The Revenge Games Duet

by Kat T. Masen

  “Are you ready?” he whispers into my ear as his tongue runs along my lobe.

  “For you, yes. I’ve been waiting for too long.”

  His hands wander down, and I hear the zipper of his pants. My eyes close, for how long I’m unsure, allowing myself to feel this moment. I sense him move my panties, his fingers brushing against my clit as my breathing becomes erratic.

  What’s he doing to me? Liam never felt like this.

  Okay, shit. This is not the time to think about Liam. This is the moment I need to think about Wesley. Stop getting lost in a sea of thoughts.

  My panties are shifted completely aside, soaked from my arousal which turns Wesley on. He murmurs something about how wet I am, but I’m lost and can barely climb out of this abyss I’m falling into.

  The sound of foil tearing distracts me momentarily. I’m grateful he’s smart enough to think about protection since I’m so obviously not. That’s right, your horny ass would have ridden him bareback. That would have been a stupid, stupid, mistake.

  Slowly, he enters me, my body tightening, and unbeknown to me, I wince slightly in pain.

  “Are you okay?” He kisses my mouth, not allowing me to answer the question.

  He’s bigger than usual, not in length but girth. I take a moment to wiggle my hips, positioning him, so our bodies are in sync.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “I’m ready.”

  Being ready doesn’t just mean this moment, though. I’m ready for all of him. I know that his words are set in stone.

  After this moment, I will be begging for more.

  I will become addicted to the pleasure.

  Addicted to the pain.

  Addicted to Bad Boy Rich.

  I motion my hips, rocking back and forth, watching him struggle as sweat beads form on his forehead. Wesley’s eyes are shut tight, and his face is clenching as he tries to control himself.

  I love watching him, seeing what I’m doing to him, watching the veins in his neck pop out while he drives into me slow and steady, in and out, a pattern that starts a tide of tingles to spread across my entire body until I beg him through moans to enter me harder.

  He growls at my pleas, pounding me harder, the heat stifling between us until I begin to dissolve on the spot, riding the wave of pleasure that consumes me and makes my vision blurred.

  I’m oblivious that he grips onto my ass tightly, slamming hard one more time before he lets out a groan, pulsating and twitching while burying his head into my neck.

  Our heavy breathing echoes in the still of the night.

  He withdraws from me. My legs are shaking uncontrollably and relying on him for support. I hold onto his shoulder as he removes the rubber and looks around, unsure of how to discard it.

  “Here, give it to me.”

  He laughs. “Really? What exactly do you plan to do with it?”

  “Uh… toss it into my purse so as not to traumatize the kids who come through here tomorrow.” I take it off him, grabbing some tissues in my purse and wrapping them around it before placing it inside. “Wait, what do you think I’m going to do with it?”

  “Hey, I don’t know. You could play the innocent card but be as kinky as fuck.”

  “True. Wait till you see what I can do with some ping pong balls and a banana,” I joke. “Round two… your place?”

  He leans in to kiss me, unable to hide his grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  My eyes open in a state of panic with my body following moments later.

  Sunlight peeps through the drapes, forcing me to squint, which only makes my head pound harder. Lifting my arm to shield myself from the God-awful sunlight, I yelp as my muscles ache, making it barely possible to do so.

  “Why are you up?”

  The voice—unfamiliar at first—registers when his hand runs down my back, then around my front, cupping my breast. They’re sore. Everything is painful.

  Scattered around are several empty packets of rubbers.

  Shit. How many times did we have sex last night?

  Wesley yanks me toward him, and as I fall back onto the bed, my head knocks into his hard chest.

  “What time is it?”

  “Time for me to fuck you,” he teases, turning me around, so we’re spooning.

  He doesn’t warn me, entering me whole. I gasp, in pain, again, and thankfully, he moves slow, breathing on my skin which causes me to shiver with delight.

  I extend my arm, reaching back and around his head, exposing my chest. His body tenses, followed by a few quick breaths, until he begins to thrust into me again.

  “You’re insatiable,” I cry, moaning straight after. “I have to go… I’ll be late for work.”

  “You’ll go… when I’m finished.” Refusing to listen, he seizes my breast with his hand, tugging on my nipple with force. “And… I’m not finished.”

  “Wesley,” I moan, consciously looking at the time and knowing I only have two hours until I have to meet Emerson at the studio. Also, factoring in that I still have to rush home, shower, and change.

  He makes it impossible for me to think about anything else but him, touching every part of me that aches from last night. I know he’s close. Hell, I’m close, and just when I think he will come inside me, and the panic of him not wearing a condom is a cold, harsh reality, he pulls himself out and kneels beside me.

  In the daylight, I see all of him—extremely fit torso with tattoos inked across his breastbone. I want to ask him about them, discover the meaning behind the design. But now isn’t the moment, not when the obvious is pointing right at me.

  His cock is perfect.

  I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a perfect cock, but if there is, I’m staring right at it. Obviously, hard, perfect color, perfect shape, and a perfect size.

  My God, Milana, stop obsessing. This is so not you.

  With a handful of my long hair, he guides himself into my mouth, moaning each time the tip of his cock passes my lips. He tastes so good, covered in my juices which only arouses me more. He bites hard on his bottom lip before belting out a loud groan as the warm liquid shoots into the back of my throat.

  Crap, I’ve never swallowed before.

  I have no idea what to do.

  Hurry. Think!

  He hands me a tissue with a satisfied grin on his face.

  So, I take it, mid-swallow.

  Shit! Too late.

  I’ve just popped my cum-swallowing cherry and by accident too. “I really have to go,” I strain, barely able to speak.

  Wesley moves toward my legs, positioning himself in between them. “I’m not finished.”

  “But you came. In my mouth…” I softy laugh. “I really need to go.”

  He pushes my thighs apart, causing me to yelp, running his tongue around my clit. “I said, I’m not finished.”

  My head falls back into the pillow, defeated, but with a massive smile on my face.

  When it comes to Wesley Rich, it’s impossible to say no.

  ***

  My fingers cramp as I struggle to capture all the key points Emerson’s telling us.

  “There’s Kimmel tomorrow night. Thankfully, local.” She signs a document while talking, handing it over to me. “Interviews lined up with some magazines in New York, which means I need a few outfits for the city since I heard a cold snap is about to hit the East Coast.”

  Aurora, Emerson’s stylist, points to her iPad with an enthusiastic smile, her red-framed glasses matching her shade of lipstick. Unlike Sonia, Aurora is great to work with. She has this sense of style, lives and breathes fashion, and is half-Korean like me.

  “Burgundy is sooo in right now. I’d love to see you in a burgundy cashmere coat coupled with some black patent boots,” she sings with excitement, hugging her iPad.

  “I’ll leave it with you.” Emerson laughs. “Then the week after next, we have Vancouver. Are you all right to join me on that trip along with New York?”

  “Of co
urse,” I tell her, guilt flooding me that I’m lying to her about Wesley.

  I know there’s a time and place to admit the truth, and now is not that time.

  Although Wesley and I agree to be in a relationship, we’ve barely spoken about anything aside from our exchange of words during sex. I’d be lying if I don’t admit that what I read online piques my curiosity or that woman from last night. After meeting his mother, Gina, I don’t quite understand the dynamic of their relationship. Again, questions linger and need some sort of answer.

  And then there’s the possibility that our relationship will leak out to the public. So far, paparazzi haven’t followed me anywhere. Wesley has warned me how cunning they can be and to always be on guard for many of the things that come attached to the name Wesley Rich.

  Emerson continues to tell us about a few more events, meetings, and upcoming trips she has planned for the next few months. I take a sip of my coffee, welcoming the warm liquid while waiting impatiently for it to kick in and give me that much-needed boost.

  Last night took it all out of me. So far, during this meeting, I’ve been able to manage somehow to hold in every single yawn. I have no doubt I will sleep like a baby tonight and welcome the solace to gain some perspective on the last twenty-four hours.

  The day drags on and every minute becomes harder to get through. Emerson has a ton of energy today, bouncing ideas and demanding some input. It’s great, I shouldn’t complain, but the exhaustion becomes too much, and by the time we call it a day I want to cry with relief.

  “Oh, one more thing,” she says while grabbing her keys. “I have a meeting with Wesley tomorrow. I would prefer it if you don’t mention anything to Logan. It’s best I keep it on the down-low.”

  Suddenly, my exhaustion disappears, and I’m alert as anything. “Why… I mean, you don’t have to go. I know you’re busy and all. Let me do this. I can take care of it… it’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

  Emerson’s lips curl up in a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have thrown Wesley onto you in the first place. He’s my mess, and besides, I just want to talk to him about a few private things.”

  Logan’s warning echoes in my head, but more notably my unbeknown jealousy even louder.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Logan might get angry.”

  “I can deal with Logan. I’m more worried about Wesley,” she tells me, obviously hiding something.

  “I mean, I’m just saying as a friend more than your assistant, I’m here. Don’t feel like you’re burdening me.”

  She places her hand on mine in an attempt to calm my anxiety. “Milana, I got this. Relax.”

  I have no words left without giving away my take on Emerson and Wesley being alone together.

  I don’t like it.

  The thought makes me ill.

  I’ve been his girlfriend for two seconds, and somehow that’s turning me into this jealous beast. Women back home would often make advances at Liam while he worked on their cars, and I barely batted a damn eyelash.

  But this, this is something else.

  We say our goodbyes, and the second I’m alone in the car, I read through the messages from Wesley.

  Wesley: Miss me yet?

  Wesley: I can still smell you on my fingers.

  Wesley: Ready for round 3? Wait… or maybe it’s round 10?

  I smile, unthinkingly, unable to contain the small amount of joy that creeps in when I read the texts. Though halfway through a text I’m writing—encouraging his flirty behavior—my conversation with Emerson comes back to me like a tsunami reminding me of this so-called ‘meeting’ tomorrow.

  Resting my head against the driver’s seat, I close my eyes for a brief moment. The conversation between Phoebe and me replays in my head, over and over. We rarely argue. Only over petty things like the time she borrowed my favorite sweater and claimed the underarm pulled before I lent it to her. Or the time she made me watch a midnight session of one of those Twilight movies only for me to fall asleep in the first scene.

  Both times, we were mad at each other. The difference was, we made up within an hour.

  It’s impossible to be mad at Phoebe, yet this time is different. We’re miles apart. She said words that can’t easily be forgiven, and she said I’d changed.

  I don’t understand her defending Liam and making such a false statement on how much I have changed. I’m living life the only way I know how. Okay, so maybe I have to toughen up a bit, the LA crowd is sometimes heartless and unforgiving. You make one mistake, and it spreads like fire. As far as my job’s concerned, I seem to be doing fine. Emerson often compliments my organizational skills and talent to retain information.

  And then there’s Wesley.

  He’s not like any boyfriend I’ve had—dangerously smart and equally as sexy. Something about him excites me, allows me to live on the edge if only for this one moment. And then, out of the blue, I think about Mama.

  I dial her number, realizing I haven’t called her in a few days.

  “Milly, is that you?”

  “Yes, Mama,” I croak.

  The exhaustion, coupled with missing her, brings a tear to my eye. I manage to hold it back, widening my eyes in a failed attempt.

  “I was wondering where you’ve been. Flynn says you’ve been busy with work. You know, Milly, I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Work has been busy, Mama…” I pause, letting out a sigh. “So, what else has Flynn told you?”

  “Nothing much. He has a gig two Fridays from now, and one of the executive producers of Platinum Records will be there watching them.”

  I have no clue, but happy Flynn will finally get this opportunity. That is until I realize I’ll be in Vancouver.

  “Shoot,” I say. “I think I’m in Vancouver for work.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sure Flynn won’t mind. Vancouver sounds exciting.”

  “It’s not that, Mama…” I yearn to tell her what’s going on, needing to get it all off my chest, requiring some guidance as to whether or not it’s possible to fall head over lust for a man in such a short time. But instead, typical me bottles it all up, not wanting to burden her with my troubles.

  There’s a slight muffle in the background, voices amongst some music. Mama asks me to hold on for a moment, returning a minute later. “Milly, I have to go. We have this dinner thing tonight, and I promised to help set up. It was nice talking to you, sweetie. I’m glad you answered for once.”

  “I called you, Mama.”

  Mama laughs, quick to correct herself. “That’s right. Silly me. I love you, honey. Take care, will you?”

  “Always, Mama.”

  I hang up the phone, holding it against my chest and letting that lonesome tear fall graciously down my face. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I listen to her voice inside my head, opening my eyes in what only feels like minutes later.

  It’s dark, and the clock on the car says it’s eight-fifteen.

  Shit! I’ve fallen asleep in the car.

  In a state of panic, I turn the ignition on and speed out of the street and onto the freeway toward home. By the time I reach our apartment, it’s just after eight-thirty. Joe’s out on the pavement, playing a game of backgammon with an undefeated Clifford from across the street. They’re both ranting, as usual, something about their fathers in the war and ungrateful children of today.

  I quickly say hello, then run upstairs urgently needing to pee. When I open the apartment door, Flynn is lounging with some redheaded chick—a face that doesn’t look familiar, and therefore not the woman from the other morning. I wave hello before bolting to the bathroom, relieving myself, then exiting in a happier mood.

  “Have you guys eaten?” I grab a menu off the table, realizing only now that I haven’t eaten since lunch.

  “We can grab some pizzas,” Flynn suggests, eyeing me cautiously. “Kail, my sister, Milly.”

  “Hey,” she mumbles, unimpressed.

  “Hey…” I respond back with a
quick smile. “Sure, order me my usual. I’m just going to get changed.”

  I begin tearing my blouse off as I walk into my room. All of a sudden, I halt when the image of Wesley sitting on my bed startles me.

  How?

  Why didn’t Flynn tell me he was here?

  My brother is a significant pain in my backside.

  Wesley is anything but happy.

  He’s grinding his teeth with his nostrils flaring at the same time. He’s dressed in a pair of shorts, tee, and sneakers, looking rather casual. His hair appears like it’s grown since this morning, which is impossible, yet, limp against his face until he combs it back with his fingers in a frustrating move.

  “Oh, you’re here.”

  Silence falls. I throw my bag onto the bed, and the second it lands, he grabs it unzipping the zipper and fumbling around removing my cell.

  Holding it up, he gestures with an agitated expression. “Would you look at that? You do have battery… and your cell does work. Did it not occur to you to respond to any of my calls or texts?”

  “I fell asleep,” I tell him. “I was exhausted from last night.”

  “You fucking read my texts,” he yells, erratic and throwing my cell onto the bed. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Milana.”

  “Bullshit?” I question, equally annoyed at his childish behavior. “Last week, you didn’t speak to me for days.”

  “That’s different. We weren’t in a relationship.” He’s quick to remind me. “Do you know what happens in a relationship? You communicate. You don’t tell lies. I don’t know what type of a relationship you and that little farmer boy had, but that’s not how it works, okay?”

  I don’t appreciate him putting Liam down or making me feel stupid. Of course, I know how a relationship works. Obviously, he doesn’t.

  “Really? You want to talk about lying? Tell me, what meetings do you have scheduled for tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know, work stuff, probably.”

  I place my hands on my hips, shaking my head in disbelief. “Unbelievable! You’re going to lie to my face? We’ve been dating for like two minutes, and already we’re arguing. I swear, Wesley, you’re so up and down you could be a woman.”