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“Oh fuck.” I cum all over Mr. Jones’s fingers.
Chapter 2
The next morning, the whole thing feels like a fever dream. I wake up next to Brad and half convince myself I didn’t really let Mr. Jones finger me last night. After I orgasmed, he brought me down, pulled Brad’s shirt over my head, and sent me to bed. Maybe it really was a dream. Better to think of it like that. It certainly can’t happen again.
I press my thighs together. Right. Never again. It was a mistake. A terrible mistake that I will not be repeating.
I take a quick shower and throw on my favorite bikini—a red number with extra-long straps that I cross several times around the dip of my waist and tie in back. I find Brad, Chad, Paeton, and Braedon standing at the bar, crowding around a computer. Brad looks up, and guilt flickers over his face. “Hey babe, you want to go deep-sea fishing today?”
My stomach twists. “Brad,” I say slowly. “You know damn well that I get seasick.”
“Right. Forgot.” He glances at his buddies. “You don’t mind, though, right? Braedon’s never been, and this will be his only chance for a long time. You can just, like, sunbathe or read or whatever.”
Anger flickers to life, bringing with it an accompanying surge of recklessness. “Sure. Whatever. Go for it.”
He ignores my sharp tone and grins. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”
If only he knew.
No, that’s not right. It definitely crossed a line, but it’s not like I fucked his dad. I didn’t even kiss him. The argument about hospitality wouldn’t hold up, but there was no denying I’d been aching from a thwarted orgasm, and Mr. Jones picked up where his son left off.
Jesus, I’m going to hell.
I grab a bottle of water and my sunglasses and head out onto the patio. It’s not quite noon, but it’s hot as fuck out here. Good. Maybe it will bake away the mess of feelings inside me. I hear the guys’ laughter retreating in the distance, and a shadow falls over me. I tense, but when I look up, it’s not Brad come to say goodbye.
It’s Mr. Jones.
He frowns down at me. “You’re not going with them?”
“I get seasick.”
He turns that frown toward the stairs the guys have just descended that leads to the beach. “They’ll be gone all day.”
“He didn’t say—“
He shakes his head. “It takes a while to get out there, and they like to give their guests plenty of time to get the fish. It’ll be hours.”
“Oh.” I stare up at him. For once, he’s not wearing his customary suit. He’s got on a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt. “You’re not working today?”
“No.” He rakes my body with his gaze. “You want something to eat?”
No. Not even a little bit. But I nod and push to my feet, once again following him into the house. The strange feeling from last night comes back, a thousand percent stronger because I know just how good this man can make me feel. He stops in the kitchen and turns around, but I take an extra step to bring us chest to chest. “I’m not hungry, Mr. Jones.”
His gaze falls to my face. “Neither am I.”
I’m not sure which one of us moves first. I surge forward, and he bands his arms under my ass, lifting me so he can take my mouth. And he is taking my mouth. He kisses me like I’m a sure thing. Like it’s a precursor for everything he’s going to do to me. Like he doesn’t care that we’re standing in the middle of the kitchen in clear view of the patio. If one of the guys forgot something and came back…
Mr. Jones sets me down and takes a careful step back. “We go up to my room, Neveah, and you don’t get to pretend you’re a good girl any longer.”
“If I’m not a good girl, what am I?”
“You’re a little slut.” His eyes go dark. “And I’m going to treat you like one. I’m going to take off that tease of a bikini and make you cum all over my mouth, and then you’re going to ride my cock until you scream.” He catches my chin and drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you understand me?”
Shock and desire have me leaning into his grip. “Yes. I understand you.”
“Good.” He drops his hand and turns on his heel, stalking to the stairs and disappearing up them. I barely hesitate before I’m following him up, though part of me is screaming in the back of my mind.
What are you doing?
Are you really going to fuck Brad’s dad?
He leads me through the door opposite his office, and I get a glimpse of a massive bed with a metal frame and deep gray comforter before he catches my arm and pulls me against his chest. “Tell me to stop.” Mr. Jones coasts his touch down my back and grabs handfuls of my ass, squeezing and parting me. “Say the word, and it stops.”
