Real Deal Read online

  I wasn’t lying to her. I do want her. Under me, on top of me, bent over in front of me. Any and all positions would get her out of my system and give my hand much needed rest.

  Flipping through the envelopes as I walk back up the driveway, I come to a stop when I see it.

  If I thought my blood was boiling because of what happened with Cat, it’s about to start boiling over.

  The envelope I hold in my hand has the words Lancaster Maximum Prison stamped across the top. I tuck the other envelopes under my arm and rip it open then step behind my truck so I’ll hear Lily before she sees me.

  With the paper clenched tightly between my fingers, I start to read the letter.

  Marcus,

  I know it’s been a long time and please hear me out before you tear this letter to pieces and go ballistic. I’m clean and sober now. Have been for a while. With my sobriety come the regrets of everything I’ve missed out on. I couldn’t handle small town living and being a mother. I thought I wanted excitement and adventure. I regret that now.

  We shouldn’t have been together in the first place. Let’s be truthful, you didn’t love me. I didn’t love you. We tried because of Lily. Maybe we were right to. I don’t know.

  I had no idea how to care for an infant. Half the time when she would cry at night, I faked sleeping so you’d go care for her because I never trusted myself. But that’s all changed now. I know this is a lot to ask, especially since you’ve been so hell-bent on making me pay for my mistakes, but I want to be a part of Lily’s life.

  I’m asking nicely, Marcus. Bring her to me. Let me touch her blonde hair. Let me hug her and smell the strawberries from her shampoo. If I wasn’t stuck in here, I’d come to Climax Cove.

  Please, Marcus, bring our baby girl to me.

  Gretchen

  I crumble up the letter and stalk up the driveway, throwing it in the trashcan in the garage. I slam down the lid and take a few deep breaths. She’s fucking crazy. Who does she think she is?

  She left us to go party. Permanently.

  The hell if I’ll ever allow Lily to walk through those prison gates, past the barbed wire fence to visit a mother who cares for her about as much as a Harp Seal who leaves her young to die after twelve days. So what if I just learned that fact watching a National Geographic show with Lily the other day? The comparison holds true. The mother seal leaves her young after twelve days and they can’t swim until eight weeks. I bet you’ll think differently about how cute they are now, won’t you?

  Not everything is as it seems. Just like Gretchen’s “poor me, I’ve changed” mantra is a load of bullshit.

  Fuck her. My mind drifts back to the night it all started to go downhill—Blake’s party. What if’s surface like they do every time I think of that night. Lily was only two months old and Gretchen needed a break so I took her out hoping she’d let off some steam and be better able to deal with a newborn the next day. I’ve questioned that decision many times since, wondering if life placed a fork in the road and I veered the wrong way.

  “Daddy?” The inside door to the house opens and my daughter’s sweet voice calms me.

  “Right here, baby.” I take in a deep breath and will Gretchen’s letter not to bother me. She’s locked up and she can’t get to us. At least right now she can’t.

  Lily’s barefoot already when she tiptoes across the cement of the garage floor to me.

  She’s limping a little, though I’m certain her knee is okay. Whenever she’s the tiniest bit hurt, she likes to make sure I’m still aware that she’s been injured. That is until she starts playing and forgets about it.

  “Can I watch Tangled?” she asks.

  “Sure.”

  Lily leads the way into the house with me following close behind and when we get inside, I pick her up from behind and hoist her up. She giggles and I hug her to my body.

  “I love you.” I nuzzle my head into her neck, smelling the watermelon from her shampoo. Not strawberry. And I know that because I’m the one who buys her shampoo and gives her a bath every night. I’m the one who knows that though she likes to eat strawberries on occasion, watermelon is her favorite fruit. I know because I’m the one who has been here for the past five years. And I am the one who will always be here for her. I’m the one she can always rely on.

  Her small arms wrap around my neck tight. “I love you, too, Daddy.” She giggles again.

  With her in my arms, I remind myself that there will be a time I won’t be able to keep her mom away from her. A time when she’ll know the whole sordid past of her young life. Will she feel abandoned? Will she hate the woman like I do? Will she forgive her? I’m the one who has a say now, but I won’t forever and that scares the hell out of me.

  The first face that comes to mind when I feel my grip slipping is Cat’s. The question about me wanting her body. I feel her goose bumps when I touch her. The way she sucks in a breath when I’m near and her eyes look me up and down with lust. She wants my body too.

  Lily wiggles out of my hold and I place her on the ground with Cat still on my mind.

  What do I want from her?

  Right now, after this letter, I want her hair wrapped around my fist, her ass in the air and my cock buried deep inside of her.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket before I truly realize what I’m doing.

  She answers.

  “Ashley, Marcus Kent. I need you to babysit tonight.”

  17

  Caterina

  Charlie’s at Happy Daze Tavern working and Ava is meeting Landon at the Steaming Hotties where she’s taken samples of frosting and chunks of cake to let him try. I was invited and I usually wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to taste some of Ava’s creations but I need some down time.

  I’m sick of the highs and lows that comes with Marcus Kent. The kiss was the high and then the way he’s so hot and cold toward me is the ultimate low.

  I finish putting on my boy short underwear and pulling my hair into as much of a ponytail as I can get it into. The pizza has been ordered, I stopped and picked up a carton of ice cream. Let the feel sorry for yourself night commence.

  Jogging down the stairs, phone in my hand, I put the money by the door for the pizza guy and plop down on the couch.

  Just as I turn the television on, the doorbell rings. That would be about my luck for today. Then again, they remembered to deliver the pizza, so that’s a good sign.

  I grab the money and open the door, but it isn’t the pizza guy outside my door.

  “How did—?” That’s the only words that come out of my mouth before he steps into my apartment and his lips crash onto mine and he kicks the door shut behind him.

  Like an intruder, he takes what he wants from me, but I’m not a victim. I willingly allow him to manipulate my body until my legs are wrapped around his waist, grinding on the already hard length tucked inside his jeans. Before I can really take in what’s happening, he pulls his mouth from my eager lips. His forehead rests on mine and both of our chests heave for breath. If he places me on the ground, I’m sure to crumble to the floor in a puddle of need.

  “Tell me,” his words are soft but demanding.

  “What?” I ask in a soft voice.

  He walks us over to the couch and sits down. When I try to shift off his lap, he keeps me on him.

  “What do you want from me?” He takes his finger and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  I look down to his hard chest and the cotton shirt stretched across his pecs. I’m unable to stop my fingers running along the length of his broad shoulders.

  “I don’t want to be a plaything for the summer.”

  There, I said it. It’s out there.

  A smile widens his lips, showing his perfect white teeth. His head tilts to the side and I get the feeling he’s studying me. My stomach tightens in anticipation of how he’s going to respond.

  “Cat,” my name is slow off his lips. “If I wanted a plaything I wouldn’t choose my daughter’s camp counse
lor.”

  The weight in my stomach lightens, but as his hand rises and he molds it against my cheek, it contracts. There’s more he wants to say, so I remain silent.

  “But, I can’t make any promises. I don’t know if this will work out between us. Lily is first for me, always.”

  “Of course.” I shake my head. I’d never dream of coming before his daughter.

  “I like you and as much as I love your body…I want to see where this goes, but there’s no denying that I want you.” His half-lidded gaze dips down to my breasts and my nipples harden.

  I swallow down my insecurities and worries.

  “Okay.”

  His thumb brushes along my cheek and I lean into the strength of his arm. “This is a first for me, Cat. I haven’t dated anyone since Lily was born so I have no idea how this will go. If you’d rather wait to be physical, I understand.”

  I grab hold of his wrist and maneuver his hand over the top of my breast. Those amused and heartfelt eyes turn heated. His thumb rubs over my nipple and my back arches, wanting more.

  “No time like the present they say.”

  “Thank God.” His one hand slides to my back and he pushes me flush against him, his lips finding my neck immediately. His fingers skim along the collar of my tank top, slipping underneath the fabric, teasing me and making my breasts ache for his touch.

  “I have a bet with myself that you taste sweet,” he says as his gaze follows his fingertips along my skin.

  “And what if I’m not?” I whisper.

  His lust filled eyes meet mine. “Oh, you are. I know you are. The fact that I shouldn’t want to taste you only makes you that much sweeter.”

  His finger slips into my mouth and I twirl my tongue around it. Once it’s wet enough, he rubs it along my skin, making a path I hope his mouth will follow.

  “What do you want, Caterina?” he says my name slow and low and the sound makes me throb between my legs.

  I grind myself along his jeans and he raises his hips up off the couch, giving me the friction I need. His finger runs down the front of my shirt, over my breast, bypassing my nipple.

  I groan. “I want your cock,” I say.

  A slow smile spreads across his lips. I’m sure he’s surprised I’d use such a dirty word.

  “Your want is my command.” His fingers run along the hem of my tank top and then he grips the fabric and pulls it off my body.

  The cool air of my apartment hits my breasts, making me feel even more exposed to him. Yes, he’s seen me topless six years ago, but that still doesn’t make me wonder if he likes what he sees.

  When I feel him harden further underneath me, I have my answer.

  “I’d like to slide my cock between these perfect tits,” he says without touching them. He’s just sitting there, licking his bottom lip and staring at my chest. And boy oh boy, does he make a pretty picture. In fact, there’s no question in mind that Marcus likes what he sees. He looks like he’d eat me whole if he could right now.

  Eventually, his hands graze up my skin, igniting a rush of goose bumps cascading across them like a wave on the shore. When his hands mold to my tits and his thumbs rub my nipples, a slow groan wrestles up my throat. He chuckles.

  My hands fiddle with his belt and button of his jeans, eager to see what we’re working with. He shifts his body from side to side to allow me to shed him of his pants. Having no choice, I stand up and wiggle the jeans until they fall to his ankles.

  His hands never leave my tits and I straddle him again. I can feel the heat from his stiff cock despite my pajama pants and his blue boxer briefs acting as a barrier. He grinds up into me and I wrap my hands around his neck.

  “I think it’s time I get a taste, don’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow.

  Before I can answer, I’m on my back. His lips tease my stomach and I suck in a breath, closing my eyes.

  He slides my pajama pants down my legs and kneels, looking down at my center. The insecure girl inside wants to shut her legs. To hide myself from his viewing pleasure.

  But his gaze could scorch every inch of skin it lands on. His want of me hasn’t waned and so I spread my legs wider and slide my hand down my body until I circle my swollen clit.

  His eyes combust with fire, but he doesn’t move. His rigid cock strains the fabric of his boxer briefs and like he’s able to reach into my mind and know what I’d like to do, he reaches down and strokes himself.

  I take my finger from my self and hold it out to him. “I thought you wanted to taste how sweet I was?”

  He never takes his hand off his dick as he inches closer until his hot mouth covers my finger, sucking and swirling his tongue around it in his mouth. My finger pops out of his mouth and a satisfied smile tips up the corner of his lips.

  “Mmm,” he moans. “That was the appetizer before my meal.”

  Bending down, he pushes my thighs up and out to the side. He’s rough and unapologetic and God does it get me hot.

  “Watch me,” he orders in a demanding voice.

  I try to squirm underneath his strong grip, desperate to feel his tongue on me. My heartbeat is in my throat and my breathing is labored as I watch him suck my clit into his mouth. His tongue work is complete perfection. I can’t imagine anything better until it’s paired with his next words.

  “If you want to come, you’ll watch me.” His voice is threatening and a little condescending and fuck women’s lib because it’s a complete turn-on.

  I get up on my elbows and admire the man I’ve thought about more times than I care to admit since our first encounter all those years ago. It’s almost an out of body experience watching Marcus Kent feast between my legs.

  The entire time he plays with my clit, his fingers tease my slit, never breaching the entrance. I’m desperate to have any part of him inside and eventually he gives into my unasked request as I feel his fingers plunge in. I whimper, desperate for more.

  More him, more me, more anything.

  He teases me with his tongue, his fingers still inside me. My eyes disobey and slowly shut closed enjoying the euphoria only he can bring me. Moments later his thumb is massaging my clit. The room is silent except for the sound of my soft moans.

  “Please, Marcus.” I need the relief only he can bring me.

  “You want my mouth? Open your eyes,” he commands and I nod, doing as he says, my entire body on fire.

  He lowers his mouth and my entire being is wracked with the anticipation of feeling his warm mouth on me again.

  Ding dong.

  Marcus stops and looks up at me.

  “Don’t stop.”

  He smirks. “Are you expecting company?”

  It takes a moment for my lust-riddled mind to recall who it could be. “Just pizza. Please, Marcus, I need to come so bad.”

  Without any further preamble, he curves his fingers and pushes them even deeper inside me at the same time his mouth covers my clit and sucks and circles and teases relentlessly. I grip the throw pillow, the fabric clutching in my fists as I realize that he was taking it easy on me before.

  Seconds later it happens. I burst like an overinflated balloon. Stars swim in my vision as my orgasm rips through me, my moans and whimpers filling the room as I free fall back down to earth.

  The doorbell rings again and Marcus’ fingers and mouth leaves my body. I miss them immediately.

  “Bet you’re hungry now.” He laughs, grabbing his jeans and pulling them on.

  I sit up on the couch and quickly search for my tank top and put it back on, then toss the throw blanket hanging on the back of the couch over my lower half.

  He answers my door with a shit-eating grin and no shirt so I’m fairly sure the pizza man knows why it took us so long to answer the door.

  “The money is on the table,” I call out.

  Marcus doesn’t answer and doesn’t grab the money. Instead I see him dig his wallet out of his back pocket. A minute later he strolls back into the living room, pizza in hand, placing it on the ta
ble.

  “I had the money ready,” I say.

  He smirks, walking toward the kitchen now. “Now, what kind of guy would I be if I didn’t feed you after you fed me?”

  I laugh, tossing the blanket aside and sliding one leg and then the other into my pajama pants.

  He walks back into the room with two plates balanced on top of the pizza box and two beers.

  “Yours?” he asks, holding the two beers lodged between his fingers in the air.

  “They’re Ava’s, but I’ll buy her some next time I’m at the store.” I sit on the edge of the couch and open the pizza box. “You really didn’t have to spring for my pizza.”

  “You’re a Hawaiian girl?” he asks, spotting the ham and pineapple toppings. “Just so you’re aware, I’m a meat lovers.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. There’s something about the men in Climax Cove. They’re all so much more rugged and manly than the ones in San Francisco.

  “We may have to compromise on half and half,” I say with a smile, enjoying the fact that I’m seeing this new side to Marcus.

  An expression of mock horror crosses his face. “Everyone knows that pineapple on even one-half of the pizza, spoils the entire thing.”

  I laugh. The age-old pineapple on pizza debate.

  He cracks open the beers and hands me one while taking a swig of his. I watch his forearms flex with the movement and a small tinge of exhilaration hits my stomach. Those forearms just worked on getting me off five minutes ago.

  “Okay, well maybe you should start eating healthier,” I comment, earning me a quirked eyebrow.

  He sits down and that’s when I realize that everything between us all seems different. There’s no uncomfortableness or awkward silence. No animosity from what happened years prior. We’re like friends. Well, friends with benefits. Amazing benefits.

  Picking up a piece of pizza, he places it on a plate and turns to me. Holding it right at my lips, he waits for me to take a bite. My mouth opens and I nibble a small piece. He doesn’t move the slice of pizza.

  “Eat it like I’m not here.”