Cupid’s Naughty Elf

2. Piper

2

PIPER

MY DARK KNIGHT

“ F uck, I needed this,” my cousin, Miriam, says from beside me after slamming back a Bad Santa shot, the tiny bell on her garter belt tinkling with every step she takes. She’s dressed to kill tonight—seductive yet playful—while her eyes are set on a man who aggravates the hell out of her.

Literal enemies and lovers. Want and hate.

No one understands their relationship—the constant push and pull—yet their public game of chase is always entertaining to watch. They go from hot to cold and then a little mild stalking in between, but then again, I’m no one to judge.

I’m no better.

He’s mine. Only mine. And this slutty elf is out for a good spanking.

Dropping the empty shot glass on one of the high-top tables scattered throughout the hosting ballroom, Miriam adjusts the low-cut, sweetheart top of her dress. It’s lower now, her breasts nearly spilling out, and I wink at her as a few appreciative whistles come from a group of men to the left of us.

We don’t know them. They’re more than likely guests—business associates—of someone in our inner circle, but that’s no excuse for not knowing who we are.

Untouchable.

Not for them.

They look to be in their mid-thirties, seem fit, and could be seen as handsome to most...

I’m not interested. They do nothing for me.

Especially the cocky grin the male with blond hair sends our way.

“Ignore it,” Miriam says, pulling my attention back to her. She’s twirling a lock of her mahogany hair around her finger, the look in her eye mischievous. Knowing. “They’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

At that, I snort. She isn’t lying. Because knowing the watchful eyes inside this room, that catcall was strike one .

“What’s the end game tonight, dear cousin?” I ask before taking a sip of my mistletoe margarita. The cranberry flavor is bright on my tongue. “A spanking or some gagging?”

“Such a filthy mind.” Her red lips curl into a playful grin. “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s because you’re a horrible influence, Miri.”

“The worst,” she agrees, wrapping her arm around me. I’m squeezed tight before she smacks my left asscheek. Hard, it stings, and the clap causes heads to turn our way while that same group of men move closer. Not that they make it far.

Three steps, and Jonah Byrnes and Liam Rutherford intercept them.

Two very overprotective, domineering, and at times possessive men. The latter of the two, Liam, makes my entire body clench in painful pleasure when those green eyes slide down my scantily clad body with undisguised hunger before glaring at the group.

And while Jonah is this year’s designated naughty Santa in red pants and suspenders—a couple’s costume chosen by Miriam to make a statement—my Liam reminds me of a dark knight.

He donned a black-on-black tux sans tie with the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Then, there are the tattoos peeking out from his collar and at his wrist, with his last name spelled across his knuckles. No jewelry. No color. Nothing except a Cartier watch, the gold band a beautiful contrast against his tanned skin while the diamonds surrounding the bezel glint in the room's dim and festive lighting.

This man is sinful perfection.

Is everything I find attractive in a man at six-foot-three with dark hair, while those dangerous emerald eyes follow me everywhere I go.

Since the day we met—the day I moved into my cousin’s beachfront property—Liam’s been a constant in my life. Empathetic toward an eighteen-year-old who lost her parents and was leaving behind her home state of California for the tropical waters of Florida. I was both excited and scared, working through the grief of losing my movie star-mother and music-producer father, when he gave me my first true all-consuming hug.

It was the kind that warmed you down to your marrow while causing your heart to race.

Liam was the first person I saw after walking into Miri’s house. He was also the first person to tell me it would be okay, and I believed him. Always have.

And in the chaos—the crippling heartache—after my parent’s helicopter crash, his warmth helped me find safety in the unknown. Sure, I’ve always been close to Miriam—for years, I’d heard stories about her crazy pack of rich-kid friends during her many visits—but he felt like comfort wrapped in the sweetest greed.

Greed because I coveted this man. Have since that day. Moreover, Liam Rutherford has the same confident swagger—as much of a commanding presence—as he did then. Yet as I look at him now, there’s something else there…

Something a little darker. More commanding.

There’s a tightness in his jaw, the clenching of his left hand—a palpable anger that those around him sense and move a little back from him. And while any other time I’d giggle at their reaction, my attention’s captured by his long fingers.

“How did I miss that,” I mutter under my breath, and Miri bumps her shoulder with mine in question, but I shake my head. I’m taken in by the flash of gilded brilliance on his left hand, but before I can make out what it is, Liam slips it inside his trouser pocket.

“Something you need, gentlemen?” Jonah’s tone is polite yet unfriendly, while Liam doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares, and the look on his face matches his friend’s unspoken threat.

Step back. Don't look at them.

He’s adorable.

“Not at all. This is a fantastic party.” This comes from the blond male; he has slicked-back hair and a pair of reindeer antlers on his head. All four of them are wearing identical headbands as their costume, and a boring dark green suit completes the ensemble. “The aesthetic is quite tempting. ”

“In what way?” Liam’s growly voice does things to me, and I grip Miri’s hand tightly. She winces but doesn’t say anything, her attention solely on Jonah. When will they ever quit playing cat and mouse and just give in? “Please enlighten me.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch Jonah’s brother, Cain, rushing over. He’s wearing a Grinch onesie undone at the top and hanging off his hips. He’s two years older than me and looks worried.

So does Isla and her twin, Ivy. They’re dressed as Christmas whores—literally. Nothing more than expensively slutty underwear, and they look simply amazing.

Gorgeous, and something no one who’s ever been to one of these parties would leer at. No shaming or judgment. What happens within these walls, and after , is never spoken about.

There are still two missing from our group, but they’ve always been fashionably late to every birthday, BBQ, and party thrown. We’re one wealthy generation on opposite ends of the same decade with a mixture of old and new money—between those of us still in college, or like Liam, who’s a year away from thirty.

“What’s going on, Rutherford?” Cain asks, and the concern on his face gives away who these guests got their invites from. “Why do you look ready to…”

We don’t stay to hear the rest, but I catch Isla’s eyes, and she blows me a kiss before moving in closer. Her twin merely rolls hers, knowing they’ll play damage control and explain the rules to Cain’s friends while Mrs. Claus and the eager elf head toward the dance floor.

The opulent room inside a grand hotel on the Marco Island coast is owned by the Byrnes family, an international chain known for its upscale accommodations and excellent customer service. This resort is the largest, with five more locations in this state alone, while the rest of the group belongs to high society here—the small niche of residents who are above the law.

Money will always talk no matter what coast you live on, but here, they play by a different set of rules. You don’t bite the hand that feeds government agendas. But what else can you expect from a group of second-generation heirs with family names that give them a free pass?

There’s a political family, the owners of the top-ranked casino in the industry, a real estate developer, and a hotelier. You also have a social media app CEO, and my Liam, who builds first-shooter video games with a cult-like following that continues to grow.

A company he started with my cousin, Miriam.

His parents come from old money, too. They own a football team in South Florida, and his brother is currently the active head of the operation.

Every single family is dominant in their respective fields, unapologetically ruthless, but when I’ve felt lost, my Liam always pulls me in. Because I’ll never follow in my parent’s footsteps. It’s something I’ve made peace with, and many don’t understand how I don’t capitalize on those connections.

But being a celebrity isn’t something I’ll ever aspire to be.

I’ve lived that life. Been under constant scrutiny: the fear of being followed, having twenty-four-hour security around you, and people shouting your name everywhere you go. Being the daughter of someone famous, and in my case two of them, was more of a nightmare than a dream come true.

At least, for me.

I couldn’t even lay them to rest without a paparazzi helicopter circling the private cemetery and photogs with huge lenses capturing the event from a distance while hiding in the trees.

It’s a fiasco I never want to be a part of again.

My dream is a lot more subdued. Quiet. Normal.

I’m a writer—completely enamored and addicted to romance. Nothing’s published yet, but it will be. Soon, too. Under a pseudonym and without public appearances, I’ll do this on my terms.

“He’s so mad,” Miri says, pulling my attention back to the present. Her eyes flick between them and us, but I don’t turn around. Not even when I feel the heat of his stare, a pleasurable fire that sweeps from my feet to my face, leaving me flushed. Miriam notices, but outside of her amused smirk, she doesn’t call me out on it. “Cain’s standing between them now, and Liam’s saying something, and it doesn’t appear to be welcoming.”

“Isn’t that their usual overprotective M.O.? Claim and defend, but don’t touch?”

Her lips twitch as she pushes a wayward curl back from her face. “They’re amusing if nothing else.” The drink I’ve been nursing is taken from my hand and Miri brings it to my lips, not removing it, but instead tipping it back until I have no choice but to finish it off. When I give her a look, she places the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray before asking him to get us another. And only after he’s out of earshot does she address me again. “So, what’s your game plan tonight? Because your outfit screams please bend me over .”

Corset and shorts so small a hint of asscheek peeks out? Check.

His favorite shade of green? Check.

Bright red lips and smoky eyes? Check.

Carrying around a mistletoe drink all night, so I have an excuse to kiss him? Absolutely and double-freaking-check.

I’m not hiding my intent. The aim is to tease, taunt, and break his resolve.

This is all his fault.

It’s repayment for the years of keeping me at arm’s length. For denying us both while he sat on his moral high horse, leaving me with no choice but to cry out his name in my lonely bed every night. Sure, we met when I was just eighteen, but waiting three years was excessive and I plan to make him pay for every empty release.

He’ll be given the most epic case of blue balls to ever blue ball before I kiss them better.

I raise an amused brow at Miri. “And yours screams of innocence and prim charm?”

“Never insult me like that again. I’m a proud whore for one stubborn man.”

“Has Jonah given in yet?”

“Not per se...” Before I can ask what that means, the waiter returns and hands us each a drink. We thank him in unison, and it’s only after he leaves that she leans in close. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “He’s apologized but won’t admit to any wrongdoing.”

“The man stole your car!” I whisper-shout, the incredulous act losing all meaning when I giggle right after. “You have him on camera doing it, too.”

“I know.” Her lips twitch.

“Didn’t they find prints all over the vehicle?”

“They magically disappeared. Just went poof.”

“He’s an ass, Cousin.” I’m shaking my head while she shrugs, used to his unfunny pranks. I think she gets off on them. “Don’t know how you put up with him.”

“His talented mouth makes up for the headaches.”

“Brand-new-Range-Rover talented?”

“Piper, he’s...” A blush sweeps across her cheeks, and I’m surprised. Miri is nothing if not bold and unapologetic. “Jonah’s a Rolls-Royce- with -a-cupcake-on-top level of sinful.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah. Jonah has me tongue-metized and knows it.”

“No wonder...” I trail off. It’s getting harder to not crack up.

“I’m screwed, I know.” Miri dips two fingers inside her drink and licks the first and then the second, her eyes locked just beyond my shoulder. More than likely messing with Jonah, and I know I’m right when something breaks a second later. “We’ve established that, but what’s your game plan tonight, chick? Dance with me, or corner him with your mistletoe margarita?”

“Such a hard choice.” I take a sip and then purse my lips. “I think I’ll dance with you.”

“That’s my girl. Drive him crazy.” Grabbing my hand, Miri twirls me twice before playfully dipping me. We don’t say anything for a bit, our bodies swaying to the beat not far from the center of the dance floor where a crowd gyrates almost in sync. There’s no space between bodies; the sight of wandering hands and low moans mix with the heavy bass thrumming through me.

No one’s outright having sex, but pleasure flows through the room.It’s a little early for that, many here have hooked up before, and I can’t help but clench in want. To be a little jealous because for as long as I’ve known Liam, I’ve never so much as kissed another man.

Closing my eyes for a second, I roll my hips and enjoy the feather-light pressure against my clit the movement prompts. My thighs are closed, and the fabric of my shorts is tight against my flesh; I’m sensitive and slick—the inseam giving just enough of a tease that I’m unable to bite back the truth that slips from my parted lips.

“I want to kick Liam, then kiss it better.”

“Why?” There’s a hint of mirth in her tone, but I don’t look at her.

“Cause I’m jealous?”

No sooner do I answer than I sense him. First, it’s his scent. He’s worn leather with a light note of citrus before the heat of his body stops behind me. Not touching me, but close enough to cause a shiver to rush down my spine.

My eyes immediately flash open and meet my cousin’s; she’s s standing in front of me. When she moved, I have no clue, but the traitor isn’t hiding her amusement. Her smirk is cocky yet proud.

You suck , I mouth and Miri shrugs, but then it doesn’t matter. Not when Liam’s large, strong hand grips my hip and tugs me closer.

Back to chest. His lips are at my ear.

“And what are you jealous of, sweet Piper? What are you hiding?”