Wicked Favor Read online

  "You keep telling yourself she'll never know," Kynan says grimly. "But it's a big risk you're taking."

  And I'm done with this conversation because it is not the way in which I wish to think about Trista. I don't want to think about how this constitutes a betrayal of the trust Trista put into me last night. I know how bad betrayal hurts, but it can be overcome. I wasn't lying when I said I'm past the betrayal of Michelle and Jayce. I'm just not over what they did after.

  "Fuck off," I tell him half-jokingly but halfway seriously. "I've got things to do."

  "No doubt you do," Kynan mutters as he walks out of my office.

  I glance at my watch again, eager for the moment when Trista will be knocking on my office door.

  A shocking realization came to me last night as I laid in my bed and thought about the amazing sex I had with Trista. It was fucking beyond amazing. I haven't had anything like that in a long time. I've done dirtier things and I've done kinkier things, but I sure as shit haven't orgasmed like that for as long as I can remember.

  As I was thinking about that, I got hard and it necessitated me jacking off in my bed. But I realized if I'm going to use Trista to get back at her brother, I'm going to need to have her hooked to me in some way. I had told her very clearly that the ground rules included the realization that this was just sex between us. There is a damn good chance Trista won't be able to accept that, and I can't afford to have her cut me off until I'm through with her.

  So after I jacked off last night, I sent her a text to appeal to her womanly inner need to be wanted. To believe a woman could be the center of a man's universe.

  You were phenomenal tonight.

  Yes, I had ulterior motives in sending that text to Trista, but it's also the fucking truth. It's probably why I can't get her out of my goddamned head.

  I didn't have to wait long for her response. There's not a word to describe what you were.

  Short, witty, and fuck if she didn't inflate my ego. I texted her back. That wasn't a one-time only thing.

  Her response back was even shorter. Relieved to hear that.

  I grinned as I realized Trista was willing to play this game with me. She certainly didn't know what my end goal was, but she clearly wanted more of what we both experienced. It seems she's on board with some casual and hopefully kinky sex in the club.

  I texted back to her, Be here half an hour before your shift starts. Meet me in my office. I'm ready for you to return the favor.

  I've been thinking about her sucking my dick pretty much from the moment I pulled out of her. Her offer to give that to me after I made her come with my mouth was beyond endearing. Most women just want cock between their legs, but Trista felt that what I gave her was a gift, and she wanted to give one back.

  It was refreshing.

  Trista's response was quick and short. Okay.

  I look over at the camera Kynan just mounted and have a moment of hesitation. There is absolutely no doubt it's wrong and immoral to record Trista and me together without her permission. The fact I don't intend to use it for profit or gain really doesn't matter. That she may never know I did this, especially if her brother keeps quiet about it, really doesn't matter either. What I'm doing is wrong, wrong, wrong.

  But when I think about Jayce and the pain he caused me, my fury rages and suddenly, I don't care if Trista gets hurt. I have to keep it always in the front of my mind that the revenge is more important than one beautiful woman who just happens to be a great fuck.

  Who happens to be a woman I can't stop thinking about.

  Fuck.

  The soft knock on my door causes my heart rate to pick up. I give one last fleeting glance at the camera before I call out, "Come on in."

  Trista walks in just as I'm shutting the drawer and my groin immediately tightens when I see her. She's dressed in regular street clothes, which she wears very well. Dark skinny jeans with a pair of ballet flats and a cream-colored shirt that hangs low on both shoulders, but not completely off. Her hair is radically different. It's her most beautiful feature by far, and she always wears it spilling all down her back in honey-colored layers looking windblown and just fucked. But tonight, she has it pulled up in a high ponytail on top of her head and it makes me realize how long and elegant her neck is. My lips could spend a lot of time on that neck.

  Trista shuts the door and leans back against it as she smiles at me. "You done staring at me or what?"

  "Never," I tell her with a wicked smile. "Because I very much like what I see."

  Adorably, she lowers her eyes as if embarrassed by the compliment.

  Even more adorably, she looks back up at me and plays coy. "You said you wanted me here half an hour before my shift started. What did you want to see me about?"

  Chuckling, I push my chair back from my desk and start removing my belt. "I want to know why your mouth isn't on my dick yet."

  Trista wrinkles her nose in distaste, but pushes off the door and starts walking my way. "Do you really have to be so crass and crude?"

  I slide my belt free and drop it on the floor. My fingers go to the top button of my pants as I answer her with a nasally, nerdy voice. "Well, gee whiz, Ms. Barnes... I'm sorry. Would you kindly come over here and put your sweet mouth on my penis? I'd be much obliged if you would lick and suck it while you're at it."

  Trista halts, staring at me blankly. And then her mouth widens into a brilliantly beautiful smile, and she laughs at me while shaking her head. "Oh my God... that was hilarious."

  I waggle my eyebrows at her as I grin back. "I'm told my cock tastes really good too."

  Trista is still chuckling as she walks around my desk and my dick gets harder the closer she gets. She comes to stop in between my legs, her amber eyes locked onto mine. When my fingers move to pull down my zipper, she whispers, "Don't."

  My hands fall away and hers take over. She slowly lowers the zipper as she murmurs, "Let me do everything."

  My cock jumps at her words, and the head starts to weep as she pulls the front of my underwear down to free me from my confines.

  "Lift your hips," she tells me.

  Putting my hands on the armrest of my chair for leverage and so it doesn't roll out from underneath me, I plant my feet and lift my hips. Trista pulls my pants and my boxer briefs down below my ass to free me.

  She stares at me in satisfaction and says, "There... now I have access to your balls so I can play with them."

  I can't help the bark of laughter that pops out of my mouth. I've never found sex to be funny. Haven't found much in life to be funny with some of the terrible shit I've seen in my line of work, but I find I like Trista making me laugh. Apparently, my cock likes it too because it gets harder yet.

  Trista kneels between my legs and wraps her hand around the base of my shaft. Her skin feels like fire on me, and I have to resist the urge to thrust into her fist. Leaning forward, she gives a light lick under the base of the head, which produces a drop of pre-cum at the slit. That does not escape her attention and her tongue darts out to catch it. I groan deep within my chest over the erotic sight of her closing her eyes as she tastes me.

  When she opens them back up, she gives me a sly smile. "I want you to know, I'm really, really good at oral. Or, at least that's what I've been told."

  While that is very good to know indeed, for some strange reason, I don't like thinking about the practice she's had.

  But then all thoughts of her past are obliterated when she leans over me and takes me in deep. The woman has no gag reflex and when she pulls off, I thrust immediately back into her mouth so I can feel that again. Even though her mouth is stuffed full of my dick, I can feel her laugh at my eagerness. She gives me one long hard suck and pulls free.

  With her hand back around my shaft, she looks up at me and asks, "What do you want? You tell me what to do, and I'll give it to you. Do you want me to get you off slowly with licks, nibbles, and gentle sucking, or do you want to fuck my mouth while I roll your balls in my hand?"

&nb
sp; With every word that comes out of her mouth, my cock keeps getting impossibly harder until it's painful. I stare at her blankly for a moment, surprised she had those dirty words inside of her. Where in the fuck did she learn to talk like that?

  She knows I'm surprised and grins at me as she shrugs. "I learned a few things since working here. Dirty talk is one."

  I push up out of my chair, causing Trista to sit back on her calves for a moment. My dick hovers just above her as we stare each other.

  I bring a hand to cup her cheek, rubbing my thumb just over the bone, and tell her, "I want to fuck your mouth. And I want to do it deep."

  Trista raises up on her knees and takes me in her hand, but before she opens her mouth to give me entry, she winks at me and says, "Just the way I like it."

  Trista is not a liar.

  Certainly not when it comes to her bragging about her oral skills. She takes everything I give her and I swear when her eyes look up at me, she begs me for more. But I have her head held tight in my hands and my hips are practically jack-hammering against her face. I can feel the slight roughness of her tongue on the underside of my cock and the tightness of her throat as the head breaches her. She doesn't gag once, although I know it isn't easy for her.

  It isn't easy for her. Involuntary tears start leaking from the corners of her eyes. My thumbs reach out to swipe at them, and I slow my movements within her mouth. She frantically shakes her head and within her golden-brown eyes, I see her telling me that she can take it.

  In that moment, I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my life. Yet what I would really love to do is pull out of her mouth, drag her to the floor, and eat her pussy until she screams.

  But then her hand is on my balls and she is indeed rolling them. Tugging them. Lightly pinching them.

  I slam back into her mouth as she tortures my nut sack, and she purrs with appreciation that I'm giving her all I got.

  My balls draw tight, and I never even have to wonder if she wants me to pull off. Anyone this good at oral wants to swallow.

  It's when she lightly skims a finger behind my balls, headed straight across my taint, that I give a bark of surprised pleasure as I explode so quickly that my knees almost buckle.

  I look down at Trista in utter amazement as she swallows and then swallows some more. She licks and cleans me off, all the while her fingertips gently stroke my spent balls. With one final lick to the tip of my softening dick, she looks up and says, "Told you I was good."

  I grin down at her. "I'll never doubt you again."

  Trista stands from the floor as I pull up my pants. She turns from me as she says, "I better get to work."

  My hand shoots out and grabs her wrist. When she turns back to me, I tell her "After work... I want you again."

  Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "You mean... out there? In one of the rooms? But we'll be closed up."

  I shake my head. "Just come back here in my office when you get off."

  She stares at me a moment in contemplation and I can tell she's considering telling me "no". I brace for it, prepared to argue with her and perhaps even hold her job over her head, but then she smiles at me and nods her head.

  "Okay," she says casually. "I'll see you back here."

  It's not until Trista is gone from my office that I let out a huge breath of relief that I'm going to see her again tonight.

  This relief concerns me.

  Greatly.

  CHAPTER 12

  Trista

  I stand outside of Jerico's office and nervously wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. Glancing at the locker room door, I pray none of my coworkers come out to see me standing here. While I found out tonight that every single one of them had heard about Jerico fucking me in The Orgy Room, I'd also been assured by more than one female coworker that he doesn't do repeats, so the encounter was easily dismissed by most.

  Because of this, I do not want anyone to see me standing outside of his office. They'll either know Jerico is asking for a repeat or think I appear desperate for his attention.

  Before I can change my mind, I rap my knuckles against the door three times. To my relief, I hear Jerico's voice calling me in. I quickly open the door and step inside, surprised to find my nerves have quieted a bit. I'm thinking I was more nervous someone would see me than I was about what Jerico and I might do tonight.

  Jerico stands from his desk and grabs his suit jacket that had been draped over the back. "Are you tired from your shift?"

  "A little." Truth of the matter is I'm physically fatigued to the point if I could lay down on the floor and go to sleep, I would. Walking around in high heels for hours on end with a heavy tray strapped to my shoulders isn't for the weak.

  "Little liar," Jerico chides me as he rounds the desk. He walks up to me and places his fingers under my chin so I'm forced to look up at him. "You look exhausted. Do you want to go home?"

  I lift my chin a little higher and turn my face so that his fingers fall away, giving him a smirk. "That depends on what you have planned. If you want to run a marathon, count me out."

  Jerico's eyes go bright with amusement, and he chuckles as he reaches down to take my hand in his. "No marathons tonight. But you won't be going to sleep soon."

  "No worries. I don't have to be at work until seven PM tomorrow so I can sleep as late as I want."

  It was approaching almost three AM as the club closes at two thirty. I could technically stay up for several more hours and still be fresh for work tomorrow. Just the thought of Jerico spending hours on me causes a thrill of excitement to jolt up my spine, and I feel slightly energized.

  Jerico doesn't walk us to his office door, but instead heads to a door at the back of his office. I'm imagining it might be his secret playroom, but I'm utterly surprised when he opens the door and we step into a kitchen. Correction... as I look around, I see we are inside of an apartment.

  "You live here?" I ask as he drops my hand and I walk through the kitchen toward the wall made of glass that looks out over Vegas.

  "It's convenient," he says.

  I look over my shoulder at him and give a sardonic grin. "I can just imagine."

  Jerico comes up behind me and my pulse races when he brings his hands to my hips. "What do you mean you can just imagine?"

  I shrug my shoulders. "I'm just saying... you want to bring a girl here, it's quite convenient."

  "What if I told you I've never brought a girl here before?"

  This surprises me, and I turn to face him. His hands don't fall away from my hips but merely circle around to clasp at my back before he pulls me into him. I look up and try to gauge whether he's kidding me.

  "You've never brought a girl here before me?" He cannot mistake the sarcasm or skepticism in my voice.

  Rather than appease my curiosity, he merely gives me a secretive smile and says, "I guess it doesn't matter what my answer is because I can tell by the tone of your voice you wouldn't believe me if I told you that you were the first."

  I decide to leave that subject alone. It's too confusing to me, especially since Jerico laid the ground rules out, which included a very clear indication that we would not be monogamous, nor would we succumb to jealousies if the other person fucked someone else.

  "You're right," I tell him nonchalantly as I slide my palms up his chest, over his shoulder, and lace my fingers around his neck. "I wouldn't believe you."

  I don't miss the flash of annoyance in Jerico's eyes, but he doesn't respond. Instead, his head tilts to the side and he runs his lips along the side of my neck. When he pulls away and looks back in my eyes, I see nothing but pure longing.

  "Would you believe me if I told you I've been thinking about you all day? Or that I've run through a dozen different scenarios of what I want to do to you tonight?"

  "Technically, it's morning," I say breathlessly.

  Jerico's eyes smile at me with amusement, and he shakes his head. Taking me by the hand, he turns and leads me through the living room toward a hallway. Wh
ile he doesn't address me directly, I clearly hear him mutter, "I swear I think I could actually sit down and have an actual conversation with you."

  I smile. It's big and bright and he has no clue I'm smiling since he's walking ahead of me. While the sex we had last night was beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and the blow job I gave him today was my best work, and I have been thinking about him all day as well as a variety of scenarios we might participate in, I think I am most pleased in this moment to know Jerico views me as something slightly more than a convenient fuck. His statement just now tells me a lot about him, but most particularly that he doesn't have any female friends, nor does he have any close female relationships. I have no clue what it is about me that makes him feel like I'm worthy enough to talk to, but that is a conversation for another time.

  That's because Jerico walks me into the most sumptuous bedroom I've ever seen in my life. A massive four-poster king-size bed that is ornately carved takes up one wall. It's covered with a navy blue and gold brocade comforter with gold braiding along the edges and gold tassels at the corners. A long dresser takes up another wall with a mirror above it. Both pieces having the same carvings as the bed. The walls are done in what appears to be silk of the same navy color that matches his bedding but with a subtly darker pattern within. A plush and expensive-looking oriental carpet done in golds, blues, and whites covers most of the hardwood flooring. To add final complement to the elegant decor, there's a massive brass chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling with what looks like hundreds of candelabra lights.

  I would consider Jerico Jameson a sophisticated man, but I had no clue his style ran so traditionally. It adds complexity to the man I am still learning about.

  Jerico tosses his suit jacket on a gold brocade bench that rests at the foot of his bed and starts to unbutton his shirt sleeves as he walks toward what I believe to be the master bathroom.

  "Get naked," he says with his back turned to me. "Then get on the bed. I'll be just a minute."

  He's barely over the threshold to the bathroom when I retort, "Your foreplay sucks."

  Jerico turns slowly around and stares at me impassively. I stare stonily back at him and cross my arms stubbornly over my chest.