JAMIESON — PRESENT DAY
“Fuck me ten ways to Sunday! No, you don’t get it. If I don’t have that whore on the plane in twenty minutes, I’ll be the one giving him a handy.”
I can easily hear everything she says, mainly because of her volume. She’s definitely making the poor soul on the other end of the phone piss their pants.
I like women like her, women with fire. Only thing is I’d just left my brother Wyatt’s hospital room, and the very last thing I need is further chick drama after my sister’s pouting. Dealing with family has been a strain on my patience. I’m in California after all, the worst place for someone like me to be. I’m here for my family after the death of my estranged mother and hospitalization of my little brother after a car accident that nearly cost him and his girlfriend their lives as well.
I’d rather be home in Colorado with hard packed snow and easy women. Women with sass are fantastic, but I want easy after the troubles of today.
This one sounds like heaps of trouble.
Her tone is husky and familiar, but that happens a lot when you’ve screwed as many women as I have.
Honestly, I’m not a nosy fuck, and I really couldn’t give a shit what this girl is talking about—so vividly in a public hospital, I might add—but I find I’m intrigued as I round the hall toward the elevator bank.
Waiting around the corner as I listen like a stalker, I hear her say, “I’m so pissed.”
Stepping around the corner, I lean against the wall, checking her out from head to toe. As she paces, continuing to talk wildly into the phone, I know who she is immediately. She’s in a neat gray pant suit, black heels with the telltale red insteps, and a light gray, fluttery, see-through shirt showing her pretty gray bra that showcases her rosy nipples. Her jet-black hair is pin straight and pulled into a high ponytail.
Well, shit.
Beautiful as always, Carli.
“I know it doesn’t matter. I just hate that she shushed me out the door like a common garden rat. She’s my friend and I deserve to see her. Her boyfriend’s sister shouldn’t be allowed to tell me off. If I ever cared to involve—”
Turning, she sees me. Her eyes widen, her stance stiffens, and those baby blue eyes glare daggers at me.
“I’ll call you back.” She abruptly ends the call and directs her full attention my way and I smile. Actually, I give her a sarcastic grin that I’ve learned gets me into heaps of trouble when I use it.
Right now, that’s exactly what I want.
“Carli, nice to see you again.”
“Asshole,” she sneers. She neatly places her phone into a slot in her shoulder bag, which is dangling close to the floor, treating her twenty-thousand-dollar Louis like gutter trash.
Stepping close, I reach past her, selecting the down button for the elevator and ask, “Were you here turning tricks?”
“Were you here visiting a ski bunny?” she quips back without looking at me.
“Snowboard, Carli. I ride snowboards.” Smirking, I run my tongue along my teeth, remembering the last time this fireball and I crossed paths.
“I’m sure you’re not picky,” she mutters.
Trying to hold her ground with a mean, sullen stare, I step in even closer so she has to look up. Breathing by her ear, I get a whiff of her perfume which is goddamn intoxicating. It’s that floral shit I normally find to be a turn off, but fuck, it’s nice on her. I know I’m playing a dangerous game of chicken, and I’m not sure who’s going to win this shit as Carli can give me a run for my money. And I know she’s enjoying this, just like I know I am.
“Let me remind you what it is, Carli. It’s long, wide, hard, and meant to be ridden for hours.” She doesn’t flinch, but looks straight up at me, throwing off the heat of a thousand suns. I’m taunting her. Carli’s as insatiable as they come.
The woman could burn a planet. She could literally fry eggs with a glare. Why I let her get to me isn’t a fucking mystery, though. I let her because it’s fun and challenging. I like challenges.
It’s been a long time since something or someone has challenged me.
“Crown, you can go play with your little wooden toys. I prefer the real thing.” Reaching out, she strokes her hand up my leg, coming dangerously close to my cock. Carli sighs and lets out a sweet little grunt as she brushes her knuckles across the soft bulge in my jeans. “Sorry, but this might not be enough for someone like me.”
Grasping her hand, I hold her still against my jeans. “You’d be amazed what happens when the lights go low and the monster gets loose. I’m sure you’d change your tune to a few well-timed screams and moans, Katana.”
With a chime, breaking our silent singular moment, the doors to the elevator open. Releasing her grip on my cock, I move away. Sauntering right into the waiting carriage as if nothing’s amiss, I push the close button. “I don’t think there’s enough room in here for your ego and kick ass bravado, Katana. You can wait for the next one.”
Tossing her heavy purse high onto her shoulder, she walks toward me, stepping in gracefully as she grins with glee before giving me her back. “With a winky like that, Crown, let’s not play this game and say we did.” She presses the same button ten times in a row. She’s well and worked up.
Good.
At least I’m not alone.
Listening to her fingernails clicking on the surface, I imagine them scraping down my skin, leaving wide red marks that will hold for a few hours, even a few days. I wonder if she’d draw blood? I think I’d like that.
Trying to change the subject before my cock makes it apparent what I want, I ask, “Were you here seeing Circe?” Hoping to arouse her ire further, I add, “Was it my sister that kicked you out like a rat?”
Flinching slightly at my remark, her jet-black ponytail swings around in wild abandon. I have an urge to grip it tight. Part of me wants to train the wild out of her, but I’d rather have her fire. It arouses me. To tame a woman like her would be a fucking waste.
“Nope,” she quips, popping the ‘p.’ “Santa broke his back on my chimney last year trying to carry the sparkly new Benz down. I felt horrible for him, so I thought I’d bring him milk and cookies, as well as a mind-blowing blowjob. Mrs. Claus asked me to, as she’s too busy fucking the elves.”
That’s it. Pushing her shoulders up against the closed doors, I grind out, “Damn, woman.” Covering her filthy mouth with mine, the fire within her fights me just enough that I know she was hoping for it.
With her expensive bag falling to the floor of the elevator, her lips smash greedily against mine. Her long, perfect tongue fights for control as I try to keep her in my grip, and in my arms. Carli has this innate way of dragging an antagonistic attitude out of me. I learned that the last time we ran across one another.
Dammit, I want to push her. I want to crash against her body and hold her still, but at the same time, I want to let that fire loose. I want to let it engulf me.
She’s dangerous, and it’s so fucking attractive.
With a bing of the elevator, the doors open, invading our quiet. Grasping Carli by the hips, I drag her away before her lithe little body spills into the hall. Breaking away from my grip, I watch as she straightens her outfit, smooths her silken pony tail, and re-shoulders her Vuitton bag, making her the picture of perfection once more.
As an older couple walk inside, hand in hand, the two of us move to separate corners of the elevator, and as the doors close, I’m watching her every move. My blood still rises with the thoughts that are running rampant, and I’d love nothing more than to tell the people standing in our space that this carriage is occupied.
I want to hit that emergency button and show her how easy it is to tear off silk. But I don’t. The sweetness of the older couple restrains me.
Three floors later the doors open, and before I can say another word, Carli’s scuttling out beside the aged couple.
I don’t chase her. I should, but I don’t, even if I’d rather put that woman over my knee and spank the sass out of her.