9
SKYLER
I can’t believe we’re going to do this, right here, out in the open in a courtyard in Spain outside of a flamenco nightclub. It’s so beyond hot, I’m not sure I can make my legs move the three feet needed to get what I want.
Parker doesn’t have the same problem, though. He attacks like a python, his movements coiled and tight as he tucks my underwear into his coat pocket, leans forward, captures my hand, and tugs me over his lap. I straddle his muscular thighs and place my hand around his bulging erection like a handle.
“You’re so hard, honey.” I whimper a little as the walls of my sex contract at the phantom of a cock that’s not yet there.
“You make me that way.” His voice is strained, a barely contained animalistic sound leaking out the edges of his lips. “Every sigh. Every lick of your lips. Every sway of your shoulders tonight had me burning to be inside of you. I’m not waiting a moment longer.” His voice has a ruthless quality while he lifts up my dress, centers at my slick cleft, grabs my hips, and impales me on his length.
“Fuck!” I tip my head back at the intense sensation of taking him in one hard, huge plunge. Everything about it is so raw and unplanned. Two bodies striving for one another without fear or insecurities. Just our primal, carnal natures oozing out every pore, reaching for the other.
Parker pushes down the front of my dress, his fingers abrading across an erect tip as he forcefully pulls the lace cup of my bra aside, cups my round, swollen breast, and encases it within the heat of his hand.
Liquid fire burns me everywhere. My chest. Between my thighs. Where his mouth is rhythmically sucking at my breast. And it’s so good, I can hardly breathe.
“Ride me,” he snarls around my breast, biting down until I cry out.
I’m so gone, I get lost in his words, doing exactly as he says. With the power in my legs, and the leverage I’ve got on his shoulders, I ride him fast and hard, up and down, squeezing his length on every withdrawal, hammering down on each plunge. It’s everything and more.
“Hurry, baby. Anyone can come out here and find us,” he taunts, and I’m not sure if he does it to scare me or turn me on more. It definitely has the latter effect, my synapses firing all over the place with pleasure.
His cock feels like a velvet-encased pipe, hard and unyielding and soft at the same time. He’s powering up as I come down, hitting a spot deep inside me over and over again until I’m chanting, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” and then . . . I do.
Spectacularly.
Parker’s entire body locks around me, his arms flattening me to his chest, his grip on my shoulders holding me pinned on his cock like a butterfly to a collector’s board. “Fuck!” he roars into my neck, biting down on the sensitive tissue so hard my body convulses into another miniorgasm. He licks the space and places soothing kisses there, bringing us both down from the height of bliss. His body jerks in a series of aftershocks, like those after an earthquake, which creates the blessed, amazing sensation of his dick flexing deep inside me.
I run my lips up his neck in a sequence of sweet kisses and sigh into the warmth of his succulent skin as my lips glide along its surface. He does the same using the flat of his tongue, bathing me in his own way. When our mouths finally, expertly touch, we’re ravenous, going at one another fervently, kissing deeply, tongues tangling while our arms hold one another tight.
Until the serenity is broken by the back door swinging open, slamming against the brick facade on the other side of it. Through the space in the lattice, I see a large shape and a shiny black gun pointed out in front of the stranger.
I lock my arms around Parker, but it’s too late for me to speak or warn him. The dark, shadowy figure moves fast, his bulky frame blocking the small bit of light from in front of us about a good six feet away. I yelp in fear, squeezing Parker like my life depends on it, wanting to make sure that I cover every inch of him with my own body so that he is unharmed.
“Aw, fucking hell! Should have known,” a familiar, irritated voice says as the gun disappears from sight and the hulking form walks away.
“What? What is it?” a female voice asks, appearing behind the lattice, her platinum-blonde hair glinting in the low light. “Well, then, mystery solved. See you in the hallway,” Rachel announces, barely containing the laughter in her tone. Before she’s fully past the lattice, she pokes her head back around. “Nice knees, Parker,” she snorts, and then bounds off after her husband.
“Um, honey, did that just happen?” I try to clear the sex haze and fear but fail miserably, my body shaking with the leftover anxiety of seeing a gun right after I had a monster orgasm.
“Yeah, Peaches, Nate and Rachel just caught us postfucking with my pants around my ankles. Second, don’t you ever cover my body with your own if you see a threat. You get behind me. Always,” he chastises in that manly voice that brooks no argument.
I figure to even say anything would have me in a snit with my man, and really, the situation is beyond hilarious. The visual and being caught all starts to hit me, and my body starts to jerk in Parker’s lap as the laughter bubbles up out of my lungs and chest. “At least it was them and not the—”
Right as I say it, a bunch of flashes go off from over the fence across from us.
“Shit! Nate!” Parker bellows, and I hear the door to the courtyard fly open as Parker presses up my dress to cover my breasts. “Fence. Paps,” Parker calls out.
Nate jumps up onto a crate and hovers over the fence, screaming a bunch of expletives. “Get the fuck out of here. Nothing to see,” Nate demands, his arms waving wildly.
While Nate is shooing the two paparazzi away, Parker lifts me off his now softening cock, hikes up his pants, and secures button and zipper before latching his loose belt.
I squeeze my legs together, wishing I had something to use before his essence slides down and out of me in an embarrassing display of our recent sexual activities.
“Rach, can you, uh, take me to the bathroom?” I ask quietly, not wanting Nate or Parker to hear.
Rachel nods silently but doesn’t say anything. I know the two of them are unhappy that we put ourselves at risk again, but compromising pictures be damned—I’d never give up that experience with Parker in a million years. It’s one of the first times we let loose and were just a silly, lovesick couple getting frisky at a nightclub. I just hope he feels the same way about it. Especially when we see a picture of us snuggling, me in his lap with his pants down around his ankles. At least my dress covered the essentials so there won’t be a picture of my bare ass in the papers tomorrow. Though, I know with a sinking heart, the media is going to have a field day with this one.
On second thought . . .
Fuck ’em.
The next day, Parker was more dispirited than ever before. His mood deteriorated to surly over coffee when he opened his email and was notified of the hundreds of mentions of his name on every celebrity rag from here to kingdom come. This did not get any better when we showed up at the practice stage to find Bo grinning from ear to ear.
“Quiet day out with my woman sightseeing, he said.” Bo grins wickedly.
“Bo . . . ,” Parker warns.
“A leisurely stroll through Madrid’s nightlife scene, he said.” Bo continues his approach, a rolled-up newspaper in his hand.
“I swear to God . . . ,” Parker practically spits through clenched teeth.
Behind Bo, Juliet and Violeta giggle like schoolgirls crushing on the high school heartthrob.
“A romantic dinner for two, he said.”
“Do. Not. Go. There,” Parker growls.
“And what do I find splashed across the front page of El Mundo this morning, not that I can read a lick of it . . .” He makes a spectacle of unrolling the newspaper and showing us the front page image, which just so happens to be Parker’s face and mine looking over our shoulders, one of his hands wrapped up the length of my back, the other barely covering my bare ass. A little bit of cheek is proving exactly what we’re doing, not to mention his bare knees, exposed legs, and pants around his ankles.
“Which doesn’t really matter, since the picture is worth a thousand words.” He grins like the devil who just got a brand-new, shiny broken soul to play with in his dungeon. “You dirty dog. Banging Skyler out in public, getting caught by the paparazzi.” He tucks the paper under his arm and claps dramatically. “Bravo. You win the award for most scandalous sex display. Beats the Ferris wheel story by a long shot.”
Parker’s body goes completely rigid, and I have to snuggle up to his side and run my hand down his chest in order to get his labored breathing back to a normal tempo.
“Ferris wheel?” I frown.
“You’ve gone too far, brother,” Parker states with barely controlled ire.
Bo’s face takes on the expression of one who has been properly chastised. He holds up his hand. “Okay, I admit that last one was bad form, but we’re all friends here. Right?”
“I’ll think about that,” Parker says, his tone matching the surly mood he’s in.
I spin him around and pat his chest. “Honey, look. It was bound to happen. We have a lot of sex. We’re in love. We can’t keep our hands off one another. Eventually the paparazzi were going to get something on us. At least it’s not showing any pertinent body parts.”
He speaks through his teeth. “Your ass is on display.”
“Babe, it’s a little speck of cheek that your hand is mostly covering. No one is seeing much of anything. You don’t hear me complaining about all the sites that are giving praise to your attributes, do you?”
His eyebrows furrow together. “Da fuck you talkin’ ’bout?”
I groan and roll my eyes. “Honey, there are endless sites dedicated to you. Your body. Your sexy hair. Double the hits if you haven’t cut your hair in a while and there’re some curls visible on top. I even saw one that ‘proved’ you had a big dick because your feet were so large.”
He glances down at his size twelves. The theory is true, but I don’t admit it because I’d rather not hear him complain about it. At least on the site they’ve got it narrowed down to him having a bigger appendage than Johan, which is also true, but secretly I love reading they’ve come to an accurate conclusion about my man’s . . . well . . . manhood.
I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms until our hands meet and I can interlace my fingers with his. “Nature of the business. There’s always going to be someone that wants a piece of me. It’s not your fault. One day, when I leave the limelight, it will fade, but now . . . no way. It is what it is. The picture could have been worse. Besides, I’m fine with people knowing how much we love each other. So what if we show it in a very physical way . . .” I lean my chin against his chest and look up at his beautiful face as he gazes down at me.
He wraps my arms behind my back with his, dips down, and lays a fat kiss on me. Again, we hear a bunch of clicking, but this time, it’s Juliet and Violeta and Bo taking the pics.
“Keep going. I’m not sure this image will make me enough to put my pretend children through college one day,” Bo says while pushing buttons on his phone.
“Shut the fuck up!” Parker grins, coming out of his funk. “What do we got going today?”
Bo puts his phone in his back pocket and waves a hand in the air. Juliet takes her place in the center of about ten dancers. The stage is set up with brightly colored props that all look like candy.
“I’ve had an epiphany.” Pete Flaco, the choreographer, comes out from behind a hot-pink prop that looks like a wrapped-up lollipop. “It came to me with Juliet’s song, ‘Your Love Is Like Candy.’”
I know which one he’s talking about. The chorus says something like, “Your love is like candy, great tasting but bad for me.”
“We’ve been practicing Juliet singing while walking through the men wrapped up in bright colors that mimic candy. There will be candy props and bright lights bouncing off all of them to create strokes of color. It will be divine. So good you’ll want to eat it! Like how I want to eat you, cariño Bogart.” Pete waggles his brows.
“For fuck’s sake, man. I’m never, not ever going to go there. I’m straight. I like women. As a matter of fact, I love going down on them and eating their—”
I rush to Bo and cup my hand over his mouth before he can get any crasser than he already has.
Bo licks my hand, and I pull it away as if burned. “Eww! Nasty. You licked my hand.” I cringe and wipe my hand on my pants.
He grins. “You put it over my mouth, precious. What did you expect?”
“Remember there are young girls present. Please.” I sigh and shake my head.
He glances over to Violeta and JJ, whose cheeks have flushed a rosy pink. He makes a clucking noise and winks at them.
“Oh, for the love—” I walk over to Pete. “What else do you have planned?”
For the next thirty minutes, we discuss the first few songs and the choreography or lack thereof for JJ, but still, it all works. Really well.
“Let’s give it a run-through. Sky, Bo, Violeta, let’s go down and sit in the audience so we can see it play out. JJ,”—Parker grabs a microphone from the stack at the side of the stage—“I need you to sing the songs along with your music. Remember, it’s just the four of us watching. Nothing crazy. Do you think you can do that?”
JJ purses her lips, looks at the floor, and fingers the mic. “Yeah, I think I can do it. Violeta and I have been practicing at home. Our parents are going to come and watch the end of practice today once they get off work. They’re so excited.” She wrings the mic as if she can twist it into nothing.
I place my hand on her shoulder. “You know you’re talented right? You believe in it?”
She licks her lips, straightens her spine, and nods. “Sí. Mi mami told me it would be a disservice to hide my gift from the world. She thinks this is my chance to shine, and I really want to make her, Vi, you, Parker, Bo, Alejandro, and the rest of the music people proud.” A look of excitement flashes across her hazel gaze. “I can do it,” she says with more confidence than I’ve heard all week.
I smile wide. “Yes, you can. We’ll be right down there. And just remember, if you get off tune, or lose your place, just pause, breathe, and jump back in when you can. This is not an exact science. Eventually it will become second nature, but right now it’s all new, so take it easy and have fun with it, okay?”
She beams, her high ponytail swaying with her acquiescence. She’s wearing a pair of ripped-up skinny jeans, a pair of suede ankle boots, and an oversize T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, showing a neon tank underneath. The shirt is tied in a knot at her back. It’s like the eighties called and delivered her clothes, but on her at this age, it works, big-time. Besides, all trends come back around, and Spain is known for being the first to bring a fashion trend back in a new way and with a flourish. JJ is definitely going to rock this new look and more. She looks happy and finally at peace with her curves and her appearance.
Parker holds out his hand for me as he stands at the side of the stage where the staircase is. I walk down and take a seat next to Violeta, grab her hand, and hold it tight.
“I’m so nervous,” she whispers, but smiles huge and hollers out a “Woo-hoo!” to her sister as JJ gets into position between some hunky backup dancers.
The music starts up, and JJ smiles into the black abyss of the theater and belts out the beginning notes to “Your Love Is Like Candy.” The song carries on, and though she misses a few steps, loses her breath in a couple of places, she does the best we’ve ever seen her do. She’s brilliant up there and so effervescent I know she’s going to take the music world by storm.
The song goes into the next tune, and she keeps it up. Parker nudges my shoulder, and I look up at him as he says, “You did that. Gave her the courage and confidence.”
I grab his hand. He lifts both of ours, brings mine to his lips, and kisses each fingertip.
“We all did it,” I respond, “but mostly, Juliet did it for herself.”
The second we walk out of the theater, my phone buzzes, and I look down and see Tracey calling for the twentieth time today. I know I can’t hold her off any longer. If I do, she’ll end up getting on a plane and showing up here. She’s not one to be pushed back.
“Yo!” I say into the line.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” she screeches so loud I have to hold the phone back from my ear.
Parker sees the move, and his face hardens.
“Hello to you too, Tracey. How are you this evening? Lovely, I hope,” I state blandly, trying to get her to realize her yelling at me is not going to work.
I wait a full five seconds, hearing nothing in my ear but Tracey’s angry breathing.
“I’m sorry, Birdie. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day. After that little stunt you pulled in Spain last night, I figured you would have called me, giving me a heads-up so that I, your agent who runs your publicity team, could get on top of this scandal before the shit hit the fan. Since that did not happen, our office has been fielding calls every twenty minutes from another news source wanting an official statement.”
“They’re not going to get one.” I tug on a lock of my hair and roll it around my finger nervously.
“Excuse me? I’m not sure I heard you right, Sky. We have to say something.”
“No,” I state flatly. “We don’t. Parker and I got a little crazy after some good food, great wine, and even better flamenco dancing, and things got out of hand. I’m definitely not sorry, though I did call the restaurant, speak to the owner, and apologize for our indiscretion outside on his premises.”
“You what?” she screeches again, and once more, I hold the phone away so that she doesn’t burst an eardrum.
“Yeah, I did. It was the right thing to do. Turns out he didn’t care. And the fact that I was seen outside of his establishment—and pictures of me were posted from other patrons who were inside his establishment—meant that everyone and their brother has now bought tickets to the show, and the place is booked out solid for the next six months. He thanked me and offered me a free dinner, drinks, and show any time I happen to be in Madrid again. So . . . no harm, no foul.”
Parker puts his arm around me and mouths, “Everything okay?”
I roll my eyes and mouth, “Tracey,” back at him.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything when he moves over to chat up Bo. The girls are waiting patiently to go have our celebratory dinner after such a successful practice.
“I cannot believe you got caught doing that. It’s so inappropriate . . .” Tracey continues to bitch. “Another mess of yours I have to clean up.” Blah, blah, blah.
“Well, Trace, good thing you get paid the big bucks. Now I have to go celebrate with a young woman who rocked the house tonight.” I say this loud enough for JJ to hear me.
She beams with joy and pride, looking more beautiful with this smiling face than she ever has before.
“Skyler, you need to come home. Deal with this shit storm, and we need to talk. Things were said between us . . . And, Birdie, we never fight. We love each other. We’re sisters. Family. This tension is unhealthy . . .”
The fire in my soul that has been raging for over a week since she told me she was behind helping Johan hurt himself and me in the process comes rushing back to the surface.
“No. I’ll come home when we’re done with this case and not a second before. I don’t care that you’re upset we left things the way we did. You. Hurt. Me. Trace! I didn’t do shit to you. I’m still not sure how to comprehend what you did to Johan—and me, by proxy. It was beyond insane and downright cruel. You took a weak man and made him weaker, and all for what?”
“For you! I do it all for you! Everything I am. Everything I have. I do it to keep you happy. Strong. At the top of your game. Because I’m your one and only. I’m your family. Not Johan. Not Parker or any other man who tries to get between our friendship.”
“Ugh, you sound like a lovesick fool. Do you hear yourself? Really, listen to what you’re saying. We need a break from each other, Tracey. A big one. Personally, for sure. I’ll decide later if I need to do something professionally as well. For now, do what you’re paid to do. Take care of the problem. Tell the media we have no comment.” I say the last part with uncontrolled fire igniting every word. “As a matter of fact . . . tell them Parker and I are in love and we got frisky after a few drinks and a great show. Whatever. I don’t care! Just leave. Me. Alone!” I grind my teeth, smash the end button, and lift my arm to toss the phone across the street. The anger in my soul is so overwhelming I need to lash out.
Before I can, Parker bum-rushes me, hand to my wrist, and takes the phone, then holds down the off button until the screen goes black. “No more broken phones. Wendy would kill us. She’s got tracking devices on these things, and they are not cheap.”
“Wendy tracks me?” News to me.
He looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “Peaches . . . it’s Wendy. Of course she tracks you. Do you love her?”
I look from side to side. “Well, yeah. She’s more a friend than my own best friend now.” I scowl.
“’Nuff said. If you love her, she loves you, claims you as her very own, which means you’re tracked. And for sure, she’s got a lot of other things in your life being tracked.”
“Hmm. Should I be worried?”
“Does it weird you out?” He frowns.
I shrug. “Maybe a little.”
“She’d laugh hearing you say that but then ignore you. It’s just her way. If you’re loved, you’re part of our crew, you’re monitored. I live with it and try my best to fuck with her head.”
“Oooh, that sounds like fun. How do we do that?”
Parker presses me along the brick wall at my back, his warm length planted against mine from knees to chest. I can feel his breath caress my lips as he brings his face closer. “We can look up a sex shop and buy some toys, which she’ll see when our credit cards ding on her monitoring device, but instead of keeping them, we can have some weird shit mailed to her instead. The whole time she’ll think we’re into some kinky stuff, when in reality, the stuff will land on her doorstep.”
“Ooh, fun! Though I don’t think sex stuff would wig her out.” Not my BDSM-loving bestie. “We should hit a baby store and buy some random things. That would make her freak-o-meter flag fly like crazy.”
“Smart. I like the way you think,” he murmurs against my lips, and kisses me.
I forget all about Tracey and her drama llama, focusing instead on my man’s silky lips, his cinnamon-gum-flavored tongue, and the heat of his body pressing against mine. Everything fades into nothing when I’m in his arms.
“You make me happy,” I whisper.
He caresses my nose with his. “Ditto.” He laces our fingers together and tugs me toward our group that is still waiting patiently, Bo included.
Bo probably heard me talking angrily with Tracey and chose to give his jokester nature a break. Which proves that Bo is tuned in to what’s going on around him and knows how to cap it when he needs to. When I get close he interlaces his fingers with my other hand and bumps his side against mine as we walk down the street toward the place where Violeta made reservations for our celebratory dinner.
“You okay, Sky?” he asks, his chocolate gaze focused intently on me.
I smile and knock his body to the side in retaliation. “Perfect as a peach.”
He nods, brings my hand up to his scruffy face, and kisses the back. “You know I’m here for you if you need to talk to someone other than my brother over there.”
Parker ignores us both, but he can hear everything Bo is saying, mostly because Bo’s not making it a secret even if he’s speaking in hushed tones.
I squeeze Bo’s hand in thanks. “I appreciate it. And I do know it.”
“And if Parker needs backup, I’m happy to beat down any motherfucker at the snap of your pretty fingers. Even with two bodyguards, you’ve got more coverage. No one is getting to you here.” He tightens his hold on my hand, lets it go, and taps my temples. “Or here. No way, nohow. Family first. Always.”
Family first.
Always.
“I love you, Bo,” I tell him, because I can’t not after how he makes me feel included, part of a team, a real family by choice.
He grins wildly, grabs the side of my head, and kisses my temple. Then the shit talking commences. “Did you hear that, bro? Your girl loves me.”
“Did you have to massage his ego like that? Did you?” Park groans, wraps an arm around me, and moves me to his opposite side, farther away from Bo. This has Bo laughing hard.
“That’s right, move her far, far away. It won’t matter. The love vibes are strong between us. I can feel them from a mile away, bro.”
I chuckle as Park and Bo take potshots at each other for the next ten minutes. I just smile and laugh along the way, happy to be right where I am with my all-time-favorite man, his brother, my two friends keeping an eye out behind us, and two girls who are skipping all the way to the restaurant.
No matter what is printed about me in the paper or what Tracey has to say about my reputation . . . I don’t care. Because in the end . . . life is good.