Incendiary (49 page)

“Yes, sweetheart. It can be. But my relationship with Kiln is completely different than what you had with your mother.”

I don’t deny his assumption that I was comparing the two relationships. It would be pointless since he has me pegged. “My mother was a very strong woman.” That’s the image she always projected. “We used to bump fists. Our motto was girl power. She taught me that, but she didn’t remember it. In a weak and dark moment, she succumbed. And, now, she’s gone.”

More tension seeps into his muscles. They’re so taut, they vibrate beneath his skin.

“You don’t care that she’s dead, do you?”

“Not in the least, Georgiana,” he admits.

When I remove myself from his lap and settle next to him, he heaves in a breath.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t understand your grief. I will comfort you and listen to you for hours, days,” he emphasizes. “If that’s what it takes to help you through this. Cassandra’s dead because she was too fucking mean to live. Was she sick? Yes. I honestly believe that she was. But she felt Helen deserted her. She didn’t have enough motherly instincts to know that your grandmother wanted the best for you and her. If Helen protected you, to Cassandra that translated to Helen not loving her.”

His explanation makes total sense, though that doesn’t make her death any easier. “My mother shouldn’t have hurt herself. She had a lot of people who loved her.”

“Besides you and Helen, name the others.”

“Josh. Dad,” I add, unsure if I speak the truth.

He tugs me to him and my meager resistance is laughable. His stance on my mother’s death is so callous, I should push him away.

“Who else, Georgiana?”

Unable to come up with another name, I shrug.

“I’m sorry she’s gone. For your sake and your grandmother’s. Josh and Parnell, too. Whether she accepted it or not, you all loved her. She was a supreme bitch to you. Yet in your head, you remember the mother she was once upon a time. Cherish those memories, sweetheart. Cling to them. If it helps to blot out the bad and allows you to understand your feelings, do it.”

“What about you and Rand?”

“What about us?”

From the irritation in his voice, he knows exactly what I mean.

“I accepted my father for the motherfucker he was—”

“A long time ago,” I finish for him.

“My sister will finally have justice,” he says simply.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He will if I press the issue, but I don’t think he’s fully come to terms with what’s happened. Rand’s arrest will make headlines. As Sloane’s father and as a well-known businessman in his own right. But, then, the details of Steffie’s life will be eventually discovered.

“What did Helen say to my father for him to confess?”

“I wish I knew,” I admit. “Watching you live on TV distracted me from their heated conversation.”

He nods and caresses my back.

Lifting up, I kiss him and caress his cheek, the stubble scraping against my fingertips. He responds but doesn’t take the lead, allowing me to set our pace. I sense he needs fast and hard.

When my hand goes to his belt, he unfastens it for me, tearing his mouth away from mine long enough to remove his jeans and my panties and shorts. We don’t bother removing my top or his shirt. He threads his hands through my hair and I straddle him, his touch and kisses heating me up and making me wet. That part of me is slowly returning to normal and I enjoy lovemaking again.

I rub my clit against his cock head, empowered when he sucks in a breath and croons his approval. Guiding his thick length to my entrance, I ease him partially inside of me, but Sloane doesn’t allow me to stop and buries himself completely. At my whimper, he pauses, allowing me to adjust. The moment I move, he grabs my waist, encouraging me to take him deep and ride him fast.

Bouncing against him stimulates my clit. My pussy soaks his dick, pulses around him. I’m alive, the sensations coursing through me and the very male sounds escaping him invigorates me. Release builds inside of me.

“Sloane!” I gasp out, so very close to falling apart.

He rolls us over and I spread my legs wide.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growls, fingering my clit and thrusting into me, balanced on one arm.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I scream, unable to form any other words, the chant expressing the pleasure exploding through me. I tremble and lift my hips up in search of more of his strokes, wanting him to continue playing my clit as he does his strings. My blood hums and I think I lose my mind for a moment, hearing my voice, my cries, but not knowing if I’m babbling or not.

Arching my back, I throw my head back, squeezing his biceps. He bites my neck, propelling me into another orgasm. It’s stronger than the first one, pulling me out of my body. I float. I shake. I scream.

Sloane groans and stiffens, bathing my pussy with his cum and bringing me out of my ecstasy. I squeeze his ass as his shudders subside and he collapses against me, breathing hard.

He slides to my side and throws his arm across my chest. “I love you, Georgiana.”

“I love you too, Sloane.”

We need say nothing else because we’ve said it all with our declarations. For the next half hour, we lay in bed, just…
being
. Afterward, we shower together. He lathers me with soap and uses his hands to spread the suds over my body. When he rinses me off, he kneels down and throws one of my legs over his shoulder, licking my clit until I come.

Then, he stands and grabs me, swooping his mouth over mine. His tongue dances around me. His deep, open-mouthed kiss qualifies as pornographic. It dazes me. He pushes down on my shoulder and I know what he wants, even before he says the words.

“Suck my dick.”

I kiss my way down his body and take him into my mouth, tasting soap and pre-cum. He pushes deep, his cock head touching the back of my throat. Relaxing my muscles, I take him and suck him and revel in the velvet hardness riding my tongue. I fondle his balls and push a finger into his ass, massaging inside of him. I’ve done this to him before, so I know he likes it.

“Fuuuccckkk,” he yells, his cock jerking and cum shooting down my throat.

The moment he finishes, he pulls me to my feet. I frown at the anger on his face.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, bewildered.

“How many times did you finger that motherfucker’s ass?”

Crowell. “Umm…”

“He taught you that dirty technique.”

That’s true, but I won’t feed his fury by admitting it. “I wanted you to feel good.”

“I hate that you learned that from him.”

I stand on my tiptoes. “I love you and only you. No one can ever take me away from you.”

His jealousy abates and he nods.

Argument averted, we make love again, then go together to see to Bryn and face my grandmother.

Dastardly Dad!

Paid In Blood. Superstar’s Sister Killed for Sexual Proclivities.

Rand Mason Holds Son’s, Rock Superstar Sloane Mason, Future Hostage for over a Decade!

MURDERER!

These are just a few of the headlines plastered on newspapers and nightly broadcasts. Photos of Dad and Steffie cycle everywhere. As the link that makes this lurid tale international headlines, my pictures are never left out.

Amidst the breaking news, two days later, I discover Crowell will survive. Pres is driving Georgie and I to the photo shoot with Sedona. After all that’s happened, I want Georgie’s mind on something happy. I also want the world to focus on something positive where she’s concerned. Since our relationship has gone public, one fuck-up after another has occurred. Worse, the press always slants it against her.

After my statutory rape charges, the media made an admirable attempt to bring me down. Their smear campaign didn’t work, thanks to my loyal following. Therefore the easier story—the juicier one—became Georgiana.

I hand my phone to her, so she can read Jaeger’s simple, three word text. She stares at the screen so long, I wonder if I missed something.

“I didn’t kill him,” she whispers in a trembling voice.

“No, sweetheart.”

She hands me my phone back. “I’m glad.”

I add nothing else, allowing her to work through her relief.

When we arrive at the studio, I guide Georgie in, greeting the full team brought in for wardrobe, hair, makeup, and set designers. As I demanded, Sedona has spared no expense.

“Georgie!” Sedona gushes, air kissing both Georgie’s cheeks, before doing the same with me.

“Hi,” Georgie responds, offering little waves to the crew. “How long will we be here?”

“Bryn’s just fine.” I know why she’s concerned about the time. She wanted Abby and Bryn to accompany us. I refused. Our daughter will only distract her.

Sedona takes Georgie’s elbow and guides her to each person. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Georgie calls over her shoulder.

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” one of the two men present assures her.

“Behave, Paul,” Sedona titters.

“I have a phone call to make, Georgiana,” I grit out, glaring at Paul. His interested once-over of my wife makes me stop in the foyer of the studio to dial Cash’s phone number and give him the news about Crowell. He’s been waiting patiently for an update on his condition.

“Thanks for telling me. I have to call Josh.”

“For?”

“He’s coming to help out.”

“Help out how? I don’t require help from either of you.”

Cash laughs. “I’m sure. I heard all about Kiln’s ass-kicking from Prez.”

“How the fuck does Outlaw know?” I demand, not interested in this peripheral bullshit. It keeps me from Georgie longer.

“Georgie spoke to Meggie and Meggie told Prez. Women talk, brother.”

“I don’t have time for this conversation. I have to get to my wife. I was calling to update you on asshole.”

“Sloane, you have every right to want to end his life, but you’re encroaching on my line of work, so back off. Let me handle Crowell. You won’t dispose of him in the correct way. That leaves you at risk for arrest. Meanwhile, I have an appointment with him in the meat shack.”

Meat shack
? Do I want to fucking know what that is? Familiar with the bikers, I really don’t.

“I understand why you want to break his face in, but you’re not a fucking killer. Fuck,” he continues in an irritated voice. “Why the fuck am I arguing about that motherfucker? Your job is to make my little sister happy and see to her well-being. Enjoy your fucking life. Be happy you don’t have the threat of a murder conviction over your head and console yourself that some shit is better left handled by others.”

“I’ll let you know what I decide,” I growl and hang up, stomping back into the studio and waiting for Georgie to come from the dressing room in her first outfit.

When she does, I groan at the black leather pants clinging to her ass and the matching bandeau with spiked straps that pushes up her tits.

Her straightened hair blows all over the place with the effects of the fan. She poses and twirls for the camera, lost in her fun and hurting my dick. I’m both regretful and relieved when she’s ushered away for her next wardrobe change. Until I see her in a tulle and lace black bustier with floral adornments, matching panties, garters, stockings, and heels.

While Paul and the other man whose name I’m not fucking interested in arrange a crimson colored boudoir lounger, Georgie sashays to me and kisses me.

I slant my mouth over hers and she hums in the back of her throat, wiggling against me. “I’m going to fuck your brains out,” I whisper against her ear, biting her lobe. “In five fucking seconds with you dressed as you are and grinding against me.”

Desire heats up her skin, flushed pink and smelling divine.

“Ready, Georgie,” Sedona calls, interrupting my plans.

Before the shoot begins, Georgie returns to make-up for a lipstick reapplication. I behave through an evening gown change, an after five hip length dress that will show her pussy to the world if she bends, and several dressings in trendy everyday clothes. During our late champagne brunch, Georgie skypes Abby so she can talk to Bryn. On her now is a silk, wide-leg red jumpsuit with see-through tulle along the sides. With her hair in a slick ponytail, she’s confident.

“Are you ready for her final outfit, Sloane?” Sedona asks with a smirk as Georgie beams a smile at me and heads to one of the racks where the clothes brought in for her are hanging.

“Yes, I am.”

It takes over an hour before Georgie trots out in an oversized leather jacket, black patent leather pumps and a thong. Sedona snaps numerous photos then indicates to Georgie to remove the jacket. When she does, she turns. A carbon copy of my back piece is painted on her back. A few shots taken has her hair arranged over one breast. She peeps over her shoulder, not caring about the exposed cheeks of her ass. She holds her arms up and bows her head, recreating my photo, the one she’s said time and again is her favorite. Whereas I was completely naked and had my dick sucked by one of the stylists after the shoot finished, she knows I’d pitch a fucking fit if she walked out here exposing her pussy.

“Beautiful, doll.” Sedona snaps away as I grit my teeth. Ass out is still too much with Paul and the other asshole leering at her. “Sloane, you want to get in the last few shots?”

I bare my teeth in an annoyed smile, already unbuttoning my shirt, unable to refuse at Georgie’s look. “Sure.”

A blush reddens her body once I’ve removed all my clothes, socks, and boots. My cock is hard and I’m naked. That isn’t my fucking concern. Showing the world she belongs to me is.

“Impressive,” Sedona says dryly though she’s seen me with my clothes off before. Casual sex between friends isn’t anything Georgie needs to know about. Besides, Sedona’s happily married now and a mother herself. “Your husband’s shameless, Georgie.”

She nods, focused on my dick. Snickering, I pull her against me, her back to the camera, my hands possessively at her waist. My head is bowed as I offer the camera an under-eyed look, setting the tone for our photo shoot.

“This isn’t porn,” Georgie grumbles, when I nibble on her neck in a few frames.

I bite her earlobe. “I’m well aware of that. Look up at me as if you adore me, palms flat on my chest and hold my gaze.”

Instead of the game of jealous possession I’ve played, I lose myself to the pure innocence of Georgie’s expression. She isn’t pretending for the cameras with me and, although neither am I, I did allow my ego to get in the way. I drop my dickhead attitude and allow real emotion to take over.

“Do you want to view some of the shots?” Sedona asks, once we wrap up.

“Five minutes.” I take Georgie’s hand and lead her to the bathroom. “You don’t mind, Georgie?”

“No.” She stands on her tiptoes, offering me her mouth, which I’m more than happy to devour. Tearing off her thong, I test her pussy, ready to fuck her. She groans at my exploration. I finger-fuck her in a fast rhythm, thumbing her clit, murmuring my approval when she rolls against my hand.

Her pussy is hot and wet. Lifting her into my arms, I thrust into her. “I’ve been wanting pussy from you for hours.”

“My pussy is yours anytime you want it.”

I grin wolfishly and bring her to a quick orgasm, coming a moment later.

On our way to the house, Georgie falls asleep, perfect opportunity for me to call Cash and tell him to handle Crowell. My priority
is
Georgiana. That doesn’t stop me from giving Cash a few suggestions on how I’d like Crowell to suffer during his last moments on earth.

“Georgie?” Groggy, I lift my head at the sound of my father’s voice calling me through my closed bedroom door. I glance at the clock. 9:53AM.

Sloane’s already gone to rehearsal, and Abby took over with Bryn after I awakened at three this morning to see to her.

A knock sounds at the door. Since I didn’t answer his call, I suppose Dad decided to knock.

If I weren't stark naked and smelling of Sloane, I’d invite him in. “Give me five minutes, Dad,” I yell, scrambling from the bed and heading to the bathroom to freshen up.

It takes me fifteen minutes, and when I walk out to the breakfast room, I find a shocking sight—Bryn in Grandma’s lap. Make that
two
shocking sights. Grandma and Dad are actually engaged in conversation. It isn’t one-sided where she’s barking orders.

“Morning, dear,” she greets, holding her cheek out to not so subtly indicate for me to kiss her. “Parnell and I were just discussing you.”

After I kiss Grandma and Dad, I take Bryn into my arms, intending to head to the buffet.

“Sit,” Grandma orders, picking up a bell and ringing it. “You have servants now.”

“I don’t want servants, Grandma.”

“Tough. You may not want to be waited on hand and foot, but you aren’t used to menial labor, husbands, and children.”

I open my mouth to argue.

“Save your breath,” Dad says with a weary smile, as a woman bustles from the kitchen and heads to the buffet.

She turns to me. “What would you like, Mrs. Mason?”