by Becca Steele
“I think we should get the others involved. The boys and Winter. It’s not safe for you to be going off on your own, and if there’s anything that the situation with Christine taught me, it’s that we’re stronger together than apart.”
At her hesitant nod, I smiled, and then my face fell. “Fuck. Cass.”
She sighed against me. “I know. We spoke after Winter had left to find you, the night you’d gone to the hotel, and he was…I’d never seen him so cut up. Let’s just say that the overprotective older-brother routine is about to get a whole lot worse, especially now he’s going to find out the details of what I’ve been investigating.”
“Yeah, that, but I also meant you and me.” I forced the words from my mouth, hating them even as I said them, which just proved to me how into this girl I really was. “I think it’s better if we put this on the back burner for now, until he’s had time to deal with everything else.”
“No.” Her gorgeous mouth set in a stubborn pout. “Not happening.”
“Fuck, you’re stubborn.” Shaking my head at her, I couldn’t help the wry grin that stretched over my lips.
“Get used to it.” Gone was the soft, vulnerable side that she’d shown me earlier, and in its place was the strong, fearless woman that I knew and liked. A lot. And I liked her even more now that she’d shown me her vulnerable side, shared a part of herself that she never showed to the world. Only her closest friends and family knew about it. The fact that she’d allowed Winter and Cassius to tell Caiden and Zayde what had happened to her, and the fact she’d told me herself, proved how much she saw us as worthy of her trust. She’d been slowly working her way into our group, and I just hoped she was here to stay.
Wait. What? Here to stay? Pushing down that thought, because there was no way I was thinking of the future right now, I reminded myself that I needed to take things one day at a time.
“Okay,” I said, because apparently she had me wrapped around her finger already. Was I ready to give her up, now I’d admitted that I liked her, now I’d had a taste?
The answer to that was a solid fuck, no. “We’ll take it slow, and nothing in front of the others yet, alright?” There was going to be enough pressure as it was without having whatever was starting to happen between us be under a microscope. And as much as I loved my best mate, I knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself interfering.
“Deal.” Then she fucking shook my hand, making me laugh. After a second’s hesitation, she laughed, too.
“That was lame, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
She jabbed me in the ribs, and instead of retaliating, I pulled her into my lap, gripped the back of her neck, and slanted my mouth over hers.
Much, much later, I lifted her off me and stood, adjusting my dick, a move Lena didn’t miss.
“Need some help with that?” Her tone was sultry, but I could see the flash of uncertainty in her eyes.
“Nah, I’m good. Just the effect you have on me.” Giving her a cheeky wink, which resulted in an almost shy smile from her, I attempted to think of anything to deflate my hard-on. Taking it slow was going to be torture, when I was used to the opposite. But Lena wasn’t just a quick fuck. So… “Wanna get it over with? Tell the others about the dog fighting now? Then go through the evidence we both have and see if we can find anything that matches up?”
“I guess so.”
“No need to sound so happy about it. Come on, follow me back?”
“Alright.”
TWENTY-ONE
Although it was a detour, we drove back to my house first so I could grab an overnight bag and my laptop. Leaving my car behind, I slid into the passenger seat of Weston’s DBS, letting the scent of leather and new car surround me. As Weston drove, I couldn’t help noticing the way he kept sneaking sidewards glances at me. Every time he did it, my heart skipped a beat. This still didn’t seem real, that he was actually into me. How was it possible?
When we arrived back at the house that he shared with the rest of the Four and Winter, there were no cars outside.
“I thought everyone would be home,” Weston commented as he unlocked the front door. Stepping back to direct me inside, he continued talking. “This is good, actually. We can go through our evidence before they get back. Wanna drop your bag upstairs and meet me in the computer room?”
After dumping my bag in the guest room, I changed into a baggy black hoodie that almost came to my knees, fleece-lined and more like a blanket than a hoodie. Leaving my legs bare other than my fluffy socks, I padded back downstairs to Weston.
He was already at work, inputting lines of code that were scrolling across the screen and navigating to our secure server. When I entered the room, he didn’t even look up, too intent on what he was doing.
Yep, I knew that feeling. When I was engrossed in my work, the outside world stopped existing for me. Instead of disturbing him, I locked the door behind me, then pulled up a chair and set up my laptop on his desk, plugging it in to one of the giant monitors so that we’d have a better view.
“Here.” He finally spoke after we’d been pulling information in silence for around twenty minutes. “Come and look at this.”
Sliding out of my chair, I went and stood next to his, peering closely at the screen.
“See…here.” Without warning, he tugged me down onto his lap and banded his arm around me.
I was suddenly so aware of him. His body at my back, the way he held me firmly in place, his warm breath hitting my ear as he leaned his head over my shoulder to speak. As he moved his other hand, clicking the mouse and highlighting the phone records of Martin Smith on the screen, it took everything I had to concentrate on what he was telling me.
“What am I looking at?” Oh, bloody hell. The rasp in my voice betrayed me, and I shifted in his lap. Since our bodies were pressed together so closely, I didn’t miss his sharp intake of breath or the growing hardness I felt beneath me.
“This text thread here,” he said in a rough, low tone, moving his hand from around my waist and down onto my thigh, on top of the thick fabric of my hoodie. He left it there, unmoving, until I relaxed back against him. “See? This message is most likely coded, but it could refer to the dog purchases.”
As he spoke, he began to run his fingers up and down my thigh in light, teasing touches.
I. Was. On. Fire.
My thighs clenched. As his fingertips closed around the bottom of my hoodie, I moved my legs wider in a silent invitation, the ache between my legs undeniable. I’d been in love with this boy for so long, but the desperate craving for his touch… This? This was new.
His lips touched my ear as he spoke softly. “This message is dated from the week before you saw the two guys meet.” He dragged the fabric of my hoodie slowly up, all the way to the top of my thighs. My heart was racing, my breath stuttering as he unclasped his fingers from the fabric and laid them on my bare leg. “I don’t know who the recipient is, but read the message.”
How? What? My brain was overloaded, all my senses directed towards the sensation of his hand trailing up my thigh.
“The message?” He laughed softly, amused at my lack of attention.
“How…can…you…expect me to concentrate?” My head fell back against his shoulder.
“I fucking love how responsive you are.” His teeth nipped at my earlobe. Then, “If there’s anything you feel uncomfortable with, tell me, and I’ll stop straight away.”
Warmth flowed through me at his words, because I knew he meant them. I trusted him, and for that reason, my reply easily fell from my lips.
“Don’t stop.”
“I won’t, if you concentrate. What do you notice about this message?”
Dammit! Why was he torturing me this way?
His fingers paused, touching the band of my underwear with the barest pressure. An involuntary whimper tore from my throat. “Stop fucking teasing me,” I whispered.
“Read the message, Lena.”
With an eff
ort, I focused my attention on the screen. The words swam together, and I blinked, then blinked again, gathering the shreds of my self-control so I could focus.
Martin: 3 parcels, prepaid. Post them at the usual place. Thom is expecting them.
“Um.” I licked my lips. “Parcels must refer to the dogs?”
“Good.” His voice dropped, and he dragged one finger over my clit, down my slit, and back up again.
“Oh, fuck.” My hips involuntarily arched forwards. How the fuck was I meant to survive Weston Cavendish? He was incinerating me and he’d barely even touched me. I had no idea it could be like this. No idea he’d be like this.
“So…” he continued, his finger slipping under the fabric, making direct contact with my skin. “Do you think this refers to the meeting you intercepted?”
“Yes,” I moaned, moving my legs wider, not even recognising myself in this moment.
“This message, too.” Leaning forwards, he reached out and clicked the mouse, scrolling through the records to a highlighted conversation. At the same time he opened it, he pushed his index finger into me.
My whole body stiffened, warring with my mind.
“Breathe, baby. It’s me.” He pressed the softest kiss to the side of my throat and curled his finger inside me. His breathing grew heavier, the huskiness in his voice proving that I was affecting him. “You see how they mention parcels again? This one has a date.”
“Y-yes,” I managed to say, as his hand moved, stroking over my clit, while his finger moved in and out of me, sliding through my wetness.
“This number’s the same as the other one. I’ve run it through the system, but no hits. Probably a burner phone.” Another finger joined the first, making me gasp. His voice continued to rasp in my ear as he kept up his movements, increasing the pace bit by bit. “What do you think? Should we intercept the next meeting?”
“Y-Ahhhhh, fuck.” My pussy clamped around his finger as the orgasm hit me out of nowhere, blinding in its intensity.
The first orgasm I’d had that hadn’t been self-induced.
As I came back down, I was aware of the tiniest things. A small fly, perched on the corner of the computer monitor in front of me. The faint scent of lemon, slightly antiseptic, presumably from whatever cleaning products had been used in here. The soft slide of fabric as Weston withdrew from me and adjusted my clothes. Weston’s chest, rapidly rising and falling against my back.
Weston’s hard, hard cock, pressed against my ass.
All I wanted to do right then was to make him feel as good as he’d made me feel.
On shaky legs, I stood and turned to face him, letting myself collapse back against the desk. My gaze took him in, the way he watched me intently, his pupils more dilated than I’d ever seen before, and…fuck it. I bypassed the rest of him to zero in on the result of our…proximity. His hardness, straining against the material of his sweatpants.
My mouth watered. Sucking dick had never been high on my agenda. But now, it was right at the fucking top.
“Put your fingers in your mouth.”
He swallowed hard, his lids lowering to half-mast. “These ones?”
As he lifted the fingers that had just been inside of me, I nodded.
“Yes.”
Without taking his eyes from me, he slid them into his mouth.
“I need to suck your cock.” I could barely get the words out.
Hesitation entered his eyes. “Are you—”
“Don’t ask me if I’m sure.”
He must’ve recognised the steel in my tone, because he nodded once, then gripped his waistband, and lifting himself slightly, tugged down his sweatpants.
Oh. Fuck.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the sight of Weston’s cock. I hadn’t had personal experience, but I’d watched porn, and his long, thick hardness was mouth-watering, hotter than anything I’d ever seen.
Before I could allow myself to be intimidated, or worse, talk myself out of it, I sank to my knees and gripped the base. He hissed through his teeth, his cock jerking in my grip, but his hands remained at his sides, holding on to the sides of his chair tightly as he allowed me to take things at my own pace.
Leaning forwards, I kissed the top, my tongue automatically swiping across my lips, tasting his precum. I hummed in approval, then, still holding the base, licked around the tip with a long drag of my tongue.
“Lena.” His voice was guttural, and right then, I felt more powerful than I ever had before. To know that I was on my knees, yet he was the one falling apart…it was insane and addictive, and I wanted more.
“How do you like it?” I stared up at him from beneath my lashes. “Like this?” Channelling what I knew from porn and hoping it wasn’t all a lie, I lowered my head to encompass his thickness, sliding my free hand along his inner thighs and carefully cupping his balls.
“Fucking hell,” he mumbled, and I smiled. My jaw already ached, he was so fucking thick, but I craved his responses. Just to test things out, I flicked my tongue across the underside of the head as I sucked him down again, and I was rewarded with a heavy groan and his hands white-knuckling the sides of his chair as he fought to remain still while I worked him over. The textures, the sensations, and the flavour of him overwhelmed me, and I wanted more. More of him.
“Lena.” His hands were in my hair, tugging my head upwards, and almost as soon as I released him, his hand went to his cock, right above where mine still gripped him, and he came, hard and fast, his cum painting my hoodie and the floor.
When he’d recovered, he looked at the mess he’d made and winced. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.” Rocking back on my heels, I smiled up at him, satisfied. “By the way? If the computer thing doesn’t work out, you could consider a career in porn.”
He stared at me for a moment, and then a huge grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. You could take someone’s eye out with that thing.”
“It’s my weapon of mass destruction.”
Suddenly we were both laughing, and he was pulling me up and into his lap. “You’re a bad girl, Lena Drummond.”
“Me?” I raised a brow.
His lips skimmed over mine. “Fuck, yeah. And I love it.”
TWENTY-TWO
My back rested against a huge beanbag, my laptop balanced on my outstretched legs as I pulled up the relevant screen. Rather than crowding into the computer room, or the spy room, as Winter called it, we’d assembled in the lounge, and my laptop was currently connected to the huge TV that hung on the wall. We hadn’t been able to collect a huge amount of data yet, but the fact that Martin Smith was connected to the dog fighting was exactly the breakthrough I needed. The fact was, all I’d had to go on up until now was my dad’s gut instinct, but maybe now we could pin something on him.
And it was all thanks to Lena. I glanced over at the sofa where she was curled up next to Winter with a mug of tea clasped in her hands. Her eyes met mine, and she quickly averted her gaze, staring into the cup of tea as if it was the most fascinating thing ever. Her cheeks flushed, and I bit back a smile at the effect I was having on her. Maybe I was completely dumb, but she said she’d been into me for years, and I’d had no idea. Not until recently.
Earlier had been…unplanned, but so fucking good. I had no clue what I was doing, but I was getting good at reading her, so I went with what I thought was right. Making her concentrate on the screen while I touched her—I wanted to stop her getting lost in her head, and she hadn’t had a chance to think about anything else other than that and the pleasure I was bringing her. Afterwards, when she’d sucked my cock, she’d completely taken me by surprise. I was willing to bet, based on the things she’d told me and implied, that she hadn’t sucked dick before, but fuuuuck. Her gorgeous eyes staring up at me, her movements that lacked finesse but were full of her usual confidence and so fucking good…yeah, we’d be doing that again. And again.<
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Fuck. I shuffled on the floor, glad that my laptop was hiding my growing boner.
“You alright, mate?”
I jumped at the sound of Cassius’ voice, and I knew that my cheeks were flaming red.
Yeah, mate, I’m fine. Just thinking about how your sister gives amazing head.
Divert! I said the first thing that came into my head. “What are we naming this? Operation BMSD?”
“Sounds like BDSM.”
“It’s Bring Martin Smith Down.”
He shook his head. “Nah. That’s shit, mate. What about Operation Canine? Since we’re trying to rescue dogs.”
“Sorry, are you five? What the fuck kind of name is that?” Caiden interrupted, and Cassius stuck his tongue out at him.
“Seriously? Why does it always end up with an argument about code names?” Winter muttered, but she couldn’t hide her amusement. Instead of carrying on what I knew would be a long conversation with no resolution, I changed the subject, turning back to Cassius.
“Does the name Martin Smith mean anything to you?”
His brow creased. “I’ve heard the name mentioned. He works at Alstone Holdings, right?”
“That’s right.” I pulled up the dossier I’d put together. Technically, all I was supposed to be doing in my role as Nitro was sift through his data and see if I could find anything incriminating, but that wasn’t enough for me. This was personal, involving my family and friends and the business we’d one day inherit.
I went through his information while everyone focused on the TV screen.
“Martin Smith. Age fifty-two. Divorced, no contact with his ex-wife that I can see, no kids. Lives alone. From what I can tell from his phone records, he doesn’t have any close friends, although it sounds like he meets up with the same few people weekly, either at Alstone Members Club or one of the local pubs. Nothing unusual, nothing that would throw up any flags.”
Lena slipped off the sofa and came to sit next to me on the floor, tugging my laptop off me. “Do you mind?”