Streams and Schemes

by Rebecca Kinkade

“Don’t touch her. If you put your hands on her one more time, I’ll rip them off and then sue you for getting blood on my suit. Am I fucking clear?”

We’re moving. I have no clue where, but I’m stumbling through my condo, refusing to look around to charter a path because looking would force me to stop kissing her—and fuck that shit—I’m never going to stop kissing her.

Her eyebrow leaps. “How is this not a problem?” “Well, let’s see. You want me. I want you. We’ve already fucked it out. The next logical step is for you to go on a date with me.”

I spend the next hour listening to her come against the flickering hum of a vibrator while I review a contract Frank sent in the five-minute window when I was chatting with her.

“You have no clue how good I am at my job. I’ll make partner. Easily. I bet I could make partner even if I had a framed picture of you naked and using that glittery pink dildo of yours. I could put it on my desk right next to my coffee and the cup where I keep all my pens.”

Propriety and common sense? Those bitches are long gone.

“Weird. Does anyone know why I’m getting emails from the official Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts mailing lists?” I shrug. “No clue.” “Never heard of them,” Dalton comments.

Anyone could walk in on us right now… …and I’m a sick fuck for loving the idea of someone seeing me with my face buried in this woman’s naked pussy.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby. Holy fuck, look at you taking it. So good. Such a good girl for me. Such a tight, perfect throat.”

“Hold that cum in your mouth, beautiful girl. You beautiful, dirty girl.”

Oh shit, Lan, did you hear? Everett is photographing a hot naked girl. Fucking martyr. Selfless as fuck.

She’s far too concerned with finishing the actual meat in front of her. Note for the future: Feed Cora first, then have career strategy conversations.

“Oh, that’s the line?” she demands, throwing up her arms in frustration. “I once wrote the word SLUT on my cleavage in chocolate and you both licked it off me, but we’re finally going to be scandalized by the idea of the guy you’re already hooking up with taking you on camera? Ridiculous.”

Seriously. The man shepherds all three of us to his condo, opens a bottle of wine for Cora and me, brews a cup of tea for Essie, and makes cookies.

My work phone buzzes with activity, and I wonder if it could survive a trip down the disposal in the kitchen. In the name of science, I’m strongly tempted to test it out.

Then, the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen happens. Valeria punches him next.

“Don’t look so sad, Valeria. I’m fine. My home is in the Halcyon—with you.” My heart is a puddle on the kitchen floor. “Fuck, that’s a good line,” Dalton murmurs. “Sniper. Right to the soul,” Everett agrees. Lander laughs. “Enough. We shouldn’t be moping. It’s Sunday funday, which means only one thing…

And last but absolutely not least, I love the black eye she gave Frank—the black eye staring at me from the door to my office.

Seriously, I’m obsessed with her, and I want to fuck her brains out. Oh wait…I get to do that—I get to fuck her brains out

She barely has time to inhale and exhale before I’m back on top of her and holding something in my hand that makes her face brighten like I just whipped out the holy grail itself. If the holy grail were a ten-inch dildo.

“You scheming bastard,” she remarks before laying a kiss on my lips. “I love you so much.”

“Plus, I had fun. Too much fun. Hey, did you know I was an—” “Exhibitionist? Yes, Lander. I knew.” I squeeze his shoulder. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.” “Seriously? Baby, throw a guy a bone and list out his kinks for him.”

“Five months ago, you saved me. When I read that alert, I realized I had nothing to be proud of and nothing to miss. I was lost and I never noticed because I had done such a good job sticking to the plan. Fuck plans though. All that matters is having a partner who can help you take on anything. No puedo vivir sin ti. No quiero vivir sin ti.”