Last Resort: S.I.N. Series Read online

  But then his eyes find mine again at the same time that he rubs the crest of his cock up and down against my center. We both suck in an audible breath at the initial sensation—this moment having been built up over the past hour.

  “You think you can take all of me?” He quirks a brow as he throws down a challenge I am more than up for.

  “There’s only one way to find out.” My last word becomes a moan as he pushes his way oh-so-slowly into me.

  My eyes roll back and my lips fall open as the pleasurable burn of my body stretching to accept him amplifies. He pushes as far in as he can until he bottoms out and then just sits there so I can adjust.

  “You good?” he murmurs, eyes half closed with pleasure, and tendons taut in his neck as he tries to hold on to his control.

  “Yes. Oh my God, yes.”

  It’s all I can manage to say as we both look down to watch him pull out for the first time. My arousal glistens on his cock. That’s the hottest thing ever, to see my skin stretching around him as he withdraws.

  “You feel amazing,” he murmurs as his hands find my hips and he helps lift them up as he thrusts back into me.

  I’m on sensation overload. The way his head hits the patch of nerves. The rub of his thumb over my clit when he pulls back out. The way he fills me like I’ve never been filled before.

  Each one is a new experience. Each one something I focus on and drown in simultaneously.

  “Please,” I beg as I buck my hips up, needing more friction, more of him, to reach that climax he’s been edging me toward for some time.

  He leans over and grabs the back of my neck, pulling me toward him so that his lips can find mine. The movement pushes him even deeper within me and our moan-fueled kiss as he moves in and out of me is erotic in every sense of the word.

  “I need more,” I say between kisses. “More.”

  His chuckle is barely audible over the slick sounds of him fucking me. “You sure you’re ready?”

  I grip his biceps. “Now. Fuck me, now.”

  And thank God, he obliges me because he picks up the pace. A little harder on the thrust in. A lot more urgent on the piston out. I try to meet him with each movement, but thoughts escape me in much the same way as having control over my body right now.

  All I can focus on is him.

  And the slapping sound when our centers meet.

  And the way he makes my nerves burn so bright I’d swear they were made of fire.

  His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.

  My pulse roars in my ears and all I can focus on is that spot. The one he keeps rubbing with each movement. Over and over and over.

  The orgasm slams into me like a freight train. There’s no other way to describe the utter devastation it has on me or the current of bliss that ricochets through my body with each and every wave. My toes curl, my legs tense, and my pussy pulses around him. My eyes close and I emit the most guttural groan I’ve ever heard.

  “Fuck,” he groans as he keeps going, keeps fucking, until it’s his voice crying out as he chases his own.

  He collapses onto the bed beside me as we both gasp for breath and try to process the incredulity that just was.

  “Fuck, Collins,” Johnnie murmurs. He leans up on an elbow and captures my mouth with his again. “You are incredible and I’m going to need to have you again.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sutton

  Four Hours Ago

  “I need one more taste of you before I go.”

  I half chuckle, half sigh as I feel the silkiness of Johnnie’s hair against my inner thighs and the warmth of his tongue licking its way between my now swollen slit.

  My legs are slightly sore but the tightness is quickly forgotten as the mastery of his tongue makes everything else fade away.

  Does the man ever tire?

  Considering my orgasm slowly simmering beneath the surface, for my sake, I’m glad he doesn’t.

  I close my eyes and sink into the pleasure he provides—

  Ring.

  I bolt up in bed, slightly disoriented in the dim light of the unfamiliar room and try to catch my startled breath.

  The phone.

  Get the phone.

  I look at the nightstand beside me where the phone is lit up as it rings and scramble over to grab it.

  “Hello?” I say in my sleep garbled voice.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” a very efficient-sounding woman says. “I just wanted to let you know that your order is on the way up. The concierge will leave it at the door for you.”

  “I didn’t order anything . . .” I take a quick look around the hotel room and realize there is absolutely zero trace of the man I was with last night. My purse and phone are still on the table across the way.

  “Someone did and he had very exact instructions on delivery time and process,” she says. “Please let us know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you.”

  I slide out of bed and pull the comforter around me as I walk toward the bathroom. A part of me deflates when there isn’t a trace of him in there, nor is he in the sitting room of the suite.

  He’s gone.

  I walk around the room. The wrappers from the minibar we raided at three in the morning aren’t strewn across the table. My clothes are folded neatly on the couch. I move about and then breathe a sigh of relief to see the trash can full of empty water bottles and trash.

  Last night did happen. I don’t need to be pinched to confirm it wasn’t a dream. The evidence is all right there.

  And I’m not sure why I so desperately needed to see it to believe it.

  A little more settled, I notice my handprints on the glass windows. They’re a visual reminder of last night, with the early morning sky just beginning to light up outside, and I feel a mixture of validation, sadness, relief, and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.

  Sadness because it’s over.

  Sure, I knew it was a one-night stand going in, but I can’t deny that I enjoyed every damn minute of it. Him. What he brought out in me. The things he showed me were possible during sex. The things he made me realize I had done without and now never would settle for again.

  Relief because it’s over.

  Him not being here means there is no morning-after awkwardness, no demonstration of the weird and sudden clinginess I feel toward him, no need to make excuses and explain how so very out of the ordinary it was for me to do that last night.

  That it’s not my MO.

  And then there is the something else.

  The emptiness? The acknowledgment that I don’t know how to do a one-night stand and so . . . I feel a little lost.

  There has to be some validity in that, right?

  Or maybe it’s just coming to terms with everything that has happened in the last twenty or so hours. Maybe I look at last night and Johnnie Walker and think of it and him as a well-needed jolt to my system. As proof or validation or something to show me that I was right to find the courage to finally leave Clint. And I feel so damn free.

  All I know is his scent is still on my skin and every time I notice it, I’m reminded of how little sleep we got and how many orgasms I achieved.

  Of the laughter and the moans and the groans that filled this room.

  Of how I let myself be someone else for a few hours and don’t regret it one bit.

  Oh. My. God.

  Last night really happened.

  It did.

  And practical, dependable, colors-insides-the-lines Sutton Pierce literally just had her brains fucked out by a man—perfection in the male form—without a single regret.

  I squeal and cover my face with my hands like a silly teenager.

  The knock on the door startles me even though I should have expected it.

  I wait until I hear the footsteps fade down the hall and the elevator ding before I open the door to the suite. When I look down, there is the unmistakable Starbucks logo on a brown bag and a cup of coffee beside it.

  I pick up the coffee and belt out a laugh. “Collins” is printed in black Sharpie on the side of it.

  He didn’t forget.

  With a goofy smile on my face, I grab the bag of bakery goods and head toward the table, because I’m famished. It’s only when I go to open the bag that I notice the handwritten note on the outside of it.

  Thanks for last night. Hope the rebound was worth it.

  —Johnnie

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sutton

  There are things you say during a one-night stand. Admissions you make. Liberties you take. Inhibitions you forget. And all of those are done with the presumption that you never plan on seeing that person again.

  Ever.

  You let yourself be someone else for a while, only ever expecting to revisit it in your own mind. Thinking the memory of the man is probably way better than the reality of him.

  At least that’s what a logical, practical, newly single person like me would assume.

  Yet . . . here I sit in a conference room across from three gorgeous men whose company acronym is aptly named S.I.N. And one of those men is currently living rent free in my head while at the same time, is the culprit of the slight soreness I feel when I shift in my chair.

  How is this even happening?

  “You think you can take all of it?”

  “I’m sorry?” I startle and note three sets of amber eyes staring at me. I all but choke upon hearing those words. I’m immediately taken back to Johnnie standing between my parted thighs, stroking himself as he asked that same question. “You caught me mid-note,” I try to explain by holding my pen up as if that will make them understand. “What did you ask again?”

  “I asked if you think you can handle it?” Ledger leans back in his chair an
d angles his head as he stares at me. There is curiosity in his eyes and God knows if I were in his shoes, I’d be more than worried about the woman tasked with taking on my project. Considering every time I meet one of their eyes, I’m reliving the events of last night. “Roz has assured us that you are well versed in what it takes to assess the problems and address the issues as they come with a resort of this size. As I’m sure you know, S.I.N. has a reputation for impeccable service and stately accommodations. Having a resort underperform, as this one has, is a blemish on our portfolio and we don’t particularly like blemishes. We need to turn this around and turn it around promptly.”

  “Understood.” Fake it till you make it. “I’ve been over the financials, the anonymous employee surveys, the guest reviews, as well as dug around a little to see what the competition offers that you don’t. Rest assured there is hope. The main thing we need is to get the staff on board with strong leadership, and once they realize the ship isn’t sinking, that we’re there and present, your staff confidence will improve too.”

  “Agreed. Callahan will be your point person,” Ford says, pointing to his brother. From the look they exchange, there’s some kind of tension there. But when Callahan looks my way and gives me a curt nod, all signs of it are erased.

  “Apparently I’m the only one available for the job,” he says lifting a hand, and for a split second, I’m dead certain he is Johnnie Walker. There’s something in his eyes—amusement laced with mischief—that makes me feel like we’re part of an inside joke.

  But then of course, when Ledger speaks, our connection is broken, and I question my own judgment.

  How could I not?

  “Great. I’ll make sure I provide twice-daily updates, if that works for you. We can have set times to talk if that—”

  “There’s no need.” Ledger smiles. “He’ll be on-site with you.”

  “On-site?” I muster a smile. Lovely. So not only will I be working with the company of Johnnie Walker, I might possibly be working side by side with him. This turn of events is so ridiculous, it’s comical. “Perfect.”

  “Yes. Normally we manage from afar and let the resort manager handle things, but like we said, this project needs to be turned around quickly. We figure having both you and Cal on location will be beneficial in making this happen,” Ford explains.

  Callahan glances briefly at his brother.

  Definitely tension there.

  “Despite the warning signs, he was the one so gung-ho on us buying this resort in the first place,” Ledger interjects, “so it’s only fair that he gets the satisfaction of turning it around.” He glances at both of his brothers, giving them a look that almost feels like a warning, before turning back to smile warmly at Roz and me. “From the praises Roz sings about you, Sutton, I’m sure the two of you will work well together.”

  I stare at the three of them with what I can assume is another deer in the headlights look on my face as I try to not relive any of last night while under their scrutiny.

  “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Callahan says.

  “I’m sure we will,” I repeat, suddenly desperate to get out of here.

  “See, gentlemen?” Roz interrupts with a smug smile. “I told you Sutton was the right person for the job.”

  “It seems she is,” one of the men murmurs in a way that has goosebumps forming, but when I look from Roz to the three of them sitting across from us, I’m not certain which one it was.

  But I swear to God, it was Johnnie speaking.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Callahan

  The door shuts.

  Their heels clicking on the marble tile just beyond the door an audible reminder that yes, that did in fact just happen.

  Collins—er, Sutton—the woman with the sweet pussy and incredible ass that I had to drag myself away from this morning, really was just sitting across from me.

  And if my eyes didn’t believe what I was seeing, my raging hard-on beneath the cover of the conference room table was evidence enough.

  Shock is an understatement to express exactly what I felt when she walked in here. Pure and utter fucking shock.

  Her laugh echoes back toward us, and my balls draw up at the sound. Is that mark I left still on the curve of her shoulder where I bit her when I took her from behind? Do her hips have bruises from where my fingertips gripped tight?

  It’s normal to want her again after not having her for a few hours, right? Because the sex was that good, I’d go again right now if I could.

  The fact I sent her Starbucks says enough right there.

  I don’t ever look back when I leave after a one-night stand. Ever. But I looked back. I ordered her damn coffee with her name on the cup because I wanted her to know I remembered.

  And now look where that got me?

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, being forced to go to Ocean’s Edge and abandon my regularly scheduled program isn’t looking as dismal as I thought it might.

  Sun, more rebound sex, and hopefully spotty cell service down in the islands, giving me an excuse not to respond to my brothers immediately, might redeem this bullshit blip of a distraction on my plans.

  If my brothers are going to handcuff me, I might as well have fun in the process.

  It’s only then that I realize how dead silent the conference room is. I swivel in my chair to face my brothers and find both of them with their arms crossed, just sitting there watching me.

  “This is a horrible fucking idea,” Ford mutters under his breath.

  “For once I agree with you, Ford,” I finally say, turning to my brothers with a grin that will surely piss them off. Fucking perfect. If I’m forced to be here, to deal with their bullshit resentment, the least I can do is push some buttons while I’m at it. “Sending me to paradise with a woman who looks like that? Yep. Definite fucking mistake.”

  “Jesus Christ. Will you ever change?” Ledger says, shoving his chair back from the table so he can face me.

  “Change? Change what? My attitude? My goals? My what? I wasn’t aware being part owner of S.I.N. meant I couldn’t appreciate a beautiful woman. Hell, I’ll simply be living up to the company name.”

  “It means you act professional,” Ford says. “It means you keep your dick in your pants and your hands off Sutton.”

  “Just like you did last year with what’s her name?” I say, knowing I’ve caught him dead in the water.

  “It’s not the same,” he counters.

  “Clearly.” I roll my eyes, already feeling the life being sucked out of me from sitting in this office.

  “Should we remind you why we’re in this situation in the first place? The name Gia ring any bells?”

  Fuck you.

  The two words are on the tip of my tongue but I fight them off. “Yep. You’re right,” I sneer. “Then again, I forgot there were Ford and Ledger rules and then there were Callahan rules. My bad.” I hold my hands up and meet both of my brothers’ stares dead on.

  “Exactly.” Ledger practically spits the word out, the animosity in the room palpable. “There’s always been two sets of rules in this family.” The muscle in his jaw tics as he glares at me.

  “So that’s what this is about?” I ask with a disbelieving snort. “Fuck me over because of something I couldn’t control?”

  “Speaking of fucking . . . you used the suite last night.” Ledger doesn’t ask. It’s simply a statement to catch me off guard.

  And it sure as shit does.

  I think of our corporate suite. The one that we all use from time to time when clients aren’t staying there. The one I used last night.

  I stare at my brother, my blank expression intentional as I try to catch my bearings in this game we’re playing that I’m still trying to figure out the rules to. “Keeping tabs on me too? So glad to be back under someone’s thumb again.”

  “Nope.” He shrugs. “No need to keep tabs when you do exactly what’s expected of you without fail.”

  And there’s the dig.

  “And your point is what, Ledger? That I met up with someone? Do you need to see her name and credentials to make sure she’s good enough for the Sharpe name?”