Best Laid Plans, Robyn Kelly [read e books online free txt] 📗

my mouth with sensual intensity, and every stroke and thrust makes me want to take this further. My hands move to his head and I run my fingers through his soft, wavy hair. I’ve never felt this much desire for anyone in my life. I want him—all of him—and I want him now.

His hands move down my dress and rest at my hips. He grabs a handful of the material in each hand, and the hem rises. One hand slips down between my legs and traces circles around the outside of my panties. I need to stop him—but I have an even greater need to find out where this is headed.

His hand slips inside the elastic band. One finger entices me: stroking, circling, pressing until it works its way in.

“My God, you’re already wet for me.” He turns his finger inside me and positions his thumb where he can draw slow, lazy circles around my clit. His mouth hovers above me, and I raise my head to meet his lips. He pulls his head back, out of my reach. I look in his eyes questioningly, and he lowers his head. I raise my lips and he retreats again.

I see the smug look I’ve become accustomed to. He’s teasing me, and the flash of anger I feel gives me the willpower to break his spell. Before I can move, he slides a second finger into me, finding that sweet spot inside. My head rolls back, and now his mouth covers mine. My body responds as intensely as before, but I can’t get the image of his cocky satisfaction out of my mind. He’s a cold-blooded sexpert.

He lifts his head again, and his hand continues to stimulate every nerve ending I have between my legs. My knees feel weak, and I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Look up, Jillian. I need to see your face.”

When I raise my head, he puts his free hand under my chin, and slowly wraps his fingers around my neck. His gentle grip steadies me, but also works like a brace, keeping my head upright and locked on his face.

“I need to see how you respond to me. I need to know just how far I can go.”

His voice is as smooth as a chocolate fountain, and I instinctively reach my arms out. I don’t know if it’s to stop him or to feel him, but he gently squeezes my throat.

“Put your arms down. I know you think I want to be touched, but that’s not what this is about. This is a sexual position I call 68.” He moves his mouth to my ear. “I do you, and you owe me one.”

He relaxes his grip on my throat, as his other hand increases its rhythmic taunting. My knees buckle at the intensity, but the hand on my throat is immobile. I have to stand straight or it cuts off my air supply.

“Poor Jillian. You want to let go, but if you do, you choke yourself. All those sensations, and you can’t give in. You can’t surrender. You have to keep your precious control around me. How long can you hold out until you don’t care about breathing? Until you stop playing your games with me? How long before you—”

“Jillian, are you in here?”

Oh my God, it’s Robert. “Back here,” I croak.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over—”

As quickly as Jackson and I pull apart, Robert is quicker. He looks the two of us over and if he suspects something, he’s kind enough to keep it to himself.

“I can’t find my cell phone—and we need to start the birthday toast.”

“Yes, coming.” Robert’s too smart to be fooled but I decide to put on an empty show anyway. “Robert, I don’t think you’ve met Mr. Hunter.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Robert says, offering his hand.

Jackson holds up his right arm. “My hand’s wet.”

My face turns cranberry, and I spin toward Jackson so Robert can’t see. “Thank you for your feedback, Mr. Hunter. I’ll be sure to keep all of your suggestions in mind.”

Jackson refuses to play along. “They weren’t suggestions. They were promises.”

It takes all my concentration to turn around and push Robert toward the door. When I hand him his phone, he gives me a quizzical look.

“Don’t ask. Would you check with the caterers about the cake? I’ll find Bryan and then text you.”

Robert heads out the door. I take a breath, adjust my dress (and everything under it) and follow. I’m only a few steps over the threshold when a hand grabs hold of my arm and I slam into Jackson.

“I wasn’t done with your lesson.” His tone has lost the sensual edge, and he sounds annoyed.

Lesson? I don’t want any more tutoring on that subject. I try to sound calm. “We need to cut the cake now or the caterers will go into overtime.” He’s as still as a statue, but keeps hold of my arm in his vise-like grip.

Since he doesn’t seem concerned with the cost, I change tactics. His mouth has turned Berry Noir, so I grab a tissue from my ditty bag and hand it to him. “You should wipe the lipstick off your face.” He just stares at me, silent and still, but lets go of my arm to retrieve the tissue. I turn and walk away as fast as my shaking knees can manage.

Bryan is easy to find—he’s been standing in plain sight the entire time. Maybe that’s why Jackson was so still. He doesn’t want his brother to see us together. I feel like a dirty little secret.

When I reach Bryan, I wrap my arm through his. “Follow me to the DJ booth. We want you to make a little speech to thank your guests before we bring the cake out.”

I try to stay half a step in front of him, so I don’t have to meet his gaze.

“Are you dating Jackson?”

“Don’t be silly.” I’m sure Jackson doesn’t date. More likely, he just plunders.

“I saw him kiss you earlier, and then you both came out of that back room—and I know sex hair when I see it.”

My hand goes instantly to my head.

“Not your hair. Jackson’s.” I realize my little move just confirmed Bryan’s suspicions. “Jillian, I think you’d be great for my brother. Just—make sure—always be honest with him.”

“And no surprises?”

Bryan acts contrite. “I was a little worried about that. But instead he gave you a big kiss!”

There’s how things are, and there’s how things look. Nobody knows that better than an event planner. Bryan thinks Jackson is dating me, and I’m thinking it’s more of a personal vendetta. How did things go so far, so fast?

When we reach the DJ booth, I text Robert, the lighting guy, and Minerva before I hand Bryan the microphone.

As the DJ finishes his mix, I push Bryan into the spotlight.

“Thank you all for coming to my party! As you know, I’ve just spent two weeks in the Italian countryside and tonight in San Francisco—both thanks to my brother.” Bryan walks back toward Jackson, and the spotlight follows him. “If there’s one thing I learned in my first quarter of a century, it’s that family can be annoying, but they can also be awesome!”

When Bryan reaches his brother, he gives him a big bear hug. Jackson looks terrified, and that expression on his face is worth the price of admission. “Let’s give it up for my bro—Jackson! He’s the guy who’s paying for all this!” Glasses fill the air and mix with shouts of approval.

Bryan’s friends descend on the two and slap Jackson on the back. He looks like such a fish out of water when only five minutes ago he was master of all he could hold—and manhandle.

The house lights dim and spotlights illuminate the two large silk banners flanking the DJ booth. The silk billows and twists, and two aerialists plunge from the ceiling into the suspended fabric. While they climb, wrap, and drop to the strains of a Tchaikovsky piece, I make a beeline to the pipe and drape. I need to wheel out the cake, sing “Happy Birthday,” and get the hell out of here.

Now that I have some distance from the man, I’m horrified at what I let him do. I fell right into his beautiful hands, because I thought he wanted me. I feel like a fool, and I’ll bet that was his intent. It’s my own fault. He told me he wanted to give me a lesson in submission. Sex isn’t about attraction with him; it’s about power. Minerva warned me. He mindfucks women, and even knowing that was no defense against it.

Robert is right behind the curtain, placing twenty-five candles on the cake.

“Listen, I need a really big favor, and I’m willing to pay for it.”

“You want to leave early with Jackson? I think that’s worth $250, if I have to close by myself.”

“I’ll pay you $500, and I want to leave without Jackson. He has the wrong impression of me.”

“That you’re easy?”

“That I’m kinky.”

“Wait, what?” I suddenly have all of Robert’s attention.

“He’s into kinky sex. I guess he’s kind of famous for it because Minerva was giving me all the dirt.”

“And what was he giving you in the backroom?”

“A sample.” I need to get away from Jackson, and his wandering hands, so I add a few incentives. “I’ll close the parsonage. I should be safe there. And I’ll take the morning shift with the janitors tomorrow. But you need to tell Jackson I left.”

“Jillian, I’m not comfortable with lying so you can avoid dealing with a situation.”