Casanova(26)

Sweet Jesus. I was knocking on trouble’s door.

“You wanna know who I am, Lani?” he asked me in a low voice, his lips tickling my ear. “Let me show you right now. But you shut your pretty little mouth until I’m done.”

I parted my lips and inhaled.

“If I liked you eight years ago, I downright fucking crave you now. And don’t stand here against me and tell me you aren’t squirming in your wet little panties.” He slid his hand down my back and cupped my ass. He held my hips against his, making his long, hard cock press against my lower stomach.

Like he had a right to. Like he could own my body with one more tiny touch.

I clenched my thighs together.

I wasn’t just knocking on trouble’s door. I was inside its house and naked on its bed.

“You want to write these bullshit articles? Do it. You won’t make me look like a saint, kitten. I booked my seat in the sinner club before Satan fell from Heaven,” he said, voice low in my ear. “But as long as you’re here, I’m gonna put your investigative skills to work.”

I swallowed and pushed against his muscular chest. “Let me go, Brett.”

“I’m gonna investigate you on your knees with my cock down your throat. Investigate you pinned against the wall and begging me. Investigate your pussy when you come on my tongue. Investigate what it looks like when your ass is in the air and I’m about to put my cock in you. But you know what I’m really gonna enjoy investigating? The look on your face when you scream my name and come all over my cock again and again.” His voice was breathy yet steady as he ran through each of them. “And bet your tight little ass, pretty girl, that you’re gonna be a fully willing participant of each and every scream.”

He pressed his erection against me. Then he abruptly released me, taking a step back as I struggled to take a deep breath in long enough to calm the erratic beat of my heart.

“That is who I am now,” he said, looking me dead in the eye. “I’m an asshole, but make no mistake—I’m the asshole who’ll give you the best damn fuck of your life. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, adjusting his pants. “I’m going to take a shower and imagine your undoubtedly tight little pussy is around my dick instead of my own hand.”

With that, he turned and stalked out of the room, turning down one of the many hallways of Walker House.

And I gave into my instincts, and I ran.





CHAPTER EIGHT


BRETT



Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She tasted like hot coffee and fresh pastries. I knew because the taste of her lips still lingered on mine, and every time my tongue flicked out to wet them, I tasted her.

I had no fucking clue why I kissed her. She was so fired up. Her eyes shone brightly as she shouted insults at me, and it was an impulse.

I didn’t want to kiss her.

I needed to kiss her.

I needed to feel those soft lips against mine. I needed to fucking feel if she kissed me as hard as she tore me apart.

I knew one thing: Lani Montana was the only woman who could bring me to my knees.

That’s where I felt like I should have been then. In my bedroom on my knees, trying to wipe the memory of her kiss from my mind. The more I tried, the harder it was. The stronger the taste became on my lips. The stronger the memory of her hands wound in my t-shirt became.

Just...fuck.

I should have been on my knees, not standing in the shower with my hand wrapped around my cock. It wasn’t nice or easy. It was harsh, fast pumps of my fist around my hard dick as I braced myself with one hand flattened against the tiles. The hot water beat down on the back of my neck and dripped off my body as I got myself off to the thought of Lani Montana on her knees in front of me with her pussy clearly exposed and ready for me. To the thought of me pushing myself inside her wetness and cupping her round tits. To the thought of her ass pressing against my skin as I buried myself inside her. My finger on her clit and rubbing as I fucked her. Her pussy tightening around my cock. My name falling from her lips.

To the thought of fucking owning her. Her and her smart mouth and her aching cunt.

I gripped my cock at its base as my hot cum escaped and fell to the shower floor. Slowly, I pumped, riding out the pleasure, but I felt sick. I felt fucking sick because it was wrong and I shouldn’t have done it.

Shit, she was Lani.

I’d kissed her, and I’d just jacked myself off to the thought of me fucking her with her ass in the air and her face buried in a pillow.

She was right. Everything she’d said earlier was right. I was all those things and more. Fuck, I was disgusted at myself.

“Shit.” I smacked my hand against the wall and leaned forward until my forehead was pressed against it. The stream of water from the shower cascaded down my back and ass onto the floor.

Why the fuck did I have to show her that side of me? Why did I have to really let her see it?

I know why. She pushed me. She was so damn determined to see the person I was now, the person I’d become, that she almost made me. Maybe if I showed her who I really was, she’d give it up. She’d hand that check back to my father and stop wasting her time on me.

The articles were dumb anyway. Who was going to believe them? Nobody. If we were all honest, nobody was going to do it. It was all an appeasement for my grandfather and my father. To remind them I maybe wasn’t the failure they had me down as. To convince them that there was an ounce of decent person left inside me.