4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Malcolm
I get into my truck and buckle up, watching Steph pull out, not trying to avoid the pissy pealing of her tires. I shake my head at her. Pulling my phone out once she’s turned off the street, I let Declan know to arm his security system. He asks if all is okay with Steph, but I don’t answer. As I look over, I see that I’ve left my laptop at home. “Fuck.” I swear, feeling like it would be nice if just one thing would work out today. I turn on the radio to try and get the image of Steph out of my head so my fucking hard- on will shrivel, but it doesn’t work. In fact, a song comes on that I once fucked to, and it makes it worse.
Once I arrive home, my balls are almost fucking blue, and I wish for once, that one of my brothers was here, making the perfect antidote, but my house is empty. My phone beeps as I grab my laptop out of the office, and my eyes almost pop out of the sockets. It’s a text message from Steph. It’s a picture…of her…standing in her office…with her blouse undone and her ample cleavage basically winking at me. “Mother…fucker.” I exhale, almost whimsically. This lass is either crazy, incredibly horny, or she’s playing some hot game that I don’t know the rules for. A lass has never sent me such a photo before. She must trust me to the moon and back because if I were anyone else, I’d so use this later for blackmail or something.
My cock stands on end, throbbing like the fucking circulation is being cut off at the base. She sends me another text, asking where I am. I tell her. My dick is so hard it’s fucking painful. My eyes don’t want to leave that photograph. I can feel her tits against my chest again. I can feel the apex of her thighs on my hardened cock. And suddenly I can’t stop myself. My phone gets set on the table as I unzip my pants and grasp the head on my fully hardened dick.
After just a few pumps of the fist I can already feel the come rising to the top and I promise myself that I’ll never let it go this long without having sex ever again. I see another text showing as a bar on top of the photo of her. She’s asking if I’m jerking off. “Well, I’m not going to answer you now, lass.” I grunt, feeling the spurts come, slowing my hand slightly to buffer the explosive sensation. “Fuck…me.” I breathe as I come all over my desk.
There’s a first.
Breathless, I slow, seeing how fucking far I shot. Impressive. The head of my cock sits just above my navel. Also impressive. But also disconcerting. This lass has me under her spell. And the worst part is that she knows it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s playing games here. Games that I’m not up for playing with her. But all the same I text her back, stupidly, and ask. “Are you ?”
She doesn’t answer. Part of me is wishing that she’ll send me a picture of her wet pussy, with her finger at her swollen, needy, clit. But the other part of me is wishing like hell that she doesn’t. I’ll sit there and stare all fucking day, and I’ve got a meeting. After I clean up and put myself together, I head to work. The meeting is a half hour away when I arrive, and Declan pays me a visit at my office. “So, do I need to clean up blood or come stains at my place?” He asks crudely.
I wince. “Neither, asshole. We fought, thanks to you, and then she left.”
“If you want my advice, I’d say that you should avoid her. She’s a little too dramatic for you. No offense.”
“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it.” I tell him snidely. “Now, would you please leave me alone? I need to prepare for this meeting.”
“You’re not stupid enough to go after her, are you?” He asks. His tone says that I’m not cut out for her. Like she’s way out of me league. And maybe she is. But that’s up to me to decide. Until Moira came into his life, Declan was just as blind to relationships as I am, and he found his way. Why he thinks he’s better than me, pisses me off.
“Look, it’s my business. Just…fuck off and let me think.”
“She’s really got you riled up, doesn’t she.” He comments, and that’s when Ethan walks in. I roll my eyes.
“What’s up?” Ethan says casually, rolling a stick of gum onto his tongue.
“I’m trying to prepare for this meeting, but this asshole won’t leave me alone.”
Declan raises his hands. “Fine. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
I sigh as he leaves. Ethan slumps down on the guest chair. Ethan tips his chin up to me. “He razzing you about my da?”
I give him an eye roll. “No. For once I wish it was about your da.”
Ethan takes the high road. “Don’t sweat it. You know Declan. Being the eldest, he thinks he knows everything. It pisses me off most of the time, too.”
Normally Declan isn’t like that. And I’m not even sure why he’s being such a pin head about this, but he is all the same. “It’s not that. He thinks that since he’s finally been in a relationship for more than two fucking minutes that he’s the fucking expert.”
“Oh, so it’s about you and that Steph lass then, huh.” He says with a cluck of the tongue. “All I can say is this. And I’m not an expert, either.” He says with a reasonable scoff and a raise of his hand. “Sometimes what you think is bullshit ends up being a relationship. Look what happened to me and Freya. I had no idea that we would end up together after all that shit that we went through. If you had told me three years ago that I’d be head over heels in love with her in three years' time, I would have said you were nuts. But here I am.”
“Thanks, but I’m not even sure what’s happening. I think she’s either playing with my head and doesn’t have any real interest in me beyond getting me into bed, or she’s nuts. It’s hard to tell though, since all this shit about her granny is going down.”
“So, what’s the problem? You don’t want to sleep with her?” He asks, dumbfounded.
“I’m not an asshole. Didn’t you hear me? I said her granny just died. In fact, she was smothered to death in her own fucking bed. I’m not about to bed a girl that is dealing with shit like that.”
He levels with me. “What about comfort sex?”
“Why does it always have to be about sex?”
“You don’t want to have sex with her?”
I’m growing frustrated. “I’m attracted to her, yes, but I don’t want to just sleep with her and be done with it. I don’t know why that’s so difficult a concept for everyone.”
He raises a hand again. “Wait…are you saying that you…like her? Like, for more than just a fuck? Because I totally get that, man.”
“Good. You finally caught up with me.”
“So, why are you so torn up about it?”
“Because she’s fucking around with my head. She’s making me feel like she wants me to want her and then when I make a move she calls me an asshole. Or a pussy for not fucking her. She dangles the carrot in my face and then takes it away.”
“Maybe this is about more than just you, Malcolm. Maybe because of her granny, she doesn’t know what she wants. But what she thinks she wants is a fall guy.”
“Yeah, well, dead granny or not, I’m not stooping down to that level.”
He ignores my statement. “Don’t forget, too, that her Uncle is in prison. Jesus, her life sounds like a goddamn soap opera.”
“Exactly.”
He rises. “Okay, dude. I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Thanks, man.”
I watch Ethan leave and as much as I try to focus on my meeting notes, I find myself looking at my phone again. No more messages, but that last one…that sure left an impression.
Steph
The second that I send the naughty picture, I regret it. I don’t know what’s come over me. I can still feel his body pressed up against mine. And that package of his? It was soft but Jeeeeeesus! What a treat! But something came over me the moment that he turned me on. I can’t even think about it right now, since I’ve just pulled up to the funeral home, having let the guilt set in from Moira. Her mama flew in from Scotland, and that in itself is a shit show. Moira hasn’t seen her mama in decades. She left when James divorced her and that was the last Moira has seen of her.
Kay McTavish, from what we know, met a man with money. A plastic surgeon. And it’s rather obvious when I see her that that theory is entirely true. Her lips look like a duck’s bill and her eyes are so pulled back she looks like the Cheshire Cat. It’s a strange combination. And yet she doesn’t flinch when she sees my reaction to her appearance. Or perhaps she doesn’t have the ability to.
For someone who hasn’t seen their mama in decades, Kay is going off like she and Leery were as thick as thieves. Moira gives me a grateful look when she sees me approach her and her mama. It’s like she needed an escape since Kay is blubbering good old crocodile tears. “Auntie Kay, how are you?” I ask like we’re old friends.
“Oh, Stephanie! I’ve been better! I’m so jet lagged and the flight was so long!”
“I bet it was. When was the last time you were on a plane?” This is where she starts telling me all about the numerous trips that she’s made with her rich boyfriend and suddenly it’s like ‘mama who?’ The tears dry right up, and I watch Moira go off with the funeral director to make the arrangements. So, I stand there with this woman I haven’t seen since middle school and get updated on all the cars they’ve bought, the houses, and otherwise all the ways that she’s helped to sop up all this poor man’s money.
When Moira finally reappears, she informs us that the funeral will be tomorrow, so that Kay can head back to Scotland. I can tell by her face that she wants to add more but she’s holding back. Likely something to do with her mama flying here to stand with me and brag about her life, meanwhile Moira is making her granny’s funeral arrangements alone.
“Where are you staying, mama?” Moira asks, pasting on a kind face.
“Oh, at the Hilton, dear. You know me with staying at other people’s places.”
I feel like asking if it’s because there’s no room service or around the clock concierge there, but I don’t.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then? Do you need a ride over?” Moira offers.
“Oh, no, I’m fine. I’ve got a limousine waiting outside.” She waves. And I can’t help but wonder what her real motivation is for being here. First, her ex-husband is in the slammer, her son is responsible for the death of his granny, and all her other children are nothing to be proud of. They’re either in support of their jailbird da or still trying to figure out ways to skulk their way through life. Moira is the only one that made it. And that’s truly because she distanced herself from them all.
Moira and I see her mama off and head to the nearest coffee shop. “You don’t have any appointments this morning?” I ask her.
“Not for another hour. I had Shana push them all for a couple of hours so that I could get this done. What about you?”
“I’ve got a meeting with Colton Ford again. But it’s when I’m finished here.”
We order coffees and sit down for a few minutes. “So, what happened with you and Malcolm? It looked like you were going to eat him alive.”
Moira is my best friend. There is nothing that I keep from her, and I trust her with my life. “I did something really stupid earlier.”
She sips her coffee. “Before you say anything, Steph, I just want to put out there that it’s okay to flip out. This has been tough. We all make mistakes when the stakes are down. And it’s not over yet. I did give a statement to the police. They are going to investigate granny’s death. And Callum is the prime suspect.”
My face falls. “Really?”
She places her hand on mine. “Yes. Now, don’t change the subject. What happened?”
With a deep sigh, I tell her. “And then I sent him a boobie text.”
“What is that…just what it sounds like?”
I nod.
She licks her lips. “Let me get this straight. The man stays the night with you, doesn’t touch you inappropriately, then he leaves you, but when you find him, he puts the moves on you, and then you reject him and then you send him a picture of your breasts?”
“Bra.” I sip my coffee. “And he rejected me . I didn’t reject him.”
She lifts a hand. “So…do you like him…or no?” Her face shows that she’s slightly irritated, and slightly confused.
“I...do. But I don’t even know where to start. It’s like my brain comes disconnected when I’m with him.”
“I don’t think it’s his fault, Steph. I think it’s just...everything else. Maybe now is just not the time.”
“Then why do I want him so bad?”
“I don’t know. Ask your bra. Maybe it wanted to get out for once.” She shrugs.
I smirk. “Thanks for making a joke.”
“Well, of course I’m going to make a joke. God, this is the last thing that we need to be dealing with.”
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, we do. I don’t need to have this drama looming in the Harris family.”
“It’s not like I asked for it.”
“No, you didn’t. But you need to keep your distance from Malcolm until you can get your head back on straight.”
I’m irritated, even though I know that she’s right. “Is that an order?”
“Just stop sending him bra picks, okay? Jesus Christ, Steph. This isn’t high school. You should know better.”
I speak on exhale. “Alright, fine. I’ll cut that out. You’re right about that. I shouldn’t be doing that. Hell, that could come back to bite me in the ass.”
“And what if you send it to the wrong person by mistake? Did you ever think of that?” She practically shrieks.
“I’m not an idiot.”
She rakes a hand through her hair and sighs. “Aren’t you? Only an idiot would send inappropriate pictures to a guy that she may or may not want to have sex with. Usually, when a lass does that, they know whether or not they do, and it’s normally that they do. I mean, what’s the purpose, if you don’t want to sleep with him?”
I shrug. “I never said I didn’t.”
“Then why don’t you do it and get it over with, so that you stop feeling the inclination to send incriminating photographs?” She says snidely.
“Because...I don’t know...because I’m not ready to?”
“Since when do you need to be ready?” She asks, not hiding the snarky tone.
“Are you saying that I’m a whore?” I bark.
A little smirk shows on her face that she tries but fails to hide. She wants to say something but is holding back. Usually when she does this, it’s quite comical what she wants to say, but she knows that it’s offensive. “Say it.” I prompt, elbowing her.
She rolls her eyes, snorting, knowing full well that if I was anyone else, that she’d get a knuckle sandwich. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, and sends dick pics like a duck...”
I laugh out loud.
She laughs out loud, too.
“Bitch.”
“Whore.”
“And they weren’t dick pics.”
“Close enough.”