Red Hunted_An MFM Ménage Romance Page 17

  “Tub. Both of you,” Wyatt ordered.

  Fiona turned so he could see her still-bound hands. “What about your tie?”

  “It’s a fucking tie. I can replace it.”

  Parker helped her step into the tub, and Wyatt stayed on the other side. Parker turned the water on, and let it run hot before switching it to the shower head.

  The men soaped Fiona up, hands gently slipping and sliding everywhere until she sank into the warmth and lost track of who touched where.

  None of it distracted her from the need pulsing through her.

  Wyatt’s kiss was tender this time. “My turn to choose. I am the one leaving.”

  Before she could ask what he picked, he trailed his mouth down her chest, sinking to his knees as he went.

  He hooked one of her legs to rest her foot on the edge of the tub. When he glided his tongue along her slit, a low groan tore from her chest, and she pressed into his mouth.

  This time, he didn’t push her away from the touch she craved.

  He spent several minutes licking and exploring every bit of her pussy except those that wanted attention the most.

  “Please,” she whimpered. Her head was light, and she was pretty sure Parker pressed against her back was the biggest reason she could still stand.

  Parker slipped his hands to her breasts again, kneading lightly. Her nipples were still tender from earlier, and each caress zinged through her.

  Wyatt plunged two fingers inside her, and pumped with the sway of her hips.

  She wanted to knot her fingers in his hair. She twitched her hands uselessly against her restraints instead.

  Wyatt reached her clit and sucked. Fiona screamed as climax sped up and crashed through her. She rocked hard, grinding into his face, until his touch was too much. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her hip, and kept his mouth buried between her legs.

  He nudged her past too much and into another orgasm. Stars danced behind her eyes and her thoughts evaporated in a haze of pleasure.

  When Wyatt finally pulled away, her legs threatened to give out. Parker loosened and removed the tie, and tossed it in the sink. He rinsed her the rest of the way clean, his touch light. Wyatt patted her dry.

  Fiona wasn’t sure how she stumbled into the bedroom, but being half-carried was part of it.

  The sex had stolen her chaotic thoughts and loosened the tension running through her. It left her body free to melt into the mattress.

  Parker lay next to her, and it was natural to rest her head on his shoulder. Wyatt slid in behind her, his naked body pressing into her back. What was arousing to the point of frustration just a few minutes earlier was comforting now. It all felt right.

  She settled deeper into the blankets and the security of the men on either side. She didn’t want to talk about this, but she had to know. It shouldn’t be hard to think of Wyatt leaving, but it was. “Do you have a lot of work tomorrow, before you head out?”

  “Oddly enough, no. I wrapped things up today, and I’m slacking tomorrow and cutting work.”

  Her next question froze on her lips. She didn’t want to push Parker away with this. She couldn’t lose him.

  Parker brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. “If you don’t have to get back to your hotel, we’d like the extra company.”

  She loved that Parker knew what she was thinking without her saying a word.

  Wyatt’s hesitation wasn’t so great.

  “Is something wrong?” She couldn’t ignore the pit settling in her gut.

  His easy laugh settled her thoughts again. “Exactly the opposite. I was about to say one hotel room is the same as any other, but that’s too dismissive. This one has you in it, so there’s nowhere else I want to be more.”

  The sentiment stole her breath, and sent a tremor running through her. That was adoration and desire, right? Not doubt and fear?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Fiona woke the next morning, it was almost eleven. She didn’t know if she’d ever slept that late. They left the hotel long enough for Wyatt to go back to his own, and to grab some food.

  She, Parker, and Wyatt spent the rest of the day alternating between watching bad movies and having incredible sex. Fiona did her best not to think about the fact this would be over in just a few hours.

  Night crept up on them, sliding past sunset, and no one had mentioned that Wyatt needed to leave soon.

  She was trying to find the strength to bring it up, when Parker’s phone rang.

  “It’s Nick,” he said.

  Fiona rolled her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for another emergency. “Tell him, if it’s broken, it’s his fault.”

  Parker answered. “Hey. Fiona says— Oh, okay.” He frowned. There was a few seconds’ pause, and he looked at Wyatt. “No shit.”

  She followed Parker’s gaze in time to see a shadow cross Wyatt’s face. Odd.

  “Yeah, no. We didn’t have a clue.” Concern leaked into Parker’s voice.

  Wyatt’s smile was frozen in place.

  Fiona didn’t like the pins creeping under her skin.

  “Thanks for the heads-up. We’ve got it. It’s all good. Talk to you soon.” Parker disconnected.

  “Is everything all right?” Fiona wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  Parker pointed a narrow-eyed glare at Wyatt. “What is it you do, again?”

  “I’m in sales.” Wyatt’s response sounded mechanical.

  That was extra curious. “Fill us in on the details there.” Nervousness clawed at Fiona, telling her not to ask. She needed to know.

  “I’m head of East Coast Distribution, for the company you’re competing against for the Grammie’s contract. Once your deal falls through, the sale is mine.” His reply started off with a waver, but his words were ice by the end.

  Disbelief surged inside, and Fiona clenched her hand, digging her nails into her palm, to give her something external to focus on. She didn’t trust herself to speak. What was she supposed to say?

  Parker didn’t seem to have the same concerns. “And you didn’t say anything, because...?”

  “NDA.” Wyatt looked past Parker, rather than at him.

  “Fuck me.” The words slipped past Fiona’s lips. She glared at Wyatt. “No. Wait. Fuck you. Really?”

  It was all sinking in. He worked for the competition. He knew all along who she and Parker were. He’d never said anything. That didn’t scream good intentions.

  “Nick says he met Wyatt the morning after we did. Wyatt offered him a deal. Some kind of collaborative effort. Nick told him no.”

  “And you didn’t think to mention that two weeks ago?” Fiona was stating the obvious at this point, but she didn’t know what else to do. Why had he done this?

  Wyatt shrugged. “It never came up.”

  “It never came up?” Fiona didn’t care that her voice rose. It was easier than admitting how much this hurt. She’d assumed Wyatt was keeping things from them; it was just sex. But something like this? “What were you hoping to accomplish?”

  “Getting laid?” Wyatt said.

  “No. Fuck you, and bullshit.” Fiona refused to believe it was that simple. “If that were the case, there was no reason to lie about who you are. Why. Didn’t. You. Say anything?”

  He clenched his jaw. “I was looking for a way to trip you up. To cost you the contract.” His eyes went hard. “Lucky for me, you did that on your own.”

  “You need to go. Now.” The threat in Parker’s voice all but shook the room.

  “Yeah. I do.” Wyatt turned on his toe and left.

  Fiona bit the side of her hand, to keep a scream of frustration from slipping out. Her throat burned, and tears pricked her eyes. She refused to cry over this fucking asshole.

  “Can you believe—” Parker turned to her and stopped. He crouched, which brought him to eye-level. “Red. Talk to me?”

  What was she supposed to say? She didn’t even know what to tell herself. She felt stupid and betrayed and blind and
crushed.

  He grasped her wrist and tugged it down. She stared at the bite marks in the fleshy part of her skin, then turned her gaze to Parker. “I know this is the worst possible time to say this.” The words formed, and they tasted right. “I love you, Parker, but—so help me—I need to process what happened. Let me go.”

  His pained look matched the churning inside her, but he dropped his grip.

  Not trusting herself to say anything else, she climbed from the bed, slipped on her shoes, grabbed her phone and purse, and left.

  Fiona’s footsteps beat out an uneven rhythm, as she walked down the hall.

  She should have stayed. Talked this through with Parker. He’d listen, and he’d mean it.

  But she couldn’t look at him. Not with the intense combination of guilt and stupidity that boiled in her veins, both because she loved Parker and because she’d been falling for Wyatt, too.

  Giving words to the feeling made it hurt more. How did she miss the signs they were being played? What was wrong with her, that she fell into things as easily as she did, never questioning?

  God, how idiotic was she?

  She couldn’t lose Parker again; she had to make things right with him. But she felt disloyal. Like she’d been cheating on him.

  Fiona needed to find a way to get Wyatt out of her system, because she wouldn’t subject Parker to the same thing she accused him of, all those years ago.

  She refused to use Parker to fill any sort of void inside. He deserved better.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Red.”

  The voice nudged the edges of Fiona’s fractured thoughts, but she didn’t register it as significant. She headed toward the elevator. Or maybe the stairs would be better. Less chance of having to face other people. Then again, not many people were up at this hour.

  “Fiona.” Footsteps pounded behind her, and a moment later, someone stopped next to her.

  She looked up to see the man from the flashmob—rose-guy. She pasted on her most neutral expression, despite a fresh flurry of nausea. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” He grinned. “I never introduced myself before. I’m Tim.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand. Still clammy. Still disconcerting.

  “I can’t believe I finally caught you alone.”

  Speaking of which— How? Had he been watching through a peephole all night or something? “Amazing.” She kept her tone cool, though nervousness churned inside. She didn’t know if he was the same guy who commented on their videos, but the fact he was in their hotel, on the same floor as them, hundreds of miles from where she last encountered him, set off warning bells. “It was great running into you again. I’m so sorry, but I remembered I left something in my room.” Like Parker.

  “Don’t go yet.” Tim shifted his stance when she turned, blocking the path back to her room. “I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

  “What’s up?” She didn’t have the emotional capacity right now to turn this into an argument. If she maneuvered right—talked and walked and kept him distracted—she’d be back safe and sound before panic fully set in.

  She tried to step around him, and he adjusted his position again.

  Her back was to an open door. Why didn’t she see that before? Scream and run. Good call. Fiona opened her mouth, and Tim drove an elbow into her stomach.

  Pain spread like a shockwave from her gut, stealing her breath and forcing tears from her eyes. Instead of a shout, a pitiful squeak tore from her throat. Before she regained her senses, he crammed a rag in her mouth.

  She choked at the sudden intrusion, bile rising in her throat. Panic built inside. She forced herself to breathe through her nose, to keep from gagging.

  Tim grabbed her wrist and twisted, forcing her the few more steps needed to enter the room. He pressed her face to the wall and wrenched her arm behind her back. A new wash of agony tore from her shoulder, which was held at an awkward angle.

  “You said we could talk.” His breath was hot on her neck. “Screaming isn’t talking.”

  She nodded, trying to force back the panic and pain. She could kick him or step on his foot or something. She just had to get away long enough to tear out the gag and make noise. It was a fucking hotel. Someone would hear.

  “I only need you to hear me out.” He pressed his weight against her, squeezing more air out of her lungs, and rested a foot between hers, keeping her off-balance.

  Something plastic and thin, with sharp edges, dug into her wrists, accompanied by the zip of the restraint being pulled tight. “I didn’t want to do things this way. I need you to see what I see.”

  Tim yanked her farther into the room, and she stumbled, hoping to knock herself loose. Instead of letting go, he gripped her arm tighter and half-dragged her until she found her footing.

  Her knees burned through her jeans, her shoulder screamed in pain, and she struggled to draw breath. When he yanked out a chair and helped her into it, she collapsed with relief.

  “The first time I saw you on camera, distraught and tormented, I knew I could help. And when we met at the cafe, there was a spark. You felt it too.”

  Holy shit. This guy wasn’t just nuts; he was borderline movie-villain delusional. Fiona stomped her feet against the ground as hard as she could, hoping to make enough noise to piss off the neighbors. To get someone’s attention.

  “Stop.” Tim’s bark rang in her ears. He slapped her, and her head jerked back from the impact. “Jesus. I wish you would stop.”

  He wanted her to stop? A new wave of tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back with anger.

  He grabbed her forearm, digging his fingers in so hard she expected it would leave bruises. “We’ll do it this way instead.” He hauled her onto the bed and laid her on her side. Her legs dangled over the edge, but before she could kick, he zipped a second tie around her ankles, and cinched it until it dug into her tendons.

  He moved behind her and dragged her further onto the mattress. A second later, he was in front of her again, lying next to her, on his side, looking her in the eye.

  When he rested a hand on her cheek and traced his thumb under her eye, she wanted to jerk away, but she didn’t want to antagonize him further.

  “It’s been a long week for you.” The sympathy in his voice made Fiona want to retch. “That asshole, Wolf, following you around. Your supposed best friend dragging you along on his adventure. Neither of them thinking about you.”

  The reminder of Wyatt might hurt if she wasn’t sinking like a stone in a pool of terror.

  “You should sleep,” Tim said.

  No. She didn’t know what he meant, but it couldn’t be good. She squirmed and tried to scream through the gag, but he used his weight to pin her down and searched her eyes. “I’m not like Wyatt,” he said.

  That made this so much worse. Parker had never used Wyatt’s name on camera. No one watching their videos should know it.

  “I won’t touch you until you’re ready.”

  Fuck. She wanted out of this. She wanted Parker. She wanted to go home.

  “Get some sleep, Red.”

  She felt a sharp jab in her arm, and clouds swam into her head. She clawed to stay above them. To not surrender. But consciousness slipped away.

  PARKER WANTED TO STOP Fiona before she walked out the door, but her words stalled his thoughts. If she needed space, he’d give it to her.

  I love you, Parker. The declaration echoed in his head. Hearing her say it made his heart soar and his mind numb. He needed to tell her he felt the same.

  But it wasn’t that simple. He wanted it to be. Those four words should be what they needed to solidify things between them.

  They each had their own baggage to deal with still, though. And Wyatt. Red crossed Parker’s vision. He wanted to track the smug fucker down and grind his face into the pavement.

  It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would make Parker feel better.

  Wouldn’t it?

  It certainly woul
dn’t get Fiona the Grammie’s contract back. Which was where his thoughts kept drifting. He’d never forgive himself if he cost her this chance. Or if he let her leave without telling her how he felt. He needed her to come back, so he could say it. I love you too, Fiona.

  The minutes ticked away, turning into hours, as the clock passed midnight, and then one. Concern bled in. He understood she was upset, but where the hell was she at this time of night?

  He sent her a quick text. Making sure you’re all right. Send me an OK at least?

  Fifteen minutes later, she hadn’t replied. He scribbled a note and left it on the table, then wandered downstairs. Maybe she’d settled into one of the chairs down there and was reading, or fell asleep. It was a long shot, but as concern grew inside, he had to do something.

  No one was in the lobby except the guy working behind the counter.

  “Hey.” Parker painted on a friendly smile as he approached. “Have you been working all night?”

  They clerk gave him a flat stare. “Since ten. Why?”

  “Did you see a redhead come through here, in the last couple of hours? Maybe she called a cab?”

  The guy shook his head. “Haven’t seen anyone tonight except you. Sorry, man.”

  Fuck. Parker’s smile wavered. “Thanks anyway.”

  He returned to their room, hoping she’d be waiting when he opened the door.

  When the room was empty, he wasn’t surprised. Where the hell was she? It was almost two. Did he need to call every Denny’s, Waffle House, and IHOP in the city until he found her?

  That was probably a bit obsessive.

  The word plummeted in the hollow pit growing in his gut, gnawing a hole into a thought he couldn’t quite grasp or ignore.

  Obsessive. Like a guy who’d follow someone he saw on YouTube across several states? Nah. Parker was grasping at straws now—looking for an excuse, when Fiona left on her own and would be back when she was ready.

  The self-assurance didn’t work. He looked up the local number for the police and dialed.

  “Dispatch. May I help you?” The voice of the woman who answered was a blend of bored and sympathetic. Odd combination.