Chapter 4
Miles
T he steady thrum of pattering water muffles the sounds of the woman on her knees in front of me going to work on my dick. They say spas are peaceful, but damn. Getting topped off butt-ass naked inside of a room with water falling from the ceiling wasn’t on the agenda for today, but I’d be a dumbass to say no. It’s dark enough. No one will see shit anyway.
The woman beneath me moans as she takes me to the back of her throat. I try to trick myself, but her voice doesn’t match the one from last night. Her hair isn’t the mahogany shade I imagined splayed across my pillows.
Emma Douglass is a witch who summoned the dark arts to cast me under her spell after one taste of her pussy. After I got back to my room, I came so hard in the shower I searched online to see if buckled knees and enough nut to finger paint tiled walls weren’t signs of a stroke.
Yeah, she had me by the dick last night, but only one of us repeated words from years ago. The tension between us was thick enough to suck the oxygen from the hallway. Em wasn’t in my lap, grinding her pussy into my erection back then, but she still tempted me to risk it all. I saw it, the desire lit in her eyes. Shit, I felt it. Had we not been in T and Justice’s house, I wouldn’t have thought twice about driving my tongue into her before consuming her with deep strokes.
My hands anchor to the wall as I roll my hips into Melissa’s (?) warm mouth with gentle thrusts. Melanie (?) groans, reaching down to thrum her clit.
Fuck, why can’t I remember her name? There’s an M in it.
She chokes but quickly recovers and flattens her tongue.
“Breathe through your nose. Good girl.” I pat her hair, cautious not to fist it and fuck her mouth the way I want to.
Marisa and I met at the lodge this morning. Terrence was on the slopes, heard Justice’s Tia and Tamera cackle, and skied his scared ass away to put distance between them. The man is still gone for his wife—not that I expected any different. He and I went our separate ways after that. I gave him space and met up with the brunette who was clocking me from earlier. One thing led to another, and here we are alone in a spa room.
Getting pussy is neither rare nor a challenge. If that makes me a dick, so be it, but that’s exactly what you get—dick. I pride myself on pleasing the women I’m with. It’s rare for me to put my mouth on anyone, but my stroke game will have you speaking in tongues.
Once we’re done, it’s over. Out of sight, and the furthest thing from my mind.
I focus on a crack in the wall to block out the moss-green eyes behind a lace mask. Full lips parted into ecstasy at her self-play.
“Fuck,” I groan.
I’ve always been attracted to Emma, but last night almost had me begging. I was ready to hand over whatever she wanted—my car keys, house, routing numbers—to relive her fingers dancing across her glistening lips while Aeris stroked her nipples. She exceeds every fantasy, and she’s as beautiful now as she was fifteen years ago when we first met. We’ve always circled each other. Twin flames with an instinct to fuck and an inclination to argue.
Emma is Justice’s friend, not mine. I don’t dislike her, but she grates on my nerves in a way no one else does.
This is the closest you’ll ever get to tasting me.
We’ll see about that.
She is the source of my frustrations and desires who thinks she bested me last night but showed her hand. I’m sure I’m not the only one who still thinks about the time we nearly had sex, but I need to correct that shit fast. Em’s nectar between her legs seared itself into my taste buds, but I’m not about to be sprung.
I quicken my pace as my balls tighten. What’s this woman’s name? I need to figure it out before she swallows.
A faint giggle registers over my shoulder. No one should be in the rain room except for me and Mary.
Madeline.
Molly.
Fuck.
I cock my head to the side at whoever’s interested in my bare ass, squinting to make out the figure behind me. “What the fu— Justice ? Is that you?”
I always knew she had kinks buried underneath the Target clothes and church girl personality. Terrence had a reputation for his sex drive, but my guess is she gives him a run for his money.
Justice trips over the lounger behind her as she scurries for the door, showing her whole ass underneath her robe. Laughter rips through me at her audacity to act surprised. She’s the one who interrupted me and Mackenzie. I advert my eyes to give her the privacy to readjust herself before I go to help her off the stone floor.
“Wait here,” I tell Maleficent. She looks between me and Justice and retreats to a dark corner. “What are you doing here, kid?” My attention shifts to Justice whose eyebrows are as high as I’d like to be.
She moves toward me but thinks twice and covers her eyes. “Can you put some clothes on, please ?”
We can’t see shit in here with the fake candles on recessed shelves around the room, but there’s no mistaking her Preacher’s Wife performance. It’s like she hasn’t been around a dick or people fucking outside a bedroom. Maybe not the second, knowing her.
“You’re such a kid,” I say and lift her to me after I cover myself.
Justice is a pain in my ass even when she’s not being stubborn—which is never. She tries to wiggle free from my arm wrapped around her waist, and I laugh my ass off as her hands cover her face, shielding another glimpse at my shaft.
“Relax, I have a towel on. I won’t smack you in the face with my dick.” Light from the hallway reaches into the room when I open the door.
Jay spins on me when I put her down. “What the hell are you doing, Miles?” With our height difference, she’s yelling at my chest. Her breath comes out in an angry huff and blows a curl falling from a lazy bun out of her face.
I shrug. “Thought it was obvious. I would say it’s been a pleasure bumping into you again, but you interrupted my happy ending.” With Margaret. “Now be a good little girl and go back to your suite.” I motion to the locker room and nudge her to take the hint.
She stares at me with the same look she had when she Lysoled me during my last visit to her and Terrence’s house. “You’re disgusting.”
“Coming from you, Mother Teresa, I take that as a compliment,” I say and head back into the room.
The hum of water showers the space with white noise as an outline of petite curves comes into view. Water trickles down her breasts, and my dick springs back to life.
She fists me under my towel and licks her lips. “Where were we?”
Trying to forget Emma and remember your name.
A replay of last night, her hand sliding down the swell of her amber breasts, drifts back to memory. Head in the spa isn’t enough of a distraction to erase the image of Emma’s fingers dancing over her inner thighs. I push the thought from my mind to focus on… “Mya, I have to go soon.”
She pouts but doesn’t correct me about her name. A win is a win.
I had no plans to fuck her, but I am a giver. The pad of my thumb grazes her nipple. That’s right, focus on her. Her back arches, and I lift her to a nearby table, where I lay her down, spread her legs, and bring her to orgasm with my fingers.
“Would you stop looking over your shoulder?” You’d think Terrence has a warrant out for his arrest the way he keeps scanning the room and eyeing the exits.
He peeks over his menu to give me the finger, a salute I’ll take as a good sign. Bro is in a dark place. My rundown on what happened to Justice at the ’90s party last night, and her thinking he started fucking on Madison, got to him. He’s been ducking not one but two exes at this retreat. It doesn’t make me envious, nor does it spark a desire for relationships beyond casual sex.
Justice stomped the shit out of his heart when she packed up and left him while he was out of the country on business. They hit more than a rough patch a couple years back and haven’t been able to fix it. T is my bro, but I’ll admit that throwing himself into his job caused more problems than good. That doesn’t warrant radio silence and moving out in my book, but what the hell do I know about marriage?
I doubt Terrence anticipated that his other ex would be here also, but I’m sure he mentioned it to Madison in passing, given they run in similar circles. He’s a strength and conditioning specialist to celebs, and she’s a personal stylist.
He should be sweating that he pretended to lose our bet just to drag us here so he could see his wife. I’m many things, but Boo Boo the Fool ain’t one. My IQ is too high for that. With all the traveling we do, he randomly chooses a made-for-TV location in the dead of winter?
I don’t have proof, but I don’t need it.
I flip through the menu and resist the urge to call him on his bullshit. If he wants to fight for his wife and prevent a divorce on the sly, fine. But do it somewhere warm, where I’m not freezing my nuts off.
“You know what you want?” Terrence scrubs a hand over his goatee, his eyes focused, and his brows drawn at the mini binder of lunch options before him.
She’s not on the menu.
After I walked Mya out, I signed up for a deep tissue massage and ran into Emma. After all that shit-talking I did, I ate every word as I took in the wet ringlets swaying at the nape of her high bun. Her cheeks heated under my gaze, like she’d just come from the sauna. I’ve never been a jealous man, but my nostrils flared at the cotton fabric nestled between her breasts, the same way they did two years ago in the hallway. She hiked a brow, silently asking why I was staring her down. So I did us both a favor and left.
“Bro, you good?”
Shit, am I? “Can’t decide between steak or fish.”
Terrence stares at me for a beat before he goes back to his menu. I’m full of it. He knows it, but he won’t press me, just like I won’t press him about how he really feels about his wife. There’s no need to. Not when his actions speak louder than words in Aretha Franklin syllables. When we’re not out, he’s in his room. I dared him to sleep with Madison, or any other woman here. Seven months is a long time to jerk your dick. If it’s Justice he wants, go get her. If not, move on.
Regardless, I got his back. Terrence is my brother, my friend since we were small kids getting into all types of shit in Newark. I might give him hell for being whipped—what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?—but I love him and Justice together, even if I want to fling her ass away from time to time.
Time passes amid chatter and forks scraping plates. Terrence is rehearsing the apology tour he’s contemplating once he gets the courage to actually talk to Justice. I’m running programming simulations in my head, trying not to think about his wife’s friend who’s living rent fucking free in my mind.
“You, uh…want to talk about anything?”
I’m a few years older that Terrence, and I have always shielded him from the bad shit I didn’t want to touch his life. But his anguish at being separated from Jay is beyond my control. Feelings are foreign to me. I have them, but I don’t sit around trying to process them. He does, and that’s probably why his constipated stare is stuck on confused. We don’t talk about shit like emotions.
He runs a hand through the black curls ruffling on top of his head. “I’m”—he frowns but recovers with a smile that’s more forced than natural—“good.”
“Cool.”
“Yup.”
“Okay then.”
We mirror each other in dark jeans and Henleys, his gray and mine black. We’re also dumbasses, unable to fess up about the important shit. Terrence and Justice will reconcile. It’s in the cards for them.
Me and Emma? We’re about to get into some shit.