The Brat (The Playgirls #3) (6 page)

Chapter Eight

There were no words. None.

After a long, heavy silence, driving around without an obvious goal in mind, Shane finally stopped the car on a parking spot and turned to her.

He chuckled. The ass actually
laughed.
What was worse, yet: soon enough, she was joining him.

Better laugh than cry about it, she supposed.

“I can’t believe the pile of shit you just buried me under,” she whined, and she was no whiner.

“Chill, baby. It’s not like your parents know anything about your life anyway. We’ll play it by hear, let it run its course. You can break up with me next month if you’d like.” 

“If I break up with you, I’ll get disowned, cast off, and thrown in the street.”

It might have been funnier if it wasn’t actually true.

“Fine. I’ll break up with you,” he shrugged.

Brooke was about to tell him that the results will be exactly the same when she caught something useful in the corner of her eyes.

Well, that must be fate.

“Wait a minute, I won’t be long.”

Most estate agents operated online these days, but there they were, a few feet away from one. She’d shop around of course, but it was one of the few things she’d much rather do on face to face; remembering her crazy hunt for a flat in New York, she didn’t trust – or care for – the generic websites out there.

“Welcome,” a young, pretty and posh thing said, forcing an insincere smile when she took in her get up; to be fair to her, Brooke was kinda wearing shirt and a man’s jacket over a bikini, so she got it.

“Hi. I just passed by and I saw you; I don’t have an appointment or anything. I need to rent something – pretty damn quick.”

“Sure. Our prices are rather high here,” she replied, condescending as hell.

Brooke was ready to turn around, by that point, but the door opened and, taking in the bitch’s gasp, she wasn’t surprised when she turned and saw Shane, pristine and gorgeous; his version of normal.

“Baby, come back in the car. You don’t need to waste money on a flat and you know it.”

The receptionist was looking from him to her, as if to say
you’re with
that?

It looked like she was going to have that kinda day.

“I think you’ll find that I do. My parents are going to make my life impossible because of you, and I’d rather observe the show from a distance.”

“You’re staying at mine. For Christ’s sake, you’re my
fiancée.
”
He looked like he was about to add something, but a glance towards the speechless posh bitch and he thought better of it. “Come. We’ll talk on the way back, ok?”

Begrudgingly, she sighed and followed him, reminding herself that she didn’t really want to deal with that girl, anyway.

However, Brooke wasn’t fond of people telling her what to do – there had been enough of that from her parents. Whenever someone ordered her to steer right, the gut reaction was to go left.

She sat back on the passenger seat of his car and crossed her arms, annoyed and pretty damn pissed at the fact that she realized she was being a brat.

“Don’t run out in the middle of a conversation again, Brooke,” Shane said, his voice cautioning. “We were talking. I know I landed us in this mess, but we’re in it together. Your father might be an ass to you if things don’t go his way, but do you know what he’d do to
me?
”

She did: he would do nothing. Patrick respected men; he’d just think she’d mess up, somewhere. Besides, hurting Shane’s business would affect Jack, his perfect son.

“Look baby, we are pretty close to dating, anyway. Let’s give things a try. Eventually, there will be some sort of drift, and we can explain that we’ve parted ways because of that.”

In what
universe
had they ever been
close to dating.
Ok, he’d fucked her with his finger and kissed her –
once
– but he hadn’t shown any interest before or after. She was pretty certain that if that had happened in New York, he would have high tailed it out of there and avoided her. Again.

“Two conditions. First,
no one
knows about this.”

At least, then, there would be no witness to that impending shitstorm.

“No dice. Jack needs to, and you’re kinda supposed to be planning a wedding.”

“Long engagement,” she blurted out. “You want to make it to billionaire first.”

Shane thought it out, before nodding reluctantly.

Why was he reluctant? Damn. She
so
needed to invent a mind-reading helmet.

“Ok, then. Stupid long secret engagement. As long as we tell Jack, that’s a deal. Second condition?”

“If you’re dating me, you’re dating
me.
And that’s it. I won’t share,” she announced, thinking back to his sultry phone call. “And I want that ring off your finger.”

Shane turned to her, pretty shocked, from his expression. She guessed she knew why; until then, he’d only seen the fun, teasing, light-hearted brat who loved to incite laughter.

Now he met her. Brooke Barnes. The crazy bitch who was pretty damn possessive about her hot boyfriend-slash-fake-fiancée.

He pulled his wedding bang off, threw it above his shoulder, before removing his seatbelt and diving on her, imprisoning her lips, pretty much crawling on top of her, until…

“My little pony…”

•

He rarely saw clients – Jack was the public relations guy, and Shane, the brain of the operation.

Yet today, he received someone Brooke definitely would have pegged as a big shot client.

Colton Colburn. She wasn’t into the whole celebrity thing, but well, he was the kinda guy a girl
would
notice.

Brooke lifted her head and took in the two guys in front of her; one blonde with dreamy eyes, the other one darker, rocking the whole Italian roots thing. Yeah, she might very well have been drooling a little bit.

“That’s Brooke,” Shane told him in an exasperate sigh. “Ignore her if you can. Her brother and I are business associate; he lives here while his home is getting refurbished. Brooke also believes she lives here, apparently.”

She flipped him off and he gave her a wink behind the guy’s back as they retired towards his office. 

As soon as he’d closed the door, she ran to her bedroom, got her weighted hoop and blasted some music, taking a clue out of the many things her brother didn’t want her to do.

Sure, pretending they didn’t have a relationship had been her idea… but passing her off as an unwanted guest? He would pay for that shit.

They took a while, so she got a good workout out of the hour or so they spent discussing their business. When they came out, her t-shirt was clinging to her as much as it had after the little pool incident.

Take
that.

He quickly ushered his guest out of there, before storming back in the apartment.

“You. On the sofa, now.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t want to take up some of your space. As, you know, I don’t live here.”

His smile had never been as devious. Slowly stolling towards her, like a predator, he stopped a breath away and said against her skin:

“Do you know who that was?”

“A hot guy?” she shrugged, loving the way she was playing with fire.

Considering the way his nostrils flared, she’d hit a mark.

“That exclusivity shit? It goes both ways, honey.”

Music to her ears.

“It has come to my attention that you’ve yet again acted like a spoilt brat, Brooke. Now, I was wondering why, and only one thing has crossed my mind. You’re constantly pushing our limits because no one has ever punished you.”

His voice dripped like thick honey, demanding her full attention; she bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. Somehow, she knew she wasn’t supposed to smile.

“On. The. Sofa.”

She’d never moved that fast. Sitting down, she waited for him there. Damn, he was taking his sweet time.

He stopped by a drawer, grabbing an inconspicuous tube of something he’d never used in front of her; Brooke felt her pussy sing at the thought that it might be some lube.

“I want you to tell me what you’ve done wrong, Brooke.”

Very good question; right now it felt that she’d done something very, very right, actually.

“I hula-hooped in front of a business partner?”

“You deliberately showed another guy what’s mine to get a rise out of me. It worked. Get up and remove your shorts.”

Fuck.

She would have liked to say that she did so seductively, but at this point, she was too impatient for finesse; she all but tripped over her hands to get them off her.

“Nice,” Shane said, touching the inside of her thigh, just brushing her silky thong.

Then, he tapped his lap.

“I want your perky ass here. Up. Head down. I’m going to give you the spanking you deserve. And you’re going to love it.”

•

Shane

Shit. Virgin, virgin, virgin. He kept on chanting that to him, to prevent himself from just bending her over and plunging ball deep between her fucking amazing legs, but if anything, it made him more eager to get inside her.

She lied down over his knees and lifted her ass on his laps obediently.

Oh god. That ass… His palm caressed both cheeks in circular motions as his dick twitched under her, desperately attempting to burst out.

Slap.

He knew he was harsh, but her sudden surprised cry ended in a moan.

Shane wasn’t into BDSM. He was no dom. He’d gone to clubs, tagging along with his friend, but the whole thing had always been beyond his mind.

Fiona had wanted it, so he’d relented, spanking and flogging her ass.

Now, he got it, though. This ass was
his.
His to caress. His to kiss. His to penetrate. His to
mark.

Slap.

He could see the shape of his palm on both of her cheeks now.

“Baby girl?” he said, gently stroking her sensitive skin.

She whimpered and he had to chuckle.

“Red is your stop word. Yellow, your slow word. You’re in charge. You got it?”

“Yes. Please…”

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

“Yes!”

“It looks like my good girl is a closet slut. Mhh… What am I going to do with you.”

He was back to his caresses, hazarding a finger or two under her thong. She was so damn wet right now.
“Stay still,” he ordered and, miracle or miracles, Brooke Barnes was obedient right now.

Damn if that didn’t make him harder.

He applied some balm on her ass; it hadn’t been much of a spanking, but as she wasn’t used to it, her ass was going to sting without it.

“That’s just a beautiful ass, honey. The things I could do to it…”

He touched the entrance of her ass to see her reaction. Oh, hot damn hell. She moaned.

“Later, perhaps. For now, I think my favorite brat needs a reward for being a good, obedient little slut.”

He slid down to the floor and shifted her above him until she was straddling his face, her pussy just above his mouth.

He pulled her thong aside with his teeth before lapping on his clit. Gosh, she dripped down his chin.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Oh, hell.

He wasn’t sure how either of them had missed the sound of the door or the footsteps… They had been otherwise engaged, but still.

Brooke bolted above him, but he locked his arms around her legs, keeping her there.

“Jackson, you may want to make yourself scarce,” he said against her pussy. “And next time, think about knocking?”

On this note, be thrust his tongue deep inside Brooke, who released a sound so guttural Jack was running out of there.

Chapter Nine

“Repeat that. Slowly, please.” 

“You mother was being… well, your mother. So I rubbed the fact that I preferred Brooke on her face. One thing led to another, I was professing my devotion, and your father heard me.”

“Shit! But… that doesn’t actually explain why my baby sister was sitting on your face. In our lounge.”

Jack was just smirking smugly, reading right through him.

He was going to get him to spill it out, wasn’t he?

“You know why she was sitting on my face in our lounge. I would have been pounding into her if I’d taken her anywhere near a bed.”

“And you’re trying to avoid fucking her, because…”

The asshole really had figured it out, hadn’t he?

The thing was, he’d made the decision consciously about ten seconds after she’d ran out of his car to go to that stupid estate agents. Everything in him had revolted against the idea of letting her having her own house. She was
his.

So, yep. So much for his pledge about rocking the bachelor thing to the grave.

“Because I’ll be marrying her. Soon.”

As soon as he got her to think about them seriously. That might be easier than what he’d feared, considered the way she’d looked when she’d talked about dating her, and only her. Shane smiled at the memory. His kitten definitely had claws.

“As she’s somehow managed not to fuck anyone until now, might as well wait for the nuptials, right?”

Jack hit his shoulder, perhaps a little bit harder than necessary.

“Fucking finally. We’re gonna be brothers, mate.”

He hadn’t thought of that; he smiled until every word hit the mark.

“What do you mean, finally?”

Brooke had been back for, like, a month. He’d hardly wasted time.

Shane wondered if Jack was referring to the three year drift; surely, he’d noticed that. He hadn’t talked about it, but Brooke might have…

“Ok. I guess it’s time to fess up. Just remember that you really like me. And, Brooke won’t be happy if you murder me, right?”

That was exactly the kinda question there was no answer for, but he nodded.

“You remember after graduating? When you came back home and got all chumy with her?”

Of course he remembered; that’s when…

“I told you she was into you
.
Next thing I knew, you were returning to Fiona. I was pretty pissed, man… until I understood you might have mistaken what I said and thought she was wet for some
other
bike riding, tattooed, overly pretty boy out there.”

Shane started at Jack, dumbfounded. He only had had one scotch but his head span like he’d been on a roll for ten hours straight.

“Of course, by the time I figured that out, you’d proposed to Fiona. I beat myself up a lot… but I wasn’t going to interfere again. I shouldn’t have, to start with. Firstly, I’m obviously really shit at matchmaking. Secondly, the day after she met you, I’d teased Brooke about fancying you and, damn, you
cannot
imagine the things she threatened me with. She has
everything
I’ve ever done on record, from the day of my birth, man.”

Eventually, he’d regained his power of speech.

“Are you telling me that your sister has been into me for close to
eleven years.
”

It didn’t seem possible. He knew Brooke; he would have noticed.

Right?

Would you?

Whatever the opposite of an open book was, it defined Brooke. She was always smiling, joking, and pretty much, ensuring that no one understood what was under the pretty curls.

He understood it better now, it had been a necessity to survive as the daughter of Helena Barnes…

But it had meant that he’d missed so much time with the girl of his dreams.

Shit.

Turning his anger on Jack was tempting, but he knew better. He’d been pretty damn stupid. And ballless. And he’d most probably hurt her – so much.

Keeping his distances, forcing himself to just let her be, and eventually settle with some potential guy he’d hated with a vengeance had been an effort, sure, but at least, he’d never had to witness any happy ending between her and anyone else.

Brooke had seen him playing house with a slut who he’d married because she was convenient. If she’d liked him half as much as he adored her…

Instead of punching Jack – as the guy obviously believed he might – he tapped his shoulder.

“Thanks man. For telling me.”

Then he got up, logged in behind his computer and got to work.

He was done with the games, now. Time to play for keeps.

•

Brooke

“He
spanked
you?”

She smiled dreamily on top of her cocktail.

“With his hand or…”

“Hand. I’m asking for a flogger for my birthday.”

They were laughing, while sipping their coffees on their afternoon walk when the sound got her to leave the main street and get in an insalubrious alley.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring Dana, Brooke went to the overfilled bin, and that’s where she found them, just next to the trash, in a soaked empty box.

The coffees went right in the trash, along with most things they could throw out off their handbags, and they both filled their overprice totes with the content of the garbage box.

“Shit. What should we do?”

“We’re going home, it’s not far.”

She didn’t hesitate, although she knew for a fact that Shane was going to murder her.

•

Shane

The day had gone pretty well, he had everything he needed, down to the romantic candles; Jack had sworn he’d spend the evening out, too – so at six o’clock, he was just waiting for the lady of the house to come back.

What he had not expected was for her to arrive smelling of trash, with an equally flagrant friend, and a bag full of moving, fluffy stuff.

Before he could say a word, she was sending him her best puppy dog eyes to date, and explaining hurriedly:

“Someone put them in the trash! They’re soaking, and probably starving and really, really cute.”

On that note, she was opening her handbag as wide as she could. What hit him first was the smell of piss. Then, forcing himself to glance in regardless, he was taken by a sudden wave of rage.

In the
trash?

“I’ll just call a vet. They’re so cute, I’m sure a lot of people will want to adopt them.”

“I’m keeping one,” her friend announced, holding a hand up.

“Me too!” Brooke squealed. Then, sending Shane a guilty glance, she explained: “I’ll take him with me when I move.”

Yeah, right.

“Ok. First: pop them on the carpet. The floor’s cold.”

“Shane, they’ll ruin it.”

Sure. Did he care?

“Get them water, I’m calling Blake.” In case Brooke didn’t recognize the name, he added: “He’s a vet.”

That was
not
how tonight was supposed to have gone, but he couldn’t help turning back towards Brooke and smiling. He was planning on marrying her. Might as well give up on his carefully constructed plans now.

“Carter? Get your ass to me place. I have a pussy emergency.”

Two hours later, once they’d been examined, fed, and tucked  in their newly purchased bed, the six kittens were sleeping and the girls, still cooing all over them.

Giving up on making them move from cuddle reach of the adorable bunch of whiny attention seekers, Shane popped the prep for his romantic dinner in the fridge, rang a takeaway, and extracted Dana’s husband’s phone number from her.

The guy was pretty decent, actually; he brought beer, so he was in, particularly when Shane recognized him from Brooke’s double date.

As the girls were busy, he took the time to probe:

“Didn’t I see you at Bella Dona a few weeks back with Brooke?”

“Sure. Dana was delighted to bump into her. I’ve dragged her back to San Francisco and she’d lost touch with most of her old friends from here.”

Super
interesting, but…

“Mhh… And the guy…”

Ryan Johnson smiled, understanding where he was coming from.

“My brother, Matthew. If he was here, we could be drooling over your ass. Or your hair. Maybe over the cats – the only kind of pussies he tolerates in his bed.”

God, he was an idiot. How many times had he taken a step back when there had been no need to?

“Thanks. Brooke and I are… complicated.”

Ryan smirked.

“Dana and I were, too. So I got drunk in Vegas with her.”

Damn, that guy was clever.

The Johnson left around eleven, and Brooke ran to Shane, to give him a huge bear hug.

“Thank you. Thanks so much. I swear I’ll try to give them away as soon as I can. There will be just one, for a little while. When I’m gone…”

Ok, enough of that.

“When we move from this place, we’ll take him with us. No worries.”

She lifted her head from his chest, confusion obvious in her expression, so he got on one knee and said what needed to be said.

“Brooke Barnes, I can’t recall a time when that name hasn’t made me smile. You’re the one woman who has always supported me, the first who ever made a blip on my radar and the last one who will ever matter. I love you more than anyone.”

As it didn’t look like she could understand a word of what he was saying, he reached out for the ring in his pocket and clarified:

“So, marry me?”