Fatal Beauty (5 page)

She unsnaps her bra and steps out of her panties and EJ looks
away. The sound of running water almost obscures Charlie’s voice when she asks,
“Can you honestly tell me that you don’t?”

EJ mutters something under her breath and stalks away, and Charlie
sighs. She’s pissed, and Charlie isn’t sure if it’s because of the kiss or
because Charlie isn’t falling apart.

She’s just stepped into the shower when Jacobs appears in the
doorway, and her heart jerks, shoving up into her throat so that for a moment,
just a single moment, she can’t breathe.

She’s naked, and Tre’s blood is still running off of her, and she
knows that saying no this time won’t work.

A part of her, the part she keeps buried deep and dark, doesn’t want
it to work. She stays very still as he steps into the room, and locks the door
behind him.

Strips with slow, methodical efficiency. He’s all long lean lines,
and she can’t quite help the shudder that works over her when he’s naked.

Naked, and hard, and holy fuck, she wants him.

“Still saying no, Charlotte?” he murmurs when he’s standing in the
shower, the spray of the water misting over him. She shakes her head, a tiny
motion.

It’s like a dam breaking, and he reaches for her, pulling her to
him by the hair, his lips savage and intoxicating as he devours her. She grips
his hips and leans into him, his cock pressing against her, and wet heat floods
her pussy. His hands come up and she moans as he cups her breasts, his thumb
plucking at her nipple.

Without thinking, she reaches for him, and he grunts when she
closes her hands around him, stroking his cock.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he hisses, his head falling and she smiles.
Because this—this is where she’s always excelled. She sinks to her knees and
takes him in her mouth, and
Jacobs
groans, a deep
noise that makes her pussy clench as she bobs on him, sucking him off. She
slips a hand between her legs and whimpers around his dick as she fingers
herself and
Jacobs
thrusts into her mouth.

When her orgasm hits, it hits like a fucking hammer, and she
moans, shuddering as her pussy clenches around her fingers, and his cocks
swells in her lips. She jerks away from him and Jacobs snarls, yanking her to
her feet and spinning her.

Charlie screams when he shoves into her, the long hot length of
his cock impossibly tight inside her. She shoves off the wall, pushing back
against him, and Jacobs leans into her. “
No,”
he snarls, and grabs her elbows, pulling back until she can’t brace
herself, until she is on her tiptoes, her face pressed to the wall of the
shower, and his cock is fucking into her, over and over, with the efficient
skill he does everything.

And she’s whimpering, her breath catching, rubbing against the
wall, her nipples tight little peaks.

A thought, the only rational thing she can summon, crosses her
mind—is this what EJ feels, when Jacobs fucks her?

He slams into her as the thought slams into her and she screams
again, sagging against the wall as her orgasm crashes against her and her cunt
clenches. Jacob curses and jerks free, and he’s coming, all over her back, his
fingers circling and pressing against her clit as she moans and rides out the
strongest orgasm she’s ever had.

When she can breathe again, she straightens slowly. Jacobs leaves
as silently as he came, and she’s left alone, with the aftershocks of pleasure
and EJ looming too large in her mind.

Chapter 10

She's fucking him. The thought repeats in EJ's mind as she reaches
under the bar and comes up with a bottle of Patron. When she straightens, Josh
is standing on the other side of Jacobs’ expensive, oak bar, with its shiny
fucking curves and ostentatious length.

The damn thing is a statement piece, just like everything else in
this fucking museum he calls a house. "You
gonna
drink that or throttle it?" Josh says, nodding at the bottle she's still
clutching.

EJ glares and he smirks at her. For a moment, she wonders if he's
an idiot, or if he's deliberately provoking her.

He's Jacobs’ business partner. Whatever else that might mean,
she's not so stupid as to believe that he's anything but brilliant.

And gorgeous.

"Let me," he says, watching her and he circles the bar,
until they're standing too close together. She should back up, give a little
ground. But she doesn't want to do that.

She wants to claw Jacobs’ fucking eyes out for touching Charlie.

"Shots," she murmurs, and his lips curve into a grin so
boyish and mischievous it's out of place.

He helped them dispose of a body tonight, kept her drinking and
off the ledge of a panic attack. Anyone who can do that shouldn't also look
like a bashful, frat boy.

"How do you know Jacobs?" she asks, abruptly.

Josh shrugs, reaching past her. A knife is sitting on the bar and he
picks it up, lining up a lime and cutting with slow, careful strokes. She
watches him for a moment. Until he finishes slicing and reaches for the
tequila.

"He's friends with my boss." he says, finally.
"You?"

"I sell blow for him and we fuck occasionally," she says
flatly.

Whatever reaction she's expecting, it isn’t the slightly bitter
laugh that he gives as he lifts a shot in mock salute. "Those
relationships are the ones that fuck us up the most."   

She watches as he sprinkles a line of salt, licks it and throws
back the shot. His expression never changes as he sucks on the lime, and he
never once looks away from her.

For a heartbeat, with his baby blues trained on her, and her
heartbeat pounding too loud in her ears, she forgets what’s happening. That
Jacobs vanished as soon as she arrived in the bar, and that right now, he’s
buried inside Charlie.

Josh taps her on the cheek, a soft touch that is startling in its
intimacy, and she jerks back a half step. Meets his eyes. “Stop thinking,” he
says quietly.

He offers the shot, and salt, patiently. She ignores the salt and
takes the shot straight, and he laughs a little at the face she makes.

“Did your boss ever fuck your best friend?” she asks, and his eyes
go wide. Angry, for just a moment before he goes blank.

Stupid, stupid question. She hasn’t had nearly enough to drink to
justify stupid shit like this.

Josh licks his lips and pours another round of shots. When she
takes hers, he shoves her, until her body hits the wall and his lips cover
hers, rough and demanding. She gasps, and the tequila spills out, running down
her chin and into his mouth and down her chest.

It’s hot and dirty and demanding, and it almost drowns out the
shrill scream of pleasure that echoes through the house.

So that, she thinks, is what Charlie sounds like, when she
comes.
 

Josh nips at her lips, one hand coming up to cup her chin. He
licks into her mouth, all salt and lime and the slow aftertaste of mint.

“Spilled something,” he murmurs, and she blinks at him. He gives her
that grin again, the one that is too much frat boy, but this time she sees
something darker in his gaze that makes her shiver.

He ducks his head, licking the path of tequila down her throat,
biting lightly when she squirms. He lifts his head long enough to yank her
shirt over her head, and she’s standing there in a red lace bra and a short
black skirt, and his eyes go lazy for a moment before he lifts her by the hips.
Her hands clutch his shoulders as he drops her onto the bar, and Josh grunts a
little when her nails dig in, and then she moans when his mouth covers her
breast through the lace. It’s hot and wet and not nearly enough and her hands
are in his hair.

He bats her hands away and yanks the bra cup down, latching onto
her nipple with soft lips and rough teeth and she shudders. “More,” she hisses.

Reaches for him again.

Josh catches her hands in his and yanks them behind her back. With
one hand he holds them pinned there and grins at her. “Don’t be so fucking
bossy,” he mutters before he pours a shot of tequila into her mouth. She groans
as he kisses her, swallowing down the noise and the liquor. He keeps one hand
gripping her hands, holding her still, and the other slides under her skirt. He
brushes against the wet silk panties, and his smirk turns sly and mocking.

She bites her lip and does everything to keep from thrusting
against him, aching for that delicious friction. Another scream comes from
upstairs, and she hisses in frustration and displeasure, and then almost
screams when he shoves two fingers into her, so deep she thinks for an instant
his clenched fist will leave bruises on her, and then his thumb finds her clit
and she rocks into him as his fingers rub against her and his lips are on her
again, tongue circling her nipple.

She closes her eyes as the pressure, the sensation of it all
builds, coiling tight in her. She can still hear Charlie’s screams. Josh bites
down and she shouts, a hoarse, unintelligible noise, as she comes, shuddering
hard,
her
cunt
spasming
around his fingers.

He curses, and yanks her off the bar. Josh releases her and EJ
fumbles for his pants, freeing his cock. She has a split second to admire
it—all long and thick and slightly curved—before he spins her. She curses when
her back slams into the wall, and stars spin for a moment, and then she screams
as he shoves into her. His fingers are in her mouth and her eyes fly wide when
she tastes herself on them.

His are dark, and hungry, and his body is still and heavy against
hers.

Without thinking, she licks, and a slow smile, so sharp it almost
hurts, curves his lips. And then he fucks her, heavy, punishing thrusts that
has her on her tiptoes, her body slamming into the wall with every thrust. She
pushes against him, meeting each push and whining in protest when he pulls
back. He’s everywhere, the scent of tequila and mint and herself, pleasure
obscuring everything. She feels it when he starts to lose control, feels the
tension string tighter, and his head comes down to her shoulder as he fucks
her. He’s silent. So fucking silent, and intent. She
rakes
her nails over Josh’s back and sees him.

Jacobs.

Watching from the doorway. His hair is wet and he is barefoot,
bare-chested, and shocked.

Josh bites her then, his cock fucking into her, and the rush of
pain and pleasure and Jacobs’ shocked fury are too much. She whimpers and
shudders, and stares at him as she comes, wet heat running down her thighs as
Josh fucks her and groans his own release.

For a long time, they stay still—
her
pressed
to the wall, Josh buried inside her, Jacobs too still in the doorway. And then
he vanishes and Josh rouses himself enough to pull out. Wet warmth spills down
her thighs, and she relishes it.

Just like she loves the ache in her back.

As she smirks and pulls her skirt down, covering the sticky mess,
it occurs to her that she’s never seen Jacobs shocked before.

Chapter 11

A knock on her door makes her jump, and the nail polish bobbles,
smearing scarlet across her middle finger.

"Fuck," she mutters and reaches for the nail polish
remover as she calls out, "Come in."

Charlie wonders who it is—Jacobs and EJ have both ignored her
completely since the shower this morning. She expected as much from Jacobs—she
has no illusions about his romantic side.

There is more concern about EJ's silence, which has stretched out
too long and is now a tension that worries under her skin like a splinter.

The door pushes open, and her breath rushes from her too fast.
“We’re going out,” Jacobs says. “Be ready to leave in an hour.”

She stares after him for a long moment, but he doesn’t add
anything else, and he leaves as quickly and unremarkably as he came.

Seems to be a MO with him.

She swallows that unpleasant truth and slides off the bed.
Whatever else is going on, she’s going out.

And she’ll look damn good while she does.

*

She chooses a mini dress in sky blue, a sheer lace overlay
covering a thin slip that hugs every curve. It’s an impossibly short, one
shoulder thing with a plain, low neckline and a single sleeve that wraps her
arm all the way to the wrist. Her hair is a loose French braid pulled over one
shoulder, and she’s forgone jewelry.

When she comes downstairs, Jacobs watches her, with the kind of
lazy interest that makes her pulse pound and her throat dry.

EJ is leaning against the wall next to him in scarlet heels and a
little black dress, her hair hanging long and curly and free. She's smiling, a
small, self-satisfied thing, that makes Charlie vaguely nervous.

"Where are we going?" she asks, ignoring the flutter of
nerves and the insane desire to apologize to EJ. Jacobs give a slow smile, and
straightens away from the wall. "Come," he says.

A fission of fear breaks and she hesitates. EJ stands and loops an
arm through Charlie's. "Relax, babe. He won't kill us in the bayou."

Jacobs grins back at them from the doorway. In a black suit, black
button down, and red tie, he looks even more
fuckable
than he had in the shower this morning. "Sure about that, Ella," he murmurs,
and Ella's steps hitch, just enough that he notices and laughs.

The laughs is what finally puts her at ease. Charlie relaxes and
EJ leans into her as they wait on the porch for Jacobs to lock up the house,
before they follow him around the wraparound to a small outbuilding that serves
as a garage. Inside, he pulls a canvas cover from an emerald green ’69 Chevy
Nova. It’s got a creamy white interior, chrome accents, and it’s gorgeous.

EJ whistles softly. "Damn, Anthony. She looks
fantastic."

There's a softness to her tone that startles Charlie and pulls a
warm look from Jacobs as he stares at the car, a pleased expression on his
face.

"Thanks," he says. "Come on, we're late."

She can feel the surprise ripple through EJ, tense at her side for
a moment before the other girl shrugs, and pulls open the door. Charlie slides
into the tiny back seat, and inhales. It smells like leather and southern heat
and Jacobs, and she runs a finger over the butter soft leather.

EJ is quiet as he turns the engine over, and Charlie relaxes back
against the soft interior, and listens to the soft murmur of the radio as he
pulls out of the house on the edge of the bayou and heads into the city.

*

Ella Jane knows exactly where they're going. She'd been watching
Jacobs when Charlie asked her question, and had seen the flash of amused pride.
Sometimes, she hated Jacobs for how much he underestimated her. But tonight
isn't the time to worry about that, so she shoves the thought aside and holds
the silence he always prefers, and taps a finger on her thigh in silence.

Charlie is a tense presence behind her, all quiet stares and
anxious twitches. There is a tiny part of her that wants to reassure her friend
that this is normal. That Jacobs fucking her is just another play in their
endless game--but a bigger part, the part that made her someone to be feared
when she was growing up, relishes her friend's unease.

Charlie is so rarely thrown off her game. Even now, with a body
count and hiding from the family that dotes on her, she's been in her element,
fucking her way through the prettier frat boys in the city, and holding Jacobs’
interest.

Being off balance for five fucking minutes won't hurt her.

The restaurant is quiet--almost too quiet, given that it's a
Friday night. She eyes it as Jacobs slides the Nova into an alley alongside it.

The bartender is sitting on the stoop, smoking with Josh, and his
eyes flick over them, widening slightly when EJ and Charlie emerge at Jacobs’
side.

"Go inside," Jacobs says, stepping between EJ and Josh,
and a smirk, tiny and self-satisfied, slips across her lips. Without a word,
she turns on her heel and pulls Charlie with her to the entrance of the bar.

"Let's let the boys talk, darling," she says.

The bartender's grin is still there, and it reads just as warm, if
a little worried. "You girls are still here," he says, reaching for a
bottle. "It's a vodka tonic and whiskey sour, right?"

Charlie nods, and props her elbows on the counter, leaning forward
slightly. "You sound surprised."

"Pretty good at reading people, sweetheart," he says,
adding a lime wedge to the vodka tonic. He slides it across the bar to EJ and
shrugs. "You two are keeping heavier company than I expected, that's
all." His smile turns worried for an instant, and then he laughs.
"But, hell. Maybe it makes all the sense in the world."

He doesn't say anything more than that as he finishes the drink,
and slides it to Charlie. She reaches for her wallet, a halfhearted gesture,
and he shakes his head, "On the house, gorgeous."

"Noah!" a voice shouts from the back of the restaurant,
and his head lifts, tilting to the side. "Be right back."

Then he’s gone and the girls are left with their drinks, and the
awkwardness that is everything that happened last night. Charlie swirls her
drink, the ice clinking and says, quietly, “Are you mad?”

For the space of a heartbeat, EJ considers playing dumb. She’s
good at it, after a lifetime of practice. But then Charlie meets her gaze,
bright eyes demanding, and she shrugs.

“Why would I be mad that you fucked him, Charlie?”

She flinches, and takes a hasty swallow of her drink. “You won’t
tell me shit about him, and you called him to help with Tre, and—“

“Shut the fuck up,” EJ hisses, throwing a quick, worried look
around. She grabs Charlie by the arm, yanking her friend closer as she hisses
in her ear. “Don’t mention that. Ever. It’s over, and it’s going to stay over
and if you bring it up where he can hear you, he might decide you’re next just
so it doesn’t blow back on him. The bastard is ruthless.”
 

Charlie’s eyes go wide, and she nods, watching EJ carefully until
she sits back. With a sigh, she shoves her curls over her shoulder and reaches
for her drink.

“Just—be careful. Now isn’t the time to start being stupid.”

There’s a long pause, and then, quietly, “Are you scared of him?”

“Yes,” she answers without hesitation, and Charlie inhales
sharply. She twists, and smirks at her friend. “Why does that surprise you?”

“Because—you. Him.” She flounders, “Why the hell would you fuck
him if you’re scared of him?”

So many reasons. For a second, all of it is on the tip of her
tongue, and she wants to tell Charlie everything that is the history between
her and Jacobs.

Instead she shoves down the urge and grins at her friend. Shrugs.
“You fucked him. He’s a-fucking-mazing in bed. That’s reason enough, isn’t it?”
She nudges Charlie with one toe. “Come on. Admit it.”

A flush colors her cheeks, and Charlie nods. “Yeah. He was
amazing. I haven’t come that hard in years.”

“Tre didn’t do it for you?”

Charlie shrugs one shoulder. “He was fucking other women. A couple
paralegals at the firm. Hard to get into shit when you know he’s been
cheating.” She breaks off, and her eyes widen.

“Don’t,” EJ says. “Jacobs is the one who fucked up. We aren’t
together—but he knows how I feel about him fucking with my friends. I’m not
pissed at you. So don’t, ok? Let’s just forget it and enjoy tonight.”

Charlie nods slowly, and EJ leans over the bar, grabbing a bottle
of vodka and pouring some into her almost empty glass.

“And that, my gorgeous girl, means we’re going to get fucking
wasted,” EJ lifts a glass and grins.

Charlie smirks, and raises her glass to clink them together.
“Sounds perfect.”