Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Lincoln
“ F inal offer, Mr. Elliott,” Mrs. Ducane said with a tone that could freeze lava. “Thirteen nine five. I want this place.”
I bit back a curse. The old bag should have made this offer hours ago. “I understand. I think this will do it.”
“Very well. I won’t be available for the next hour; I’m having my nails done. Please leave a message and I hope it’s good news,” she said curtly before hanging up. There was a lot of that going around tonight.
I took a deep breath and dialed Erika Bramwell’s number, hoping her client would finally accept. The phone barely rang before she answered.
“What now?” Erika’s voice was brisk, carrying an edge of irritation.
I couldn’t help but smirk at her response. “You don’t seem to have the demeanor for this profession.”
“Fuck you, Elliott. Do you have another bullshit offer?” she snapped.
“I think you’ll like this one,” I said, my amusement barely contained.
“Are you going to spill it or tease me?”
I almost groaned. I’d love to tease her, if only her voice matched her body. “I’d like to tease you.”
“Are we still talking about the offer?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and annoyance.
“Offer is thirteen nine five,” I said.
“Well, finally.”
“Is that good enough for your client to accept?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual despite the growing tension.
“I have no idea, but it’s surely more appealing than the last two.”
“When will you know?” I asked, trying to gauge her reaction.
“My client is unreachable at the moment,” Erika said, her frustration clear.
The back-and-forth was starting to arouse me. I rubbed at my crotch absently as my interest grew. “Then maybe we should spend the time having a drink.”
“Are you asking me out, Elliott?” Her voice was sharp, but there was an undercurrent of intrigue.
“What if I was?” I replied, leaning into the provocative angle.
“I’d say you have other things in mind than just drinks,” she said, her voice lowering slightly.
“Possibly, but only if you’re game.”
“How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?” she asked, her tone now playful.
I chuckled, the sound rich with promise. “Do you?”
“I have several,” Erika said, her tone hinting at something more than just a simple list.
“You like to torture men, don’t you?” I asked, unable to keep the teasing edge out of my voice.
Erika snorted into the phone. “Torture, hardly.”
“You’re torturing me. How about that drink?” I pressed, feeling a mix of frustration and attraction.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” she said firmly.
“Once the offer is accepted, our business will be concluded,” I pointed out.
“Not necessarily. These things take time,” she countered, her tone implying that she was not easily swayed.
“Then we can have a drink as colleagues,” I suggested, trying to keep the conversation alive.
“Not interested. I need to go. You’re not the only agent I’m dealing with,” she said, sounding a bit impatient.
“When will you get back to me with an answer?” I asked, hoping for a definitive timeline.
“As soon as I can reach my client, which might not be for a few hours. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to annoy in the meantime.” Her voice softened slightly with a giggle, and my heart did an unexpected flutter. What the hell?
“I guess I have no choice,” I said, my voice tinged with reluctant acceptance.
“Goodbye, Elliott. I have a call on the other line.” Her tone was final, but there was a hint of warmth beneath it.
The phone clicked, leaving me standing there in my tented black boxers, feeling uncharacteristically exposed. This wasn’t like me, but Erika Bramwell had managed to get under my skin.
“You’re so big.”
I wrapped my hand around my cock and stroked as the blonde gazed up at me. I wasn’t about to jerk off again, especially after my last call. I needed to be inside someone, and I found Mira at a bar near my apartment. It was obvious she was looking for the same thing I was. She was dressed in a body hugging, short, black dress with plenty of cleavage revealed. Her long black hair was silky and smelled like roses. I couldn’t wait to pull on it while I fucked her.
She was naked on her back in my bed, her rosy nipples peaked on her large breasts that I was pretty sure were enhanced. I bent down and licked a short path between her ample bosoms while she tugged at my hair. Satisfied, I moved my way down her body, planting kisses along her skin, teasing slowly across her stomach before I flattened my tongue against her clit. Mira howled as I lapped at her.
“You’re going to make me come,” she breathed out after a few minutes.
I continued steadily, sucking at her as she painfully pulled at the strands of my hair. I didn’t mind. Sometimes the pleasure was worth the pain. I slipped a finger into her tight channel, causing her to clench around me as I thrust into her, and seconds later, Mira orgasmed with such force that she bucked her hips. Her pubic bone slammed into my mouth and sent shockwaves through my jaw.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, that felt so good,” she panted as I removed my finger.
“I have more for you,” I purred.
“I can’t.”
I sat up on my haunches and stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not one of those multi-orgasm girls. I come once a night.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re shitting me?”
“Nope,” she said, sounding unaffected.
I shook my head in disbelief as Mira sat up and slipped her legs from around me, slinging them over the side of the bed. She snatched her pink lace panties from the floor and stood up to slip them on.
“So I get nothing?” I questioned.
“We can’t fuck,” she said as she tried to straighten the black dress I yanked off her earlier. It took seconds for my erection to disappear. Fatigue took over and I stretched out in my bed, pulling the sheet on top of me while Mira finished dressing.
I yawned, stretching my arms out beneath the rumpled sheets. “Why did you bother coming here with me?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Honestly, I’m on a break from my boyfriend and thought I’d try something different.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-three.”
I stretched. “You know, little girl, you shouldn’t be heading to strange men’s places.”
“You seemed harmless,” she replied with a smirk.
I rolled onto my side, facing the window. “Let yourself out.”
Mira’s heels clicked on the hardwood as she gathered her clothes. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving me in the silence of my apartment. Weariness from a long day and a grueling workout finally caught up with me, and I drifted into sleep.
A few hours later, the ringing of my cell jolted me awake. I fumbled for it on the nightstand.
“Elliott,” I muttered, stifling a yawn.
“You sound sleepy,” Erika’s voice came through the receiver, laced with amusement.
“Erika?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Her tone made me chuckle despite my grogginess. “That makes it sound like I’m some sort of loser.”
“Are you?”
I shifted to sit up, shaking off the remnants of sleep. “What’s the verdict?”
“Offer accepted.”
I grinned, stretching my legs. “Well, since we’re no longer business colleagues, how about dinner with me?”
“First it was drinks, and now it’s dinner?”
“Drinks and dinner,” I confirmed.
“And after?”
“That’s your choice.”
“Why don’t you just say you want to roll around and sweat up the bedsheets with me.”
“That can be arranged.”
Erika cleared her throat. “I’m busy and attached.”
“You didn’t say you were.”
“Well, I am, and I’m sure he’s better suited for me than you are.”
I scratched my balls. “How could you possibly know that?”
“A hunch. Anyway, I have to go. Nice doing business with you. I’ll be in touch.”
Erika hung up and instead of being annoyed, I was invigorated. I liked the chase though I so rarely did the chasing. I tapped Erika’s name into the search bar on my phone and waited for the results. I was shocked when I saw her picture. She was dressed in a black business suit and white shirt, looking very professional. But it wasn’t her outfit that got to me, it was her . She was the woman at the gym and her voice definitely matched her body.
I was instantly hard thinking about her shapely ass as she moved on the treadmill. It would be wonderful to dig my fingers into her round flesh as I fucked her against a wall. Since I was already naked, I closed my eyes and fisted my cock, pumping as my mind created images of what her dirty little mouth could do besides talk nasty. I was panting like a dog by the time I shot a huge load of cum up my chest.
I had to have Erika. Even if it was just one night, I would make it my mission to get her into my bed.
After I jerked off, I took a quick shower and fell into a deep satisfying sleep.
I didn’t stir until the sun peeked through the window. Turning to check my phone, I saw it was well past seven. Panic surged through me as I remembered I had a showing at 8:30 and several missed calls from Mrs. Ducane.
“FUCK!” I bellowed, shoving the covers off and scrambling out of bed.
After Erika’s call last night had left me wound up, all I could think about was getting off. I’d completely forgotten to call Mrs. Ducane to let her know the offer was accepted. I sprinted to the bathroom, dialing her number with shaking hands.
“Mr. Elliott,” Mrs. Ducane’s voice was sharp and irritated. “Thank you for leaving me hanging all night.”
“I’m really sorry,” I replied, trying to sound sincere. “I was negotiating well into the evening with another client. I didn’t want to call too late.”
“That may be, but I’m paying a lot for this property,” she snapped. “I’m sure your commission will be quite hefty.”
She was right—it would be one of the largest commissions this year, and it was only April. But I was confident I could surpass it.
“I understand,” I said calmly.
“Do you?” she growled.
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” I assured her. “To make it up to you, how about I invite you to lunch on Saturday to celebrate?”
“Lunch? And where would you take me?”
“The Diamond Square or Savoureax,” I suggested. “Both have fantastic service and food.”
“The Diamond Square?” she questioned.
“I have connections with Oliver Fox and Sawyer Walsh. We could get the chef’s table at either place if you prefer,” I offered.
“Chef’s table?” Her tone sounded intrigued but also slightly confused.
I rolled my eyes. Mrs. Ducane was acting as if she’d never been to an exclusive restaurant, which was unlikely given her wealth.
“Are you interested?” I prodded.
“I’ve never been to Savoureax,” she admitted.
I wasn’t surprised. Despite her wealth, she pinched every penny. Since I was paying, this was her chance to experience Savoureax fantastic food without paying.
“Say 1 p.m.? Would you like the chef’s table?”
“Maybe we could share a meal at the chef’s table another time,” she suggested.
“Very well. I’ll make the reservations.”
Mrs. Ducane was out of her mind if she thought I’d take her out again after our deal was done. She was one of the worst clients I’d ever had, and despite her deep pockets, I could easily pass her off to someone else.
“Thank you,” she said, her tone softer.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, relieved to have ended the call. It was the nicest she’d been since we started working together, but I couldn’t wait for the paperwork to be signed and for her to be out of my life.
The ten minutes wasted on the call meant I was now running short on time. I dashed into the shower, quickly towel-drying my hair. With a bit of pomade, a swift shave with the electric razor, and some minty toothpaste, I was almost ready.
As I pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, thoughts of Erika flashed through my mind, and I felt myself stir. I willed my erection away; I didn’t have time for it, and I preferred to come inside someone rather than into thin air. Maybe I’d catch her at the gym in the next few days and strike up a casual conversation.
I raced out of my apartment and jabbed the elevator button, hoping to avoid sharing the ride down. When the elevator arrived, I wasn’t so lucky—two young girls in short dresses, giggling and whispering, got on at the eighth floor. What was wrong with kids today?
Outside, the warm snap had given way to a chilly wind, making me shiver. I wrapped my long wool coat tighter around me and hailed a passing cab. My showing was on the Upper East Side, and I wanted to get there before my client—a young banker looking for his first place. He had money to burn, and I hoped he’d be an easy client to handle.
Traffic was a nightmare, and I couldn’t stop checking my watch, praying for even five minutes to do a quick run-through of the place. I’d made the appointment days ago, and the seller’s agent had assured me everything would be in order, but I knew better than to trust promises in this business.
Unfortunately, with the way my ride time was looking, I’d have to rely on them. When the cab finally slowed, I shoved a twenty into the driver’s hand and jumped out a few doors down from the prewar building. I took a deep breath, gathered myself, and strode to the entrance, announcing myself to the female concierge at the desk.
She smiled at me, a blush creeping up her soft cheeks. Her short, lifeless brown hair and long nails weren’t appealing, but she was kind, and that counted for something. I flashed her my million-dollar smile, showing off all my straight white teeth. There wasn’t enough time to go upstairs and check the place before my client arrived, so I leaned on the black granite counter and made small talk, keeping her engaged and feeling appreciated.
Milton Beasley arrived a few minutes later. My first impression was that he was tall, almost scrawny. His expensive suit hung awkwardly on his too-thin frame, and for a guy in his twenties, his hairline was already in full retreat. With his crew cut and sharp nose, he reminded me more of a rat than a banker. He offered a limp handshake, which I accepted with a firm grip before we stepped into the elevator.
Milton leaned against the mirrored wall, staring down at his shoes while I scanned my phone for emails. I could tell he wasn’t the type to make small talk, so I left him to his thoughts. On the seventh floor, we stepped out into a gray-carpeted hallway, and I shifted into sales mode.
“This place has all the amenities,” I began, my voice smooth and confident. “Doorman, concierge, dry cleaning service, and in-apartment washer-dryer combos.”
“What’s the maintenance fee?” Milton asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke.
“Nineteen hundred,” I replied.
He whistled, a low sound that made me wonder if he could really afford this place, despite what his financials said.
“Remember, this is an investment,” I said, trying to steer him back to the bigger picture. “You understand, don’t you?”
“I took economics in college,” he muttered.
“Then you know what I’m saying,” I responded, flashing another smile.
The apartment was at the end of the hall, after five other doors. I unlocked it and pushed open the heavy wooden door, only to be hit by a stench that immediately took me back to the worst college bars at the end of a long night. My nose wrinkled at the same time as Milton’s, and I cursed under my breath. I should’ve insisted on checking the place before bringing him up here.
The floor, tables, and counters were a disaster zone—empty bottles, chip bags, pizza boxes, and the unmistakable remnants of drug paraphernalia were strewn everywhere. The stench of stale alcohol and sweat hung thick in the air.
And then there were the bodies. Several half-naked figures were sprawled out on the thick multi-colored carpet, some mercifully covered with sheets or blankets. One bleary-eyed man looked up at me, his gaze glazed and unfocused.
“Well, this is unexpected,” I said, forcing a calmness I didn’t feel.
Milton stared, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke,” I replied, my mind racing for a way to salvage the situation. “But let’s look at the bright side—this just means the place is popular. And once it’s cleaned up, you’ll have a blank slate to make it your own.”
I could tell Milton wasn’t convinced, but I had to keep him focused on the potential. This was just another challenge in the game, and I wasn’t about to let a few hungover squatters ruin my sale. A half-naked guy with thinning hair woke and fixed his gaze on me.
“You bring breakfast?” the man asked, belching loudly enough to make me wince.
I shot him a glare. “I’m not a delivery man.”
“Then what the hell are you here for? Party was last night.”
I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I shoved Milton back out the door and slammed it shut behind me, the echo reverberating in the hallway. My head started to pound, frustration boiling over.
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” I muttered, more to myself than to Milton, though the outrage was clear in my voice.
“Obviously, this is not the place for me,” Milton said, his tone flat and unamused.
“I think not,” I agreed, trying to keep my composure, but the embarrassment was making my skin prickle.
“You know I took time off work for this,” Milton added, a slight edge in his voice that made me want to grit my teeth.
“And I can’t apologize enough,” I said, stepping into the elevator with him. The doors closed, sealing us in what felt like a tight, suffocating space.
“Perhaps I should find myself a new agent,” he said, his voice dripping with displeasure.
I scratched at my chin, trying to keep my annoyance in check. It wasn’t my fault, yet here I was, taking the heat for this mess. “This was none of my doing. The seller’s agent assured me no one would be home.”
Milton didn’t seem convinced. “I have time. What else can you show me?”
I took a deep breath, weighing my options. The last thing I needed was to lose a client over something so ridiculous. “Give me a second,” I said, pulling out my phone as soon as we stepped into the lobby.
I scrolled through my listings, searching for something vacant, something that wouldn’t require me to jump through hoops to set up. After what felt like an eternity, I found a place just six blocks away—close enough to salvage this disaster.
“I’ve got something,” I said, looking up at Milton. “It’s only a short walk from here, and I can guarantee you it’ll be worth your time.”
He nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. “Let’s hope so.”
As we stepped outside, I pulled my coat tighter around me, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down. I wasn’t about to let a setback like this ruin my reputation. Milton might not see it yet, but he was in good hands. And I’d make damn sure he knew it by the end of the day.
"Recently renovated, a doorman,” I began, my tone smooth and confident. “And you're right across from Central Park.”
I watched Milton as he moved through the loft. The space was open, airy, with high ceilings and a brand new kitchen. The kind of place that could impress just about anyone. He ran his fingers over the almond-colored granite countertop, pausing to rub his thumb against it. The place was a bit dusty, sure, but it was move-in ready. I gave him room to explore, checking my emails while he wandered.
“This would be perfect for some great parties,” he said, gazing out the window that offered a prime view of the park.
“Yes, you could,” I echoed, lowering my phone. “I’m sure the ladies would love this place.”
He turned slightly, blushing. “I wouldn’t be bringing ladies here, just one special lady.”
That caught me off guard. Milton didn’t exactly strike me as a ladies’ man. I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide my surprise. “Then your girlfriend would love this loft.”
He shifted awkwardly. “She’s not my girlfriend yet, but I’m working on it.”
I almost groaned internally. Milton seemed like the type who’d be lucky to get a text back, let alone land a girlfriend. Socially, he was probably way out of his depth. I doubted he had much of a chance with her, whoever she was.
“This would definitely give you an edge,” I replied with a grin, moving closer to him. “Most guys your age are still living with their parents.”
He let out a laugh that was more bray than chuckle. I barely managed to keep my expression neutral. Jesus Christ, I probably had a better shot with this girl than he did.
“You think she’d like this place?” he asked, his tone almost desperate.
I slapped him on the back, sending him a step forward. “You get this place, and it’s a lock. Cook her a nice dinner, get to know her.”
Milton’s eyes lit up with hope, and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “What’s the maintenance?”
“Fourteen hundred a month,” I said, “but it’s more than worth it.”
A bit more back and forth, and I had him. Milton agreed to purchase the loft, sealing the deal. This week was finishing nicely. With it being Friday, I was already planning to drag my brother Talon out tonight, even if it killed him. He was a few years younger, but I could still outlast him on our nights out. The only downside was how he was still trapped under our father’s thumb. I was just glad I’d managed to break free.
After I put Milton in a cab and promised to get him the paperwork via email, I finally headed home. It had been a relentless week, and I was more than ready for the weekend. As soon as I walked into my apartment, I called my brother, Talon, who, true to form, immediately tried to wriggle out of my invitation.
“Don’t hand me that shit,” I said, cutting through his excuse.
“I’m serious, Lincoln. I have a ton of paperwork to go through,” he insisted.
Talon was only twenty-four, but he was fast becoming a clone of our father—a workaholic with zero social life. I refused to let him slip away like that.
“I’m just asking for a couple of hours to hang out,” I pressed.
“Where?” His voice was already laden with suspicion.
“Surge.”
“A fucking dance club?” The disgust in his tone was almost palpable.
“Big deal,” I shot back. “We hang out in the VIP section, throw back a few drinks, and maybe meet a few women.”
“For what purpose?”
My patience was thinning. Talon was acting like he was seventy instead of in his prime. If he kept this up, he’d die single.
“Whatever purpose you want.”
“Like you, to have unemotional sex?”
“There’s plenty of emotion during the sex I have,” I retorted, my voice sharp with irritation.
“Why don’t you find someone to love?”
“Like Michael did?”
“Don’t say his name,” my brother croaked.
I felt a sharp pang in my chest. Talon had never been able to talk about our brother without shutting down.
“Why can’t you talk about him?”
“Because I miss the shit out of him. It hurts to know he’s gone.”
“Maybe he isn’t,” I said, grasping at the hope we both wished were true.
“They searched for him. That woman ruined him.”
“Her name is Morgan,” I said, clenching my jaw.
“He would still be here if not for her.”
My brother sounded like he wanted to cry. He looked up to Michael and when we lost him, Talon was lost with him. He withdrew and we were afraid his depression over the loss would get the best of him.
“You don’t know that. Michael liked to disappear at times.”
“Can we stop talking about him?” Talon’s voice was raw with pain.
“Will you go out with me tonight?” I pushed.
“Why don’t you take one of your buddies?”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Because I want to hang out with you. I think you need a break, so stop being difficult.”
Talon let out a heavy sigh, the kind that said he was reluctantly caving. “Fine. I’ll meet you at Surge, but only for a couple of hours. I need to be at a job site tomorrow morning.”
I laughed, more out of relief than anything. “Fuck, I used to go out all night and show up without any sleep.”
“So I heard. You would end up napping in one of the work trucks.”
“The perks of being the boss’s son.”
“I have some paperwork to finish before you torture me,” he grumbled.
“Great. I’ll meet you in front of Surge at 10 p.m.”
“That late?”
“Geez, dear brother, live a little.”
“See you at ten.”
I hung up with Talon, feeling a small victory in getting him to come out, and headed to my closet. Tonight, jeans felt more appropriate than slacks. As I pulled a black pair from the hanger, an image of Erika’s ass bouncing on the elliptical flashed in my mind, and I felt myself harden. That woman had gotten under my skin in a way few others had.
Tonight, I needed a distraction. Someone to fuck and block Erika from my thoughts, at least temporarily. Finding a playmate for the evening was never a problem for me. And tonight would be no exception.
When I arrived at Surge, my carbon-copy younger brother was already waiting for me, his face lit by the neon sign above the club’s entrance. The line snaked around the corner, but I didn’t bother worrying about it.
I’d done business with Jordan Grayson, the club’s owner, back when I worked for our father, and we’d struck up a friendship. That meant my name was always on the list, and VIP treatment was guaranteed. Talon glanced at his gold watch just before I pulled him into a hug.
“It’s been too long, man,” I said, clapping his back as we embraced.
“Yeah, too long,” he agreed, matching my clap on the shoulder.
When we turned to the doorman, I noticed two women in skimpy silver dresses eyeing us. They weren’t subtle about it, either. Elliott men were a good-looking breed—thanks to a genetic jackpot from our parents and years of hard work on the family construction sites. We shared dirty blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and lean, muscular builds that had only been refined by daily workouts.
The doorman, a hulking figure with a shaved head, asked for our names. As soon as we gave them, he murmured into his headset. A moment later, the black double doors swung open, and a statuesque hostess in a short, electric-blue uniform ushered us inside and up to the VIP area.
Talon whistled softly, taking in the sleek décor—black leather banquettes, thick glass cocktail tables. It was a place that screamed exclusivity, and I could tell he was impressed. A group of women in the corner eyed us as we made our way to our seats. One of them, sporting a colorful cardboard tiara with the words I’m the bride, kiss me scrawled across it, caught my attention. She was cute, with an elfin nose and long dark hair. Her friends weren’t as attractive, but it was her last night of freedom—it only seemed fair to make it special.
When the waitress arrived—her electric-blue shorts so skimpy they barely covered anything—I ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon to be sent over to the bride.
“That’s mighty nice of you,” Talon remarked, brushing a hand over his black dress shirt.
“Shit, little brother, I made a ton of money this week,” I gloated, unable to resist sharing the news.
Talon’s eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing slightly. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was processing the information. I didn’t dwell on it, waving the waitress back to order a Jack and Coke. She seemed tense, tapping my order into a small tablet with electric-blue nails before turning to Talon, her expression a little too tight for comfort.
“What’ll you have?” she asked him, her tone curt.
“Seltzer with a twist of lime, no ice,” Talon said, his tone firm.
I couldn’t help but shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I leaned back, stretching my arms across the top of the banquette, trying to goad him a bit.
Talon shot me a glare. “I gotta work tomorrow.”
“Live a little,” I urged, trying to break through that stoic wall he’d built up.
“I have plenty of time to live, and I don’t make the same money in a week like you.”
“But you can,” I countered, raising an eyebrow.
“In real estate? No thanks. Not after hearing the stories you tell.”
The music suddenly surged, rattling the walls, and I saw Talon wince.
“What’s the matter?” I yelled over the din.
“I can’t hear shit!” he shouted back, clearly not enjoying himself.
“Let’s hit the dance floor!” I called, trying to salvage the night. “We can find a few women to dance with.”
He leaned in closer, his expression skeptical. “Did you ask me to come with you so we could hang out, or because you needed a wingman?”
“Hang out,” I insisted, playing up my mock offense. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
He looked around. “Where the hell is the bathroom in this place?”
Luckily, the VIP lounge had its own private restroom, and I pointed it out to him. Talon got up, adjusting his gray slacks before heading off. As I sat there, legs crossed and foot tapping to the beat, I scanned the room. The night wasn’t shaping up too badly, and there were plenty of women around who could make for interesting company later.
Our waitress returned to drop off the bottle of Dom Perignon to the bridal party next to us before bringing our drinks. I waited, watching for the bride’s reaction. Sure enough, after the waitress whispered something to her, she looked over and waved. I smiled, a little smugly, as she took it as an invitation and walked over.
She was shapely, with large breasts and a small waist, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I could convince her to forget her impending nuptials for the night. When she extended her hand, I ignored it and instead leaned in, planting a light kiss on her cheek.
“Congratulations,” I said, pulling back just enough to see her reaction.
Her smile was small and bashful, a look I’d seen many times before. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, clearly flustered.
The silly little look on her face told me all I needed to know—this might be easier than I thought.
Talon narrowed his eyes as he squeezed lime into his drink, clearly unimpressed. “What the hell is that all about?”
“I kissed her,” I said, not even trying to hide the smugness in my voice. I kept my eyes on the bride, chewing on my bottom lip, enjoying the attention.
“You can be a real asshole,” Talon muttered, taking a sip of his seltzer.
“I bet I can hit that if I wanted,” I continued, feeling a bit too cocky. “She’s getting married tomorrow.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Hey, one last fling,” I said, shrugging as I took a sip of my drink, feeling the familiar burn of whiskey as it slid down my throat.
“Leave her alone,” Talon insisted, his tone firm.
“Talon, you act like I’m a predator.”
“You fucking are. I’ve seen you in action.”
“If you’re referring to your prom date, I had nothing to do with that.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “She couldn’t stop talking about you all night.”
“I only said hello.”
Talon ground his teeth. “Yeah, wearing a pair of boxers that practically showed everything.”
“Excuse me for having a big dick. I didn’t know she was there yet.”
Talon snorted, then took a long drink of his seltzer. A few droplets of water dripped onto his pants, right on his crotch, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Shut the hell up,” he growled, wiping at the stains. I didn’t see why he was so worked up—they’d dry in a few minutes.
“I want to dance,” I said, eager to get away from the table and the conversation.
“So go. I’ll stay here and watch the drinks.”
“You don’t need to babysit the drinks. This is the VIP section.”
We went back and forth for a bit, neither of us giving in, until I spotted her. My breath caught in my throat, and my body reacted instantly. Erika Bramwell was on the dance floor, directly in my line of vision.
She moved with a grace that was impossible to ignore, her hips swaying in time with the music as she pressed against a guy who looked like a brick wall with legs. His bulging biceps strained against the fabric of his white shirt as he wrapped his arms around her.
A sharp pang of jealousy hit me hard, and I felt my chest tighten. My fists clenched involuntarily as I watched them. I hated how easily she got under my skin, how she could make me feel something—anything—with just a look or a move.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, not waiting for Talon’s response as I stood up, my eyes locked on Erika. I was determined to get her out of my head, one way or another.
Erika looked beautiful, her long blonde hair pinned up with a couple of curled tendrils framing her face. She was unaware I was watching as my gaze traveled down her body, taking in her form fitting short black dress with a plunging neckline. I would die happy if I could bury my face in the valley between her breasts.