Saturday, October 28, 2017

Ravaged Chapter Four

Chapter 4

All black.
That’s what I ask Sienna to wear when she meets me to start working early the next morning.  
It’s a fucking crazy request, but all I can imagine when I tell her what’s required of her is the sight of her in nothing but black panties that hug that delectable ass. A tiny scrap of black lace covering her tits. A black blindfold over those wide blue eyes. I can see it all clearly in my head—so goddamn clear I write down my first coherent lyrics in weeks that are one hundred percent inspired by her ass. So clear that my dick is rock hard when I finally fall asleep and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it because the only relief is across town and a challenge.
But I have ten days now, I remind myself when I wake up and my cock is still hard. And there’s no challenge that takes that long.
At least I hope so for the sake of my sanity, music, and dick.
For the first time since fate sent her back into my life earlier this week, she actually listens to something I’ve asked her to do. She shows up at my record exec’s house the next morning dressed in all black. A prim sweater that covers up too much and pants that are a little too loose for an ass made for worshiping. Hell, she looks like something that belongs on the front page of a J. Crew circular—not on the doorstep of a musician who wants a taste of everything she’s got to offer—but I still can’t rip my eyes from her when she walks into the office behind my lawyer. She’s got that hold on me. The kind where I’d think she was the sexiest woman in the room, even if she were wearing a Hefty bag.  
Spotting me behind the desk, she bows her head and her red ponytail tumbles over one shoulder.
I’ve about had it with her ponytails. So much that I wish I had written that in the contract she’s about to sign: No fucking ponytails.
“It’s 8:10. You agreed to be here at 8 am,” I say as she takes a few steps closer to the desk. She lifts her eyes from the wood floor until they lock with mine, blue meets hazel. Saint and sinner. And now, employee and boss. When she gives me an excuse about her taxi being late, I release a noise that makes her flinch. “Do you make excuses like this to Tomas Costa?”
The mention of her boss’s name back in Los Angeles is enough to make her cringe again. When Kylie’d researched her the other day, she discovered that Sienna’s worked as a wardrobe assistant on the set of some teen paranormal soap opera for almost a year. I personally don’t know Tomas, but my sister had heard of him. Said he was a real dick—just like me.
But at the end of the day, he’ll never pay Sienna anything near what I’m offering.
Her grandmother’s house and myself.
I’m not going to rest until she has both.
Sienna’s gaze lowers to the center of the tee shirt I’d thrown on this morning, focusing on the “Pink” in “Pink Floyd” for a long time while I remind her that I need her on time. “Got it?” I bite out.
Her eyes fly back to mine. “Yes …. Mr. Wolfe.”
Mr. Wolfe. Two words and this girl has blood pumping to all the right places at the worst fucking time. “Glad you understand,” I growl then glance at my attorney, Court. “We’re ready to sign.”
Her skin burning that delicious shade of pink, she turns her attention on Court as he rehashes the terms and rules of our written agreement.
Sienna lives with me for the next ten days.
She’ll carry a phone and a tablet that I’ll provide for being on call at all times and taking whatever notes are necessary. I’d picked up both yesterday, only a few hours after she agreed to the arrangement, and it was the best trip to Best Buy I’ve taken in my entire life. Hadn’t even bothered me when some woman stalked me around the store, pinging between taking pictures and calling a friend to whisper, “Yes, I’m sure it’s him!”
Sienna will wear all black. She’s already done that today, but I’m almost guaranteeing that, as defiant as she’s become over the last couple years, her panties are a different color. White or pink, maybe. Or red.
My Adam’s apple drops at the thought of her in skimpy red panties because the imagery of that shade against her creamy skin is almost as enticing as black.
Whenever Court says the words “rules” and “obey,” Sienna’s flush deepens and she’s bright red by time he hands her his pen. “Where do I sign?” she asks in a husky voice.
He points to the spot right above where I’m supposed to sign. “Right here, Miss Jensen.”
Her hand trembles as she lowers the pen to the paper, and she manages to get most of her name written, but then something makes her pause. And I’m not going to lie, my heart drops right into my gut. She’s changed her mind. Shit, she’s just changed her mind and I’m about to look like the biggest fucking idiot in front of Court after giving him so much hell to get this handled and fast.
She looks up from the page and darts her gaze between Court and me. “Is there something wrong with the language in the—” he starts to ask, but she swishes her head from side to side. Licks her lips.
And then she lets us know she doesn’t want any of this to get back to Mrs. Previn, her grandmother.
I bite down on my tongue to hold back my relieved laugh. She isn’t backing out. She just doesn’t want her grandma to know what she’s up to. To think she’s exchanging a good fuck for the house, though I’m not too sure how she plans to explain getting it back. It’s almost a given she’ll end up in my bed—it might not be tonight and it might not even be this week, but by the end of this deal, I’ll have enjoyed everything there is about Sienna Jensen’s perfect body. Still, just because I want to possess her doesn’t mean she’s not going to work her ass off. With recording, a quick trip to Atlanta, and a documentary crew following me around for a few days, I’ve got a full schedule. Sienna’s going to be there with me every step of the way, keeping me on track.
Like a real assistant.
And if I were her, that’s what I would tell her grandmother when she returns home with keys and a deed.
It’s her decision, though.
“I want your word that nothing about this agreement will get back to my grandma,” Sienna repeats, and she crosses her arms over her chest when I grin broadly.
Before Court can squeeze out an explanation, I speak up. “Although Court is bound by attorney and client privilege, I’ve gone ahead and had him sign another agreement.” And when I had him sign his NDA, he had looked at me like there was a dick growing out of my forehead. I trust Court, but I want to protect her more. I don’t like the idea of anyone finding out that she’s doing this for a house. Don’t like the idea of Sam ever knowing because I know my ex-wife and she will tear this girl apart just to hurt me. And since I intend to have Sienna on my arm and in my bed for much longer than ten days, I need to take every precaution necessary, including making Court sign an agreement.
“Trust me,” I tell her softly, “if he wants to keep his practice and all his cash cows, he fucking knows better.”
She visibly relaxes and nods her head. Murmurs that she appreciates it. Then, she makes my fucking year when she bends over the page again and finishes scribbling her name on all three copies.
While Court and I sign, she wanders off to the couch on the other side of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I drink her in. The way she crosses her long legs demurely at the ankles. The sliding of her hands over her fuzzy black sweater. The tug of her bottom lip between her teeth. She’s worn some sort of glossy pink lipstick today, and I’ve already decided that’ll be one of the first things I’ll ruin the second she asks for more.
I’m going to enjoy smearing that color everywhere and anywhere and hearing her cry out in pleasure while I do it.
“I think this is it,” Court huffs once he signs the final document. He hands me my copy but leaves Sienna’s on the desk and doesn’t spare her another glance, probably because I’ve scared the shit out of him by telling him I’d destroy his practice if word gets out about what we’re doing here. He stutters out an excuse about a client meeting—he told me this morning that the rest of his day was free—then takes off, almost forgetting his briefcase. Not that I care if he leaves.
Because now, I’m alone with her.
I lean against the front of the desk, staring at her for so long that she starts to clench her teeth. And when I clear my throat, she gasps, drawing her shoulders back until they’re pressed against the couch cushion behind her and her chest is heaving.
“Looks like you’re mine,” I finally say, and I watch her mouth the words, her full lips slowly forming around each syllable. “For the next ten days, that is.”

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Ravaged Chapter Three

Chapter Three

It takes Kylie a handful of hours to work her magic, but she doesn't let me know just what it is she tells Sienna to convince her to meet for dinner. Instead, my sister gives me a time and a place—fondue, even though Kylie hates the stuff—and a withering look. "Thank you, Lucas, for always making me the villain," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. 
"You're just the middle man," I remind her.
She lets the words sink in and then moves her head up and down. "Yeah, well we already know you're an asshole."
I've pissed her off, but I'll take it. 
I'll take whatever it is she's got to say to me, just as long as it means I get Red. 
Even though Kylie explicitly asks me not to show up at the restaurant while she's there with Sienna, I go anyway. Now that Red's back in my atmosphere, it would take an army to keep me away from her. I'm already at the restaurant, nursing a Sam Adams and reading through the shittiest lyrics I've ever written, when they come in. Watching her follow behind my sister, I swear I can almost smell that apple scent that always floats around her and my throat tightens with need. I fucking hate myself. Hate that I let her go before. Hate that it was her grandmother's house I bid on. 
But if I hadn't, we wouldn't be where we are tonight. I wouldn't have had the chance to try to make it right—what happened two years ago and the house situation.
Sienna's head is down, red hair falling around her face, so she doesn't see me as she slides into the booth and looks up to thank the hostess for the menu, but my sister immediately spots me. Kylie does a double-take and mouths, "Hard-headed bastard."
It's not the first time she's called me that and it sure as fuck won't be the last.
Smirking, I motion my hand for her to carry on, to just get it done, and her face flushes a few shades of red. Then she plops down, focuses her attention on Sienna and pretends I don't exist. Which works fine if she accomplishes what I've asked her to do. If she convinces Sienna what a good idea it is to work for me for the next ten days.
While they speak, I do my best to fix the clusterfuck I've written, but it's hard to concentrate. Fuck, a saint wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything but the woman sitting on the other side of the restaurant. I find my gaze constantly being drawn to the back of Sienna's head. She rubs the back of her neck every now and then, pushing her hair out of the way, making my fingers spasm like she's the first woman I've ever dreamt about touching. I find my thoughts on her, not the music, not the drink that's slowly going flat because there's only one thing I'm hungry or thirsty for and it ain't beer. I wonder what's being said. Realize that my gut is clenched and something bangs on my chest because the anticipation is killing me. 
When a waitress comes over to ask me if I want another drink, I realize something else: Red's looking at me now. She's turned around in the booth, her blue eyes wide, full lips parted. My cock jerks because surprise on her is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. 
The waitress is saying something else to me, flipping her hair and filling my senses with the scent of too much perfume, but I'm not listening. There's only one woman in this room who's commanding my attention, and she's already stumbling to get out of the booth, wearing that trapped expression like she's about to take off and leave. That's abso-fucking-lutely not going to happen. Not until she hears me out. 
She freezes when I stand up, her chest rising and falling rapidly the closer I get to their table. By the time I reach her, she's added in the teeth clenching, too. The shit that's always drove me crazy when other people do it and just a little wild when it comes from the mouth of Sienna Jensen. 
I grin. "I'm going to have dinner with you, Sienna."
And by the time this is over, I'll have so much more.
Dinner with Sienna is a reminder of how much she's changed from the girl I met on the set of the "All Over You" music video. I had read her wrong. Had expected that she'd jump at the opportunity to save her grandmother's house, but after my sister excuses herself to go to the restaurant across the street, Sienna just warily stares at me. Like I'm a sex fiend. She asks a million questions, none of them necessarily working out in my favor. Then she offers me another skeptical look that tells me she might not jump into my arms as quickly as I'd hoped.
"No making me do sexual favors?" she demands for the second time tonight, though this time her voice is shaky. Because I've just touched her. Leaned across the booth and traced my fingertip over her warm lips. Felt the blood pump straight to my dick when her tongue automatically flicked out over the pad of my thumb. The fact she can barely speak is the only thing that's giving me some hope right now. It makes me think she feels everything I'm feeling.
I start to point that out, but then I stop myself. Grin. And her big blue eyes go wide again. 
I don't think I'll ever get enough of watching her do that. Of shocking her. Of watching that flush work its way over her creamy skin.
"Oh, we'll fuck, Sienna," I tell her, and her cheeks grow pinker. Fuck, she's so perfect. "Believe me, it's been bound to happen since I first laid eyes on you. But this time it's going to be because you beg me, not the other way around." 
I mean every word of it, even if my cock's yelling at me to pursue her now. There's nothing I want more in this world right now than to find myself balls deep inside of Sienna Jensen, but I want her to say the word. I want her to be the one to give me everything.
Breathing heavily, she slams her back against the other side of the booth. When she finally looks up at me, head tilted to one side and lips pinched together like she's considering everything I've said, I give her my number and a time. 
Nine tomorrow night. 
I tell her the offer is on the table for twenty-four hours.
It only takes her sixteen to get back to me and accept my terms.

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Ravaged Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“You've been real quiet all day,” Kylie points out as we head into a restaurant later that afternoon. “I figured you’d spend the entire day celebrating your glorious victory. You okay?”
Is it just me, or does she sound real fucking sarcastic when she talks about me celebrating victories. “I’m fine.”
She rolls her brown eyes as I prop open the restaurant door for her then makes a face at my frown. She smells like an ashtray, and I hope she’s not chain-smoking in the house we’re staying at while we’re here since it belongs to the executive of my label. “What?” Kylie snaps under her breath after I tell the hostess we have a reservation for three. “Why do you keep staring at the side of my face like that? You’re making things weird.”
“Thought you said you quit,” I drawl, reminding her of what she’d told me just last week.
Hollowing in her cheeks, she tenses her shoulders but then shrugs. Tugs on the bottom of her sweater that pokes out from beneath her coat. “I leave for vacation in a few days, and I've been stressed.”
Kylie's the only person in the fucking world who'd be stressed about vacationing in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Then again, she doesn't really want to go—no more than I want her to leave me assistant-less for the next several days. She's running away. Terrified because Wyatt will be in Nashville soon and she doesn't trust herself around him. 
The fact my kid sister’s taking off just to put some distance between them makes me fucking hate my bassist. This thing between them has gone on too long, and I'm already anticipating seeing the dumb shit look on his face when he gets to town and realizes she finally figured out she was too good for him. 
Speaking of being too good…
“Do you remember Sienna Jensen?” I demand. 
Kylie stops in the middle of shrugging out of her coat and pops her eyebrows up. “Who?”
“Tall redhead. From a couple of years back.” The sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The one that kept me lying awake in bed more nights than I can count.
Hanging her coat on the back of her seat, Kylie shakes her head. “Sorry, babe, but I'm going to need you to be a little more specific. The description redhead only works for guys who shouldn't own stock in Trojan.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the host coming back to the table with producer of my album following behind me, so I turn to her and say, “Google’s your friend, Ky.”
She's hissing under her breath about how I can choke on a handful of Google as I turn my focus on Kristoff, but I notice she's already pulled out her phone. Kylie’s never liked being left in the dark and not telling her exactly who Sienna is has lit a fire under her ass to figure it out. 
Sure enough, the second Kristoff excuses himself ten minutes later, I feel Kylie's booted toe connect with my shin. “Violence, Ky? I thought you were laying off that, too?”
“You're not bothering that girl again, are you?” Kylie’d been there two years ago when we shot the “All Over You” video. She'd warned me not to get close to Sienna, which is why it's shocking as fuck she doesn't remember the name. I hadn’t listened then, and I already know I won’t listen to whatever advice she gives me now.
“She's Previn’s granddaughter.”
She silently repeats my words. Widens her brown eyes as they sink in. “Lucas--.”
“I don't need your lectures. I just need you to do your job before you take off.” Her lips set into a hard line, but she bobs her head. “I need you to find out whatever you can about her.”
“I wasn't aware you made a career move from rocker to stalker.” She casts a wary glance over my right shoulder, and I know Kristoff is on his way back. I don't care if he hears, though. If it were necessary, I’d tell everyone in this goddamn restaurant that I intend to fulfill every promise I made to Sienna Jensen two years ago before I go back to L.A.
“But,” Kylie continues, breaking me out of my thoughts, “whatever, I'll get you whatever you need.”
“Good, then do as I asked.”
I cock an eyebrow as she shoves away from the table and brushes past me. “Where are you going?” But I don’t even have to look behind me to know she’s headed toward the exit and the first smokers pole she can find.
Kylie's up to a whole pack by the next morning when I take a crew over to my new house to discuss plans for renovations. “You're a dick,” she mutters, not once looking up from her tablet at me. “You couldn't have waited to do this once Previn had a chance to move out?”
That had been my plan. I never wanted to hurt Sienna's grandmother, I just wanted the house I bid on and won. But I also know from Kylie's research, Previn’s never at home on Tuesday. If I've played my cards right, though, Sienna will be. Alone. Probably pissed off enough to listen to whatever I’ve got to say.
It doesn't take me long to realize my intuition is right. 
I'm in the middle of telling the contractors that I want the right wing of the house demolished in favor of a recording studio when I see a flash of silky red hair coming around the side of the house. I turn around just as she demands to know what I'm doing here loud enough to shake snow from trees.
When she’s here, in her element, that country twang of hers comes out thicker than ever. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
I can already imagine that voice saying my name. Rasping it. Screaming for more, harder, faster, oh-my-god-so-good. Fighting back my grin, I turn to look at her. And fuck, she truly is something to stare at—even if she does have green shit all over her face. She'd gone the professional, boring route for court yesterday, but today is … interesting. She's poured herself into a pair of tiny blue bottoms that look more like something the girls in my videos would wear than pajamas and a tank top that strains against her tits. Her hair is gathered into a ponytail, and I stuff my hand into my pocket so I won't reach out and tug it loose. Wrap my hands around it. Just like I'll do once she's arching beneath me. 
She moves her lush pink lips, silently asking why I'm here again. 
There's so much I want to say. 
Because I want to be able to say I can't get enough of you. 
Because of that look in your eyes, Sienna. You want me just as much as I want you. 
Because … that ass. In those shorts. 
A smile curves my lips, and I settle on pointing out that she's still here too, keeping an element of surprise in my voice even though I would've bet money on her staying until her grandmother is settled into a new place. Sienna seems like that type. A nurturer. Light and untainted with her heart on her sleeve. Makes me even more desperate to have her.  
She crosses her arms over her chest and sucks in her cheeks then verifies my thoughts with a single question. “Why would I leave?” 
“Maybe because the judge said this place is mine.”
And that's what starts the argument. At some point, I tell the contractors and Kylie to fuck off because I can't think clearly when Sienna’s in my face letting me know just what a bastard I am. Now that? That is surprising. Something has changed in this woman since I met her two years ago. Her skin still lights up the second my eyes meet hers—and I'm dying to know how far down that delicious blush goes—but she no longer looks away, no longer lets her words fade away when she’s speaking to me. No, she meets me head on now, hurling her accusations at me full-force and getting my cock harder and harder by the second. 
What the fuck is wrong with me? Wanting this woman more just because she's pointing out that she wouldn't be shocked if I put a stripper pole in her grandmother’s living room. 
Suddenly, I can't keep my hands to myself. I've got her in my arms, trapping her against the door to my new basement. She lets out a minty breath that I draw in once, twice, then a third time because I've never been good at stopping while I'm ahead. She's trembling. Shaking from head to toe and my belly tightens with need. 
Hell, I don't think I've ever needed a woman like this. 
I lower my mouth to her ear, breathing in a new scent. Apples. Forbidden fruit that I'm foaming at the mouth to pluck. “Do you really think I'm that classless to put a pole in my living room?”
She melts against me and demands to know the same question Kylie’d asked a little while ago: why I couldn’t have waited to bring the contractors out?
Because of you, Sienna.
And then she tells me how I don’t stand a chance because of who I am.
“I've got an idea,” I tell Kylie a few hours later when I find her in the downstairs music room of our rental. I sit behind the piano, and she shoots me a glare out of the corner of her eye.
She sets her guitar aside. “That sounds so … Grinchy.”
The look I give her is so fierce, she swallows hard. “I promise you, my heart is in the right place.”
“Right. If your heart is below your belt.” I ignore that last taunt, tapping my fingers on the leg of my jeans as I wait for her to listen. When she relents, leaning back in her chair and holding her hands up questioningly, I say, “I can find a new house.”
“I want to give Previn her house back.”
Kylie close her eyes for a moment. Squeezes the bridge of her nose. Grits her teeth until they sound like they’re about to break. “Lucas,” she breathes, “I would totally buy that if you hadn't just spent so much time fighting for that house. You said it made you want to write. You said it made—”
“It makes me want other things,” I say sharply, an image of red hair and big blue eyes in my head.
Kylie’s eyes snap open. “So let me get this straight. You want to give her house back to impress Sienna?”
“I want to give the house back to get Sienna.”
Kylie’s face goes blank. “And what if she doesn't want to be got?”
“That sentence sounded all sorts of fucked-up,” I drawl, earning a flash of middle finger. “What I'm saying is this: I'm in need of an assistant for the next ten days while you're gone, and it just so happens Sienna will be in town.   
It takes my sister a long pause to figure out exactly what I'm saying, and when she does, her mouth drops open. “Don’t start,” I say, but she’s already on her feet, hands on her hips.
“I sure as hell don’t plan to stop! You should be ashamed of yourself. You want to use the house as leverage against this girl to get her in your bed?”
“She doesn’t have to get in my bed.” But Kylie doesn’t look convinced. The truth is, I figure that Sienna will take my offer and end up in my bed. I don't have to propose that she fuck me for the house, and I wouldn’t. I want so much more than that from her. But the desire was there, burning as hot as her anger, and I know it's just a matter of time before I have her. If this plan gets me where I want to be quicker, though, I’m all in.
Kylie's lips curl, like she's just tasted acid, and I know she’s disgusted with me. I should care. I should care what my family thinks about me, but I'm selfish. All I can think about now is myself, how much I thought of Sienna over the past couple of years, how much I've regretted letting her go. I'm not doing it again. I don't care if I’m wasting money—God knows I’ve spent more on Sam and her crazy shit—I want Sienna.
“You're like a child,” Kylie grinds out, but I shrug.
“And you're running away to New Orleans instead of facing Wyatt.”
It’s a low blow and she lifts a hand, like she wants to hit me, but then she clenches them and looks away from me. “What do you want me to do”
“I need you to get her to talk to you. Let her know I want to do this for her in exchange for her working for me for ten days.”
Her lips fall open again, but she doesn’t say anything, leaving the words hanging in the air. Finally, she shakes her head and rakes her hands through her blue and black hair. “Are you planning on hurting this girl again?”
There’s so much I want to do to Sienna. Possess her, feel her beneath me, twist my hands through her red hair, but I don't want to hurt her. At least not in the way Kylie thinks. The hurt I want to give will take Sienna’s breath away. Leave her coming back for more.
Studying my grin, Kylie lets out a growl and stalks toward the doorway. “Fine, I'll talk to her. I'm not going to pressure her, but I will talk to her. And you know what? You need fucking therapy.”

That's an understatement if I ever heard one.