LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) (30 page)

Shaw

Stripping down to skin and feeling his big body slide over every inch of me is one of my favorite parts about sex. I love the way his body quakes and tenses when he finally settles above me, connected from the seal of our devouring mouths, chest to breasts, and the slow tease of his massive erection slowly sliding through my cleft, teasing my clit and getting all my juices spread over his satiny smooth skin.

“God, you are so sexy.” He groans, twisting his hips to drag the crown over my pulsing nub. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Harder, Cameron,” I say with a gasp, reaching down to grasp him and make closer contact with his sex.

I’ve been begging him to finish me for the last hour, my voice hoarse and wild as he’d settled between my legs and gone to town torturing me with his wicked, clever mouth.

I never knew a man could be that obsessed with my vagina, from the sight of me to the scent and taste of that forbidden place, and yet Cameron never fails to go crazy the moment his tongue flicks out to taste me.

He’d lapped a slow path from the very top of my cleft all the way between my labia to my opening and back again, the slow slide getting me so hot that by the time he’d sucked my nub into the heat of his mouth, I’d been pleading for climax.

He’d denied me and used his thumbs to spread me, his mouth descending once again until I thought I’d die with the need for pressure, friction, fullness.

And now he’s kissing me, ravaging my mouth, as he teases me with his dick, his eyes going wild with every gasp and soft plea that I can strangle past my constricted throat.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he croons, licking over my teeth, his tongue making the insides of my lips tingle.

“Need you. Please,” I beg again, moaning when he seizes my hand and wrestles it to the bed beside my head, his hips slowly stroking at me once again.

“Where, baby? Tell me and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“Inside!” I wail, feeling another trickle of moisture hit my thighs.

I’m a desperate, writhing mess, and I’m so turned on I feel an ache clench deep inside, the emptiness driving me half out of my mind.

He takes pity on me, his eyes shining so brightly I feel like I’m staring into the deep hot center of a blue flame, and lines up with my center, his hips shaking when he starts entering me.

Slow, slow, so slowly I have to grit my teeth against the agonizing bliss of feeling every inch scrape at my oversensitive muscles. When he bottoms out, his length taking up the very last inch, I feel him pull back just as slowly and repeat the entry, his body coiled tight and trembling over me.

He keeps the slow pace until I’m growling, whimpering, mewling. And then he does it some more, winding me up in such a languid pace that by the time my orgasm hits I’m so sensitive that it explodes deep and knocks me sideways.

It’s the strongest, longest, most terrifyingly intense orgasm I have ever experienced in my life, and I scream, my body wracked by pulse after pulse of mind-numbing satiation.

I feel it all, as if my nerves are live wires and I’m the outlet, taking each jolt, each pulling drag of his hardness and absorbing it as if it’s my own.

I feel the clenching deep inside and look up, my eyes wide and open, to see Cameron tense above me. His seed, the heat of it shoots so deep it sets off a renewed spasm, the convulsion triggering him again.

This time he throws his head back and howls, his neck going slack and hanging between his arms as he shakes and thrusts spasmodically, drenching us both with his pleasure.

“Jesus. That…”

He pulls out with a moan and collapses beside me, his chest heaving as he struggles to drag air into his lungs. I smile and hiss out a sigh when the contractions continue deep within, gradually lessening until all that’s left is the slight sensation of being well used and a glow that radiates from my depths.

“Baby?”

“Hhmm?”

“I…did I…?”

“Best sex ever.” I sigh, turning into him to snuggle into his side.

“Yeah?”

“Hhmm. Totally. That should only be like a quarterly occurrence, or I’m afraid I might just die and float away.”

The arrogant oaf grins as if he’s just given me a diamond—which I so won’t dispute, that orgasm was that good—and settles onto his side, his face so close to mine I feel his breath tickle my lips.

“I’m worried.”

“I know you are, honey, but we’ve been over this a million times. Your Dad and Kent will have Angel, and you have enough security at that wedding I’m not sure a sultan could compete. It’ll be fine. And look at it this way, at the end of the day, we’ll be legally married, and you won’t have to worry about me leaving you for a hot GQ model.”

He grunts and starts tracing my features, his eyes taking on a far way look that makes me want to keep him in bed and let the world continue on without us.

“Do you think this will work?”

“I dunno. It might. I hope it does so we can start living again,” I whisper, shivering at his touch.

“That’s what I’m afraid of you know. That this will work, and we’ll catch the person. Or that we won’t, and he’ll hurt you again.”

I stay silent because I know that’s not all of it and that he’ll get it all out eventually. Cameron, I have learned, is a brooder. He plans and plans and then plans some more, always expecting things to fall right into place.

This is different though; there are too many wild cards in play, and my Cam is going nuts trying to consider all the variables so he can get the result he wants.

And then there’s the fear that I was right and we catch…

For his sake, as well as for his parents’ sake, I really hope I’m wrong. I pray it every night, hoping that that dreadful Letitia is the culprit. Unfortunately, her ugly mug is not the face I remember seeing, and I’d also heard a shuddering Griff recount the tale of his bondage adventures with the woman.

She’s too skinny to tie up, and I told him that. He’d have to superglue the ropes to keep her from sliding right out of any knots he made. The guy laughed so hard he choked on his own saliva and then wagged a finger at me playfully, telling me that a true man knows how to keep things under control.

So yeah, we’re both worried for different reasons. Cam because he’s paranoid and too close to the situation to be objective, and me because I am terrified of what he’ll feel after.

“We’re getting married tomorrow, Ducky,” he finally whispers, his mouth curving gently.

I smile back and close my eyes, excited for the end result and also because tomorrow I will not only give myself to him, but my heart as well.

Shaw

“You look positively radiant.”

I smile and try not to let the tears fall and ruin my makeup as Margery putters around me, her arms full of a wide-eyed Angel and what I suspect is cupcake icing on the lapel of her buttercup yellow half jacket.

The woman is a fashion model—even at her age—but she totally excels at being the best grandma ever.

“Thanks, Margery. You look smoking hot yourself,” I say, winking at her blush. “Did Victor help you in or out of that getup?”

I laugh when she blushes all the way to her golden blonde roots and shoos at a laughing Millie.

“Oh pooh, Margie dearest, we all know Vic is randier than a billy goat! Why I remember that time we all took the yacht and—”

“Oh hush, you old fool! These young ones will never let me live that down if you tell them.” She hisses again, smiling down at her Angel.

“So Shaw, you ready to commit your life to that tall, dark, and completely arrogant arse downstairs?” Molly trills, coming in with my veil and a glass of orange juice.

“Yup, just hope Alec doesn’t pull a fast one and start throwing punches at the last minute.” I gripe, checking my eyeliner again.

“Ooooh, that brother of yours…”

“Oy, you’re my Kent’s girl. Don’t go perving over another man, Molly Larson—or I’ll tell Kent and he’ll have you hiding again.”

Molly blushes and giggles, looking wickedly guilty before shaking her head.

“You know Kent is the only man for me, Mum. Can’t help to look though.”

“Oh my no. That brother of hers really is quite the specimen.”

They all titter as I roll my eyes and go back to inspecting Angel, my jaw dropping when she smiles, her mouth opening wide enough for me to see her tongue.

Purple.

“Margery Ellen Stone. Why is Angel’s tongue purple?” I ask sweetly, almost giggling when she gets a deer-in-the-headlights look and surges to her feet, only to smile when a knock sounds at the door, saving her wily ass.

“That will be Victor, dear. I’d better go…”

“Sneak.” I laugh, shaking my head when she turns and sticks out her tongue.

Purple.

“We should go, too; it’s almost time. Alec will be up shortly to bring you down, dear. Oh my.” Millie starts tearing up again and Molly’s lip trembles. “You really do look stunning, dear.”

I thank them and bat at my tears with a huff of laughter as they bustle out, chattering excitedly, leaving me alone to stare at myself in the mirror and collect my thoughts.

While it’s almost show time and I’m jazzed to be walking down the aisle at last, I am really nervous, too. Those nerves stem from the fear of what could happen out there.

Today could go well, and I could end up married and tied to the man I love. That would be the best result I could ask for. The result I prayed half of last night for.

Or it could be just as Griff and the men expect, and I could be faced, we all could be faced, with a truth I don’t want any of my family to have to face. Dammit, why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

Because I’m no liar and I know that no matter what, this has to come to an end.

With that thought in mind, I square my shoulders and smile, ready and waiting for Alec to come in and give me to the man I love.

“So radiant.”

I hear the hiss and twirl, almost falling on my ass in shock when my eyes meet the barrel of a gun and then go further to see the blonde maniac wielding it.

“You? But…I saw.”

My heart starts beating so hard I hear it in my ears and I have the urgent compulsion to bolt and take my chances with the door.

“Uhuhuh.” She warns, waving the gun at me. “Move away from the door, Shaw. We wouldn’t want you to run and miss out on my surprise.” She sings, her smile revealing snowy white teeth that remind me of the Chicklets that Mr. Wilson wore in Dennis the Menace.

This woman is obviously “off her nut” as Cameron likes to say, something I hadn’t seen since meeting her that one time. I trust Molly’s judgment and the things she’d told me about Letitia and Molly’s arch nemesis, Fanny.

Not remembering them though made it hard to read them, especially when Letitia had been on her best behavior. I glance at the door again even as I move to my left, going where she wants me to go, knowing with dread that the farther away she gets me from a possible exit, the worse off I am.

Stall Shaw! Alec’s coming up anytime now.

That gives my stuttering heart a leap of comfort, and I slow my breath and manage not to start weeping. My first instinct is to cover my belly and protect my baby, but I know that if I do, if she realizes that I’m pregnant…she looks unhinged enough to lose it then.

“Why?”

My question is a soft sigh in the silence, broken when she laughs loudly, her face becoming brittle with mania.

“Why? Because we had a plan. We had everything worked out perfectly and then you came along and ruined everything!”

We?

“A plan?”

“A plaaaan. I left my husband. I was coming back here to Cameron. He loves me, you know, and he said we would be together if I pulled this off.”

I gasp, feeling outraged that she would dare even think to lay this at Cameron’s door.
The hussy!
I don’t for a second believe that he has anything to do with this—and I tell her so, thinking,
Fuck it, she’s gonna try and shoot me anyway
.

“Cameron despises you. He would never plot to hurt me this way.”

“Cameron? What are you talking about, you stupid cow? I’m not talking about him.”

“But you said…”

“I said
he
loves me. We planned this together. I was to get Cameron, that fool, to fall back in love with me. We were to marry. After a suitable time, he would take care of Cam, and I, the poor grieving widow, would retreat to Papa’s country estate in Scotland. We’d meet up there and then leave the country. Oh, we planned to be in Spain for the summer and Italy! Oh, I adore Italy.”

I can’t follow all that well since she’s obviously a lunatic on a rant, but I get this much…there’s someone else involved. Meaning, I have a very limited time to get the fuck out of here before the other person joins the party.

She’s so distracted, babbling about yachting in some country I’ve never even heard of, that I manage to make it about five steps away from the door. My hand just peeking out to grasp the latch when she suddenly turns back, her eyes blazing, the gun waving uncontrollably.

“You! This is all
your
fault! Everything was going perfectly, and then you came along. Little Miss America, with your pathetic eyes and that disgusting belly! I knew you had to die. I said we should do something before you got so far along. But he…he wouldn’t do it!”

Oh God.
Her hand keeps tightening on the grip with every word, and I expect an explosion any minute.

“I told him we could have a baby. I begged! I’m not a good mother; I never really cared for brats, but I was willing to give him that and he…he refused. He said it would be wrong to kill an innocent baby.”

I swallow, my hand shaking where it lies behind my back.

“He’s right.”

What else can I say?
Look, Lettie, the fact that you wanted to kill my kid pisses me off enough that if I wasn’t carrying another child right now I’d brave the bullet just to rip your fucking face off?

Somehow I doubt that would go down well.

My words are possibly the worst thing to say because her eyes shoot back to mine, this time so enraged I swear I can almost taste it on the air.

“You. You need to die. If you die, then I can, I can comfort Cameron in his grief and fool him into marrying me. Then, then I can get the money, and he won’t hate me anymore. He’ll love me again. I know he will.”

God. I’m angry, so, so angry right now, and yet I feel so much sorrow for her that I wish I didn’t want her dead. I have this sneaky suspicion that she was quite sane before this, that her life with her husband Jonathan had been just fine.

If left alone, I’m sure she would have been content to spend his money and foist her kid off on a nanny while she flits from one event to the next.

Now she is…crazy.

“He did the same thing to me, you know. He made me promises, so many, told me everything I wanted to hear till—”

“Shut up, you stupid bitch!”

Oookay. Zipping it,
I think, frantically scanning the room for a place to seek cover, when her gun starts waving more rapidly.

“What we have is true love. I just, I need to prove to him that I…I’m not a monster. He said I’m a monster. All I did was give you a tiny little shove. It was so easy to mess with that camera, and then I slipped out and, you know it was pure luck that you were just going down the stairs when I came out of Griffin’s room.”

God
. Her voice is getting all sing-songy, like that Joker dude from
Batman
. I’m pretty sure that means she’s about to O.D. on Gummy Berry juice and plaster me full of holes.

I glance at the door again, this time through the mirror behind Letitia, praying that the thing will open. That’s when I realize that if the door opens she’s likely to pop one of my people in the chest before they can get to her.

I need to move. I need—

“Stop fucking moving! Stay right where you are.”

Uh oh, Gummy Berry meltdown.

She smiles, like a switch flipped or something, and raises the gun—and I know that I am about to die.

“Stop, Lettie.”

I raise my eyes as she whirls and stares in horror as the wall beside my closet creaks open and the man of the hour walks in, his golden blonde head and blue eyes so like those in my dream that I’m as shocked as I am relieved to know that I was right.

“Robert Stone.”

He inclines his head, a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth before his eyes close and open to land on Letitia.

“Lettie, darling, what are you doing?”

She starts shaking, so nervous and eager and fucking happy that I want to slap his face for doing this to her.

“I…I’m fixing it, darling. I’ll get her out of the way and then marry Cameron and, and we can do everything just as we planned. We can have his money and live, live just as we wanted to. All I have to do is—”

“You know that will never happen now Lettie,” he says sternly, making her cringe. “He has an heir.”

“But she’s yours!”

“No!” I yell, feeling my hackles rise. “Angelica is Cameron’s daughter. She is nothing of his.”

If I’m dying, I will die yelling those words at them both. I refuse to let this monster have any claim to Cameron’s precious angel, not ever. Memory or not, I could freaking kick myself for ever being attracted to that oily snake.

“Yes, she is his. I saw that the day he brought you both home. The man is quite smitten, isn’t he? So, you see, Lettie, the game is up. We have nothing here anymore. Let Shaw go and we can leave.”

“But the money!”

“Is no longer possible, darling,” he drawls, flicking his eyes to me and then again to the door.

Is he?
Oh Lord, he’s keeping her distracted so I can make a break for it. Not daring to breathe, I kick my shoes off, gather my dress and bolt for the door, coming up short, freezing when a loud boom cracks the air and the door beside my head splinters, tiny wooden shards hitting my left cheek.

“Turn around
now.
”

I obey and almost collapse when she comes directly at me, her face a mask of unfettered fury.

“This is all
your
doing! You fat little nobody.”

I close my eyes when she stops about ten paces away and points the gun. The next shot is as loud as a canon boom, and for a moment, one brief period in time, I feel every cell in my body stop and then start screaming as adrenalin bombards my bloodstream.

My eyes crack open slowly, and I gasp, almost retching at the sight of Robert, lying over her, pinning her struggling body to the floor. Blood, blood pouring, gushing from a wound, a wide, gaping hole over the top left section of his back.

I’m gasping, crying, frozen in shock when he struggles up, using what little strength he has left to punch Letitia, knocking her out cold. That done, he falls to the side, his blue eyes meeting mine.

I scamper over, pressing my hands over his wound, frantic when I feel his blood pump over my fingers.

“I didn’t push you. I…swear it. I…reaching to grab you.” He gasps, struggling for breath. “Never hurt little Angelica. Never.”

“I know,” I whisper, hardly hearing the commotion outside before the door bursts open and a frantic Cameron is trying to tug me away.

“You fucking bastard!”

“No Cam! Wait. Just wait. Robert, why did you do it?”

My face is ravaged with tears, my eyes swimming, as he takes my hand and smiles softly, a smile I wish I remember but don’t.