Confined with the CEO and the Bodyguard: Kelsey E-Book

Jordana Pearce

• Herausgeber: Jordana Pearce
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 160

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Kelsey: When my sexy boss impulsively invites me to spend lockdown at his luxury apartment with his bodyguard, Hugh, I immediately say yes. The attraction between us burns hot. Now Sam has blazed a path to my heart straight through my body. It’s like I’ve grown a million new nerve endings and only he can touch them....What I feel with Sam is passion, and I’m terrified.

Sam: One look at Kelsey and I knew I had to have her. Not just for now. Forever. There’s no one like Kelsey. She’s both totally accessible and a complete cipher. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and yet I crave her like a cat does catnip.

Hugh: Sam’s my best friend, my employer, my roommate. Kelsey is his woman. I’m here to make her happy...but if they can't be honest with one another, I see heartbreak ahead. I'll do anything to protect Sam.

The CEO and the Bodyguard is a MFM luxury erotic romance series set in the U.S. during the pandemic. Each story features a CEO, a bodyguard, and the woman who brings them to their knees. If you like insta-lust and high heat, these MFM contemporary romance fantasies will leave you smiling. Always a happy ever after! 

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CONFINED WITH THE CEO & THE BODYGUARD:

KELSEY

Jordana Pearce

Contents

1. Kelsey

2. Sam

3. Hugh

4. Kelsey

5. Sam

6. Hugh

7. Sam

8. Kelsey

9. Hugh

10. Kelsey

11. Sam

12. Hugh

13. Kelsey

14. Hugh

15. Sam

16. Kelsey

17. Sam

Epilogue: Kelsey

ENJOYED THIS BOOK?

Acknowledgments

Excerpt - CONFINED WITH THE CEO & THE BODYGUARD: SADIE

Excerpt - CONFINED WITH THE CEO & THE BODYGUARD: GABRIELA

Coming Soon in the CONFINED WITH THE CEO AND THE BODYGUARD Series

1

Kelsey

The email came through late on Thursday afternoon. Starting Monday, Harden Real Estate’s offices were closed indefinitely due to a virus that was rampaging through Manhattan. It had started elsewhere in the world and spread, unnoticed, for months. Hospitals were on the verge of being overrun with sick patients.

When there’s a military ship moored in the harbor, it’s hard to deny that your country feels like it’s two heartbeats away from a George Romano movie.

My in-person audition for a lead role in an upcoming film is probably canceled, but until I have formal notice, do you think I’m giving up on my dream?

No way in hell.

Top secret, the production assistant had insisted. I can’t send you a digital copy. This is a confidential project. I’d rolled my eyes, then rolled over, because this could finally be my breakthrough role. Even if I have to audition by video conference, I want it bad.

I’ll make it in showbiz no matter what. There’s nothing I love more than sinking into a character and making an audience feel. Tears. Anger. Hatred.

Yet I’m always being cast as the “Trophy Wife” or “Sister.”

This script is different. I had tingles when my agent described it to me. It could be my big break—the result of years of scrimping, saving, and working my way up the agent and acting ladder.

First, there had been small roles in minor theater productions. Then, I landed a couple of commercials. When those were dropped from circulation I lost the residual earnings I had relied on to pay rent.

I came so close to giving up once. I won’t do it again.

Since waiting tables isn’t really my speed—I don’t do perky and social—I got licensed as a real estate agent. My revenue is feast-or-famine, but my schedule is my own. Leasing overpriced Manhattan shoeboxes to recent transplants is my specialty. I work mostly weekends and on commission—or did, until the virus took out my income overnight.

If I have to quarantine on a movie set for weeks to land this part, so be it. But first, I have to show the director and producer that I can play it better than anyone.

That’s why I’m here, batting my eyelashes at the security guard. A beard pokes out from beneath a makeshift mask. I peer at his name badge and say, “Phil, it’ll take five minutes. I print the documents I need and I come straight back down. Promise.”

He scowls. His eyes dart to the discreet display of cleavage visible between the plackets of my cream silk blouse. I had rushed over from a showing. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a balcony and a doorman for the bargain price of just five thousand dollars a month. They took it on the spot, fearing to risk seeing any other apartments. I have a check in my pocket which, after handing over my split to Harden, will cover my bills long enough to rehearse during lockdown. It was worth the effort of jamming my feet into the heels which are killing my arches and zipping up the pencil skirt that hugs my ass and shortens my stride.

“Technically the building isn’t closed until Monday,” I point out.

Phil stares me down. I briefly contemplate offering to suck his dick, but I am not sunk that low—yet. Besides, the idea doesn’t appeal. I like giving head, just not to random men.

I really do need that script though.

“Five minutes, Ms. James,” Phil huffs, but he scans his pass card to let me through the gate. All employee IDs have been disabled in an attempt to control the number of people coming in and out of the building.

“Thanks, Phil. I owe you.” I hustle through and blow him a kiss, forgetting about my own mask until I touch it. Not being stupid, I hit the up arrow with my elbow. My heavy purse falls down my shoulder. I hike it up with a grunt.

The elevator deposits me on the third floor. It’s where the executives are housed, including the CEO, Sam Harden. My desk is near his secretary’s. According to her, the only thing bigger than his cock is the size of his ego. I guess he’s earned it though, because Harden Real Estate has seen exponential growth over the past several years. She has no discretion at all, so I hear more than I should.

Like how he prefers young women. According to Brenda he’s a predator, but then, as far as I can tell, she thinks any attractive man is a threat. The one time I saw Sam he was on his way out of the building. Broad shoulders. Dark hair curling over the collar of his jacket. Bodyguard four inches behind him, max.

The bodyguard is the one who captivated me. I think about him from time to time—not innocently.

But men are not my primary concern as I exit the elevator and bypass my desk, though. Assuming I’m alone, I remove my mask and put it in my bag as I wobble on high heels to the mailroom.

The script package is sitting in my mail cubby. A sigh gusts out of me. I tear into the manila envelope before I get out of the hallway.

A hard object rams into me like a linebacker, before I can even glimpse the title.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” a rough male voice declares. My heart hammers in my chest. I try to jerk away but the two big hands wrapped around my upper arms prevent me from moving an inch. Slabs of muscle beneath my palms. His masculine voice cuts through the fog of my obsession with the script.

“Neither are you,” I snap before I look up.

Blue eyes bore into mine. His hands are manacles on my upper arms. Transfixed, I shove the paper back into its envelope. Slowly, he releases his grip. I take a step back. My middle finger touches the bridge of my glasses to nudge them up my nose.

His brows knit together as though he thinks I’m giving him the finger, which maybe I am, a little.

Then, he gives me a slow smile. I am dazed by the rush of desire that courses through me.

Forget the bodyguard. The man who ran into me is sex on stilts.

My knees go weak. I almost collapse. If I were to fall, there’s a high chance I’d unzip his trousers—and I don’t even know his name.

He smirks, and I feel it in my solar plexus. Heat scorches my innards and renders me hollow. As I said, I don’t give random men blowjobs, but I’d make an exception for this one.

“I’m Kelsey James. KJ to my friends. I work for Harden Real Estate Group,” I say formally. My shoulder bag fell on the floor when we crashed into one another. My personal effects are scattered across the floor. They include a collection of Harden-branded pens, the glossy printed floor plans from today’s showing fanned out next to my lipstick, spare nail polish, and a makeup bag.

“Nice to run into you, KJ.” says the stranger in a deliberate drawl. The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I feel his voice like velvet stroked over my shoulders. It’s weird. I’ve never felt this before.

“KJ to my friends,” I shoot back. I don’t know why I’m being so scratchy. This man threw me off-kilter within seconds, and I’m unsure why. I don’t normally antagonize hot men on purpose.

“I’m not your friend,” he says flatly.

“No. So you can call me Kelsey until further notice,” I say.

“Ms. James,” he begins, and recognition crashes through me.

This is the CEO.

I’m so shocked that I lose my grip on the manila envelope. It slips out of my hands. I glance down and find my precious script on the floor. I crouch to retrieve it. He meets me at eye level, three feet from the industrial carpet.

Warily, I avoid his gaze while I check my script’s integrity. It’s safe. But I am starting to think I’m not. “Yes?”

He gives me a peculiar grin, as though he knows I’m figuring it out. “I’m Sam Harden. This is my company. You work for me. The city has been ordered into lockdown. I don’t like the idea of sheltering alone in my penthouse. It’s too big. I’d be...lonely.”

His gaze flicks to my cleavage. Unlike when Phil did the same thing, a current of excitement races over my skin.

I think of my crappy little studio apartment and how much I don’t want to spend weeks there by myself. My family is in Arkansas—too far to go without giving up on the life I’ve built here. Besides, I wouldn’t want to bring this damn virus with me.

“What exactly are you proposing?” I ask, my pulse thready. I brush my long, dark hair back and nearly fall over. He grasps my arm again to steady me.

“Quarantine with me,” he half-asks, half-orders. Transfixed by his blue eyes, I freeze.

“And do what?” I demand. But I don’t try to pull away. I let him hang onto me because I like the firmness of his hold. The smirk etches deeper lines into his face. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying yes, but the prospect of being alone for an indefinite amount of time makes me weak. I’d rather have company, too. Especially if it’s the kind I think he’s offering. The only obstacle is that I have the audition of my life to prepare for. I can’t afford a sexy distraction like Harden.

“Anything you want, Ms. James,” he says in that voice like smoked sin. “Anything at all, and nothing you don’t want to do.”

I shift on my aching feet. My gaze falls away from his, drifting down the expensively cut shirt buttoned to his throat. The insane need to grasp his tie and pull his face close to mine almost overwhelms me. I resist. Barely.

Should’ve kept that mask on.

At the front of his trousers is a ridge the length of my forearm, I swear. It’s pointed toward his left hip bone. My eyes widen.

Here’s the thing. I love sex more than anything except acting. It’s been a problem in my few relationships. In my senior year of high school and the first two years of college, I had a boyfriend whose sex drive matched mine. He dumped me when he decided he was going to flunk out if he didn’t find a less-physical girlfriend.

I know. What an idiot, right? Well, it didn’t feel that way at the time. I was utterly devastated.

Things got worse as I tried dating after graduation. Men said I moved too fast or wanted too much from my partners. I’m actually a very relationship-oriented person but after a couple of breakups it was easier to take care of my needs with porn and an ever-growing collection of toys. Maybe I didn’t get a lot of satisfaction, but I avoided the emotional scars of constant rejection.

So the sight of a mind-numbingly sexy man with a partial erection offering me anything is much more appealing than weeks of loneliness. I am actually salivating. Still, I hesitate.

“You’d have your own room with a working lock.” He raises his hands, palms out, shoulder-height. “If I do anything to annoy you, you’ll still have access to the private jacuzzi on the terrace, the chef’s kitchen and the in-apartment gym.”

“Well, that beats my little nest,” I mumble. “But I have a personal project to work on over the next few weeks. I’ll need time to focus.”

“You’ll have it,” Harden agrees, too easily. Why does he want me there so badly? Sure, apparently he likes my tits, but I could be a raging bitch for all he knows. Anyone who wants to be quarantined with a complete stranger in a pandemic is asking for trouble.

So why am I considering this?

Sensing my hesitation, Harden adds, “I don’t like to be alone. I need to have people to talk to. Not over screens. Of course, if you wanted more…” He grins. My breath catches.

I’ve seen a lot of charismatic and handsome men in my acting career but no one like Sam Harden, who gestures almost apologetically in the general direction of his crotch. “We could always Netflix and chill.”

I feel an answering smile stretch my mouth upward at the corners. I don’t want it to, but there’s nothing keeping me at my home. No pets, no roommates, not even a houseplant to water. “Okay.”

I suck in air, my lungs tight. He stills.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Unless you’re taking back your offer?” I fix him with a meaningful stare.

“No, not at all. I’m just surprised you’d accept.” He relaxes visibly. “And grateful. I, uh, should tell you that there’s someone else who’ll be with us.”

“Someone else?” I ask skeptically, mentally preparing to renege on this agreement.

“Hugh. My bodyguard. I’ve had a little trouble over a business deal gone wrong in Moscow.” Sam grimaces, but before I can protest his hand presses lightly against the small of my back. “We’re both safe. I don’t like to take up test kits in these circumstances, but because we had traveled recently we took tests yesterday afternoon. The results were clear this morning. We’re not infected.”

“I’ve been taking every precaution possible,” I say, which is true. Mashed in between those floor plans in my purse are boxes of disposable masks and gloves. They’re as precious as gold.

Besides, if Hugh is the bodyguard who has haunted my fantasies for months, then I am definitely down to Netflix and chill for a few weeks.

“Come on, then. My car is in the garage,” says Sam.

“Mine is, too. I’ll follow you.”

“No.” Harden’s reaction is forceful and commanding. I stiffen. I don’t like being deprived of my independence—in this case, my twelve-year-old secondhand Lexus. It’s my baby. Part of my carefully crafted image, which is upscale and discreet. No one needs to know I’m as poor as a church mouse.

“You’ll ride with me,” he declares. “Your car will be safe here.”

And like that, it’s decided. I want to protest but I know I shouldn’t. I let Harden swipe his pass on the elevator control panel. Notably, his is still working. We can’t maintain six feet of distance, but that precaution is moot anyway. He’s already touched me. Been close enough to kiss. I click my car open and pop the back door.

“I said, we’re taking my car,” Harden says behind me. I feel his gaze burning through the fabric of my skirt as I shimmy into the back seat. I drag out my gym bag. It’s nothing fancy, but it has a change of clothes I’m going to need. I wiggle out and hold it upright with one hand .

Relief smooths his brow. He’s older than me. I’m guessing thirty-five. I am twenty-six. Getting old to make my acting break, frankly. I push the thought aside and hand my gym bag to him.

“Lead the way,” I say.

2

Sam

I can’t believe she said yes.

Kelsey must have felt it too. That unanticipated jolt of promise. If I hadn’t mowed her down like a rampaging bull I wouldn’t have grabbed her by the arms. Our eyes wouldn’t have met. Hers, light green like spring leaves. See how hard this hit me? I’m waxing fucking poetic over a woman I met twenty minutes ago.

Granted, she works for me which makes what I’ve just done pretty questionable, but I don’t like to think about that.

KJ’s gym bag is parked on the floor between our feet. In my mind I’m already using her nickname. We may not be friends yet, but my name is Samuel Harden and I do not shy away from going after what I want. What I want for the next month or six weeks or however long this outbreak lasts is one gorgeous brunette naked in my bed, on the couch, in the shower—wherever I can get her.

Worst case scenario? She ignores me. At least I’ll have someone to talk to, even if she doesn’t want to listen. I’m not someone who thrives on solitude. And Hugh, my devoted bodyguard? He’s the strong, silent type. We’d drive each other insane if it were just the two of us.

I like taking risks when I think they’ll pay off, and halfway up 7th Avenue my bet starts doing just that.

“What happens if I change my mind?” KJ asks softly. Her perfectly manicured hand lays limply on the leather seat between us. “How will I get home?”

She’s assuming public transportation is closed. Probably true. It’s still the early stages in this virus shutdown, and there are plenty of unknowns.

“Hugh will drive you back to the garage so you can get your car,” I answer quickly, but I’m hoping she won’t take me up on the offer.

Hugh is driving us through empty Manhattan streets a little too fast, taking corners harder than he should. He’s spooked about this deadly virus. I told him he could see to his family but he says the money he earns as my bodyguard is more essential than his presence at home. He’ll stay with me for the duration.

Given the fact that Hugh’s a total momma’s boy, this was not a surprising outcome. His mother has asthma, and his sister has sickle-cell anemia. If staying away keeps them safe, Hugh will do it for as long as it takes. He’ll call every day, though. It sort of makes me sick that I’m not closer with my own family. Another thing I hate thinking about.

I shift slightly and clasp KJ’s soft fingers in mine. A tiny smile touches the corners of her full lips as I trace the small ridges of her knuckles. They are manicured. Moisturized. I want her hand on my cock. I want my hands on her sweet tits. I need to be inside her tight, hot pussy.

But first, I need to get her wet. That takes patience.

There’s no sex like the first encounter.

Tension mounts between us. I’m about to lean across the seat and kiss her when KJ makes the first move. Her hand grazes my thigh. The semi I’ve been sporting ever since I crashed into her twitches. I pick up her hand and place it where I want it, on the ridge of my cock. She squeezes me lightly. I shift and unfasten my pants.

KJ doesn’t hesitate. She strokes me with a firm grip. God, it’s so much better than I imagined. I groan and let my head fall back against the seat.

Hugh watches in the rearview mirror. He says nothing. KJ catches his gaze. He glances away. She pokes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, a gesture I find unbearably sexy.

“Harder,” I demand.

“Okay, Harden.” She winks. Her voice is a growly little gust of pent-up desire. How did I know she’d be into sex? Instinct. You don’t get many chances at instant chemistry in life. Even if there’s a pandemic you have to make the most of every opportunity.

Kelsey James is hot, from the perfect part down the middle of her pale scalp to the pert upturn of her nose and the peaks of her bra-confined breasts. Seeing as she has her hand wrapped around my cock and she’s pumping it like an oil well, I lean back, stretch my arm across the seat and dig my fingers into the mass of hair at her neck. A helpless little gasp escapes her plump lips as I stroke her the way she’s touching my dick.

“Like that, princess?”

“Mmm, yes.” She unbuckles her seat belt and shifts so her ass is up in the air. Her hot mouth closes over my tip. Heaven. KJ knows her way around a cock and I love it. I want more.

Hugh’s half-watching us and half-watching the road. I know because he swerves a half-second before crashing into a parked van.

“Don’t fuck up my car,” I growl. Hugh just grins. The Maserati is his baby. He’s not going to crash it over a little show taking place in the back seat.

KJ pauses. I groan and put my hand on the back of her head, holding back her hair. “Don’t stop.”

She pops off long enough to grin at me. “You like giving orders.” Her hand pumps. My hips thrust upward, seeking her wet warmth.

“Yeah,” I grunt, more need than human.

“I like taking them,” the minx informs me.

“Take all of me,” I say. KJ’s head descends. She doesn’t quite comply, though. Instead, she nibbles my tip, teasing. Her mouth sends shockwaves up my cock and into my groin. My balls have never been so hard. I need release almost as much as I need more of her exquisite torture. I lift her hair. Her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose as she takes me into her throat. Three strokes and her lips meet the base. I’m all the way inside a woman who was a stranger not half an hour ago. I want to come so bad the pleasure edges on pain.

“Is she gonna offer that service upfront?” Hugh asks, his usually stern face breaking into a grin. He barely misses the side of a cab. It wouldn’t be the first ding Hugh’s put on one of my cars but he knows if he does it again, it will be the last time. I can drive my own ass around—unless I’m busy in the back seat.

To my frustration, KJ pops off my cock and says, “If he wants it, you have it.”

She gets back to work before I can argue. My vision hazes. My body pulls into a hard knot with every muscle tense as an orgasm threatens to outstrip my control. At the last second she pulls away, pumping me until I squirt all over her face. White cream spurts onto her glasses, her forehead, her chin.

Holy shit, the sight of her drenched in my cum is hot. I gasp for air like a landed fish. The muscles in my abdomen clench and release in an echo of the pleasure that ripped through me. It is, hands down, the best blowjob I’ve ever received.

She licks an errant drop and grins. “This is so much better than being holed up alone for weeks.”

“I’ll say,” Hugh interjects. He’s witnessed the entire performance. KJ smirks. My new guest is an exhibitionist.

The first time we shared a woman it was on a dare—she dared us. Since that night, there have been no secrets between us. I trust Hugh with more than just my life.

He pulls the car into the garage of my building and we spend a scant minute unloading KJ’s personal effects. They include exactly one gym bag marked with LeSportsac on the straps. Lightweight, practical. It matches my impression of KJ. But it holds a lot, too. It's heavier than I anticipated. Not that it poses a problem for me to carry.

I wonder briefly if this is a metaphor for my guest. Have I gotten myself into trouble?

It wouldn’t be the first time.

I follow my instincts. So far, they’ve been trustworthy. It’s not always easy to explain why I think Harden Real Estate should pursue a given opportunity but I usually get what I want. After I dropped out of architecture school I finished a high-profile MBA program. I know buildings. I know money. And I’m reckless enough to take risks like the one I did today.

Hey, it worked, didn’t it?

I’m still too blissed out from my orgasm to make conversation during the elevator ride to my penthouse apartment. I watch idly as KJ flirts demurely with Hugh. He’s into her. It’d be impossible not to be. But I feel the disquieting stir of something I’ve never felt before when we shared a woman: jealousy.

3

Hugh

Damn, if Sam doesn’t have all the luck. A gorgeous girl like Kelsey—what’s she thinking, sucking a stranger’s cock in the back of his car within minutes of meeting him?

Maybe, like me, she’s spooked by the end of the world. How it feels like any of us could be next. They’re saying this virus mostly takes out older folks, but I’ve got a grandma and I’d break your neck for looking at her crossways, know what I’m sayin’?

She turns eighty next weekend. The birthday party we had planned is canceled.

My cousin was going to fly home from Hong Kong where she’s a bank executive but they’re locked down, too. No commercial flights.

Under the circumstances, can you blame anyone for behaving like horny college students on spring break? After all, if I’m going to be put on a ventilator I wouldn’t mind having a few choice memories to mull over when I’m half-conscious.

Which is all a long way of saying that my cock is hard as a fucking stone by the time I swing into the basement garage of Sam’s high-rise. The last thing I see as the garage gate comes down is an ambulance whiz by, horn blaring. It should put a damper on my interest in KJ’s hot little mouth, but it doesn’t. If anything, my erection suctions the little blood remaining in my brain southward.

Anyway. Beats thinking about how I had to be the man of the family yesterday and tell my close-knit clan that we weren’t going to risk Grandma’s life over a stupid party. Now I have to live with the guilt that she could die without anyone ever hugging her again.

The sobering thought helps me regain control long enough to maneuver the Maserati into its designated parking space, next to the standard-issue black car I usually cart Sam’s pampered ass around in. We’d taken this for one last spin before parking it here for the foreseeable future.

Once we go up into this tower, we’re not coming down again until it’s over. From the looks of things, that could be a while.

Sam squeezes sanitizer into his palm both before and after pushing the button on the elevator. He wipes it down after, too. Sam’s a good man. Rich, yeah, but he takes care of his own. Tries hard not to be selfish about his wealth. I’m Bronx-born and raised. My family’s working class. I wouldn’t work for the guy if he were one of those assholes hanging out on a yacht with underage models or some shit.

The elevator ride makes my ears pop, not because Sam’s apartment is high up but because it’s a fast trip to the 9th floor. It lets us into the private foyer.

I do not, in fact, live here. I have a room though. Technically my contract requires me to be at Sam’s side 24/7 unless I provide a replacement. The fact that I don’t have a place of my own is a testament to both how much I like my client and an indicator of how much I love this fucking apartment. The three of us step into the foyer. Kelsey’s eyes light up like a kid’s at Christmas.

“Oh, my,” she breathes, so quiet I can hardly hear her. I can’t figure this woman out. I need to jerk off, release the tension so I can think clearly.

Sam staggers inside. I swear the guy is glowing. Must’ve been one hell of a blowjob.

My cock twitches, insistent. Kelsey ignores us, touring the double-height-ceiling living room in mincing little steps that twitch her sweet little ass. A glass wall opens onto a huge patio with the promised hot tub. The terrace is edged with planters for privacy. It’s a garden paradise in the middle of Manhattan.

Her hand trails the flat back of a leather couch. Kelsey stretches out on it like a cat purring on a sunny porch. Her skirt hikes up. Way up. Whether she left the house without panties or lost them along the way doesn’t matter. That flash of naked pussy drives a spike of lust right through me.

I glance at Sam. He has this stupid lopsided grin on his face. “You want me to hit that, bruh?” I ask.

He gives me raised eyebrows. “If you want it. We have no secrets.”

I look back at Kelsey. She’s rolled over on the back of the couch. Her skirt’s bunched up around her hips and she’s got her chin propped on one hand, looking back at me.

“Do you want this?” I ask.

“I’ve wanted you for months,” she murmurs, casting her gaze downward.

I don’t know what that means. Was she somehow aware of me, Hugh Johnson, and not Sam Harden? (Yeah, the name’s real. School sucked for both of us—it’s one thing Sam and I bonded over.) It doesn’t matter, though. Not with her soft pink folds glistening at waist height. My skin feels hot and tight with anticipation.

“Touch me. I’ll let you know if you do anything I don’t like,” she states. I kneel. Her legs part and I skim my fingers up the insides of her soft thighs. Her scent is luscious. I inhale deeply. Kelsey whimpers.

“All right, sweetheart?” I ask, my head too sex-addled to do more than explore her body with rough fingers. Kelsey strikes me as straightforward. Honest in her lust. It’s one hell of a turn-on.

“Keep going, Hugh.”

I lick her thighs. She whimpers. I check in with Sam. His lopsided grin is bigger now, toothy. He has his cock in his hand and he’s stroking. He nods, encouraging me. I slide my tongue up her wet cleft. Kelsey’s hips wiggle forward.

Yeah. This is what I like. The way a woman’s body undulates, seeking pleasure. Her taste of salt and need. I’m circling the nub of her clit, getting into it. I sink my fingers into her soaking wet pussy and imagine my cock there instead. Soon. There’s no question that this is Sam’s woman—I’m just here to keep her happy. And I do. I stroke her velvety, slick passage and Kelsey moans again. Deeper. Rougher. Like she’s close to climax. I trace her sex with sticky fingers, then push back inside.

“Hugh,” she gasps. Her nails dig into my arm. They’re like kitten’s claws, manicured in a neutral shade of pink. Totally professional. It’s unbelievably hot seeing this put-together woman come undone.

“You want Hugh to fuck you, KJ?” Sam asks. Even on the sidelines, he’s in control—always.

“Yes,” she rasps. Kelsey’s plump lips are dry and her eyes glazed. I can’t tell what color they are. Need blurs my vision. The nails biting into my arm stop. Sam is holding her arms above her head. He’s undone her shirt. Hell if I know how he got her bra off, or where. In the car? The elevator? I don’t care. Her tits are spectacular. Soft pale triangles of sweet flesh topped with hard pink nubs. I’d lick, but Sam’s twisting them between his fingers in rhythm to her writhing. I unfasten my belt. The button pops free and my cock springs out. Kelsey half-sits up and moans yes again. All that registers with me is her permission.

I rub the tip up her slick entrance. It’s almost as good as tasting her, but not quite. Good in a different way. This way is primal. I slide in. It’s not enough.

“Oh, Hugh,” Kelsey sighs. My cock, fortunately for me, lives up to my terrible nickname. I’m long and thick and right now, I feel like I’m splitting her in two. Kelsey wiggles and shifts. When I accidentally pop out, she reaches down to reposition my cock back where she wants it. She likes it. Relief flows down the back of my neck, cold and bracing. I pull out, teasing her.

“Put it in,” she demands greedily. Her heels dig into the base of my spine. I grin and slide all the way inside with a single stroke. Her tight damp heat surrounds me. I grab one breast, palming it flat. The other is owned by Sam. Kelsey’s hand is pumping his cock. Her mouth gapes open, pink and shiny. Somehow, her glasses are still on her face.

That does it. I can’t take much more torture. I pull out and spurt cum all over her stomach. The skirt is ruined. I hit that, too. There’s so much jizz and not a lot of surface. She’s maybe five-foot-three without those towering heels, and I’d guess a hundred fifteen pounds. I may be done, but Kelsey isn’t. She flips off the couch and onto her knees trying to suck Sam again.

“Get up,” he orders. Kelsey scrambles to her feet. He positions her over the back of the sofa so her head faces the seats and slides into her tight little cunt. With her dark hair tangled in his fist, my friend pounds our guest until sharp little cries of pleasure burst out of her. A minute later, he covers her back with creamy strands of jizz.

Guess he’ll be in the market for a new living room seat.

I am secondary. It doesn’t bother me. I occupy a space in Sam’s life that no woman could ever usurp. Still, part of me is uneasy with how quickly this stranger has taken a powerful hold over the most important person in my life.

Sam’s my best friend, my employer, my roommate. Kelsey is his woman. I’m here to make her happy.

But I’ll protect Sam from any threat—and that includes her.

4

Kelsey

This fuck is what I’ve needed so badly and for so long. Big, hard-driving dick. Now, instead of being alone for weeks, I have a seemingly endless supply. I’ve never been so content in my life.

Hugh is everything I’d hoped for in a partner. Giant cock, a talented tongue, and willing to use both to my benefit. I have no illusions of more developing between us. There’s attraction and no regrets. It’s a great thing.

Sam, on the other hand, is someone I can see myself liking if I got to know him. This is a problem. I am relationship-oriented, but I have learned how to hide my heart and my passion. It’s soul-crushing to hear that your sex drive is too high, that your boyfriend thinks you’ll cheat on him if he can’t keep up.

I would never betray trust. I believe with all my heart in open communication when it comes to love and sex. If I were in a relationship and wanted to fuck another man—or woman, I don’t rule that out although my sexual compass points to dick—my partner would be the first to know. All I asked for was the same consideration.

Did I find that? Of course not. If I had, I wouldn’t be sucking Sam’s cock like a starved woman. The release I feel when Sam tightens his grip on my hair and drives into me is beyond satisfying. I’ve already come twice, once when Hugh ate my pussy and again when he fucked me. Those were warmups. Sam gives me the pounding I needed to get the deepest orgasm. I want to feel the imprint of their bodies on mine for days. Anything to drive away the memories of failed relationships that threaten my carefully tended control.

When he finishes, I am butter. I haven’t been so well satisfied ever. I gather my shirt and bra, tug my skirt down and pad in a zigzag, wondering where my room is. “Where do you want me to sleep?”

“With me,” Sam declares. I must give him a discouraging glare, because he grins. Uncertainty creeps in at the edges though.

“I need a little time to freshen up.” I am not opposed to sleeping with Sam Harden, in the strict sense of the word. But my script is calling to me. Time is short. Blowing off an audition, even in the middle of a pandemic, is unacceptable. I need to practice—now, while my head is still clear.

Sam frowns but doesn’t protest. “Your bedroom is this way.”

He shows me into a small but elegantly appointed room. I highly doubt Sam is the one who placed the throw just so across the foot of the bed. It occurs to me that he might think he’s found a fuckable maid to ride out a situation where housekeeping isn’t available.

Uh-oh.

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll be out in a little while. I told you I had a personal project to work on before I agreed to come here.” I say this with as much businesslike calm as I can muster. My heart is hammering against my chest.

Harden is not accustomed to being dismissed. Too bad. He promised me space, and I wasn’t kidding about needing it.

“Okay. Well, KJ, if you want to use the hot tub you can go through this door.” He runs a hand through his hair.

I want to say everything is fine; we can lay down and snuggle on the pristine bed. But I can’t. I have a scene to analyze, to memorize, to practice. I’m too self-conscious to let him see this part of me. Maybe someday, depending on how long this lasts. I let my vulnerability show on the stage. In bed, I’m fully in control until the minute I hand over power, the way I did earlier.

In the shower I scrub the sex out of my hair and off my body. Once clean, I lie naked between the pristine white sheets. The script is good. Spare, with a focus on a few key scenes between the four main characters. I’ve been asked to memorize sections of them. I spend hours making notes in the margins. I haven’t felt this clear-headed and purposeful in a long time.

There are two potential roles I want. One is the wife, who catches her husband cheating and decides to ignore it. I have personal experience to mine for that role.

The other is the stepdaughter. She’s home visiting from college. It’s a stretch to think I’d get that part—it’ll go to some fresh-faced seventeen-year-old. I like how she tolerates none of her parents’ bullshit, though. I’d much prefer to play the stepdaughter.

My stomach rumbles. There’s a knock on the door. I’m not self-conscious about my body but I do put my script in the drawer of the nightstand before grabbing a fluffy robe out of the closet. This place is just like a hotel. “Hi, Sam.”

“Hi, Kelsey.” I can tell he’s nervous from the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot. Warmth bubbles up inside my chest. It’s cute, and unexpected.

“You can call me KJ,” I say quickly, with a wink. Then, because Sam’s a cocky bastard and I wouldn’t want to stroke his ego too hard, I play it a little cool. “I think we’re sufficiently acquainted now.”

Sam leans against the jamb. He’s naked from the waist up. Loose boxers cling for dear life to his hips and his toasted caramel hair curls slightly at his ears and the nape of his neck. He has those sharp indents right above his hip bones. I forget what they’re called but the sight almost makes me drool.

Or—wait.

It’s not the man, it’s the scent of freshly chopped tomatoes and onions. I peek past Sam into the living room which faces into the open kitchen.

Hugh is naked but for a pair of boxer shorts, an apron and a ridiculous chef’s cap perched at a rakish angle over his close-cropped black curls. I swallow. Meat cooking on a hot pan would make me salivate even if the rest of him didn’t.

“Hey there, princess sleepyhead,” Hugh calls out. Apparently, the men think they wore me out, and I’ve been napping. Not even remotely true, but I don’t correct them. Hugh picks up a spatula and prods a hunk of frying meat. It’s steak. My stomach rumbles.

“Can I interest you in a cocktail?” asks Sam. “A Manhattan?”

“A glass of red wine would be perfect.” I can have one. Ordinarily, I don’t drink. Other things I don’t ordinarily do: screw two men who picked me up hours ago. I’m so glad I did though.

Hugh saunters over with a beer in hand. He, Sam and I touch drinks. Sam’s is a deep amber almost the same color as his hair.

“To confinement with two gorgeous men,” I say.

“I think we’re the lucky ones,” Sam smirks in return. He’s no longer nervous, and it makes him too smooth by half. I like it though. My free hand rests on the knot holding my robe closed. I give it a tug and flash the men. Hugh’s eyebrows almost fly off his forehead. He mumbles something about burning steak and ducks his head.

Sam? He skims my figure with heat in his eyes. My nipples pucker into tight beads. I shiver. Not from cold, from anticipation. He intrigues me. Hugh may be the one who first drew my attention but Sam is the man who compels me. He runs a finger between the rise of my breasts.

“I know we’re all going to come through this just fine,” he murmurs. My hand loosens on the stem of the wine glass. Sam’s mouth grazes my earlobe as he plucks it from my grasp. He nibbles his way from the tender spot beneath my ear to the hollow of my throat. I’m hot and weak-kneed from hunger. An emptiness I hardly knew existed in me is full of connection, like I’ve grown a million new nerve endings and only he can touch them.

Sam Harden has blazed a path to my heart straight through my body.

“You lovebirds better fuel up before our next fuckfest.” Hugh grins. He’s shed the apron. Three plates are set around a platter of steak, a side dish of roasted cauliflower and tomatoes, and fresh-baked bread. I nearly faint.

“Excuse me,” I mumble as I push Sam away. His expression is shuttered. Pained. I am too raw to soothe him. Inside my bedroom, I take a deep breath.

Your performances are technically excellent, say casting agents. But they lack heart. Heat. Passion.

What I feel with Sam is passion, and I’m terrified.

5

Sam

When she comes out again a few minutes later, Kelsey is wearing a pair of cutoff sweatpants and a loose terrycloth shirt. Her flat stomach is visible thanks to the way her cropped top tents out from her tits.

She looks about sixteen.

A sick feeling rises in my throat. With makeup and her hair styled Kelsey is all woman. Without those props she looks young enough to make me queasy.

It’s a relief that I spent more time than I should have this afternoon looking into Kelsey’s employment profile. Yeah, I was snooping when I should’ve just asked her. But what was I supposed to do? She holed up in her room right after an hour of the most enthusiastic fucking in my not-exactly-short sexual history. I didn’t know if she had regrets or was tired or what was going on.

My extrovert self is struggling with the way she turned dismissive and cool right after the blow job in the car and then after our getting-to-know-you fuckfest in the living room. Is this going to become a pattern?

“This looks amazing,” she says, perching her sweet little ass on the edge of my mid-century dining chair. Kelsey’s a queen on her throne. She wields her fork like a scepter before plunging it into the bloody center of the steak, sawing off a piece with her knife and delivering it to her mouth between pale pink lips.

Watching her, I feel like the worst kind of perv.

Hugh catches my eye with barely-suppressed concern. True, he’s never seen me fall for a woman before. In the years he’s worked for me, there have been women, even girlfriends. No one like Kelsey. She’s both totally accessible and a complete cipher. Arousing her body is simple.

It’s catching her heart that will be hard.

I’m nothing if not adept at turning a woman on, if I can be so arrogant. It’s the rest that trips me up. Feelings. I like to talk about them. People who think women always want to talk about emotions are idiots. I condemn most men in this. Not Hugh, though. Why do you think we get along?

Don’t let his soft side fool you—he’s a former competitive MMA fighter who left the circuit after a concussion. He drifted into fitness coaching and chef school before finding his true calling, keeping pampered assholes like me alive when shady bastards threaten to stuff your balls down your throat after a foreign real estate deal goes sour. I’m very fond of my balls, and the only genitals I want to taste are KJ’s.

Hugh’s a lover and a fighter.

Me? I’m just a lover. Arrogant, maybe a little high-handed at times, but all I want is to get along. The secret I’ll let you in on is that everyone else does too. Once you know how to exploit that little truth, you can rise as high as you want to.

For example, if you’re negotiating a new condo high-rise in SoHo, as I am this week, you’ll know one of the investors has political ambitions and is willing to put his name to this to make him seem like an actual businessman instead of a rock-stupid guy who was lucky enough to get born into wealth. The fact that he wants his daughter in charge of sales is sketchy as fuck. I’ll give you one guess at how I get this incompetent blowhard to invest in my project. Stroke his ego, let him have his name on the front of the building, hand his daughter a sales brochure and promise two percent of any sales she manages to con her rich friends into. Let him negotiate me up to five.

I’ll be shocked if she sells a single unit.

She’s not as stupid as her sire, but she’s no future MacArthur Genius. Daddy’s not doing her any favors, either. She’s very pretty. Better-looking than KJ, by most people’s standards. But daddy’s little girl—who is very much a grown-ass woman capable of standing on her own if she had any actual skills—has bankrupted both companies she started. Hundreds of millions of dollars, gone poof.

Oh, and she’s under indictment for money laundering in four countries.

I’ll take her daddy’s dollars in the form of a cashier’s check. Real estate is an industry full of people with more money than brains. It’s all about who you know. Fortunately I’m good at relationships, as long as it’s surface-level. I like to talk about feelings because I’m genuinely interested in people, how they live, what they think—but mostly so I can spot my next opportunity.

But Kelsey gives me no toehold to work with. Nothing but a boner and the promise of so much deeper if I can get past her shell. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and yet I crave her like a cat does catnip.

“This is delicious.” Kelsey’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. It’s a sign of how much I want her. I don’t like living in my head. Whereas she seems to prefer living in hers.

“Thanks,” Hugh says. He throws a meaningful look at me. This is how you flirt, dumbass. As if I don’t know how bad I’m screwing up with Kelsey. Maybe her friends call her KJ, but I’m more than a friend, or want to be. I pull my head out of my ass and realize he’s trying to direct her attention to me.

“So, KJ,” I say, picking at my expertly-prepared meal. “Do you think this arrangement will work out?”

She blinks at me as though I’ve asked the dumbest question in history, which frankly I have. Hugh sighs gustily. How bad could I blow this? I race to fix it.

“Since you were indisposed this afternoon, I went shopping for clothes based on the size of your skirt and shirt.” I give her my best half-grin. “After all, you weren’t wearing them.”

Yeah, I’m supposed to be negotiating multimillion-dollar deals, but I may have spent too much of my time this afternoon invading my employee’s—technically, a contractor, but let’s not split hairs, KJ works for Harden, which makes what I’ve done today highly inappropriate—privacy and buying her a ton of sexy clothes. More garments than any woman could possibly need for a few weeks of sitting around the house. Not knowing whether she’d like the things I bought led me to overbuy.

KJ, though...she’s independent. I’m not sure how she’ll receive the news that I got her a whole new wardrobe without asking.

KJ’s eyebrows pop up into two arcs. “Is that so.”

My steak bite hurts when I swallow. It burns down my throat into my stomach. I should’ve asked her for a list of things she liked. Or handed her a credit card. Or offered to take her to her apartment to get her own clothes. I’m not the type to second-guess myself, though. No, I’m Sam Harden, heir to the real estate conglomerate and current CEO, so I say with pure confidence, “It is.”

There are times when I wonder who I would be if I didn’t have the name, the property and the money. Just plain Sam. I fear I would lose my appeal to women if all I had were my face and my brains. And if the industry keeps tanking, I might have an opportunity to find out just how many women are attracted to Samuel Harden, CEO, versus plain old Sam. I shake off this unwelcome thought and grin.

I trace the curve of KJ’s exposed shoulder. She swats me away, and I can’t tell if she’s genuinely annoyed with me or not.

“Ooh,” she says, and grins. KJ stabs a piece of red, juicy steak and pops it between her lush lips. A dimple creases her cheek. Seeing it hits me in the solar plexus. I glance down at my untouched food. When I look up Hugh’s brown eyes are lit with humor. They exchange a brief, unspoken understanding. Jealousy streaks through me.

Hugh’s your best friend, I remind myself.

“I’ll have to try all the clothes on.” KJ purrs the word all. Yet her leaf-green eyes twinkle with mischievous humor. “After you see me in them, I’ll take them off.”

I shift in my chair. My cock wants a taste of her sweet pussy again.

“We could spend hours playing fashion show.” Anticipation floods my head. Now that I know she’s flirting with me I feel less uneasy about my abrupt generosity. Dropping ten grand on women’s clothes is not exactly something I’d budgeted for this month, and my company is on the precipice of rough times.

Stimulus spending, I tell myself. I pump money into the economy, while KJ, Hugh and I stimulate ourselves to distract from this awful situation. Everyone wins.

Yet even as we’re joking around, her easy intimacy with Hugh throws me off. Kelsey’s mine. I feel it in the primal way my body tensed the moment we connected—was it only hours ago?

I refuse to feel envy toward my best friend and bodyguard, though. Hugh is also mine. A brother in every true sense. He’s closer than my blood siblings, who are three sisters and two brothers from three different mothers. All products of an ambitious real estate developer who’s now serving time for fleecing investors and the State of New York alike. It’s messy as hell. If it weren’t for me, Harden Group’s holdings would’ve been auctioned off to the highest bidder.

I came so close to being the version of myself that scares me.

Sure, I made some mistakes in the early days of the rescue—such as that deal gone wrong in Moscow that put a price on my head with the Russian mafia—but overall, I’ve saved the family legacy from Dad’s excesses.

Hugh’s not a threat, I remind myself. I pay him enough to quit any time, if he’s managed his money right. He stays out of loyalty and Kelsey’s arrival isn’t going to test our bond.

“If you clean up the kitchen, Sam, I’ll show Kelsey the hot tub.” Hugh casts me this knowing grin that’s like a match tossed on the toxic gasses of my feelings. This is our usual ritual. He cooks. I wash up. But can’t he see I’m trying to seduce our houseguest and get the fuck out of the way?

“Sure,” I mumble. KJ dutifully deposits her dishes on the counter and follows Hugh out to the deck. I imagine the way Kelsey’s nipples will pucker in the cold air beneath that excuse for a top. It does nothing for the state of my erection, which will have to wait.

I breathe and cut a chunk of steak. It’s barely warm. I’ve been sitting here in my head for half an hour while KJ and Hugh finished eating. I hate being alone with my thoughts more than I hate taking a bath in the market, which I am undoubtedly about to do as this virus wends its way around the world. Nothing to do but ride it out. I’ll bounce back.

Hugh, however, might not be getting quite such a nice bonus this year.

I finish my steak, then tie on an apron and get to work. Kelsey shimmies out of her workout gear. I catch one quick flash of her lithe, naked body before she hops into the warm water of the hot tub.

“Fuck,” I mutter to no one.

6

Hugh

“What’re you doing?” I ask Kelsey. My job is to assess risk, and right now, I’ve got a hinky feeling that Kelsey is up to no good. It’s true I can’t tear my eyes away as she strips out of the lounge gear she wore to dinner. But if this chick thinks she’s going to drive a wedge between Sam and me, she doesn’t know shit from Shinola. We’re as tight as brothers.

Ok, maybe not that close, considering how we like to fuck—that’d be gross. My point is that my antennae are up for any hint of drama.

Kelsey offers none, though. No, you’re sexier than Sam, let’s be together without him whispered in my ear while she makes sure he’ll walk in on us. Nah, we dealt with that situation by showing the lady in question, the door. I ought to be angrier with Sam about bringing a stranger into our little pandemic pod, but I understand why he took the risk. It’s why I have to be here instead of with my own family, though. The one thing I don’t like about this job is the way it forces me to choose Sam over my own kin.

“I’m getting comfortable, Hugh.” She slips into the water like a sylph. I don’t read so much anymore but when I was a kid I loved mythology. That’s what she reminds me of. A mythical creature. Kelsey’s body is perfect. Nice handful-sized tits that bob in the artificial current. I can’t see her nipples, between the bubbles and the blue lights, until she sits back and looks up at the sky.

“This place is heaven,” she breathes, sounding sincere. I sink into the tub beside her and my worries quickly ebb.

“It really is,” I say. An ambulance wail cuts through the night air nine floors below, a reminder of the panic playing out all around us. I’d like to pretend I can get it up for any naked lady in a rooftop whirlpool, but the truth is this virus has me worried enough to distract me from Kelsey’s very appealing form.

What if she has it? All three of us have already been as close as one human can physically be. There’s no escape if she does. Or if I do. We’re all clinging to one another like orphaned possums with no momma to shepherd us to safety. All we have is one another. Which is why we can’t afford any drama during this lockdown. We’ll need one another if anyone gets sick.

“Why’d you come here?” I ask. This question has been buzzing around my head like a fly deserving of a good, hard swat all afternoon. Kelsey still hasn’t finished her wine. I guess she’s not much of a drinker. The half-empty glass sits safely on the rim of the pool. She sips before responding.

“I didn’t want to die alone,” she says. I almost believe her. One pretty foot arches toward my crotch. Yeah, I’m naked, too.

“Is that all?” I press. Kelsey prods my upper thigh with her toes. She’s too short to reach my cock. It’s bobbing around, semi-erect, obscured by the same bubbles and under-lighting that conceal her nipples from my hungry gaze.

“No.” Kelsey’s whole body pauses. I’m strung tight waiting for her reply. Whatever talent this woman has, it’s for making you believe any old bullshit that comes out of her mouth. That has me worried. “Sam Harden is a compelling man.”

“That he is.” Sam is undoubtedly privileged. He’s an arrogant, cocksure fool who acts on instinct. Between the two of us, I’m the thinker. He’s an impulsive motherfucker but he has a nose for a deal like no one I’ve ever seen—and I’ve never seen him home in on a woman like this before.

Kelsey’s charisma pulls you in and traps you. It’s subtle. Is she beautiful? Sure, in the way so many New York women are. Kelsey’s got the cheekbones and the heart-shaped face with the little chin that a big guy like me—or Sam—can cup. She’s got backbone, too. There is no question that Kelsey’s calling the shots here. That blowjob she gave Sam in the back of the Maserati today was for my benefit, partially.

I know where I stand. Kelsey likes fucking me. Great. I like fucking her too.

But whatever’s brewing between Sam and Kelsey makes me uneasy. The way they look at, and avoid, one another tells me how much unspoken depth there is between them. Seems like a lot to have happened in a single afternoon. I wish I didn’t feel a bit left out by this caged-tigers-circling-one-another dynamic they have going.

Kelsey scooches down. Her unseen foot gently prods my cock. The contact sends tight warmth through my low belly. My thighs tense. Kelsey grins. She is ageless beneath a sky obscured by clouds and light. All those stories about fairies and ogres and elves I loved as a kid swirl in my head. I was such a damn dork. I’m not that nerdy twit anymore though. No, the UFC circuit beat that out of me in a hurry.

I grab her foot and stroke the arch with my thumb. Kelsey moans.

“Nice,” she says. “I like that.”