“I can handle a black eye, Tiger. I’ve had plenty.”
“Suit yourself.” She tipped a shoulder up, glimpsed at the full-length mirror again, and fingered a dead flower on the dress. As if she couldn't help herself, she spun. The dress moved with her, drooping petals suddenly alive.
It was such a fucking Emery Winthrop thing to do, my nails pierced the bag to stop my hands from pinning her to the mirror and tearing that dress off her body.
“I like that you’re watching me, mostly because I know you hate that you’re doing it,” she called over her shoulder.
With her spinning in a dress of dead roses, frozen peas pressed to my eye, I succumbed to the fact that I wanted Emery Winthrop.
This was happening.
I’m going to hell.
Gossip followed us—me—as the caddy drove our group to the next hole.
My eye had darkened and swelled to the point where I’d gotten a few whispers. For the most part, the people of Eastridge fawned over me in a way they usually didn’t with new money wealth.
The press painted me as a Saint, and to Eastridgers, good P.R. was a coveted gift bag at an exclusive event. They clamored over it, brown-nosed their way into its proximity, and begged for the scraps.
Virginia clutched onto Balthazar’s arm like a hanger hooked on a rod. The wire, dry-cleaner ones no one wanted. Able Small Dick Cartwright inched to the absolute edge of the cart, his undersized checkered-magenta golf shorts pressed as tight as possible against the railing.
“Of course,” he continued, darting wide eyes at me every few seconds as if he thought I would give him another scar to match the one on his forehead, “I told him I could get him off.”
“Is that what you do during your day job?” Emery offered Able Small Dick Cartwright a serene smile. “Take people into your office and get them off?”
“Yes.” His enthusiastic nod begged to double as a punching bag. “I’m very good at my job.”
“I’m impressed. I hear the market for prostitution is tough these days.”
“I didn’t mean—I’m not…” He looked to Virginia for help, but she was busy ordering the caddy to disinfect her golf club. “I’m a lawyer.”
Emery’s eyes said, sure you are. She hopped off the cart, retrieved her club, and headed to the tee.
I clamped my hand around Able Small Dick Cartwright’s neck, disguising the move as a back pat. “I’m about as interested in hearing your prepubescent voice as I am in watching a 24-hour filibuster on C-Span, Small Dick. Take your pink Polo-wearing, Brooks Brothers-drooling ass to the artificial turf rake and kindly scratch your face off. Keep your eyes and hands to yourself today, and you’ll live to get off another client tomorrow.”
My long strides outpaced the caddy to the tee. Emery stuck her ass out, two hands gripping the handle with proper form. The tiny dress rose up her long legs. Virginia about ruptured a vein in her forehead every time Emery leaned over.
Small Dick had stayed in the cart.
Good.
I stood between Emery and Balthazar. My body angled to cover his line of sight. Dude was a fucking creep. He stared at her every five seconds like he wasn't already banging her mom.
I didn’t know if Emery was swinging wide on purpose or if she sucked at golf, but she spent the last eight holes swinging away. Perfect form, yet she’d missed every shot and took pleasure in shouting, “Fore” as loud as she could.
She’d turn to the caddy, insist on recovering the ball herself, and force us to wait in the sun as she took her sweet time doing so. The cycle continued.
Swing.
Miss.
Swing.
The ball landed in a thick covering of trees on the perimeter of the course.
Emery's cheeks flushed from the sun. Our eyes met and held, hers challenging mine. I didn't know if defying Virginia turned her on or if staring at me did, but I was So. Here. For. It.
“I don’t need a new ball. I’ll get it,” she said to the caddy. “I need the exercise. Right, Virginia?”
I selected the thinnest putter from my new set of clubs and followed Emery past the trees. She bent over at the waist, hands dipping to retrieve her golf ball.
“I said I… Oh.” She straightened, tiny white ball cribbed in her palm. “Did they send you after me?”
I trailed the putter up the inside of her calves, sliding past her knee, and between her thighs. “Let’s play a game.”
“We already are.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “Golf.”
I ignored her, “Slide your panties off, hand them to me, and position the putter between your pussy lips.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re mine, Tiger,” I declared, soaking in her lust-heavy gaze. “Your lips are mine. Your tits are mine. Your ass is mine. Your soaking wet pussy is mine.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” I slid the golf putter from her, brought it to my lips, and ran my tongue along the narrow metal edge. She tasted like ambrosia, sweet and crisp. “You taste fucking wet to me, Tiger, and I know you didn’t get wet for yourself.”
“If I listen to you, you have to make me come.”
“Deal,” I said, for the second time in as many days.
Always bartering, this one.
Emery turned around and slid her panties down her thighs, bending slightly as she wiggled her ass to shake them off. I caught glimpses of her bare lips from behind, wanting to run my tongue from one hole to the other.
She pivoted and tossed her panties at me. I caught and pocketed them. Her fingers latched on to the slender, L-shaped end of the putter. She positioned it between her legs. I slid part of the tip inside.
Arousal flushed her cheeks red. She lifted her dress at the edge, showing me the way her pussy lips sandwiched the club.
So naughty.
So sweet.
So mine.
“Drop to your knees and take me into your mouth.”
She could never refuse a dare. Whatever embers she had, they kindled it.
“Anyone can walk past the trees and see us.”
“Kiss the tip,” I negotiated, and I never fucking negotiated. “With your tongue.”
She wanted to. Her tongue slipped past her plump lips, begging to lick my cock. I ran a hand through her hair and gripped it near the base of her head. Instead of leading her mouth to my cock, I tilted her head up and slammed my lips onto hers.
Shit.
Motherfucker.
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.
What the hell was I doing?
The caddy yelled our names in the distance. We broke apart. I swallowed each of Emery's pants.
Her wide eyes met mine. “You promised to make me come.”
Without a word, I kneeled, fully aware she was the one who was supposed to kneel and take me in her mouth. I lifted her dress, spread her pussy lips, and licked the entire slit. She cried out, clutching onto my hair.
I slid my tongue inside her, savoring her taste. As the caddy's footsteps came closer, I pushed two fingers inside her and sucked on her clit. She came hard, nearly pulling my hair out of my head with her fingers.
When the caddy called Emery’s name again, I yelled out, “She’s coming!”
Her body shook with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She clutched my shoulders and steadied her breathing. “My panties—”