“I promise to let you leave. Mason?” Becker turned, wanting help.
“I promise to make sure Becker lets you leave. I’ll even personally drive you to your door.”
How was I supposed to say no to that? And the food, there would be divine tasting food. I couldn’t say no to that, either. Walking into the house, I smiled, it was just like the game. Becker showed me around, avoiding the north end of the house. It literally felt like two houses. The one on the south side was Becker’s, I was sure, complete with a gym and a very manly sitting room with brown leather furniture sporting an African theme.
“What’s over there?” I asked, curious. The girls were over there. I knew it.
Becker looked at me cautiously with a smirk. “Separate living quarters,” he replied, leading me to the upper deck. He was right, the view was magnificent. Beautiful aged trees surrounded the estate, like he’d chosen the middle of an enchanted forest and built his house.
Mason was the one to pour our wine. I wondered what his role there was. Was he like his assistant, his right-hand man, or was he just the help, plain and simple? I didn’t think so. They joked around too much for that. I bet they were friends.
We laughed and joked about me being clumsy. I explained how it was in my best interest not to have anything hot, sharp, or that took bullets. I confessed at how unorganized I was, omitting the part where I didn’t really have a place for anything. Why did the can food need to be in a cabinet when the countertop worked just as well? Why fold clothes and put them in a drawer? The laundry basket does the same thing.
“But life runs a little smoother when you have a plan, don’t you think?” he asked, sipping his wine. Oh god, he was gorgeous.
Focus, Cass. You can’t fall for a wife hoarder, I reminded myself.
“My life runs smooth enough, I suppose.”
“You trying to convince me or you?” he asked over the rim of his glass. “Excuse me.” Becker smiled, dropped his cloth napkin and retrieved his cell phone from his shirt pocket.
I looked out over the starry night, feeling content. I liked being around Becker. He made me feel good about myself and he made me laugh—a lot. When I turned to look at him, he was staring right at me. I smiled and waited for him to finish his conversation.
“Okay, what are you? I mean. Do you drive for Becker or just cook for him?” I asked Mason, now serving our salads. OMG! They looked amazing. The food alone was enough for someone to want to marry Becker. Hell, I’d marry him for that.
“I’m sort of Becker’s Jack of all trades. I didn’t prepare any of this,” Mason admitted. “And I am also Becker’s brother. We created Picked together.”
“You did? Hey, why can’t you drive yourself around? Why are you making your brother do it?” I asked with a frown. They both laughed, but it wasn’t the same kind of laugh as when Matt did it. Theirs were genuine.
“I was trying to impress you.” Becker smiled and Mason left. I think he sensed a moment.
“You were?” I softly asked. Shit. What the hell was I doing? I was supposed to be studying his living arrangements, not feeling… feeling, whatever the hell this was.
“Yup, did it work?”
I tilted my head and smiled. I couldn’t answer the question. He was flirting and I was afraid to flirt back. I wasn’t afraid of the flirting, I was afraid of the embarrassment that permeated my cheeks when I tried it. I sucked at flirting. Once, I was with Justine at some little dive bar and tried to flirt. I told the guy he looked just like Brad Pitt but not as cute. Thank god Justine was there to step in. My mouth didn’t shut up while I tried to catch up, rambling on and on about how I meant you’re cute, just not that cute. I sucked at flirting.
I had the best night of my life with Becker. He was so pragmatically down to earth. I could get tangled in Becker’s web so easily. I wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting him to be more stuffy, conceited, and arrogant. He wasn’t at all.
We didn’t just eat a fancy, five-star meal sitting amongst the stars. We laughed, teased, talked, flirted—yes, I said flirted. That seemed come more natural with Becker, too. I was a little sad when I thought it was coming to an end. Becker stood, and waited for me to stand with him. He took my hand and I breathed a long breath. I didn’t want to go home yet.
“Let’s go play putt-putt golf,” I blurted.
“Where?” Becker asked.
“There’s a place over on Rockport Cove. Do you know where that is?”
“Yeah, but they’re closed.”
“So. I know the owner. My friend Justine, her dad owns it. I’ll send her a text and tell her we’re going there.”
“Okay,” Becker agreed. “I was going to suggest dessert and coffee at Wafers.”
“Playing putt-putt in the dark is more fun.”
I almost wished I would have been patient and kept my mouth shut. Sitting and quietly staring into his pool blue eyes sounded like a lot more fun than being silly. Justine and I used to always find stuff to do. Silly stuff. Things we could do on that side of town. It wasn’t until my grandmother passed and Justine turned twenty-one that we started venturing into the hustle and bustle of the city’s nightlife.
I was still only twenty, but Justine insisted I go, too. I hated it. I still do. The music is too loud, I don’t like to be grinded on by total strangers, and I ended up going home alone—except once. I left with a guy named Brady. Brady stole my virtue that night, and I fell madly in love. That was until our third date, or hookup I should say. It wasn’t a date to him. He was married.
Mason hugged me in the driveway. “I’m glad you came. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did. Thank you, Mason.”
I slid in the passenger seat of Becker’s car. “You’re a millionaire, driving a Buick, what’s up with that?”
Laughing, he responded, “You’re a very inquisitive little girl.”
“Why are you always laughing at me? And I am not a little girl.”
“You make me laugh. I love it. And I like this Buick, it’s a very comfortable ride. It’s probably my favorite out of all my cars.” It was very nice, I was just expecting something a little more extravagant from a millionaire.
I smiled from ear to ear the biggest, goofiest smile a person could muster, thankful for the dark car. An awkward silence took over and Becker turned on the radio. The music was paused on some gossip about Miley Cyrus. I didn’t really listen. I was thinking about his other three wives. Why did he have to have three wives? It sucked. I liked him. A lot. But, there was no way in hell I could share with three other women. I was having a hard enough time not being jealous now, and it was the first time I’d ever met him.
“You sure we’re not going to get into trouble?” Becker asked, breaking the silence.
“No, Justine and I’ve done this since we were sixteen. My grandma used to let me do things my dad didn’t.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
“Why’s what? That’s not really a question.”
“Why weren’t you allowed to do things?”
“My dad was pretty strict, but my grandma did everything with me.”
“Where was your mother?”
“We painted some balls with glow in the dark paint,” I spouted out. Jesus, I sucked at life. I didn’t want to talk about my mother, but I could have led into it a little better than that. Geesh.
Of course, Becker laughed at me. “We don’t have to talk about it. Playing in the dark with you sounds like an outstanding time.”
I laughed that time.
“I knew it. You’re not as shy as you let on. You’ve got a dirty little mind in there, don’t you?” he accused.
Thanking god for the darkness that hid my crimson cheeks, I snickered. I wasn’t going there. Not yet anyway. I couldn’t. It would come out stupid, I was sure of it.
I unlocked the dark little shack and we entered from the back. I led Becker to the front where I knew the painted balls were. We kept them in the storeroom right under a light
bulb. We learned pretty quickly that glow in the dark doesn’t really glow unless it has light to charge.
After retrieving our clubs, we ventured out to the shadowy course. Becker guided me through the gate by placing his hand on the small of my back. I knew right that second I needed to stay away from Becker Cole.
The course turned out to be a lot of help, either that or I was just more comfortable around Becker. I was using the darkness to charge my self-consciousness. It worked. We had the best time ever. I laughed so much, flirted like I’d never done before, and touched, or leaned into him every chance I got.
“I’m going to look up the rules on putt-putt golf when I get home. I don’t think you’re allowed to hit the ball nine times.”
“You are,” I said in the dark, hitting my neon yellow ball and sinking it on the tenth try.
Becker hit his twice, laughing. He was way better at this than I was, and we could barely see the holes.
“I’m going to build one of these back at the estate. I like this,” he decided.
“For real?” I asked the silly question. It was just hard to fathom someone with enough money to just decide at the spur of the moment to build a putt-putt golf course.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said, following me to the last hole.
Again, I didn’t want it to be over. I wanted to play again, and again, and again, until the wee hours of the morning.
“What do you normally do on Sunday?” he asked when I didn’t reply.
“Oh, not much. You probably go to church, huh?”
“What do you mean by that?”
SHIT! You stupid idiot, Cass. Now he was going to know that I was on to him. From what I had read about the polygamy community, most of the colonies were due to a religious belief. “You just seem like the religious type,” I countered. “Come on,” I coaxed trying to get away from the conversation more so than the thirteenth hole.
Pulling to the curb of my house, Becker shut off his car. Crap. Did he expect to be asked in? I couldn’t let him in. I was spending my entire day cleaning on Sunday. That’s what I was doing.
“Thank you for insisting we play glow in the dark putt-putt golf. That was way more fun than coffee and pie.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner, it was great, and I love your brother.”
“More than me?”
I laughed. I wasn’t going there. Nope, not touching that one. “I’ll see you later,” I said, reaching for the door handle.
“Hey,” Becker said, stopping me. “How about a phone number? Can I call you?”
“Do you really not already have it?” I questioned, sure that he did. He hacked my computer. He had it.
Letting me know what I already knew, Becker smiled. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Leaning in, he kissed the side of my mouth. One sweet, soft kiss
“Goodnight,” I quietly said and got out, feeling light, dreamlike in awe of the feelings Becker seemed to stir inside of me.
Chapter 8
“You never answered my question,” Becker said as soon as I said hello. I was barely in the door.
“What question is that?” I asked, dumping the can of cat food in Snowball’s dish. He purred, circling my legs while he impatiently waited.
“The one where I asked you what you were doing tomorrow.”
“Oh, nothing much, just hanging around the house.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun. Let’s go on an adventure.”
“An adventure?”
“Yes. I’ll pick you up at nine. Wear something comfortable.”
“Something like what?” That could mean anything.
“Like something you would wear hiking.”
“We’re going hiking?”
“No, well, maybe.”
I wanted to ask how he was getting away from all his wives. Were they okay with that? The thought crossed my mind that maybe he was planning on introducing me. I visualized the meeting where three jealous women glared at me, wanting to scratch my eyes out. I would be. If Becker Cole was my man, there is no way I could share him.
“Oh, boy. Okay. I’ll see you at nine,” I agreed willingly. My dad would kill me if he found out I was with Becker Cole. He wanted me to find a man and get married. He just set ridiculous limitations on the poor guy. Unless my future husband was a big, strong, law enforcement figure, he would never get my father’s blessing. And Becker. Hell, he didn’t have an ice-cube-in-hell’s chance. My dad would chew him up and spit him out in tiny little pieces.
I ended up logging onto the game and walking along Glitter City while Becker and I talked on the phone. He explained all that he had done for the game and how he hired a photographer to capture the game graphics the way he envisioned. He tried to talk to me about me, asking about my job again, my family, where I went to school. I didn’t answer any of his probing questions. I was more interested in his life.
“Do you have siblings?” he asked.
I strolled my girl hand-in-hand with Becker through a city park. Stopping on a bridge, overlooking a duck pond, I wished I was really holding his hand.
“Nope, just me. How about you?” I asked. This should be it. If he was from a polygamy family, he’d have a whole slew of siblings.
“Nope, just Mason.”
Or not.
“This is a little weird,” I said in the phone. Becker was kissing me on the bridge, well not me, my character.
“Shhh, you can’t talk when I am kissing you.”
I laughed.
“You can’t do that, either,” he teased.
“Can you make them do it, too?”
“You’re not taking this very serious.”
“I can’t. I’m a cartoon.”
“You don’t think there is anything alluring with me touching you?”
“I’m sure I would if that were me. It’s not.”
“Let’s go back to your room.”
“For what?”
“I’m going to do it to you. Oh, and, by the way, adult people don’t really say ‘do it’ anymore.”
I gulped. I didn’t know what to say. I felt a tingle between my legs just thinking about it. Okay, maybe this could be sensual.
Becker opened the door to my beautiful room and I walked my girl in. My heart was beating faster for some stupid reason. It wasn’t real. It was a game. Fake. Phony. A sham. What the hell was I so flustered about?
“Take your clothes off,” Becker quietly spoke in my ear. His voice was low and raspy, sexy like you’ve never heard before. Shit. I was in for it. Way in over my head. Oh boy.
I clicked on the icon and then her shirt. It wasn’t like it was the first time. It didn’t just disappear with the click of a mouse anymore. My girl slowly removed her shirt, provocatively. I would have never swayed my hips like that in real life. I would have never worn thongs like that, either. Wishing I could be as confident in person the way I was on screen, I stared at my naked body, standing before Becker.
I felt the need to cover myself, or get under the covers. “Um,” I stammered, not really sure what I was supposed to do.
“You’re beautiful.”
Okay, that one deserved the laugh. “This is ridiculous,” I assured him, trying to convince myself as much as him. Holy shit. I was turned on. My clitoris was begging for attention and I couldn’t have ignored the wetness I felt had my life depended on it.
“Lay down on the bed, Cassie.”
Whoa. Where the hell did that erotic-ass voice come from?
“Really?” I asked, trying to sound strong and cocky. I was failing. Miserably. Second by second, my body caved, giving into the temptation that I wanted. How the hell could I want this? My breathing was erratic and I felt faint. I removed my own clothing and slid on a Pink Floyd T-shirt, not taking my eyes from the computer. I pushed Snowball off the bed and crawled in with my laptop. He didn’t need to see this, or what I knew I was going to have to do now.
“That’s not fair,” I panted through the phone, watching B
ecker’s character walk mine backward until she was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Becker turned back and sat in a fake chair. It was the one from the vanity, but he must have clicked it to the side of the bed. It wasn’t there before. “Spread your legs, Cassie.”
Jesus. Holy shit! I squirmed on my bed, needing the friction.
“Becker,” I tried to protest. No words would form on my tongue. I barely got his name out.
“Do you need some help?”
“Excuse me?”
I watched Becker move closer to my girl. He stood and moved between her naked legs, spreading them with his body. Pressing his lips to hers, he made her lay back. What the fuck? I was so turned on I was ready to explode. It was so hot. I squirmed again, grinding my throbbing nub into the mattress. Becker stood after a couple minutes and spread her more by pressing out on her knees.
The graphics in this game were unheard of. I’m not sure how he was able to control all of this, but he zoomed it in. Right between my legs—her legs. You could see the puckered clit, the glistening from her wetness, and the dark where her ass was concealed. I leaned back. I had to. I was feeling faint again.
“Are you wet, Cass?” Becker rasped in my ear.
I couldn’t breathe. There was no air. I needed to hang up the phone.
“Yes.” What!? Yes? Where did that come from?
“Hang up. I’ll talk to you on here.” Thank god. “Touch it for me.”
I clicked the mouse and watched my glitter girl run her fingers slowly up her wet slit. It was so real. I imagined Becker was sporting a hard on. The thought of it made my clitoris pulsate harder. I hadn’t even realized my own fingers were inside my panties until I slid the wetness up my folds, circling my aching nub. Shit. Did I just moan?
“That’s it, rub it, Cassie.”
Yup. That was a moan. “This is so messed up, Beck,” I said, closing my eyes while my fingers danced in my panties.
“How can something that feels this good be wrong, Cass? Who is to say what is wrong? Don’t you think it should be about the consenting adults?”
“Yes,” I moaned. I knew Becker had just planted a seed, conditioning me for when he dropped the bombshell on me about his other love interests. I didn’t care at the moment. I was going to come.