Devoured (16 page)

Seth sounds anguished from the moment he answers. “Sienna, I’m—”

“No, you listen for once,” I say. “You can’t just take out your frustrations on people you care about without even giving them a chance to explain themselves. And by the way, I don’t have to explain myself to you, the same way you don’t want to prove yourself to me. You ripped into me without knowing a goddamn thing about what was going on. If you had only asked me, I probably would have just told you what you wanted to know.”

“Look, I—”

I cut him off again. “I’m not finished. If you ever talk to me like you did yesterday again, I will kick you in the balls, Seth. You’re so pissed at what Mom did to you, the way Jeremy used to talk to you, the people they brought around you, and yet you act just like them.” And here I am, the total opposite of Seth. Wincing every time someone so much as breathes at me.

“Seth, I don’t want to be the fucked up people they’ve made us,” I whisper.

He inhales and exhales heavily for what seems like minutes, hours, but in reality is only seconds. “Me neither.”

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“God, I wish I could tell you. But I’m sorry, Sienna. I shouldn’t have ever spoken to you like that. I-I love you.”

“Holy shit, are we having a creepy talking card moment?” I ask, and he laughs. 

When he finally stops, his tone of voice turns serious. “Can you tell me what you’re doing with Wolfe? Please?”

“It’s best I don’t,” I say honestly.

“Well then, let me ask you this: Does it have something to do with the house?” 

“Yes.”

And no. It started out as having everything to do with the house and now . . . I’m not entirely positive what it is anymore. The only thing I do know is that no matter how happy I pretend I am in five days, I’ll be dying inside because I’ll have to let this go.

I’ll have to let Lucas go.

I’m sure my brother’s mind has gone to the worst possible assumptions but after he clears his throat a couple times, he says, “Then I’m sure you’ve got a good ass reason for what you’re doing.”

It’s the closest thing to an acceptance that I’m probably going to get from my brother, but for now it works. I have a feeling that in order for Seth and me to really get all of our feelings out on the table, we’re going to have to do it in front of our mother.

And when that happens, we’ll go ahead and take Gram along for the ride too. That way Mom can finally explain to us why she convinced Gram to take out a six-figure loan on her house to bail her out of jail just to turn around and skip town.

It will be a good old family reunion, complete with tears and hatred.

†

Lucas comes in while I’m answering his fan mail, looking absolutely exhausted. I feel awkward asking him anything about Sinjin, so I don’t keep him in the little downstairs office for long. An hour after he arrives, though, he messages me to come upstairs to the main office.

I’m at a genuine loss for words as I linger by the door, my fingers gripping the elaborate crown molding as I wait for him to say something, anything at all.

He stands, coming around to the front of the desk and motions me forward. I go to him but leave a foot of space between ourselves. “Sin’s agreed to go back to rehab,” he says. 

I can still see the wild look in Sinjin’s eyes when he came after me. Honestly, I don’t think he was sober enough to hit his mark, but it was still terrifying to think about him being high enough to try and hurt me. “I’m so glad. D-do you think . . . he’ll be alright?” I whisper. 

Leaning his tall body to the desk, Lucas shrugs, frustrated. “He’s been before. Every time we gear up for a tour or an album. And it’s prescription now, so who the fuck knows.”

My chest clenches painfully, and I bring my hands up to my mouth. “God, Lucas. Ugh, I’m so very sorry,” I say. And this is why I hate drugs and the people who dole them out like Skittles. They tear families into a million pieces, and Sinjin is like a brother to Lucas. They’ve been making music together for ten years, since they were eighteen, and were friends long before that.

I don’t want this to be the end of their relationship.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Sienna. For whatever he said to you. For putting you in such a fucked up situation to begin with—Kylie warned me he was back on the pills but I didn’t want to listen.”

“He’s your best friend,” I point out. “And he needs a lot of help.”

Tentatively, as if he’s still unsure of whether or not he should still take my invitation to touch me to heart, he lifts my hands up, pressing them between his. Closing his eyes, he touches my fingers to his lips and kisses them softly. “He is. He’s my oldest friend, but I wanted to rip him to fucking shreds when I found out he was out there with you alone.”

“Really, he didn’t say anything that bothered me,” I lie. “And besides, I’m us—”

“If you say that you’re used to people treating you like that I swear to God I’ll bend you over this desk and keep my promise with the drumsticks.”

My breath catches, and he squeezes my hands a little harder, a little more desperately. “I called my brother earlier,” I whisper, dragging my hands away from his and sliding them down the front of his body. 

“Stop,” he warns as he grabs my wrists. His lips are inches away from my lips. I stretch my neck up to touch them but he moves his head a fraction.

“I told him what you told me to say. I told him—”

Groaning, he very gently pushes me away from him and drags his hands up and down his face. “Unbelievable. I come in from, literally, one of the shittiest days of my life and you’re being obedient and—”

His cock is hard. I can see its outline straining against his jeans and he’s not making a move to hide it. “Do you want me to go away, Sir?” I murmur.

“Come back over here, Sienna,” he growls. I obey, moving closer to him until I can practically feel static electricity thrumming from our bodies. “Get down on your knees.”

I know where this is going to go. I know that if I do this I’m only a few steps away from uttering those words he’s challenged me to say since even before day one began. Nevertheless, I’m at the point where I want to see this through. Where I have to have him, even if I have to come to terms with giving myself over in the process

Where I know that the chemistry between the two of us isn’t worth fighting.

Carefully, I slide down to the floor, one knee meeting the hard bamboo wood at a time. I don’t miss the way he shudders when I lock my eyes with his, waiting for the rest of his instructions. 

He traces his fingertips around the outline of my face, gently stroking my temples, my cheeks, my lips. Tucking his fingers under my chin, he draws my face up until my head is tilted all the way back and my hair sways against my bottom. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, before bending over to claim my lips. He drags my tongue into his mouth, teasing it in a desperate game of cat and mouse—wolf and sheep— with his own tongue. 

I lift my hands to touch his face but he barks out a rough command for me to keep them behind my back. I clasp them together, linking my fingers tightly. He moves his own hands to my breasts, testing their weight before rolling and pinching my nipples between his fingertips.

My breath comes out in sharp, pleading gasps as he alternates between sliding his tongue into my mouth and sucking on my top lip, between squeezing the tips of my nipples and pushing my dress aside to probe the wetness between my legs. He nudges my slit with his knuckles, never moving my panties.

Whimpering, I squeeze my eyes together. I feel like I’ll come at the slightest provocation, at the slightest glance from him, and I grind my teeth. To punish me, he takes his hands and mouth away from my body. I convulse anyway, and then open my eyes. His cock springs forward and rubs against my cheek. Despite not having received directions from him, I flick my tongue out, taking his head into my mouth. 

He tangles his hands into the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my mouth away from his body. “You’re so amazing. So good,” he says, stroking my beck. “You’re going to learn, Sienna.”

I nod my head, ready.

Willing.

Craving.

He teaches me slowly. The way to take my mouth down his length until he moans and rakes his hands through my long hair. The way he likes it when I use my teeth, placing just the tiniest bit of pressure on him. How he goes frantic when I squeeze my lips together, swiveling my tongue around his cock until he climaxes in my mouth.

Afterward, when I move to sit down on my bottom, he shakes his head and says roughly, “Stay exactly as you are.”  He sinks down to his own knees, going around my body in careful, animalistic circles as he drags my panties down to my knees with his mouth. I’m shivering, dying for his touch. His hands are warm and gentle and rough as they guide my thighs apart. Then, he parts my wet slit with the hard tip of his tongue.  

And as I remain there, with the flooring hard beneath my weak knees and my fingernails raking my hands behind my back—as I remain there with him making me shudder and threatening to spank me if I so much as move my hands or body—I know that I’m ready to learn everything about his world.

Even at the risk of losing my heart. 

Day six begins in what can only be described as a manic frenzy. At 6:30 a.m., I receive a text on the phone Lucas has given me from Kylie.

Hey, babe, what email address did you send Luke’s confirmation for the flight to Atlanta to? Don’t see it in the regular email and was worried. 

I should be irritated that she’s checking up behind me, but I’m more concerned with the fact I have no earthly idea what she’s talking about. I shoot her a quick text message back, asking her what’s going on. Fifteen seconds later, the phone vibrates in my hand.

“Okay, please tell me you’re just kidding me and you sent the confirmation to your personal inbox. You did, right?” Kylie pleads. She sounds half asleep. As if to confirm my suspicions, she yawns rudely into the receiver.

Tossing the warm blankets off of my body, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch my toes. “No, I didn’t. How was I supposed to know the reservations needed to be made in the first place?” Although, when I say it out loud, it seems like it would have been a good idea for me to check up on that sort of thing. I have to be the worst assistant ever because the only thing I’ve been able to focus on for the last five days was how sexually drawn I am to my boss.

At some point, I’ve even lost sight of the objective that made me say yes to working for Lucas in the first place. Getting Gram’s house back. 

Kylie releases a tiny yelp. I hear her headboard thud against the wall, and a low male voice murmurs something. “Go back to sleep,” Kylie whispers, doing a horrible job at muffling the receiver. To me she says, “Sorry about that, errr—”

“Housekeeping?” I suggest, stifling a snort.

“Right, housekeeping. Sienna . . . this is bad. I could’ve sworn that I left instructions for you to make the reservation on the list of—”

“You didn’t.”

She groans as if she’s in despair, and I can imagine her raking her hands through her mess of black and blue hair. “I had an awful dream about this, you know? Like I woke up in a cold sweat and freaking out, it was that awful. What are we going to do?”

The solution seems simple, but after I start up my computer and pull up several tabs to search for available flights, I see why Kylie has contacted me on the verge of a major meltdown. This is one of those messed up instances where the universe is laughing at me because I discover there are absolutely no flights left for the day.

“I’ll have to drive him, then,” I say. There’s no other way around it. I cringe at the idea of making the five hour drive from Nashville to Atlanta with Lucas staring at me, making me nervous. He’ll probably do everything in his power to get me hot, wet, while I’m driving, which in his case, isn’t much. 

She groans, and the sleepy guy—
housekeeper
—beside of her moans. The bed squeaks again, but I pretend like I don’t hear it.

“He’s not going to be happy,” she whispers. I hear her shuffling about and a moment later, the sound of a horn honking and sirens somewhere in the background.  Then I hear her inhaling—she’s smoking. “I mean, after what happened with Sinjin yesterday . . .” 

I swallow hard. Wyatt and Cal, Your Toxic Sequel’s lead guitarist, had come by late last night for drinks with Lucas. None of them seemed like they were in a drinking mood, but they took down shot after shot as if the world was coming to an end. I stayed out of their way, pretending to do work in the other room, until Lucas called for me to drive Wyatt and Cal to a strip club to meet up with some of their friends. But when I dropped them off, Wyatt had pulled me aside.

“The way Lucas looks at you . . . don’t fuck him over, okay? You fuck with him and it messes with our music. I might not hit girls but I know chicks that’ll beat your ass for me.” 

I guess he knew very little about the solo album Lucas’s was planning to release or if he did, he didn’t say anything. I came as close as I could to smiling without breaking down.

“Really? You’re threatening to have some girl beat me up over something you’re imagining. You rockers are so sensitive.”

“And very protective of our careers,” he’d said, as he fished his ID out of his wallet and approached the door to the club. Turning on his heel for a second, he says, “Have fun in Atlanta.”

“Sienna? Hey, Sienna? Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Kylie demands, drawing my attention back to the present.

“Yeah, I’m here. Hey, I’m going to make some calls directly to the airport. I’ll get back to you in a few, okay? Bye,” I say in one breath. I hang up before she has a chance to start fretting again.

But in the end, before Lucas is up two hours later, it’s Kylie who saves the day. She sends me the confirmation for a private jet she’s managed to charter to my personal email, CCing Lucas. When I see the cost of the flight, I’m left wheezing. It’s enough for Tori and I to pay all of our expenses for a good three or four months.

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed by the change of plans or the amount of money Kylie spent when he calls me in to eat breakfast with him. I sit across from him in the kitchen, drinking coffee. He eats fresh fruit, his eyes locked intensely on me. I slump down in my seat, touching my hand to my face.