by Laura Lee
Fuck no, it doesn’t.
“Let me ask you this. Do you like being with me?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Like, like you, like you?”
I give her a wry look. “What are we? Twelve? Do you have any feelings for me that go beyond friendship or physical attraction? Could you see yourself being in a relationship with me exclusively?”
Christ, whoever thought I’d be on this end of a conversation like this?
“Yes, but—”
I press my index finger to her lips. “Then we’ll figure out the rest.”
Her eyebrows scrunch together. “How?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But if not having you is the alternative, I’ll think of something.”
Jazz combs her fingers lightly through my hair, and I swear, I almost purr like a goddamn kitten.
I gently grab her newly bared wrist and place a kiss on the pulse point. “Where’s your splint?”
“Took it off.” Jazz shrugs. “Thank you for what you did down there.”
I lift a brow. “You’re thanking me for beating the shit out of someone?”
She gives me a soft smile. “Not necessarily...but I am thanking you for defending me. For righting a wrong.”
I slide Jazz's dress strap off her shoulder and place a kiss on her bare skin. "I'll keep doing it if you'll let me."
Jazz’s breath hitches as I pull her into me, sliding the other strap down. “Do you think he’ll be arrested? And if so, will the charges stick? I don’t want someone else to get hurt.”
“Don’t know,” I murmur against the skin below her collarbone. “But if not, I’m sure as fuck going to make sure he knows we’re watching him.”
Jazz moans as I push the dress down further and glide my tongue over her subtle cleavage. “Kingston, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping you get out of these clothes so we can get cleaned up. Don’t worry; you’re not the only one getting naked.” I toe my shoes off and step out of my pants to demonstrate.
She doesn’t protest one bit as I slide the flimsy red material the rest of the way down. In fact, when she steps out of the dress that’s pooling on the floor, she immediately unhooks the strapless bra she’s wearing and flings it to the side.
“Fuck.” I bite my knuckles, which hurts like a bitch since they’re cut open.
This woman is temptation personified. My salvation and ruin all wrapped up in a big red bow. She has the tightest body I’ve ever seen. Long, lean muscles. A trim waist that tapers down to perfectly flared hips. Her tits are perky with light brown nipples just slightly darker than her skin, and her heart-shaped ass is flawless. And I really do mean fucking perfect. I could spend days worshipping it and still never get my fill.
I fall to my knees, peppering kisses over Jazz’s toned abs, trailing down to her black satin G-string. When I move her panties to the side, I find she’s already soaking wet, glistening with want.
I give her one long lick before pulling back. Jesus. I almost forgot how incredible she tastes. “Is this for me? Or is it leftover from earlier with Bentley?”
Jazz’s hands clamp down on the marble countertop as I continue feasting on her delicious cunt. “Probably both.”
I growl against her heated flesh and punish her for that remark with my tongue. I bring her right to the edge multiple times before backing off and switching up the pattern. Jazz is a whimpering mess, begging for release. She tries taking matters into her own hands, but I shove her away and manacle her wrists with my fingers. With my other hand, I push two fingers inside of her, curving them, causing her to release a litany of curses. It’s a tight fit, even more so when I add a third finger, but she’s so aroused, I have no trouble pumping them in and out.
“Fuck, Kingston,” she pants as I circle my thumb over her clit. “Right there. God, don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
When I lean forward, adding my tongue back into the mix, she shamelessly grinds her pussy against my face, screaming for more. Telling me how good it feels. Moaning my name over and over again, begging me to never stop. After I’ve made her come for the third time, I stand up and turn the shower on. We really are a fucking mess and need to get cleaned up.
Jazz and I step under the spray, allowing the warm water to wash away any traces of red. After soaping up and rinsing off, and okay, getting a little handsy in between, I’m about to turn the water off and move this party to a bed, but she implores me to stay with her big brown eyes. Who am I to deny her?
Jazz guides me to sit on the built-in bench in the corner of the shower. She then lowers herself to the tiled floor, crawling in between my thighs. My head falls back as she drags her tongue on the underside of my shaft, from root to tip. She hollows her cheeks and takes me into her mouth, sliding down inch by motherfucking inch, until I’m tapping the back of her throat.
I grab a fistful of her hair and release a strangled groan. “Fuck, Jazz. You keep that up, I’m going to embarrass myself.”
My dick grows impossibly harder as she smiles around my girth, working her hand in tandem with her mouth. At first, I allow her to run the show, but it's only a matter of moments before I can't hold back anymore. I gather her long hair to the side so I can watch as my hips thrust in and out of the veritable heaven that is her mouth.
Jazz takes it like a champ as I fuck her mouth, moaning and humming around me as if she's enjoying this almost as much as I am. Much faster than I'd like, I'm issuing the obligatory warning that I'm about to blow my load. Jazz increases the suction as I surge into her mouth, only releasing me after the last tremor subsides. I watch through hooded eyes as she sits back with a smile, wiping a rogue drop of cum from the corner of her mouth with an index finger. When she takes that same finger and sucks it into her mouth, moaning as she tastes me, I swear I've never seen anything hotter in my life.
“Christ, woman. What are you doing to me?”
Jazz climbs on my lap, straddling me as she wraps her hands behind my neck. “I could ask you the same thing.”
I take her face in my hands. “Does this mean you’re going to think about what I said earlier? Really consider it?”
She searches my eyes. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
“Then, that’s good enough for now.”
It has to be because losing this girl isn't a choice I'm willing to live with.
We dry off and quickly realize we don’t have any clean clothes in here. I don’t really have a choice, so I pull my soiled pants and shirt back on. I’m pretty sure I broke that fucker’s nose, and unfortunately for my favorite jeans, broken noses tend to bleed a lot. Jazz’s bedroom is right next door, so we make a plan to dash over there as quickly as possible so she can get to her closet. I freeze when I step out of the ensuite and find Bentley sitting on the edge of the guest bed.
I stop so suddenly, Jazz smacks into me from behind. “Ow! My nose. Why the hell did you stop?”
Hyperaware Jazz is only dressed in a towel, I try shielding her body, but she’s so tiny, she squirms around me, startling when she sees Bentley.
“Bentley!” Jazz clutches the towel to her chest. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of the, uh, problem with Lawson?”
Bentley’s eyes darken as he gets a good look at her, before lifting the paper towel he’s holding against his head. Jazz winces when he reveals a nasty gash over his eyebrow.
“Reed and Ainsley took over. I didn’t think it was too bad at first, but the bleeding won’t stop. Fucker clocked me with a bottle before we took him down. I was hoping you had a butterfly stitch or something. Peyton disappeared after her little hissy fit, so I checked your room, but it was empty." He rolls his eyes. "Obviously. Anyway, as I was heading back downstairs, I thought I heard someone talking in here. I knocked, but no one answered, so I tried the handle, and the door swung open."
My eyes narrow. “The door was locked.”
Ben
tley's brows draw together. "Uh, no, it wasn't, dude."
“Yes, it was. I locked it myself.”
“Apparently not as well as you thought,” he says defensively.
Jazz looks at me in confusion—because we both know damn well the door was locked—before addressing Bentley. "I think I saw one in the first aid kit in the bathroom. Let me, uh, put some clean clothes on, and I'll help you out."
“Thanks, Jazzy.”
I wait for her to leave the room before laying into him. “What the hell, man? Were you fucking watching us?”
The bathroom door wasn’t wide open, but it wasn’t shut either, because I did lock the bedroom door, despite Bentley’s denial.
Bent shrugs. “What if I was?”
“That’s fucked up, dude.” My fists clench at my sides.
He scoffs. “Oh, screw you, Davenport. Whatever happened to, ‘I don’t care who she fucks, Bent. She’s just a means to an end’? Also, I’ve seen you screwing some chick before, and vice versa. In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve fucked the same girl at the same time, more than once.”
I shake my head. “Things are different now.”
“Why’s that?” His jaw clenches.
“Because she almost died!” I take a deep breath and lower my voice. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, she would’ve fucking died, man.”
Bentley takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t watching you. I literally just got here as the shower was cutting off. I heard you talking about getting dressed or something, so I figured I’d wait it out.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as we stare each other down. “She’s mine, Bent, so you need to back the fuck off.”
“She didn’t seem to think so earlier tonight,” he challenges. “If anyone has the right to be pissed, it’s me, because I’m fairly certain you just enjoyed the fruits of my labor, and this isn’t the first time that’s happened.”
I take a step toward him. “Don’t do this, Bentley. I’m trying to be patient with you, and give you some leeway because I know everything that’s happened recently is reminding you of Carissa, but—”
Bentley shoots up from the bed and shoves me back a step. “Fuck you! Don’t bring her into this. She has nothing to do with this!”
I rub my jaw, trying to calm down. “Whatever you say, man.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me, dickhead.”
“Would you rather have me punch you in the face?” I suggest, flexing my fingers. “Because that can easily be arranged.”
“Hey!” Jazz shouts as she reenters the room. “What’s going on in here? What is the matter with you two?”
“Nothing,” Bentley and I mutter at the same time.
"Uh-huh," she says skeptically. "Bentley, in the bathroom, now. I’ll be there in a minute.” She stabs her finger in my direction. “You, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Bentley heads into the bathroom like a good little boy and shuts the door behind him.
I fling my arm toward the ensuite. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
Jazz glares at me with the force of a thousand suns. “Do not ruin what just happened between us by behaving like a jealous prick.”
Ah, Christ, if she had said anything else, I would’ve kept fighting. Like, literally anything else.
"Fine." I take a step forward and pull Jazz's lips to mine. I infuse every bit of frustration I'm feeling into the kiss until she's clinging to me, desperate for more. "But if you want to get off again tonight, call me. I’ll be back in a heartbeat.”
Jazz smirks. “If I want to get off again tonight, my showerhead can do that for me just fine. He’s not nearly as moody as you are.”
I shake my head. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“Likewise, cupcake.” Jazz pats my cheek then follows it with a kiss on the same spot. “Go home, Kingston. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Maybe we can grab some breakfast.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” I give her one more quick kiss and a slap on the ass. “Behave.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “Yes, master.”
A genuine grin stretches across my face. “I like that. You should use it more often.”
She shoves at my chest until I'm standing in the hall. I laugh when she flips me off right before slamming the door in my face.
Fuck. What am I going to do with this woman?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KINGSTON
“You wanted to see me?”
As much as I hate being summoned to my father's corporate office like this, I jumped at the chance. It's a perfect setup for me to return after he's gone to place the surveillance camera. I successfully installed the other device in Callahan's office last weekend, but I couldn't think of a way to get in here when my dad's not present until he texted me earlier, asking me to drop by.
“Yes, son. Have a seat.” He motions to my face. “What happened to you?”
I shrug. “Had to put some asshole in his place.”
“Ah, yes, I heard about the fight your friend started.”
“Yeah? How’d you hear about that?”
He waves me off. “Doesn’t matter.”
I frown, not liking that answer, but I know when to cut my losses with this man. "Well, did you hear why we beat the shit out of him?”
“Why would I care about some fight involving a bunch of teenagers?”
Oh, no reason. Just the fact that someone tried drugging your daughter, intent on raping her.
“Right.” I nod.
My dad heads over to the bar cart in the corner of his office. “Drink?”
I shake my head. "No, thanks. I have stuff to do after this."
My father smiles as he fixes himself a scotch and soda. “Do these things involve Jasmine Callahan?”
“Yes. Why?”
He resumes his place in the power chair behind his large mahogany desk. Swirling the amber liquid around in a crystal tumbler, he says, "It's a shame what happened to her, but Charles tells me she's recovered well. Would you agree?"
I know damn well he doesn’t really care, but I’m curious enough to keep this going.
“Good as can be expected, I suppose.”
The prick takes a sip of his drink. “What a perfect opportunity this has been for you to get closer to her.”
A smirk forms on my lips when I imagine punching him square in the face, wiping off that smug grin.
“I couldn’t agree more, Dad. Although, I will admit it’s been challenging because she’s a bit gun shy, with the assailants still out there somewhere and all. But don’t worry; I’ve been showing her how committed I am to supporting her through this trying time. I was in that hospital waiting room the entire time she was there, being the perfect doting boyfriend. My plan is still falling into place nicely.”
He releases a boisterous laugh. “That’s great to hear, son.” My dad takes another sip from his glass as he contemplates something. “You know...I can’t help but wonder.”
My eyebrows rise. “Can’t help but wonder what?”
The overhead lights glint off the face of his Patek Phillipe watch as he rubs his chin. “If you organized the assault to knock her down a few pegs.”
I’m biting my tongue so hard, blood coats my taste buds. The fact that he even mentioned that makes me wonder if he arranged it. Maybe he’s testing me right now.
I shake my head. “Not really my style. If I wanted to ‘knock her down a few pegs’, I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.”
A broad smile stretches across his face, his white veneers practically blinding me. “Please, share. You’ve never told me what you have planned for the girl.”
I casually lean back in the chair, propping my ankle over the opposite knee. “I don’t have a plan. I’m more of a fly by the seat of my pants type of guy, which works best with her. Jasmine’s a bit of a wild card.”
“Ah, but the crazy ones are always freaks in bed, right?” I have to fight a scoff when he wink
s.
“Yep.” I nod.
My dad folds his arms behind his head and leans back. “So, Jasmine’s pretty stellar in the sack, then?”
Christ, this conversation is making me nauseous. It feels wrong talking about Jazz like this, but I have to stay in character.
“Best I’ve ever had. Sucks cock like a pro.” That part’s not even a lie.
His hazel eyes light up with interest. Fuck. Definitely shouldn’t have gone in that direction.
“Good for you, my boy. I’d love to experience it for myself. She’s such a tiny little thing—I bet her pussy would hug my dick nice and tight. Her ass even more so. Perhaps we can tag team her one day. Or maybe a good old-fashioned spit roast.” He laughs. “Think of it as a father-son bonding moment.”
Over my dead body, you fucking perv.
I swear to all that is holy, I want to bash his head in with a bat. I take a deep breath, reminding myself he’s the one who should be locked up, not me.
“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter.
He laughs. “Aw, Kingston, you’re not getting territorial over some pussy, are you? I know she’s an exceptionally beautiful girl, but that’s no reason to lose your common sense.”
I do scoff this time. “Fuck no. As long as Jasmine keeps Hoovering my dick whenever I want, I don’t give a rat’s ass who else she fucks.”
“Speaking of...I suppose I have you to thank for the flash drive I found on my desk when I returned from Miami?”
My smile is genuine this time. Getting rid of Vanessa was an absolute pleasure and long overdue. “Of course. I couldn’t let her get away with betraying you like that.”
"You're a good son. I appreciate your looking out for me. That cheating slut doesn't deserve the honor of being my wife. And a delivery boy, for fuck's sake. Could she get any lower?" My father steps out from behind the desk and pats me on the shoulder. “I guess it’s time to trade her in for a newer model, huh?”
Your last bride just turned twenty-two. You don’t have much room to go for a younger model, fuckwad.