Her skimpy uniform, which was barely there in the first place, is hanging around her waist now, apparently ripped in their scuffle. She seems self-conscious, but honestly, I barely notice. She’s young and has perky tits, but so do thousands of other women. She doesn’t do much for me. Mostly because I know she’d offer herself on a platter if I wanted her to. I briefly consider inviting her to join Kira and me, but don’t. She’s drunk, and even if she’s too drunk to remember it, she’s just been almost violated.
“You okay?” I ask gruffly. She nods, sniveling, just as another girl, a gorgeous blonde in a matching uniform, rushes up.
“Holy shit, Kaylie. What the hell happened?”
The blonde is obviously alarmed, concerned, and while Kaylie explains about the asshole, I turn to disappear back into the shadows. Regardless of my profession, I try to stay out of the spotlight when the cameras aren’t rolling. Unfortunately, I only make it partway before Kaylie grabs my arm, then wraps herself around my waist.
“Thank you,” she tells me shakily, her arms like thin bands, not giving me room to even squirm. I stare down at her, looking past her tear-smeared eyeliner to look into her panicky eyes.
“It’s not a problem. But you need to stay out of situations like that. There won’t always be someone to step in and save you.”
From her shocked expression, I decide that I might’ve been a little too hard on her. But shit. Women have to be more careful. She can’t parade around in barely any clothes, have rough sex with a stranger, and just expect him to be a gentleman. Men, by and large, aren’t gentlemen. We’re assholes.
Kaylie stares at me, too drunk or high to even respond. But her friend isn’t so silent.
Big brown eyes snap at me angrily. “Why are you lecturing her? She was just assaulted, in case you didn’t notice.”
I roll my eyes.
“Is that what you call it? She was having rough sex with that asshole right out in the open. When she was supposed to be working, I might add. It looked to me like it was an incident that just got out of control. I stopped it for her. You’re welcome.”
Gorgeous Blonde stares at me dumbfounded. “Are you trying to insinuate that she’s not a victim, that it was her fault this happened?”
I sigh. “Of course not. I’m saying that she shouldn’t have been encouraging a drunk stranger to be rough with her in the first place. Good night.”
I start to walk away, but apparently she’s not done.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she demands. “You might not have heard, but you really shouldn’t blame the victim.”
“I’m not blaming—” I begin, but I’m interrupted by her gasp as I step fully into the light and she sees my face.
“Holy shit.” She breathes. “You’re Dominic fucking Kinkaide.”
I can’t help but smile, just a little, just enough to pull the corners of my mouth up. “Dominic will do. I tend to drop the ‘fucking.’ Unless of course, I’m actually fucking.”
She smiles a breathtaking smile that should affect me. The girl is stacked, has legs that go on for miles, and she’s wearing next to nothing. She should affect me. But she doesn’t. Because nothing affects me anymore. I’m jaded as fuck.
“I’ve heard you’re trouble,” she announces matter-of-factly, eyeing me up and down with a slow gaze and fire in her eyes. “That’s lucky, because I happen to like trouble.”
“I bet you do,” I answer back, trying to ignore the way she’s acting now that she knows who I am. They all act like this. Every one of them. It gets monotonous. Just once, can’t someone surprise me? “Nice to meet you.”
I turn around and walk back toward the house, but she takes two steps and grabs my arm. I pause.
“But you didn’t,” she says hesitantly, a bit unsure now. “You didn’t meet me. My name’s Jacey.”
I sigh. “Your name doesn’t matter.”
I keep walking, ignoring the way she sucks her breath in, the way she calls after me in agitation, the way she gives up and stops in defeat.
I might be an asshole, but I don’t lie.
Her name doesn’t matter.
Not to me.
I leave the entire situation behind, out of my sight and out of my mind. Within a few minutes, I’m standing in front of Kira again.
“All taken care of?” she purrs, reaching for me. I nod, burying my face between her heavy, naked tits as she unbuckles my belt. “Bind my hands with this, and come on my face.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
“You’re such a dirty girl,” I whisper in her ear as I push her onto the couch and bind her hands above her head, just tight enough for the leather to bite into her flesh. Just the way she likes it.
And then I grasp my dick in my hand and fuck my fist, just the way I like it.
For just a second, for some strange reason, the blonde chick’s face pops into my mind, her eyes wide and brown. I have no idea why, but I shake my head to clear it. I focus instead on the matter at hand.
Within another two minutes, I come on Kira’s face, spurting in a cream-colored arc that spatters onto her tanned skin. She licks a drop from her lips and grins at me.
“Welcome home, lover.”
“Don’t call me that.” I shake my head as I pull my jeans back on and collapse next to her. She rolls her eyes.
“Why? It’s what we are. You always come back to me, Dom. You know that.”
I unbind the belt wordlessly, tossing it onto the floor. I might always come back to her whenever I come home, but I don’t fuck her. Not really. I haven’t actually fucked someone in years.
“Lover would indicate that I bury my dick in your sweet pussy.” I glance at her, then reach out to run my finger over the swell of one of her tits, then trail it downward to her crotch. She arches toward my touch. “And you know I won’t do that.”
I pull my hand away abruptly and Kira scowls. “Yeah, I know that. What I don’t know is why. Dominic, you’ve got needs too. Watching other people fuck or jacking off and coming on my face can’t be enough. Sex isn’t just sex, Dom. You need all the good stuff that comes along with it.”
“Oh, I do, do I?” I ask, amused now. “Like what? Like having women get attached and hoping that I’ll marry them? Or worrying that I’ll get some fucking disease or…”
“Just stop.” Kira interrupts me with a glare. “I know you, Dom. I know why you do what you do. You don’t want to get close to someone again. You don’t want to give anyone that kind of power over you. But Dom… it’s time. It’s time for you to finally get over her and come back to life.”
“One, don’t talk about her.” I instruct Kira icily, staring at her hard. “You know better than that. And two, are you insinuating that I’m not living?”
Kira sighs as she pulls her shirt on, forgoing her bra. She stuffs it into her purse and glances up at me.
“You know damn well what I’m insinuating. You’ve been a shell for six years, Dom. Six fucking years. That’s a long time. I’ve been patient. I’ve done everything you needed. But there comes a time when a girl needs to be fucked. I’ve got needs, Dominic.”
I have to chuckle now at the idea that I’m the only one Kira’s depending on for her “needs.” “Oh, yeah. Because you don’t have anyone else to fulfill your needs when I’m not here?”
She glares at me. “You’re a dick sometimes. I’ve got to work early in the morning, so I’ve gotta go. Call me tomorrow, okay?”
I nod even though I know I won’t. I bury my face into the couch cushions, realizing I’m suddenly exhausted and just want to sleep. I don’t even hear Kira leave. But I do hear when someone else comes in a few minutes later, right when I’m ready to slip into sleep.
“Dom, what the fuck? You were supposed to pull me out of the game so that I didn’t lose my shirt.”
I reluctantly open one eye to stare at my brother and find that he actually lost his shirt. He’s standing in front of me bare-chested. My eyes dip down and I cringe.
>
He lost his pants, too.
“What the hell, Sin? Put some fucking clothes on.”
My brother grins—that cocky, rakish grin that his fans love so much—as he plops himself down onto the sofa next to me, buck-ass naked, crossing his feet at the ankle on the coffee table.
“You wouldn’t have to worry about it if you’d pulled me out of the poker game like I asked you to.” He shrugs, picking up my glass of whiskey and drinking it all. “Those drunk chicks know how to play poker. Or I just wanted to take my clothes off. One or the other.”
I glare at him. “I couldn’t bail you out because I was taking care of a situation for you. Fuck, man. You’ve got to stop having these parties. Someone’s gonna get raped or killed and they’re going to sue the shit out of you.”
Sin only grins, unconcerned. “If they’re dead, they can’t sue me.”
I can’t argue with that logic. Instead, I tell him what he missed, not that it bothers him much. He sees it all the time.
“Thanks for fixing it,” he tells me casually, as though near-rapes are normal. I roll my eyes.
“Anytime. Now can you get some fucking clothes on?”
He waggles his dark eyebrows. “Sure. If it makes you insecure to look at my package. Not only am I older, but I’m also bigger, and that’s what counts.”
He’s also ridiculous. He’s not a centimeter bigger than I am, but I don’t waste my breath telling him that.
He yanks one of my shirts out of my suitcase and pulls it over his head. Then a pair of my pants. He forgoes underwear, which means I’ll have to burn those jeans.
“I forgot to ask how long you’re staying,” he asks as he settles back into the seat, unconcerned that he just ruined my favorite jeans. “Long enough to catch a show, I hope. It’s all I’ve heard about for months from Duncan… how you don’t even come watch your poor little brothers play.”
I roll my eyes. “Poor little brothers? I think both of you are doing just fine.”
Sin snorts. “Only as well as you, big bro. But whatever. We have a show coming up in Chicago next month. If you want to fly back in, we’ll get you backstage passes.”
I shake my head. “I’ll try. Filming starts in a couple of weeks. But I’ll see what I can do. I don’t want to upset baby Duncan.”
“What about me?”
My youngest brother saunters into my room, dropping onto the sofa next to Sin. Neither of them have any personal space issues, that’s for sure, because now we’re all three crammed onto the one sofa. And we’re too big for that shit.
“Nothing,” I assure Duncan. “I just said I didn’t want to offend your ovaries by not coming to your next show. I’ll try like hell to be there.”
“That’s the furthest thing from my mind right now,” Duncan announces, cracking open the can of beer in his hand. “You can see me bang on the drums any time. What I’d like to bang tonight are the half-naked women beyond these very doors. I fucking love your house, man,” he tells Sin. “Oh, and there’s a chick asking for you. Said she wants to make sure you know that your brother rescued her. Or some shit.”
Sin rolls his eyes, but I elbow him. “It’s probably the girl from the pool. You’d better talk to her and autograph her tits or something. You need to keep her happy so that she doesn’t think to call the police. You don’t want that kind of press, dude. Not after Amsterdam.”
The mere mention of how the tabloids had ripped Sin’s band up over a wild party in Amsterdam a month ago is enough to sober the two of them up. There had been some underage girls there, groupies who had lied about their age, and if it weren’t for the more lax laws in Europe, my brothers would’ve been screwed.
Sin nods now.
“Fine. Take me to her,” he tells Duncan. To me, he hands the bottle of whiskey and says, “Do you ever get tired of being right? Jesus Christ.”
“Not yet,” I tell him as I gulp down a few swigs, then slide down into the sofa again, closing my eyes. “It’s a burden though.”
My brothers chuckle as they walk out and I relax, enjoying the way the whiskey has loosened my muscles, the way the warmth has spread to every bit of me. It helps me stay numb… and numbness is a welcome fucking thing.
When I’m numb, I feel safe enough to slip my hand into my pocket. Not for my dick, although that’s normal for me, too. No, I wrap my fingers around the cool stone of the pendant that is always there, encased in a white shell and resting against my leg.
The last thing that fills my mind before I sleep is a color.
Aquamarine.
Chapter Two
When I open my eyes, almost two hours have passed. I know this by the fuzzy green light of the clock. I’m a little disoriented as I sit up and look around at furnishings that aren’t mine, until I remember that I’m not home. I’m at my brother’s house for the weekend.
“Morning, sunshine.” A soft voice startles me.
Snapping my head around, I find the gorgeous blonde with the strange name from the pool.
Jacey
She’s sitting in the darkness now, scrolling through her phone. Has she been watching me sleep? Or was she just too polite to wake me up?
Either way, I fight back a growl that my privacy has been invaded.
“What are you doing in here?”
She’s perched on the side of the bed, watching me. She’s even hotter than I remember her being: long legs, full tits, tiny waist. I usually prefer taller women, but this girl is perfectly proportioned… and there’s something excruciatingly sexy about her. Something about her just screams fuck me.
She shrugs now, unconcerned with my agitation, her long blond hair falling over the side of her shoulder.
“Your brother sent me up. My friend Kaylie is going to be staying the night here, apparently. With him.”
“And?” I raise an eyebrow.
Is this supposed to shock me? This shit happens all the time with Sin. He doesn’t give a shit about sloppy seconds. He says that’s what condoms were made for. Fucking rock stars. They’ll fuck anything that isn’t nailed down.
Jacey stares at me, unabashed and definitely not intimidated, her eyes flashing in the dark.
“And she was my ride. Your brother said you’d be happy to drive me home.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Annoyance wells up in me and I glance at the clock. Two fucking A.M.
She nods. “Yeah. He said that he lets you take up garage space here to store your car, so the least you could do is drive it for him once or twice.”
“He told you to say that, right?”
She nods again. “Yeah. He said he would rather you take me than call me a cab. He doesn’t want some random cabbie tweeting about the party.”
As much as I hate to admit it, that’s pretty smart. Everyone around here loves to hear news about Sin Kinkaide, and he tries hard to keep his parties secret. Or, at least, the nature of his parties. I sigh. Fuck.
“Okay,” I tell her tiredly. “I’ll take you. Give me a minute.”
“Take your time,” she tells me graciously, leaning back against the silk bed cushions. I can’t help but appreciate her tiny uniform. It’s barely more than a swimsuit, and her tits peek out of the top. I look away, not letting her see that I appreciate her tight body.
Girls like her… they can sense the slightest bit of interest and they latch on like piranhas. I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Never mind the fact that she’s trying to act uninterested now, unimpressed with who I am. She’s just pissed that I shut her down earlier.
I walk into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water before I head back out and grab my keys from the nightstand.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
She follows me down through the thumping music and the people, the ones dancing and the ones fucking in dark corners. Seriously. Sin’s parties get out of control. I’m eternally glad that I don’t live his life, with people flooding my house day and night.
The entire world might know my face, but I’m ac
tually a very private person. Every time I come here, I’m always ready to go home by the end of the weekend. It might be entertaining, but trying to avoid all the people who want to interact with me is exhausting.
I lead her past the seven stalls in his garage, to where my charcoal-gray 911 takes up one of the slots. It’s my Chicago car. I keep it here so that I have something to drive whenever I come home, something I can take out on the track and race when I get bored. I have one just like it at my house in California, because what’s better than one Porsche? Two.
Jacey takes in the car, her dark eyes widening in appreciation, but she doesn’t say a word. She simply slides inside, and as she does, I notice that she’s definitely wearing panties. I see a glimpse of red satin through the cuff of her short shorts as she crosses her legs. I smirk, because she doesn’t know it, but I fucking love red satin on a woman.
She fastens her seatbelt, curling up in the seat like she was born there, oblivious to my approval of her underwear choice.
“Where do you live?” I ask instead as the boxer engine roars to life in the way only a Porsche’s can.