For The Wicked (Fantasy Heights) (12 page)

He cautioned her. “Go slow. I want to fuck you after I eat you.”

She nodded and hummed, opening her mouth to take him in, thwarting him by deliberately driving him right to the back of her throat.

Josh slapped her bottom. Hard. “Hey. That was not slow.”

That slap had an incendiary effect, and she was very pliant as he grabbed onto her flanks and pulled her pussy to his mouth. The sensual assault to follow emptied her head of all else. Her awareness narrowed to the feel of his tongue on her clit, and the way he made her grind against it. She even forgot to play with his cock, only grasping his shaft and cupping his balls, helplessly lowering her head to rest against his rock-hard thigh as he strained beneath her.

The warmth of his mouth and the concerted effort of that tongue were heaven. He paused a couple times to sink his tongue into her pussy, then lapped at the wetness before sucking it into his mouth.

She whimpered. She couldn’t help it. And she could feel the broad, hot glow of orgasm take hold inside.

Josh could, too. The next instant he hauled her off his mouth, leaving her a quivering, sopping-wet nerve-ending poised to shatter. Then he reached back to pull her buttocks apart. He curled powerful arms, forcing her to sit up before bringing her back down atop him once more. This time, he applied his tongue to her anus, and she cried out at the renewed flood of sensation.

Her thigh muscles quaked and she fought not to rock her hips. Any hope of control was utterly lost. Her pussy began to pulse on a small, empty orgasm that made her gasp out in disappointment.

Josh was having none of that. He hefted her off him and pushed her forward. While her pussy was still clutching and releasing on that shallow release, he guided her down the length of his torso until she collided with his cock. They worked together to press the tip of him into her pussy.

What followed was brief but intensely satisfying. She reached down with both hands to knead his balls. She rocked her hips a couple times and took his cock in as far as it would go. As soon as his hot tip came in contact with her deep spot, her mini orgasm stepped aside for a nuke. She felt her muscles tighten around Josh’s shaft. Heard him gasp out in erotic alarm, then seize beneath her, his stomach curling, his feet coming off the floor from the force of his release.

The afterglow was equal parts nerveless and brainless for her. Josh moved them to a couch, settling her beside him, curled protectively under his arm.

For the first time, she realized how lucky she’d been the day Darren cast her off. Just like Steph had said from the beginning. She’d dodged a bullet. And she was endlessly grateful that Darren had the courage to call the whole thing off.

It terrified her to think of everything she would have missed. She would never have met Josh or Thomas. Would never have experienced an entire universe of challenges and pleasures.

Josh watched her in silence. She watched him in return and felt a cold breath of worry bleed up her back. It was as if he had been out and with her for a while, but was now retreating behind the veil once more.

Why did he always do that?

She asked, “Josh, what’s wrong?”

He wound a few strands of her hair around his finger. The way he watched her tickled nerve endings, and not the fun kind. Did he know something? About Jerod’s visit, maybe? Or Jennifer’s proposal?

She could at least come clean about the operations manager job. Maybe if she cleared the air, he would stop vanishing himself all the time.

“Josh, there’s something I need to tell you. I’m sorry if this makes your life more stressful, but I can’t keep the OM job. And I’m not sure how much longer I can perform.”

He frowned, very still and wary. But he did not try to talk her out of it.

She continued, though it all came out in a jumble, the way things usually did when she was upset. “Jennifer and Fiona stopped by yesterday morning. And then Wade came to take Thomas to lunch, and he said this thing about his personal life, and I… This might not make any sense to you, but once I sat down behind that desk, it brought something back to me. Like half of my life. Part of who I am. The good part. Back then, that part of me couldn’t breathe because of all this personal life crap I carried around. I don’t know. I guess it’s just weird there’s a half of me you guys don’t even know about.”

He gave her a sidelong look. Half a smile got loose. Then he let out a gust of laughter. “Wrong. Thomas and I both are very familiar with that part. When we used to talk about you, I called that part ‘bossy pants.’ Thomas called you the queen.”

She raised her brows at him. “Bossy pants? Really?”

Josh’s smile turned self-conscious, and then it began to fade. He reached down for one of her hands, and threaded their fingers together. For a long time, he stared at their intertwined fingers, jogging her hand now and then. But he was utterly silent. Brooding again. Which was bad for someone who could over-think every last thing, and silently eat himself alive over faults and mistakes.

She knew she was in trouble the moment he looked up. He sat up a little straighter. His expression was so grave. So serious.

“Oh, God. What is this?” she asked.

Josh raised her hands, kissing the back of each one. “I’m glad you finally spoke up about the job. You’re not making my life more stressful. Fiona can find a replacement for you in the office, no problem. Beverly will be crushed, but everyone will understand.”

She frowned at him. “What’s the matter with you? Why do you sound like you’ve rehearsed this speech?”

“Because as soon as I made that offer, I knew it was a mistake. I also knew you were smart enough to call it quits when you were ready. And now it’s my turn.”

What did that mean? “Your turn to what?”

“To call it quits. I can’t do this anymore. I know things, Amanda. Things I can’t talk about until Thomas tells you himself. And blue-chipping you was another mistake. I didn’t realize what was happening with Thomas, and by the time I figured it out, it was too late.”

“Josh, what are you talking about? What won’t Thomas tell me, and how was blue-chipping me a mistake?”

“You already know. I tried to make it professional between us when it really wasn’t. But that’s not even the point. I know you’re not okay with seeing me and Thomas at once. I see it. I feel it. Look me in the eye and tell me that deep down, you’re completely comfortable seeing two men at once.”

Ouch.

He continued. “And now tell me that if you had to choose between me and Thomas, you’d choose me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re right. It’s not. But to drag this thing out would be worse. Think about me and Thomas. We’re best friends, bending over backward not to piss each other off. How long do you think friendship can survive when part of me will always wonder whether you two actually want me in the relationship, or if you let things ride because you’d do anything to avoid hurting me?”

“But—”

“Please let me finish. I’m not saying I won’t miss you, or even that you and I can still be friends. I don’t know, but we can’t be together anymore. Every time I’m with you lately, I feel like I’m stealing something. It can’t go on. It just can’t.”

Feeling gut-kicked, she stared at him. “So you just… dump me? Totally out of the blue? With no warning?”

His shoulders sagged, and she realized she must be blind. All those little withdrawals. The tension she’d been picking up on for weeks, now.

Oh, God. He was serious. He truly meant to break things off between them.

“What about Thomas?” she squeaked. Her throat had begun to swell and burn. Eyelids, too.

Don’t. Don’t cry. Tears would only make him feel worse. And dammit, but he was the bravest of them all, taking the hit to prevent something worse from happening later.

“I don’t know about Thomas,” Josh said. “I don’t know how I’ll feel about this tomorrow. Or the next day. Or ever. I just know that I’m doing the right thing.”

She curled her lips in and bit down to ward off tears. She couldn’t believe this was happening. And then she felt absolutely terrible. She should say something, but knew the moment she did, her voice would crack or come out all watery.

Instead, she squeezed his hands and took a deep breath, then met those dark eyes again.

“Ah, Jeez,” he breathed. “Honey, don’t cry.”

That did it, of course. She burst into tears.

Josh returned his arm around her shoulders. She tucked her face into his neck while she shook and fought to stop crying, failing catastrophically. All the while, she could feel Josh’s discomfort in his every tiny move.

Finally he kissed the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

He retrieved her robe from where they’d dropped it earlier and pressed it into her lap. She cried into it while he grabbed his things and left. And she continued to cry, wracked with guilt that he’d been feeling this way without saying anything. Also anger for the same reason. What would happen now? What would it be like to see him? And what would Thomas have to say about all this?

Eventually she began to worry one of their clients might find her. She pulled herself back together by degrees, first pulling on the robe, then prowling the room to give her eyes and nose a chance to deflate. She would still have to go back to wardrobe to retrieve her things, and Kara and the others would freak out of they saw her like this.

She strolled around the room. She’d never been alone in Prescott house before, nor this mini museum. Though oppressive with echoes of a shady past, the collection of art and mementos offered a distraction from the hurt, at least. One big display case contained jewelry and other gifts from famous personas, given to the original Prescott sisters. On the walls were pictures galore of all the earlier generations and, as Amanda discovered once she located the light switch, all manner of paintings and figurines collected over the years.

A picture of Kay caught Amanda up short. More diligent hunting turned up a picture of the two sisters, Kay and Yvette. Striking resemblance. Kay had been downright beautiful in a sunny, refined sort of way. Yvette had softer, sweeter features.

“Fuck you,” Amanda whispered. She hated Kay and Yvette. She hated them for the damage they’d done to Josh, the deadly legacy they’d chained around his neck. She hated them for Janos, and for Thomas’s partner, Bill. Hated them for Derek. Nicole… “Poisonous. Just poisonous.”

Interest suddenly repelled, Amanda was about to walk away when something else caught her eye: a framed magazine cover. It showed Kay and Yvette on the cover, announcing them both as budding philanthropists and players in the property sector. Both wore white jackets and pleated micro-mini skirts. The matching outfits were near identical to the costume Amanda had worn for Yvette’s repeated office fantasy.

God. Was this picture the root of that fantasy?

“Crazy broad.”

Now indignant as well as heartbroken, Amanda hitched a ride back to the resort with a security officer who was wise enough not to comment on her red eyes and nose.

She asked him to drop her near the quad, desperate for something, anything, positive to latch onto. She found it in her surroundings. The night air flirted with a breeze, gentle and balmy like a cat winding its affectionate way through her steps. The horizon, now that the sun had finally set, was near colorless, just a faint chrome glow like a fading crack of light below a door.

She showered and dressed in comfortable leggings and a blousy silk tank top atop a fitted one. She slipped into sandals, and then retrieved her purse from a dressing room. A quick check of her phone found it loaded with alerts. Tons of email and social network stuff, and a text. From Shelley.

She groaned. “Oh, God. Can this day get any worse?”

She dragged the alert down to read the message:
OMG so excited. They just called. I start Monday. Tell Thomas thanks again!

Amanda blinked, and re-read the message. Tell Thomas thanks? Again? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

No. No, this was not happening. Not again. This was exactly how things had started with Darren and Shelley. Poor, cute little Shelley who needed to be taken care of, batting her defenseless, come-hither eyelashes at her older stepsister’s boyfriend.

Then Josh’s voice returned to replay something he’d said.
I know things, Amanda. Things I can’t talk about until Thomas tells you himself.
Was Shelley one of those things?

No. Not possible. Intellectually, she knew Thomas would never have anything to do with Shelley. But the rest of her had learned the hard way not to ignore signs. Her gut and heart began to whirl at twice their normal speeds. A tendril of acid laced its way through her chest, up her throat, and around her neck.

Be rational, she pleaded with herself, even while digging into her bag to make sure she still had Eric’s memo containing Shelley’s address.

Yes. Crumpled, but still there.

She paged back to Shelley’s text and hit the call button.

As soon as Shelley answered, Amanda asked, “Are you at home?”

Shelley let out an excited-sounding squeal. “You got my text! Finally! Wanna’ come over and see me?”

“Sure do. Stay there.”

She listened to Shelley’s driving directions, pretending she didn’t already know where to find the duplicitous little cow.

Afterward, Amanda turned her phone all the way off. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t need to process anything. Thomas hadn’t done anything wrong. Shelley was just yanking her chain, and it was long past time to yank back.

She repeated that thought over and over again while headed for the parking lot. In her car, she programmed Shelley’s address into the GPS.

All the way there, a battle raged inside. Half of her clung firmly to the idea that Shelley was stirring up trouble because that was what Shelley always did to get attention. Yet another part of Amanda would not be silenced. It parried with vivid reminders of how many times she’d explained away Shelley’s childish antics while having her fiancé, and indeed her entire life, stolen out from under her.

Or maybe she was so upset about Josh that she was spoiling for a fight, and Shelley had made herself an easy target.