Facade: Facade Page 7

  I make my weekly call to my mother, hoping that my phone will chime with an incoming text, and of course it doesn’t. After I hang up with my mother, I call my sister to check in with her. Nothing new, not that I expected there to be something exciting in her life. She and her husband recently had a little girl, so she never has anything to talk about other than my niece and the milestones she’s accomplishing. As interesting as it is, I really don’t care too much. Am I supposed to know that Marissa rolling over at two months instead of three is a big deal? No … I’m not. I can’t blame her, though. She was the one I would call when Shelby would do something cool. God, I’m a wreck and I’m acting like a dick.

  Trying to be proactive, I check my bank balances, pay my bills for the month, send Dawn the monthly stipend I pay for Shelby—even though Dawn asked me years ago to stop paying it—and shuffle around some of my investments. Thankfully, I can do all of this online and don’t have to wait until business hours come around to speak to a banker or broker. I’m waiting for the confirmation number from the mortgage company when my phone starts beeping from across the room.

  I jump, yes, jump—like a teenage girl—at the sound, and rush across the room to answer the call. I don’t bother checking the caller ID. There’s only one person I know who would call me after eight.

  “Hey, I’ve missed you.” I really do try to curb my excitement, but it’s a failed attempt.

  “Well, I’ve missed you, too. What are you doing?” My cousin Taylor’s voice comes across the line. Motherfucker.

  “Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.” If that isn’t the worst thing I could say, I don’t know what is.

  “Smooth. Real smooth,” Taylor tries to cover the hurt behind sarcasm; it’s a Roberts’ trait.

  “Sorry, what’s up? How’s school?” Taylor’s recently been accepted into a pre-med program. I really am proud of my cousin. Not too many people actually have the grades and focus to fulfill a commitment like that.

  “School’s fine. Still at the top of my class. As if we expect anything different, right?” Taylor’s never been one for modesty. “But I have a little bit of a problem. Jessie and I broke up and I need a place to crash until I can get back into student housing. Can you help me out? It’ll only be a few weeks at the most.”

  The thought of having a hormonal college kid living in my house doesn’t really appeal to me, but what can I do? Turn my back on my family? Never. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short twenty-seven years, it’s that family is all you really have. While the entire world is trying to tear you down, your family should be the ones to build you back up and be an honest support system.

  “Yeah, I guess you can crash. Do you mind staying in the guest house?”

  “No, dude. That’s perfect. I’m gonna pack up a few things and head over. I’ll go back this week to get the rest of my stuff when Jessie isn’t home.”

  “Okay, I’ll be home the rest of the night. If for some reason I’m not home when you get here, you have the code to the garage. Why did you and Jessie break up, anyway?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know the answer. I never got a good feeling from Jessie anyway.

  “Jessie’s a bitch, nothing more, nothing less.” Something tells me that it is something more, but Taylor’s just not ready to talk about it yet. If only the people in my life would talk about the issues they’re having, discuss them like adults, we could save ourselves a lot of trouble and heartache.

  Before Taylor shows up, I decide to take a quick shower and get into bed. I’m not in a mood to discuss relationships or the lack thereof.

  Once I let the warmth of the water surround me, my body is aware of its surroundings. It’s been a few days since Kylee was last here, but I can smell the sweet scent of her body wash still lingering.

  Taking the wash cloth over my chest, I suddenly find myself wishing it were Kylee’s hands all over me. As I lather further down, I drop the rag and take myself in my hand, relishing in the steam billowing around me, the smell of Kylee and the slick feel of the soap meeting my hardness.

  Gripping at the base, using slow strokes, I imagine Kylee kneeling in front of me, ready to take me in her mouth. She subtly licks her lips. I press the head of my dick to her full lips, enticing her to open and she does. She licks around my head, slowly taking in each and every inch I feed her.

  My strokes get quicker as I’m daydreaming of hitting the back of her throat. I can almost feel the excruciatingly erotic sensation of her swallowing around the head of my cock, her natural muscular reaction trying to milk the orgasm from my body.

  Closing my eyes and leaning my head against the cool tile, I see Kylee rubbing her hand down her taut stomach until she reaches her cunt. Pushing two fingers inside her wet opening, she moans around my dick.

  My balls pull tight as my release is coming quicker than I thought it would. I fast forward my fantasy and Kylee is lying before me, baring her pussy for my appreciation. And fuck, do I appreciate it. As soon as I get my dick nestled within her tight walls, my orgasm rears its head, and I’m surprised how powerful it is.

  My entire body jerks as come spurts out in two or three streams onto my stomach, which is washed off by the showerhead before it has a chance to dry.

  I finish my shower and walk into my bedroom, spent and ready to sleep. My head hits the pillow, and I’m yet again assaulted with the scent of Kylee and the memories we’ve shared in this bed. This is the place that I lured her into letting me take her on a date, where I used her body against her to get my way and one of the places I fell in love with the redheaded beauty that’s captured almost all of my conscious thoughts.

  Love? Get the entire fuck out of here. I can’t possibly love her, right? Fuck…

  Either Taylor came in while I was in the shower or after I got in bed, but the house is dead quiet. Thankfully, I succeed in my attempt to remain a hermit for the rest of the night.

  I’m tempted to jack off again, but my exhaustion takes over before I can even get the hand that’s snuggly wrapped around my dick to complete a stroke. I’m positive that dreams of a certain ginger are sure to taunt me in my sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kylee

  I wake up the next morning feeling beyond refreshed. Spending a night drinking with your best friend is truly the best medicine. Mira and Skylar must still be sleeping since I don’t smell any coffee brewing.

  Taking the duty upon myself, I go to brew a pot, only to find one of those fancy one cup coffee makers sitting on the counter. I remember that Danny bought it for them for Christmas. Mira’s more a fan of tea than coffee, but she has to wake up with a cup and well, Skylar lives on coffee.

  I acclimate with the machine and take my freshly brewed cup into the living room. Fishing my phone out of my purse, I return Jacoby’s text from last night. I will never understand how my phone falls to the bottom of my bag even when I toss it right on top.

  Me – Hey you. WRUD today?

  I cautiously sip my coffee and turn on the TV. Usually. I avoid watching the news like the plague, but the story I turn on is something about a local MC putting together a food and coat drive. I swear, people always have the MC community wrong. Yeah, they can be ruthless and dangerous, but at the same time, they take care of their own and their neighbors. Moments like this make me proud to be a part of Skylar’s extended family.

  Moments later, my phone chimes with an incoming text.

  Jacoby – Working for a while then IDK. What’s up?

  Me – Wanted to see if you wanted to do dinner and talk?

  I remind myself to take a deep breath. I pray that this nagging feeling in my heart will go away once I see him and have some mind blowing sex. It’s also possible that I want to discuss exactly what he wants with this more thing he keeps talking about. Daughter or not, I’m pretty sure I have feelings for Jacoby fucking Roberts.

  Jacoby – I have a few things to do after work. Can I come by later?

  For the first time, I feel like a boo
ty call, when it’s usually the other way around. I feel used and unwanted, but something in me will take what I can get.

  Me – IDK if I’ll be home. I’ll swing by your place?

  My brain catches up with my heart. This is how it all starts. Suddenly, you’re not the first priority, allowing other women to jump in and take your place because the guy in your life becomes comfortable in the relationship. This is exactly how those skanks move in and take something you’ve worked so hard to get.

  Jacoby – That’s fine. I should be done around 9.

  Me – See you then.

  Why the fuck did I just say that? I should have said something more noncommittal. Christ.

  Now I have to find something to do for the entire day. I’m sure Mira and Skylar will want to spend some time together, so I can’t interfere with their alone time. I could always call Danny, but I don’t really want to hang out with Melissa. I have a few other friends I could call, but most are out of town for the holidays, or are boring as hell.

  I could go visit my parents for the day, but the thought of spending any unnecessary time with my father makes me cringe. I probably should go home and write, but I’m not feeling my storyline today and I really don’t want to force it.

  I send Mira a quick feeler text to see if she’s awake. After five minutes, the text is still unanswered, so she’s either sleeping or engaged in some extracurricular activities. Brown chicken, brown cow. I send another telling her to call me later and I’ll be around if Skylar has plans and she wants to hang out again.

  I gather my stuff and head out the door. Once I’m in my car, headed down the highway, the most brilliant idea strikes me.

  I’m so scared of becoming the type of woman I despise; the one that caters to her man, never caring for herself, gets lost in a relationship and loses who she is. That’s the kind of woman that usually ends up the broken hearted one with an unfaithful husband. I’m scared that it won’t be me that Jacoby comes home to fuck because he just got his rocks off in his office with whatever secretary is manning the desk that day.

  I gun the accelerator, needing to get home as quick as possible in order to carry out my plan before I come to my senses.

  Once I walk in the door to my apartment, I hightail it to the shower. I scrub every inch of my body, shave every necessary place and try to wash the smoke out of my hair. Once I’m satisfied that I can’t get any cleaner without removing another layer of skin, I step out into the steam filled bathroom.

  Before I go into my bedroom, I apply a lightly scented lotion that smells a lot like pears all over my body, paying special attention to the areas I anticipate that will be touched most. Standing naked in front of the tall mirror on the back of the door, I’m satisfied with what I see; soft skin with a hint of bronze and deep green eyes with a dark chocolate rim around the irises staring back at me.

  A lot of people would say that my sexual behavior has something to do with a poor self image, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. My behavior is rooted much deeper than the surface.

  My breasts aren’t too big or too small, just the right size for me—and most men. My belly is flat and toned, due to the high metabolism passed down to me by my mother. My generous hips spread at just the right angle to allow enough room for my butt, which might be on the bigger side, but what’s that old saying? More cushion for the pushin’? Sounds about right.

  I would change nothing if given three wishes by a magic genie. It’s all a part of what makes me me.

  After an hour passes, I’m ready to go. Every hair’s in place, my attire clearly spells out what I’m after and my makeup is impeccable. After one last glance and a deep breath, I shrug into my knee-length black coat, and I’m out the door.

  No time for regrets. Live life to the fullest and own your decisions.

  I park outside Jacoby’s office building, get out of my car—careful not to reveal too much—and take a few confident strides to the automatic doors that open upon my approach. I stop at the security desk just inside and give him my name and who I’m here to see. I probably could’ve kept walking and he wouldn’t have said anything, but if this is going to work I can’t risk Jacoby being in a meeting or something.

  The guard gives me a visitor’s pass that I clip to my coat and escorts me to the elevators. I’ve been here plenty of times and have never had an escort. I’m sure he just wants to spend as many seconds with me as possible; enough to add to his spank bank. Leaning inside the elevator doors, he presses the button for the eleventh floor and backs away.

  “Have a good day,” he mutters as the doors close slowly in his face. I nod in response and wave my fingers. His smile disappears and my ride begins its assent.

  Each floor that passes increases the swarm of butterflies in my stomach. This is a totally new feeling for me. I don’t get nervous easily and it’s usually over a test or something that can affect my future.

  This will affect your future.

  The light at the top of the elevator shines over the number eleven. I hear a ping and the doors open to Jacoby’s suite: Roberts Development and Planning.

  I open the glass doors and step in to one of the most stunning reception areas I’ve ever seen, including the one in my father’s office. The contemporary furniture set in a room of caramel colored walls is to my left. A conference room encased by floor to ceiling glass has the most beautiful twenty person mahogany boardroom table directly in the center. Straight ahead is the reception area where a beautiful exotic woman sits, welcoming all visitors.

  “Good morning, ma’am. How can I help you?” the woman behind the desk says with a genuine smile.

  “Good morning. I’m here to see Jacoby Roberts. I assume he’s in.” I have no idea why I’m being short with this woman who’s done nothing at all to me. It might be because of the images of her under Jacoby’s desk blowing him like her job depends on it. She presses a button on her phone and I hear Jacoby’s voice on the other end, muttering something or another.

  “Mr. Roberts. You have a visitor in the lobby,” she coos. I know the sound of a woman who’s completely enamored by a man when I hear one.

  “Who is it, Tiffany?” It’s terrible that his strong, authoritative voice makes me ache for him.

  Tiffany lets go of the button and eyes me, waiting for me to announce myself.

  “Kylee Anderson,” I quip, like she should’ve known all along.

  Tiffany rolls her eyes and goes back to the phone; the genuine smile is long gone. “A Miss Kylee Anderson, sir.”

  “Escort her back, please, Tiffany.”

  She stands and walks around the end of her desk, waiting for me to join her at another set of glass doors that lead to the actual offices. Following her through a maze of hallways and cubicles, I briefly remember the way myself, but I’d probably get lost if I tried to do this on my own.

  When we get to the door that’s marked Jacoby Roberts CEO, my tour is over and she leaves me to enter on my own. I lightly knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Jacoby says, the thick door muffling his voice.

  I turn the handle and push through the door to his sprawling office. I’ve read books about spacious offices that are home to the demanding, yet sexy as hell owners of companies before. Nothing beats seeing it firsthand.

  “Kylee, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” I suddenly feel stupid for coming down here. The look of worry instead of the smoldering look I was hoping for crushes my spirits.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine, I just wanted to come see the man in his natural habitat,” I joke, hoping he doesn’t see through me and notice the scared girl hiding behind this well-manicured facade.

  “Oh, okay. You look beautiful.” With just three words, my confidence is back and I’m ready to carry out my plan.

  Looking around his office, I gather that he’s alone. I reach behind me with one hand and lock the door to avoid any unwanted visitors. Okay, it’s really to avoid Tiffany thinking she’s been invited to come in and
play.

  “Mr. Roberts, I seem to have forgotten to process the permits you needed me to.” I’m no actress, but I’m almost positive I’m nailing the bad secretary in any porno.

  “What are you talking about, Kylee?” Jacoby eyes me skeptically. Apparently, he hasn’t caught on to the game I’m playing. Time to turn it up a notch.

  “Sir, please don’t fire me. I swear I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything.” I pop the first button on my coat, exposing the black lace bra that makes my girls look like a million bucks.

  “Anything, you say? Well, I’m sure there’s something we can work out.” Finally, he gets it. I was a little nervous that I would have to act this entire thing out alone.

  Jacoby closes the distance between us, holding my gaze with his magical honey eyes that have me under his spell. I initiate and he quickly takes control of the situation. Talk about man in his natural habitat.

  “Miss Anderson, you do realize that without those permits being filed, I won’t make my deadline? That’s going to cost me a lot of money. You also realize that you’re going to have to find a way to make up for your indiscretion that will be worth it for me, correct?” Jacoby circles me, much like a shark stalking its prey.

  I’m hyperaware of his position behind me and the anticipation of what he’s going to request has my mind reeling. His large palm caresses my backside, quickly realizing that I’m not wearing any panties underneath the coat. Jacoby lifts the material and takes in a deep breath.

  “Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, taking a hold of my ass in his hands. While I’m enjoying his touch, I get the feeling that he has ideas for this untainted part of my body and it’s not a good feeling whatsoever. If he thinks for one second that he’s going to fuck me there, he’s lost his gorgeous, brilliant mind.