Branded

Her rules: Both men in the room at all times. If the lights stay on, so do her clothes and if the lights are off, her panties stay on but everything else could go. No passing her back and forth like a game of hot potato, and no penetration aside from a few fingers and one tongue. I needed a damn flow chart just to keep everything straight.

So many fucking rules to be with that woman it blew my goddamn mind, but I jumped at the chance to finally have her. Even after I had a taste of her, I was dying for a second.

And a third.

And a motherfucking fourth.

My hand clutches onto the bottle of beer in my hand so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter as I close the distance between us. She drains the rest of her champagne and holds the empty glass in front of her, lifting her chin along with one of her eyebrows when she sees me approaching, clearly gearing up for a fight.

That’s fine with me; I’m in the mood for a little fight. I’m pissed that I can’t get her out of my system and I’m pissed that she probably knows it.

“DJ, it’s nice to see you again,” Phina tells me with a smile.

The smile is fake and it makes me angrier. I have a vague recollection of her giving me a few genuine smiles back in the day when we were in high school, young and most definitely dumb, and this is not one of those. There are no crinkles around the corners of her eyes and fuck if those green orbs don’t get darker as they stare me down instead of getting brighter. The smile is closer to a smirk, like she’s mocking me.

“Nice to see you again, too, Fireball,” I tell her with a tip of my bottle in her direction. “The dress is a nice touch, but you look much better half-naked, screaming my name.”

That stupid smirk falls as I bring the bottle to my lips and tip it back, letting the cold microbrew chill me the fuck out. This woman has gotten under my skin and I feel like it’s only right to repay her in kind. She hates it that I’ve given her a nickname, and told me repeatedly over the last few weeks to stop saying it. She should have realized that only makes me want to do it more, just to piss her off. I still remember that day in high school when she moved to town and told the entire fucking class off after they laughed at her name.

She was full of fire and piss and vinegar even back then. Now all of that fire is intermingled with something dark and twisted. It should make me want to run in the opposite direction, but I’m a fireman. We like to race right into the flames, not giving a shit if we got burned. Something tells me if I spend any more time with Phina, she’s going to leave me with more than a few scars.

She takes a step closer to me and I inhale the spicy perfume she wears as she lowers her voice to speak to me. “It’s so cute how you seem to be forgetting the fact that I brought you to your knees. Literally.”

Her hot mouth wrapped around the tip of my cock and she leaned forward, taking all of me at once. My legs gave out and I sunk to the floor of her bedroom, her body following mine and her lips and tongue never stopping as I dropped to my knees.

I shrug, taking a step back from her. “I’ll give you that one. Best almost-blow job I’ve ever had.”

Phina stops a waiter passing by, setting her empty glass on top of his tray and grabbing another full one.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t handle my mouth and had to push me away,” she replies cockily.

Dammit! I hate that she’s right. A few minutes of having her mouth wrapped around my dick and that damn fantasy of hers was almost over before it started.

“So, how come I don’t remember you being such a kinky little shit in high school?” I ask once the waiter has walked away. This earns me another glare and I ignore it as I polish off the last of my beer.

“It seems there’s quite a lot you don’t remember about me from high school,” she replies vaguely. “How about we just pretend like the other night never happened? It was fun while it lasted, we got it out of our systems and now we can just move on.”

Funny, but her words don’t mirror the look on her face. Her lips are pursed and I can see the whites of her knuckles as she clutches tightly to her glass of champagne. She’s definitely pissed about something and I’m going to guess it’s the fact that she’s feeling the same as me. She hasn’t had her fill, and it’s annoying the fuck out of her.

“You expect me to just move on now that I know you’re into threesomes and there’s a lot of kinkiness buried underneath that hard exterior you wear so well? Maybe if you’d have been a little sluttier in high school, I would have fucked you back then and you wouldn’t have needed to wait so long to get a piece of me.”

The smack across my face is quick and pretty fucking painful. Phina’s got some power in those small hands of hers. I flex my jaw and calmly set my empty bottle down on a side table next to me even though my blood is boiling.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she seethes before stepping around me and walking away.

“Right back at you, fiery one!” I shout to her, ignoring the questioning look from all the art enthusiasts scattered about the room.

Shit. I AM a fucking asshole. This night is for Finnley and I just made a scene.

Glancing around the room, I see my best friend, Collin, standing next to one of Finnley’s pieces hanging on the wall and I head over in his direction.

“Everything okay over there?” he asks when I walk up next to him and he hands me a fresh beer.

I clap him on the back, grab the beer from his hand and nod. “Don’t worry about me and my bullshit. How’s Finnley?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">