High (23 page)

“Fuck, you’re supposed to be a hot bad boy. When did you become helpful?”

He laughs. “I can stop.” He pushes up off the sofa and grabs both my ankles, dragging me down the cushions until I’m flat on my back with my top shoved up.

He crawls between my knees and brushes his lips across mine. “I fucking want you, Duchess. No one else matters.” My heart skitters wildly. He sits up and pulls on the bottoms of my trackies, dragging them down my legs, leaving me naked from the waist down. “But I want your pussy more.” He skims his hands from my ankles up to the backs of my knees. “Don’t scream. Wouldn’t want to wake Milly up.” That wicked smirk crosses his lips just before he shoves my knees into my chest and dives face first into my pussy.
Oh, fuck!

His tongue drags over my clit and I have to fist my hand and bite down on my knuckles to stop myself from crying out. He pins my legs in place, leaving me completely exposed to him as he tortures me with his mouth.

Rhett Torres is a fucking magician with his tongue. He thrusts it inside me and a moan slips past my lips, making him chuckle and blow hot breaths across my pussy.
Holy fuck, he’s going to kill me.
I glance down between my legs and those gold eyes lock with mine. He makes a slow show of sticking his tongue out and gently flicking it over my clit. Oh, god, his face looks even better between my legs. He winks—fucking winks at me before he slams two fingers inside me. I cry out. I can’t help it. I don’t even fucking care if Milly wakes up, comes in here, and makes a new Kim K sex tape. I’d sink much lower in exchange for this right here.

My hands fly to his hair and then shit gets serious. My hips roll as his fingers pound into me, his tongue relentlessly circling my clit. I throw my head back on a silent moan as every muscle in my body tenses and an orgasm rips through me. He pushes me past orgasm to the point where I’m flinching away from each tiny lash of his tongue. I thrash, trying to wrench my legs from his grip and squeeze them closed, and he laughs, biting my inner thigh before finally releasing me. My chest heaves. I smile, riding that blissful high.

I hold up my finger. “Give me five minutes.”

He bends down, scooping me off the sofa. “It’s okay, Duchess, you can just lay there for this.” He laughs, and it rumbles through his chest.

“Done.”

One week later…

Why the fuck am I doing this? The lengths I go to for that girl.

I’m sitting in a fucking bush in someone’s back yard, waiting. My phone buzzes and I take it out. It’s a text from Blake asking where I am. I ignore it, and shove it back in my pocket, because how the fuck would I explain where I am?

There’s movement and the porch light turns on before the back door opens and then closes. I can’t see shit in the dark, but I hear the tapping of little claws on the garden path. I throw a piece of ham out onto the path, hoping the damn dog will find it.

The brown wiener dog starts growling at me as soon as he comes into view. He’s ballsy for a short fucker.

“Shh!” I hiss at him, launching the entire pack of ham in front of him. Apparently food is more important than the guy hanging out in the bush, and I manage to grab him and make a break for it before I’m arrested for fucking breaking and entering. I jump in my car and put the dog on the front seat. I hope to fucking god it’s the right dog because otherwise I just kidnapped a random family’s dog.

Like I said…the lengths I fucking go to for Blake.
 

I wake up and Rhett is nowhere to be seen, but the bed is still warm.

I get out of bed and go for a wee before hunting down coffee and Rhett in that order. I find him making coffee.
Winning.
He smiles when I walk in the kitchen and cups my face, kissing me.

“Happy birthday, Duchess.”

“Thanks.” I had actually forgotten.

He smirks. “I’ve got you a present.”

I pick up his cup of coffee, taking a mouthful just so I can ensure the appropriate enthusiasm. He grins and it makes me smile, because he’s all giddy, well, as giddy as Rhett could possibly get.

“It’s in the spare room, and it better be the right fucking one. You have no idea what I went through to get it.”

Now I’m really intrigued. I go to the hallway and open the door to the spare room. And there, in the middle of the bed, wagging his little tail, is Peppy. Not a lookalike, not a puppy version,
my
Peppy.

“Oh, my god!” I scream, scooping him up. If you’ve never had a dog, then you can’t appreciate what this means. You can’t appreciate what it is to lose him and have him back after nearly two years of separation. I sit on the edge of the bed, and he jumps up on my chest, giving me kisses. My vision goes blurry, as tears threaten to spill down my cheeks. I fall back on the mattress laughing as Peppy tries to lick my face.

I kiss his nose. “I missed you, baby.”

I catch Rhett out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the door frame. I jump off the bed and I’m smiling so wide it feels like my face might split. I launch myself into his arms and he catches me as I wrap my legs around his waist and slam my lips on his.

“Thank you.” I breathe against his mouth. “You have no idea how much this means.” Everything, it means everything. Rhett Torres just gave me back the only thing I ever truly loved…aside from him, and it only makes me love him more. And all the fears and insecurities that I had, that vulnerability that I felt, it all washes away. None of it matters because he gets me. He knows what I need, what makes me happy.

Every sappy love story has its moment—the grand gesture. Our story isn’t sappy or romantic in any way, but if ever there were a moment that made me think that just maybe it could be, this is it.

I touch my forehead to his, stroking my hand over his jaw. “I love you.”

He smirks. “I know.”

“Do I even want to know how you got him back?”

He shrugs. “I have my sources.”

“You’re the best.”

He slaps my arse and drops me to the ground. “I know. Now, I have to go do some work.” I pout and he smiles. “But I’ll pick you up at your place tonight. I’m taking you away for the weekend.”

“Like a dirty weekend?”

He kisses my forehead. “It’s a surprise.”

A surprise! A fucking surprise! Men are so…male. Jesus, he can’t just drop this on me last minute. A dirty weekend needs certain
preparations
. I’m booked for a bikini wax tomorrow, but now we’re leaving for a weekend of dirty sex today and the beautician can’t move it forward.
Shit.
  There is nothing sexy about the hedgehog attached to my fucking vagina right now.

Okay, it’ll be okay. I’ll get Milly to do it. I mean, how hard can it be?

“What the fuck?” I’m staring at shelves full of hair removal stuff.

“I’m telling you, those wax strips in a box won’t do shit except give you sticky pubes, and the proper stuff will probably blister your vag.” Milly says.

“Oh, my god.” I gasp in horror at the thought of a maimed vag. “How are they allowed to sell that shit?” She shrugs. “Helpful. Why did I bring you?”

“Because when in pube drama, I’m your go to girl.”

“Okay, fine. What do you suggest?”

She picks up a box. “Hair removal cream. I once used it on my legs. Smells gross, but it works.”

I take the box from her. Why do I have a feeling this is going to be even more degrading than getting on all fours for Svetlana?

“Oh, my fucking god. Milly!” I shout.

“What?” She calls from my bedroom.

I’m standing in my bathroom in nothing but a t-shirt with this shit smeared all over my minge.
Brilliant.

“Is this supposed to burn?”

“Uh, tingle maybe.”

“Nope.” I grip the edge of the vanity. “It’s definitely burning.”

“Well, maybe that just means it’s working.”

“Fuck, what is in this shit?” Jesus, it feels like my vagina is on fire.

She pokes her head around the door and glances at my crotch, covered in the pale pink cream. “It has to dissolve pubes.”

Okay, I’m good. I can handle a little pain. It’s not like a wax is a walk in the park, although that shit lasts a second. This is a lot fucking longer. The burning intensifies, and I’m all for suffering in the name of beauty—or a bald vag—but this is ridiculous.

“Okay, nope. I can’t.” I jump in the shower and pull the head off the wall, turning the water on. I squeak as the cold hits my thighs, but it feels so good on my crotch.

The stuff washes away, leaving behind bright red skin, and a minge that looks like it got chewed by a lawn mower.

“Oh, my god! Rhett cannot fucking look at this!” I shriek.

“It can’t be that bad.” Milly yanks the shower door open and I cover my injured girl. She rolls her eyes. “You know that’s nothing I, and most readers of
The Sun,
haven’t seen before.”

“Not like this!” Fuck, it’s still burning like a bitch. I step out of the shower and stalk straight through the flat to the kitchen. I rip open the freezer in search of something. Anything. Nope. We have vodka or ice cream in there. Well, Ben and Jerry are going to have to spend the next few minutes pressed against my pussy. I grab the tub and shove it against the burning skin.