Hot-Bites, Volume Two by Jenika Snow

2

Braden

Ishould be fucking shot. What I’m about to do is wrong on so many levels. This girl seems like the answer to a prayer, albeit a twisted, sadistic prayer, and here she is falling into my lap.

She’s perfect.And a beautiful way to stick it to my bitch of a stepmother, Delia, and dear old Dad. Hell, maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll steal Delia’s silverware off the table at the anniversary dinner.

It’s petty, I know, but ask me if I give a fuck. The answer would be a resounding not one damn bit. I hate them both. I wouldn’t even go to the dinner at all, except for my little sister Tabby, who begged me to be there.

I’m too old for these petty games. At thirty-four and owner of one of the largest software development companies in the United States, I answer to no one and I have more money than I’ll ever need. My worthless father and his gold-digging wife are not even on my radar. But Tabby is everything. She’s the only living person I give two shits about. She’s five and completely innocent, despite living with parents that are the dregs of the universe. Then again, she’s truly raised by her nanny, which I’m thankful for.

My father had no business having another child when he was almost sixty. Especially since he could care less about Tabby, other than how she looks in a photo op. But because he’s a senator of the great state of New York, it’s always about appearances for him. That also included marrying a woman nearly half his age. Seven years later they are still married, which surprises the hell out of me, to be honest.

But if my father being a fucking senator isn’t a reason to move out of the state, I don’t know what is. It’s the reason I left. The more distance I can put between my father and me the better. My company is based in Los Angeles, but I’m in New York this weekend for this damn party.

The last thing I want to do is attend it alone. Delia’s invitation said plus one. Of course, by plus one she meant I am to bring the latest movie star, singer, model, or someone of that caliber. Delia loves to have anyone of notoriety Delia at her gatherings. But I’ll be damned if I’m giving in to her. She’s getting the total opposite.

Besides, there’s a reason the news rags call me a recluse who lives only for the thrill of business. That’s all I have in life, besides Tabby.

“What do you mean you want me?” the girl asks. Her nervousness bleeds through her voice.

She should be apprehensive. I’m going to blackmail her into being my date for the weekend.

“Exactly what I said. You just need to make a decision.”

“What kind of decision?” she asks, color rising on her face.

I take her in all over. The threadbare coat, faded almost-white jeans that curve to her body. She’s petite—the top of her head would be lucky to reach my pecs—but there’s no doubt that she’s got a woman’s body. She says she’s legal and I find myself praying she is because the things I’m thinking about are obscene as fuck.

“What’s your name?” I ask her instead, wishing she had that coat off so I could get a better look at her breasts.

I am being such a dirty fucking bastard right now, and shit, it feels good to not keep myself in check.

“Macy,” she answers defensively, as if she really wants to tell me to fuck off.

“You need to decide if you’re going to come home with me for the weekend, Macy.”

Her eyes widen and then promptly narrow. I’ve pissed her off. Good. I want that emotion to come through when she’s at the party with me.

“I…”

“Or am I calling the cops and having you arrested?” I lift an eyebrow as if either decision would work for me.

I’m being a bastard, but I can’t seem to help myself. Surely, taking me up on my offer would be better for her. She’d be off the streets and once this damn party is over, I’ll give her enough money so she can get on her feet and go back to school without worrying about the price of rent for at least a year or so. Hell, I don’t know anything about her but here I am making all these plans for the little sprite.

I’d like to say what I’m doing is just to help her, but the truth is, I’d be lying. I’m attracted to her. Christ, even now, looking at her face and that soft fall of blond hair that moves down past her shoulders, those deep ocean-blue eyes, and her pouty full lips has my cock standing at attention.

“Are you … I mean, are you offering to pay me for sex?” she asks, her face pale, her gaze looking at me like I’m insane.

And hell, I probably am.

“I’m not offering to pay you at all. I’m merely offering to keep you out of jail.” I stare at her, trying to see if I can answer my own question before I throw it out at her. “Do you do drugs?” I ask her, not getting that vibe from her but needing to know before I go farther. That’s a can of worms I’m not about to open.

“What?” she all but shouts, as if disgusted I even brought it up. “Of course not!” she yells.

“Take your jacket off,” I demand, needing to make sure there are no track marks or other tell-tale signs of drug use.

“What? Are you fucking insane? It’s cold!” she argues, showing a stubborn spirit that I like.

“Do it,” I growl, and I see her eyes widen a bit from my harsh tone. But she does what I say, and a sliver of pleasure moves through me that she obeyed without much hesitance. When her jacket is off, I run my hands over her arms, searching, her skin smooth like butter, soft. I can smell her even better now, this peachy scent that makes me feel drunk. Peach is my fucking favorite.

My cock is pressing against the zipper of my slacks, demanding to be out. I’m definitely attracted to her and that’s a complication I don’t need. Jesus, she’s only eighteen.

She’s completely legal.

A small voice echoes the thought in my head and the tip of my cock starts to get wet from pre-cum, as if the fucker is in agreement. There are no signs of drug use, although I’ll search her legs and toes later. Junkies can be slick about hiding that kind of thing. Still, I don’t see anything about this girl that says she’s that type. She’s clean for running the streets, smells incredible, and her nails are even painted. Fucking painted this light pink color that has my balls drawing up and images slamming through my head of me sucking those digits into my mouth.

Her eyes are completely focused too, trained right on me, as if she wants to slug me in the nose. I grin. I like this fire in her. It’s a hell of a lot different than the fake as fuck socialites that run in my circles.

I think about my arousal for her, knowing that I haven’t been with a woman in a long fucking time. I’ve not even been interested in one until seeing Macy; that’s how I know I’m in trouble where she’s concerned.

I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of her.

Suddenly, this bargain has an added plot twist to it besides sticking it to Senator Harris and his bitch of a wife.

Macy’s about to learn that what I want, I get.

And what I want is her.

It’s as simple as that.