BIG: (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) (13 page)

“Oh God, that’s...” He stroked her shoulders and threw his head back on the pillow as she hummed again, deep in her throat. “Is this the better way to go, then? Death by blowjob?”

She pulled her head away, making him groan. “You could die fucking your favorite Valkyrie. I’m think that’s a ticket to Valhalla.”

“Pretty sure you just made that up.” He chuckled.

“Okay. Busted.” Annalesa pulled herself forward and guided his rigid cock to her entrance, biting her lip in anticipation. She pressed down, taking him whole, making him gasp. “But if you’re going to die and go to Valhalla, you’re taking me with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

His hands steadied her waist and she rode him, her pussy still deliciously sensitive and tender from their first fuck. But this one was slower—she wanted to leave an impression on him.

She spread her hands on his chest and alternated long smooth strokes, taking him whole, with short squeezing ones, tormenting the head of his cock.

Ric thrashed beneath her, his rising sweat making a sculpture of every muscle in the glow of the night table lamp. She felt him twitching and jerking inside and his back arched.

Tightness coiled inside her and she laid face down on him, letting him wrap his arms round her and pump to the finish. He buried his pleasure in her hair—muffling her own pleasure cry into his shoulder.

This orgasm left her far shakier than the first, and she drifted off to sleep on his chest even before the muscles in her thighs stopped aching.

“Hey you.”

Ric’s voice roused her gently out of sleep and she opened her eyes, finding the light too bright. There was a dreamy, dark place right beside her that smelled of pure masculinity so she snuggled down there, wanting to stay warm and sleepy as long as possible next to him.

“C’mon, I know you’re awake.”

“Ish,” she mumbled. “Awake-
ish
.”

“You can’t hide in my shoulder forever.” He chuckled. “I’m gonna need that arm to shave.”

“What time is it?” She blinked and pulled back, shocked now that she’d registered the daylight.

“Time to go back to your room, I’m afraid.” He planted a kiss at her temple. “You’re going to need a cover story for your mysterious disappearance last night.”

“What’s yours?” She sat, pushing hair out of her face.

“Dunno yet.” He shrugged. “Maybe... uhhh... you burst into tears about something and I went after you?”

“No. Thanks, but no.” She gave him a quelling look. “I’m not going to be your wussy-alibi.”

“Okay.” He rolled out of bed, grinning. “You figure something out and let me know.”

She borrowed a towel from the bathroom to cover up with as she gathered her clothes, considering her options for an alibi.

A loud hammering at the door made her jump.

“Hey, Ryker!” Arensen, yelling from the hallway. “What kind of light weight are you?”

“A tired one!” Ric yelled back.

“You gonna let me in?”

“No!” Ric snorted in protest. “You’re not scheduled to start being an asshole ’til I’ve come down for breakfast. Gimme ten. Gotta clean up.”

Annalesa didn’t hesitate—now dressed, she sprinted for the balcony door and fought with the lock. Suddenly, Ric’s hand was over hers, easing her fingers away and quietly lifting the stiff bolt that kept the door from sliding.

Is your balcony door open?
he mouthed.

She nodded, mouthing back,
yes.

He exhaled with relief and gave her a brilliant smile that melted her kneecaps, his lips forming words that thrilled her—
you’re so smart. I love it.

“Tell me this, Ryker—how many girls you got in there? Remember that rule about sharing? Ask them if they want a real man instead of a rookie.”

“Rookies have stamina, Anders,” Ric called back over his shoulder at the locked door. “Get your ass out of here. I’ll be down when I’m ready.”

“Fine. Let’s see how you do in the kill house after that much food, wine and too many women.”

“That man can be such a wanker,” she mumbled. As Arensen’s footsteps faded, Annalesa felt queasy. “Has he ever slept with a woman he
hasn’t
paid?”

“Easy, tiger.”

She wanted to say a lot more about Arensen being lucky enough to get one girl in his bed, let alone several, but kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to spoil her night with Ric by arguing about his mentor. It was clearly important to Ric that they get along—at least on some civil level.

“You’ve got your hands full with him.” She sighed and went up on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

“
I’m
the handful.” He chuckled. “See you in a little while.”

She ducked down along the wall alongside the balcony, hoping she wasn’t being watched. Slipping into her room, she ignored the siren call of her own bed and decided to shower right away.

Arensen’s smutty joke about sharing Ric’s women had made her feel decidedly dirty.

Brad was the only one in the dining room when Annalesa came in. He sat finishing his salmon and scrambled eggs, and he looked genuinely pleased to see her appear in the doorway.

“You okay, baby girl?” He smiled as she approached the table. “You went to bed a little early last night.”

“It’s been a crazy couple days. I think it all just caught up with me.”

She hated lying to him, so she busied herself putting food on her plate. One thing she loved about staying with the family in Maine was the massive breakfast spread. She might go home a few pounds heavier, but Ham’s food was worth it.

Trying to show a little discipline for once, she stuck to oatmeal and black coffee.

“I made you a list,” Brad announced, pushing a legal pad across the table to her.

Annalesa blinked in surprise. “A list of...?”

“Things you could do with your money.” He ran a square, well-manicured fingernail down a list that spanned two columns. “Some of these investments you gotta act on in the next few days or you’ll miss the price hike in the shares.”

“Oh. Well... thank you.” She managed a smile. The man got an A for effort, she supposed, but it wasn’t difficult to see where Ric got his commanding character from.

“Why don’t you ditch your return flight and come back with me and Ric?” Brad suggested. “We can drop you off wherever you like.”

She thought about it, but she knew the agony of spending hours next to Ric, trying to act ‘normal’ with Brad around, would be too much to bear.

“No thanks. I’ve already spent money on the ticket and everything—”

“You’ve got to start thinking like a millionaire, hon.” Brad rolled his eyes. “I know you don’t want to be part of the family business. I get that. But it would be great if you started showing a little... ambition? Ric mentioned something about a gallery?”

Great. Thanks, Ric.

Annalesa sipped her coffee and prepared to dig her heels in.

“It’s a great idea, sometime in the future. I know the Paris art scene, but I can’t just dive in there with an open checkbook. You need to work on making your name known as someone who understands the artists’ background and respects the hanging space.”

“So what’re you gonna do?”

“Well...” She stirred raisins and cinnamon into her oatmeal—so much for an austere breakfast. He really seemed to want an answer, so she gave him one. “I actually thought I’d buy some property around the university and rent it out to international students.”

“I’m not so sure you’re tough enough to be a landlady...” Brad grimaced, cleaning the last little bit of egg off his plate with a slice of toast. “Do you really want to chase tenants for rent money?”

“I’m investing, Brad. I thought you’d approve.”

“Pull it off, and I will approve.” He smiled. “And if it funds your gallery—”

“My Monet research.”

“You’re going back to academia?” He grimaced again but leaned back with palms up as she gave him another of her ‘sweet smiles’—one that involved gritted teeth. “Okay, okay. Just... keep me posted, all right, honey? Let me know if you get in over your head? And definitely hire some guy to oversee your properties for you. Don’t make things hard on yourself just because you’re too proud and stubborn.”

She snorted. “That’s a family trait.”

“Annalesa,” he warned with a paternal shake of his head. “I mean it.”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” She kept on smiling until he’d left the room and then spent a few cathartic moments shaking her forehead against the breakfast table.

She knew he meant well, but—just once—she’d really appreciate it if someone could give her the benefit of the doubt.

Annalesa sprinted from her car down La Rue de Toqueville and turned a hasty corner at Rue Cardinet, already out of breath. Too many croissants and not enough jogging, she thought, trying not to pant as she talked into her cell phone.

“David, hold the agent! I’ll be right there.”

She heard muttering on David’s end of the line, hung up and dashed the remaining quarter mile to her morning appointment at the dilapidated home she’d seen on the Rue Dulong.

Claude Monet’s studio was tucked away on one of the roads around here. When she had some time to herself, she wanted to take in a little culture and see the space that had inspired so many impressionist masterpieces.

As she approached the slim but towering house, she slowed to a jog, wiping sweaty palms on her jeans. David was keeping Monsieur Desalles occupied with idle chat and she gave them her most apologetic smile as she approached.

“I am so sorry! I left early, but the Arc de Triomphe traffic was insane. I’m so sorry I kept you waiting.”

“It hasn’t been so very long.” Monsieur Desalles spoke English with a thick French accent, giving her a slight bow and a smile before putting his hand out to shake hers. “You would like to see inside my building?”

Annalesa answered to the affirmative in French, which made Desalles’ smile widen. David grinned at her as the agent led the way up the narrow stairs, talking to them over his shoulder in French now.

“Good work,” David murmured. “I’ve been trying to butter him up for twenty minutes, and you did it in twenty seconds.”