23. BDE （boring, dull, ex）
CHAPTER 23
BDE (BORING, DULL, EX)
CHARLIE
T he deck is packed with wall-to-wall trust-funders, local politicians, and press. But I only care about the exquisite blonde in dark green.
I’m not the only one.
There isn’t a single person in this room who hasn’t admired her tonight. But I’m the lucky bastard holding her, and that’s only making one rich dick green with envy right now.
My instincts are telling me it’s a show, but I hope for her sake it’s not.
“You must be Logan,” I say, making a point not to introduce myself or offer my hand.
He smirks. “I am. Who are you?”
The guy who’s gonna kick your ass if you hurt her.
“This is Charlie,” Emma says, placing her hand on my chest.
By the tick in his jaw, it’s obvious he got my message loud and clear.
Rent a Douche’s whole attitude changed the second I slipped my arm around her waist.
“Emma! There you are.” And now, suddenly, there’s another player. This time it’s the older woman Emma pointed out to me earlier. She tugs on Emma’s hand. “There’s someone who’s dying to talk to you.”
A tiny crease forms between her brows as she looks from the woman to Logan, then to me. “I shouldn’t be long. Will you be okay?”
I nod and give her a reassuring smile.
As she walks away, Logan slips a hand into one pocket. “I heard you showed up in a pretty nice ride,” he says. “A ’70s Charger.”
I take my time getting a look at him. Jesus. Everything about this guy is… too perfect. Lightly tanned (and he’s definitely the type to fake it), stark white teeth (if they aren’t veneers, I’ll eat my shoes), and a practiced laugh that makes me want to scrub myself clean afterward.
He’s like a Ken doll.
I nod. “That’s the one.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Must have set you back a bit.”
It’s so obviously a test. Get me to talk about money so he can prove whose dick is bigger.
But I don’t need money to win that bet. So I shrug off the statement like it’s not important, hoping it annoys him.
The truth is, that car all but cleared out my savings at the time, but I’ve made up for that now. Piecing her together with my own hands meant more than the money. I’ve had offers since restoring her, for two, three, five times what she’s worth, and I’ve said no every time.
Some things are too valuable to give up.
There’s no way a guy who walked away from Emma knows anything about that. Dude has hit it and quit it written all over him. But Emma said they were together for a year, so what the hell do I know?
“How long have you and Emma been seeing each other?” He looks away as he asks, pretending to be distracted, and takes a drink from a passing waiter.
I see right through him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she walked away.
Hasn’t stopped looking at me like I’m shit he scraped off his shoe.
“Long enough.”
“Well, I wish you luck,” he adds, leaning in, his voice dripping with contempt. “It’s a shame. She really is perfect apart from that problem of hers.”
I’ve never wanted to deck someone so badly in my life. One punch wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Just a small one. Rearrange his nose a little.
She deserves so much better than this fuck nugget.
He probably approaches sex like a truck stop bathroom—get in, touch as little as possible, and get out as soon as he’s finished.
I don’t need a fancy education to know that Logan is a grade-A marbled-fat asshole.
“Problem?” I ask, faking ignorance. “Oh, you mean…” I snap my fingers and grin. “That’s right. She did mention she had an issue with you. Guess I’m doing something you couldn’t.”
Maybe I’d feel bad about throwing that in his face if he wasn’t such a raging dick. I don’t even have to fake my glee as his jaw twitches, his eyes narrowed on me like a bull’s-eye.
Good. I hope the fucker can’t sleep tonight, wondering how I succeeded where he failed.
Shit like that is a splinter under the nail of guys like him. They can’t stand having their manhood questioned. As if a two-pump chump like Logan would even know the first way to please a woman, especially one of Emma’s caliber.
Jesus. And she wants him back?
Reese is right. I am a glutton for punishment.
“Was this house designed to be a maze?” I ask as we turn down another hallway. “Are you keeping lost boys in your basement?”
The little mansion that could is huge but as empty as Logan’s personality. I’ve got to admit, I was expecting more, and not just because of the name. Emma’s mom seemed right at home in the middle of the chaos, and her dad was cool in an odd sort of way.
Reese would go apeshit over that stache.
It makes no sense that the house has no personality.
Though, as we venture deeper, there are small signs of life. A pair of reading glasses, a mug left out, something fuzzy hanging off the back of a chair.
Someone definitely lives here. They just… do it sparsely.
Maybe it’s some new minimalism trend. Maybe that mug cost $150 and the blanket is Balenciaga.
Rich people are odd. What the hell else is new?
“You asked to see the wine cellar,” Emma teases, shooting me a look over her shoulder. “It would have been easier to go through the kitchen, but this way is quieter. How else would I sneak around with boys without my parents finding out?”
“Naughty girl.”
I fucking love the way she blushes.
“Right here,” she says, and finally , a door and a staircase later, we’re alone.
Just Emma, me, and about four hundred bottles of wine.
“Do you really think he’s jealous?” she asks.
Logan is the last thing I want to talk about. I cage her gorgeous body against the shelves. “Yes. Now keep quiet.”
She looks incredible. Every curve kissed in liquid green silk as deep as wet moss.
She’s a fucking eyeful and lethal as anything with those gorgeous tits on display.
Dropping to my knees, I thank whoever designed this dress for the easy access slit and waste no time getting my mouth on her, tonguing through the lace of her underwear.
Fuck Logan. I’m going to obliterate every other lover from her memory.
Her hips jerk when I suck on her clit, and I skate my teeth over the sensitive spot just to hear her moan louder. It’s music to my ears. She drops her hands to my shoulders, and fuck, I’m desperate to have her rake her nails across my skin. But she’s holding back, her fingers flexing tentatively.
I pull off, admiring how soaked her panties are.
Fucking gorgeous.
“Touch me, Emma,” I say, peering up at her. Fuck, she makes me want to live on my knees. “The way you’ve been eyeing me all night, you can’t pretend you don’t want to get your claws in.”
Her chest is heaving, nipples peaked and straining against her dress. She smiles, her eyes heavy-lidded. “Anyone would think you want me to hurt you.”
I lick a line up her pussy, and she moans.
“Only one way to find out.”
Fuck, she tastes amazing. I’ve been dreaming of this since last time. The way her hips moved, how she teased and circled her clit. I copy every move with my tongue.
Her thighs quiver under my palms, but her hands still lie weak on my shoulders. So I take a chance and scrape my teeth against her.
Emma grinds against me with a sharp whine, and finally, finally, she digs her hands into my hair and grips.
“Fuck, Charlie. More. Please.”
I pull off, licking my lips. We both know what she wants, and as much as I’d love to give it to her, I won’t. She needs to realize that this can be just as good without a finish line. Orgasms are great, but they’re not a task to tick off on a to-do list.
Getting there is the fun part. That soulless dirtbag clearly didn’t know how to show her that, but I fucking can.
The lace is soaked, completely ruined, so I rip them off her. Fuck it, I’ll buy her a suitcase full of them if she wants.
She’s shaved, not bare. I’ll be wearing signs of the burn when we leave. Good. Let every asshole here see how well I worship her.
“Anytime now,” Emma says, but the command is lost to how ruined she sounds.
“These are mine,” I say, pocketing her underwear. “And you don’t get to make demands right now. All you’re allowed to do is stand there and enjoy this.”
She shakes as I breathe hotly over her clit.
“And don’t you dare come.”
I lose time to the taste of her, savoring every sound she makes as I lick and suck, spreading her apart and spearing my tongue as deep as I can manage.
My pants strain against my erection, but I ignore it. I don’t need anything except her writhing against my lips.
If she never breaks through her issue, we don’t have to stop. I can keep her. Give me long enough, and maybe I can convince her she’s not broken. Orgasm or not.
I reach up, covering her hand with mine, squeezing until she’s gripping tight. It stings just this side of good.
Eyes closed, reveling in the pain, I grit out, “Fuck my tongue.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Like my perfect fucking dream, she does as she’s told. I lap at her, greedy for more of her delicious pussy as she holds my head in place and grinds against my mouth. I’m panting like a madman, desperate for every whimper that pours from her lips, getting high off how wrecked she looks.
I almost come in my pants like a teenager.
She’s fucking perfection. How she could let the opinion of anyone—especially that asshole—rule her life keeps me up at night.
If she never comes, I don’t care.
And if she does, I’m going to make it so goddamn good that no man can ever measure up. Fucking Logan.
Let him try.
Actually, fuck that. I don’t want him touching her again.
As soon as her thighs tense against my hands, I stop. She’s lingering on the precipice, right where I want her. I wipe a hand over my mouth as I stand, congratulating myself for the beautiful flush on Emma’s cheeks.
“Oh my,” she pants, trailing off as she collects herself.
She looks the way I feel.
Fucking incredible.
“Give me a few minutes to picture something disgusting so we can walk out of here,” I say, fixing my pants.
“You don’t want to take care of it?” she asks, assessing the hard outline of my dick, which jumps like it’s trying to get a gold star.
Christ, she’s temptation itself.
I tip her chin back, hovering so close we’re sharing the same breath. “Told you before, sometimes a little delayed gratification is better.”
Her knees tremble for the first few steps beyond the wine cellar, and hell if I’m not a smug son of a bitch as I slip my arm around her waist to help her back to the car.
The fundraiser is still going, and Emma might miss the pinched smile on Logan’s face as we leave, but I sure as shit don’t.
The way he seethes when I wink is almost as good as the lingering taste of Emma on my tongue.