of the week. Then it will be destroyed forever.

  But starting this moment... I'm not thinking about it anymore. Not about the photos, or the fucking hot-as-hell video, or the fact I hate Jayce more than anything in this world except perhaps Michelle. I'm not thinking about any of that. I'm letting it go.

  I'm letting everything go.

  Except Trista.

  I'm not giving her up.

  CHAPTER 24

  Trista

  My phone chimes, alerting me to a text while I'm in the elevator on the way up to The Wicked Horse. I reach into my bag, pull it out, and smile when I see Jerico's text.

  You're relieved of hostess duty tonight. Your job is to keep me company. Meet me in The Social Room.

  Shaking my head in amusement, I slip my phone back in my purse just as the elevator doors open. My eyes go to Tamara, who's on hostess duty, and I give her a smile. She doesn't return it, so I lump her into the category of women who have had Jerico once before. I know I should be disgusted by the number of employees he's apparently fucked, but I can't really be. He was single and had no commitments to anyone but himself. He owns a freaking sex club where inhibitions are not allowed and sexual gratification is the name of the game. Why wouldn't he fuck these women?

  But he's not now and that makes me feel good. Doesn't mean he won't start doing that again soon because I've only got nine days left on my work contract with him. Of course, the thought of breaking ties with him doesn't set well with me. I know this started as just casual, impersonal sex, but neither of us can deny it has gradually turned into something more. We've opened up and shared with each other. Committed to monogamy, which wasn't hard for me, but was a first for Jerico in a long time. At least that's what he told me, but when I'd asked him to clarify what a long time meant, he redirected me with a hand between my legs. I forgot all about my question. In hindsight though, because he didn't want to talk about it, I'm guessing whatever it was wasn't pleasant at all.

  My eyes scan The Social Room. Jerico stands at the end of the bar, almost in t
he exact place he was the night I met him almost three weeks ago. His eyes are pinned on me and even from across the room, I can see the hunger in them. Hunger for only me, and that causes my entire being to ache for him.

  I walk his way, putting a little roll in my hips. I'm wearing another sexy black dress with high heels, the standard uniform for the hostess podium, but this one is strapless and hugs every inch of my body.

  But Jerico doesn't even bother giving me a critical scan. No, his eyes bore into mine and the closer I get to him, the more I'm sure I want him to just take me right to the floor and fuck me hard.

  Shaking my head to try to clear the lustful thoughts--nothing I can do about the wet panties--I put a smile on my face when I reach him. "Hey, gorgeous."

  "That's my line," he murmurs as he slides a hand behind my neck and pulls me into him for a kiss. It's nothing but a whisper... a soft sliding of his lips over mine before he pulls back. "Want a drink?"

  I cock an eyebrow at him. "That's two nights in a row you've given me off. How am I supposed to fulfill my contract if you won't let me work?"

  Jerico doesn't answer at first, but turns to the bartender and orders me a Manhattan, straight up. When he angles his body back my way, he says, "Last night and tonight count toward your contract."

  I sidle in closer to him, giving a tug on his silk tie of pale blue with gray diagonal stripes. "Why are you being so nice?"

  "You made me a cake," he says simply.

  With a husky laugh, I lean in closer to whisper, "I've also swallowed for you many times, and I'd think that would make you a lot nicer than cake."

  Jerico laughs, his eyes twinkling for a moment before turning dark.

  Potent.

  Intense.

  Sizzling.

  His hand comes up to cup my jaw, and his thumb runs over my bottom lip. "You going to let me fuck that mouth tonight?"

  "If you want," I respond hoarsely. Now my clit is pulsing.

  The bartender returns with my drink. Jerico takes it and hands it over. "What do you want to do tonight?"

  I take a sip--a large one to steady my nerves--and my hand drops from his tie down to his leather belt where I lay my fingertips lightly on the edge of it. "I want to try the stocks."