Playboy in Paradise: The Complete Set

by S. L. Scott

  “I won’t. Go!” I turn back to Mallory who’s looking unsettled.

  “What about you, Evan? You haven’t answered my emails about Thanksgiving. I take it you can’t come?” Her voice is detached from emotion. She’s put up a wall. I don’t blame her for wanting to protect herself.

  Anyway, she’s right. I’ve avoided this topic on purpose. “I can’t come.”

  “I knew you probably wouldn’t be able to make it,” she says and sighs. “But why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I tried to get the time off, baby, but there was an agreement I made when I took the time off to visit for your birthday.”

  “Dad, please let me go. I’ll work every weekend in December if I have to,” I say, running my hands carelessly through the hair that remains. This ‘professional’ hair doesn’t give me the same satisfaction my longer hair did.

  “No, Evan. I already granted you vacation days you hadn’t earned and that was the deal you agreed to. You need to learn to live with your decisions. I’m sure Mallory would be happy to come here instead. Your mother is making a rack of lamb.”

  “You mean Jean-Luc is making a rack of lamb.”

  “Your rude comments are not welcome in my office,” he says, finally looking up from his paperwork. “I’m very busy, Evan. My decision is final.”

  I turn, outwardly sighing and let my frustration be heard.

  “That’s fine,” Mallory says.

  “I tried to get out of work. I really did.”

  “I know you did, babe, and I appreciate it. I know your job and family are demanding.” She looks down. “I miss you so much. I’m starting to feel disconnected. Some days you don’t take my calls and others I don’t see you on chat. Somehow I’m getting used to life without you and it scares me.”

  “It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll see each other at Christmas. I’ll be done with work and we’ll be together again.”

  Her tone is harsh, not sounding like her at all, when she looks at the clock over her shoulder and says, “Kate said the car will be there in twenty minutes to pick you up. You should go.”

  “I’ve got some time still. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she replies, messing with the keyboard in front of her.

  “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”

  She’s looking down, twisting her lips. When she looks back up, she says, “I’m never gonna be enough, Evan. I’m two hundred count polyester blend and you’re fifteen hundred Egyptian cotton. You can’t put a fifteen hundred count top sheet on top of a two hundred count fitted sheet. If they mix, you lose the gloriousness of the Egyptian cotton. It’s like they cancel each other out, blending together and pilling until neither one of them feels suitable anymore.”

  “Sheets? I don’t—”

  “Evan, go to your Save this-or-that event and we’ll talk tomorrow. I think I’m tired or something. I’ve been studying too much and need sleep.”

  I squint my eyes at the screen, not comprehending what the fuck she’s talking about. “Mallory—”

  “Go. Just go. Like I said, I’m tired. These exams have worn me down. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  “It’s four o’clock in Colorado.”

  “Oh. Then, I’ll take a nap.”

  “I have time for you. I’ll be late. I don’t care.”

  She smiles—softly, but it’s a smile and I’ll take it. “You will?”

  “For you, I will.”

  “You’re always such the charmer.”

  “You bring out the best in me. What can I say? You also bring out the other sides… maybe we can explore those,” I say, waggling my eyebrows. “It’s been a while, you know.”

  She grins—it’s devious and suggestive. “It has been a while. Too long, in fact. So about those other sides that need exploring… tell me more.”

  I unbutton my shirt and pull off my undershirt, wadding them up and tossing them into the hamper in the corner. “It’s your move.”

  “Geez, no warm-up. Just jump right in, why don’t ya. I might have to take back that compliment about being charming.”

  “You’re right. How about a little poetry to get you in the mood?”

  She smiles, liking that offer. “Give it your best shot.” She sits back and crosses her arms over her chest.

  Thinking back to freshman year English, I have an idea. “You know I always give my best. Get ready. I’m about to charm the panties right off you.” I grab a pad and pen from the desk and start writing, hoping I can remember how the quote goes. I look up and see her watching, waiting. “A few more seconds.” I finish and hold the note in front of the camera.

  Whispering as she reads, she says, “If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever.” I lower the paper and look at her. Her eyes are swoony looking and I think I’ve won this round. But when she says, “Awwww, you win. I’ll get naked.” I know I have.

  She crosses her arms in front of her and takes her shirt by the hem. She lifts it up just enough to tease me with a glimpse of her stomach, but stops. “By the way,” she asks, “Byron?”

  “Tennyson. Now strip for me, woman.” I give her the smile I know that works on her every time.

  “Tennyson. I should’ve known. You play dirty. But sometimes I can play dirty too.” Her shirt goes flying over her head and she stands there with her hands on her hips. “Your turn. Ante up, big boy.”

  Sexygirl is sexy, but it’s time I take control of the situation. “Turn off your bedroom light and turn on the lamp by the bed.” She listens to my commands and does as I say. “I want you naked. Strip for me, baby.”

  Back in front of the monitor, she slides her jeans down her legs. Her hands twist behind her back to unhook her bra and she slides it down her arms presenting herself to me. “Take a step back,” I say, keeping my voice even and my orders direct. She does and I can finally see her face. She likes to believe she’s the one in charge and sometimes I let her take the lead because she possesses an innocence mixed with a naughtier side—I love the combination.

  I’m mesmerized as she hooks her fingers into the sides of her panties and pulls them down. My erection presses uncomfortably against my trousers, so I shift. When she stands back up, she won’t look at me, her gaze aimed down… vulnerable.

  To be fair, I take my pants off and let them fall to the floor, and step out of them. Giving her a little peek-a-cock, I tease, then drop my boxers. My dick’s hard for her and I need relief. “Lay down at the bottom of the bed.” I sit on the end of my bed, matching her movements. I want the full show.

  She settles onto the mattress, close enough to the end, so I can see all of her clearly. Her eyes are open and watching me while her hand rubs lazily over her stomach. “I remember what it feels like to have your hands on me,” she says, turning her head so she can see me on the monitor.

  “I’m right here with you. My hands are on you,” I say, getting into the fantasy and moving my hand to where I need to feel her touch. I stroke my cock, but my attention is on her hand as she slides it between her legs.

  Her breathing deepens. “How do you want me?” I close my eyes, but force them open when she asks, “Like this? Do you like to touch me like this, babe?” Her fingers move with a slickness and I know she’s ready for me. Just like I’m ready for her.

  My grip tightens, and I pick up the pace. “I fucking love touching you like that,” I say, my breath becoming irregular. “But I don’t rush. I like to tease you first.”

  “I remember how much you like to tease. How do I feel wrapped around you right now? Is it the way you like?”

  The heaviness of her lids, mingling with the sexy voice and words, leaves me struggling to keep my own eyes open. Giving in, I drop my head down and start stroking hard, squeezing tighter, moving faster. “You always know how to make me feel good.” I can’t suppress my own moans. I want to take and give and fuck her senseless—all at once.

  I lift my head and watch her on the screen. She�
�s almost purring, her breath coming out jagged yet somehow smooth and melodious. Her fingers while her back arches up off the bed. She pleads, “I need more. I need all of you.”

  “I need you, too.” I need to feel her wetness surrounding me, my hand is a poor substitute, but I try to lose myself in the images and the memories of us together. “Don’t go easy. Fuck me. Give me everything.”

  “Evan.” She moans. “Keep talking. Just keep going.”

  “You feel so good wrapped around me—tight and wet. Fuck, baby. Fuck me. I need to hear you. Let me know how you feel.” I pump harder, getting close, but try to hold off until she comes first.

  Her words mix with heavy breaths as she says, “It’s all for you, only and always for you.”

  I look up grinning as I watch her getting herself off. She’s so damn sexy. Watching her is carnal, raw, real, and so much better than doing it alone in the shower.

  “Evan, I’m so close. I need to hear you, anything as long as it’s you.”

  “Slow down, sexygirl. Use your other hand where you want to feel me.”

  She slides her hand up her stomach to her left breast, her nipples ready to receive their share of attention. Scanning her body from tilted head to bent knees, my gaze travels to her thrusting hips, and fan-fucking-tasic tits, and lands on her face. She’s a goddess and she’s mine. A rage of possessiveness fills my chest. “Tell me you’re mine.” I gasp, feeling my insides wanting to come out. “Tell me, Mallory… Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

  Facing the camera, she watches me with a look I would call her own form of ownership, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths. Staring into her eyes, I see the green that haunts my lonely days and star in my nightly dreams.

  I bend forward, the muscles in my stomach constricting, coaxing my climax out with a burst of unbridled want. “Aaaggghhh!”

  Her back relaxes down onto the mattress and the tension in her face eases. I suddenly feel I’m invading a private moment, like maybe I shouldn’t be privy to such an intimate recovery.

  “God, I needed that!” she exclaims with her arms wide open and to the side. She giggles. She fucking giggles, making me smile.

  Lying there, exhausted, I laugh—her laughter contagious. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  When I look up again, she’s rolled onto her side, her eyelids heavy and her sweet smile looking like it’s planning to stay there a while. “I’m definitely going to need a nap now.”

  I sit up. “I wish I was there.”

  “I wish you were here too. My bed is lonely.”

  “Only your bed?”

  She chuckles. “Maybe I’m a little lonely as well.”

  “Come New Years, you’re gonna be sick of me.”

  “Impossible.”

  Now I chuckle. “So you say now.”

  She lifts up, resting her head on her hand, her elbow pressing into the mattress. Her legs are crossed at the ankles and she’s beautiful like the first time I ever saw her… but without the defensive attitude. Okay, I wasn’t thinking words like beautiful back then. I was thinking she was a hot piece of ass that I wanted to conquer. Yeah, I was a shallow prick. But now when I look at her, I know she’s mine and her smile is comforting. I fucking love this girl.

  64

  Evan

  If my dad wasn’t receiving an award from the mayor himself, I’d blow off this event. But I’m expected to be there with the family to represent the company, so I shower and shave, then return to my closet to put on the tuxedo that was delivered to my apartment yesterday— a perfectly tailored white jacket… I sigh, rolling my eyes. “So fucking pretentious.”

  My hair is dried, my teeth brushed, and I leave. Mallory was losing the battle with a nap when we disconnected earlier, but we both left the video chat on a high. The car is waiting for me when I walk out the building. The door is held open by the chauffeur and I slide across the cold leather as the driver resumes his position up front. I don’t tell him where to go because all that information has been provided already.

  I’m not in the car but for a few minutes when my phone rings. I answer quickly when I see it’s Mallory calling. “I thought I wore you out?” I say, leaning back and getting comfortable, happy to hear from her again.

  “I should have told you sooner, but your mothe…” she starts to say, but hesitates. “Evan?”

  “Yes?” The world settles into a disheartening silence, but I can’t fill it. My heart begins to race waiting for her to continue.

  “If you meet someone… someone that interests you, you should—”

  No. No. “No. No! Why are you talking about meeting other people? Why are you saying this?” She’s giving me an out and I won’t let her. “No! Mallory, it’s you and me. Us. This is us. Remember? Please don’t say it.”

  Her voice is quiet, hard to hear over the noisy Manhattan traffic. “You need to know that I love you enough to let you go if you meet a more suitable partner.”

  “A more suitable partner? What the fuck? No! That’s like saying I don’t love you as much because I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I’m your suitable partner. You’re mine. So what you’re saying is bullshit because I love you more than I knew it was even possible to love someone. What brought this on? I just left. We were fine.” I know she can hear the panic in my voice.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t say anything, but as time passes, I keep wondering if she’s right.”

  “Who?” I sit straight up, listening to my world begin to crumble. “And right about what?”

  “Your mother. She only pointed out the obvious, Evan. You have so much to gain and achieve on top of the foundation your parents laid out for you and Kate. You deserve more than I can give—”

  “Stop it! I’m fucking serious, Mallory. Don’t say another fucking word.” Anger swells inside. I’ve got to see my mother right now. I pull at my too-fucking-short-to-give-me-any-relief-hair, then bang on the privacy glass. “Hang on, baby. Please.”

  When the glass rolls down, the driver asks, “Yes, Sir?”

  “How much further?”

  “We have one more stop.”

  “What stop?”

  “Another passenger, Sir.”

  Putting the phone back to my ear, I say, “I have to go, but this conversation is not over.”

  “Evan, just think about it. Think about what you really want in life.”

  The car pulls to the curb, and in one long breath, the words rush from my mouth, “I love you, Mallory. I need you to know that being with you earlier tonight was incredible. Really incredible.”

  “I love you, Evan. Please know that I do,” she says right before she hangs up.

  I pound the seat next to me. “Fuck!”

  The door opens and a woman—dressed to kill—bends down to get inside the car. The chauffeur takes her hand and helps her. The slit of her dress is high enough to reveal she’s not wearing anything underneath and apparently she’s not shy about it.

  She catches me staring and adjusts her dress as she smiles. “You must be Evan?” Her voice is friendly, but I’m still clueless to who she is and why we’re riding together.

  I offer a handshake. “Please accept my apologies, but I don’t know your name. I didn’t know there’d be anyone riding with me tonight.”

  “I’m Nina Devillier. Claire mentioned you’ve been busy with work and it might slip your mind.”

  Claire! Mother! Another fucking set-up. I should have known. I won’t be rude since she’s just a pawn in this game. “Of Devillier Industries in Lyon?”

  She holds my hand, and says, “Yes, that’s my grandfather’s business. Your father handles his portfolio.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about the company. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” I watch as she eases back into the seat with grace, keeping her posture perfect, accentuating her long neck. The way she moves is quite elegant, obviously surrounded by the finest in her upbringing. But the way she crosses her legs is suggestive
in a most sexual insinuation. “You’re enjoying being back in Manhattan?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Not really.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. Business not going well?”

  “My girlfriend lives in Colorado.”

  “Ahh, I was under the impression you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

  I smile lightly. “My mother likes to ignore reality when it doesn’t align with her own motives.” My mother is definitely pulling out all the stops. She thinks she knows me, knows what I like, Nina fitting my old type to a tee: blonde, check; long legs, check; model body, check; polished, check; intelligent, check. I would say challenging, but there’s no challenge. I can see it in her eyes. My old arrogant ways resurface, knowing if I wanted I could have her before the entrée is served. But she’s no longer my type.

  Nodding, she sighs, “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. You’re just as handsome as she said you were.”

  Glancing over at her in the quiet of the car, I compare Nina to Mallory. They’re opposites. And while stunning, the woman next to me is nothing more than a quick fuck in coat check while Mallory is everything.

  “I’d like to hear about your girlfriend, if you want to share.”

  Taking a second look at Nina, she surprises me. She’s not the typical, shallow socialite I thought she’d be. She seems genuinely interested. “It’s complicated.”

  She looks out the window, and says, “We have a few more minutes before we get there.”

  I turn and look out my window. “Mallory is everything. She turns me on while turning my whole fucking life inside out. I’m frustrated, angry, and jealous of every guy who gets to see her every day. She makes me feel possessive and greedy,” I say with a chuckle and a shrug. “But I try to disguise it as protecting her best interest. I’m in lust with her and I’ve been in love with her from the minute I laid eyes on her. She’s gorgeous and so fucking smart. Mallory is my brand of beautiful.”

  When I look back at Nina, she’s staring with her mouth wide open.