Red Consumed Read online

  “Better?” he asked, tone still gravelly.

  She could still think—Wyatt’s voice and scent and taste clogged her senses—and that was a problem. “Not yet, but close.” She glanced around. At the sight of an ajar janitorial closet, inspiration spread through her, carried on the fading waves of climax.

  “Over here.” She tugged Parker into the small room and shut the door behind them.

  “Red...” His warning was sharper in the dark.

  She knew how to cut his restraints, and it would do the same for her. “I need to taste you.” She was already undoing his jeans with one hand, and tracing his erection with the other.

  His shaft was hot against her palm when she worked him free. The groan he let out sang to her soul. She trailed a nail down his chest, as she dropped to her knees.

  “The floor has to be filthy in here.” His protest was week.

  “Good.” She drew her thumb over the head of his cock, leaving a damp trail on the tender skin. He leaned his weight against the wall behind him.

  The sharp tang of disinfectant stung her sinuses, but it was muted by Parker’s scent as she traced her tongue along his skin, then took him into her mouth.

  His low moan seeped into her. The chill of of the concrete dug into her knees. This was what she wanted. What she needed.

  She glided her mouth up and down, licking and sucking slowly, to tantalize.

  The way he knotted his fingers in her hair, gripping tight and tugging her scalp, flipped a switch. Parker was losing himself in the sensations, and so could she.

  He thrust against, cock diving deep, and she had to relax her throat, to keep from gagging on his length. The pace he set was fast and hard. Perfect. She focused on feeling. On pleasing him. The hint of salt on her tongue. His low, steady grunts. The delicious ache each time he pulled her hair, guiding her and holding her captive at the same time.

  She adjusted her weight, to press her sex against the seam of her jeans. It wouldn’t get her off, but riding that edge was its own pleasure.

  “Fuck, Red, I’m so close.”

  She recognized the shift in his breathing. The faster thrusts, as he fucked her face. She stroked the tight skin of his balls, coaxing. The first spurt hit the back of her throat, followed by more.

  She licked until he slowed to a stop, loosening the hold he had on her. As she pulled away, he slid from her mouth with a wet slurp.

  Parker sank to the ground, hands finding her face in the dim light spilling under the door. The crush of his mouth against hers was as desperate as her desire to ignore her racing thoughts.

  “God, you’re amazing,” he murmured into her lips.

  Fiona smiled into another kiss, floating on euphoria.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “And I wish I knew how to get him out of your head.”

  Pleasure fell away, and she stumbled off a mental cliff, back into reality. “I’m sorry.” The apology slipped out before she could stop it. She was tired of having to say that. It was an admission, and at the same time, she hated that there was guilt associated with that feeling.

  In so many ways, Parker’s lack of reply was worse than the so am I she was used to.

  ON A SCALE OF that was a mistake to sweet, Wyatt rated the meeting with Fiona at about a fuck yeah.

  He settled into the driver’s seat of his car, then sent London a text.

  Meeting went well. Tech looks solid to my untrained eye. They’d like to go on site, to get us a bid. I’ll fill in the rest when we meet tomorrow.

  He looked forward to seeing more of Fiona, but he’d remove himself from her bidding process going forward. The last thing he wanted was to ruin her chances at a solid opportunity. He’d feel that way even if he hadn’t ripped the last one from her.

  That didn’t mean he’d steer clear of her. If she was going to visit their other offices, he had a feeling work might take him to the same places. He’d warn her before he bumped into her, though. Like he promised.

  Wyatt’s phone connected to his stereo when he started the BMW. He dialed into his work voicemail, and let it play as he drove back to the office. He’d listen to the messages again when he reached his destination, but this would give him an idea of what needed his attention and where his priorities fell.

  There were a couple messages from his assistant, reminding him of appointments later today.

  Another was from Brett, his former boss and now employee. Brett still wasn’t happy about working for him. “I’m having some issues with the Grammie’s contract. Can you give me a few minutes of your time today?”

  Wyatt probably could. It was tempting to make the guy wait, but he wouldn’t. Petty was fine for thoughts, but it didn’t get work done.

  “Hey.” The greeting that spilled over the speakers turned Wyatt’s blood to ice with a single syllable. “It’s Devin.”

  Wyatt gripped the wheel until his knuckles ached. Devin was the ex-boyfriend who used Wyatt in a twisted, wingman sort of way, to help him pick up women, so Devin could stalk and assault several of them. Knowing he’d been part of that, even unwittingly, nauseated Wyatt.

  “I left you a message a few weeks ago, but never heard back. I hope everything’s all right.” Devin’s voice sent loathing and disgust racing through him. “Rumor is you’ve been promoted. Congratulations. Couldn’t have happened to a more hyper-aggressive asshole.”

  Good to see you haven’t changed either. The sarcasm helped Wyatt keep from snapping off a piece of the steering wheel.

  “Anyway. I moved back to town recently, and I’d love to meet up. Not like we used to. I know you and I are in the past, but I’m hoping we can be friends. Give me a call and let me know when you’re free.” Devin left a number, then disconnected.

  The inside of the car fell silent.

  “Delete message.” Wyatt sounded hollow to himself, and a ringing sank into his ears when he stopped talking.

  Devin served five years in prison. It should have been longer, but even with Wyatt’s testimony, only a couple of the charges stuck. Wyatt would be happy to see him castrated and forced to live out his days in some sort of dystopian human zoo.

  How did someone go about hiring a hitman?

  By the time he got back to the office, Wyatt had brought his mood back to even keel. That was the only way he’d get work done. He greeted his assistant and said he’d give Brett fifteen minutes if he could be here in the next five.

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “Thanks,” Wyatt said and settled at his desk.

  Less than two minutes later, Brett was seated across from him. “The Grammie’s deal is falling apart.”

  “I doubt that.” Wyatt was familiar with the other man’s tendency to exaggerate. A month ago, it almost cost Wyatt his job. Now it was a simple task to gloss over it. “They signed a contract, the terms were clear, and your job is to make sure they understand and are happy with that.”

  Brett’s glare could have shattered glass. “The problem is they’re demanding things that aren’t in the contract. Things they say you promised them.”

  Wyatt hated working that sale. He could appreciate it led to meeting Fiona and Parker, though his betrayal gnawed at him. He’d also hated working with the self-important jackass who was his Grammie’s contact. “I’m surprised you and Chuck don’t get along like best pals.”

  “Did you promise him things that aren’t in the contract?”

  Wyatt met Brett’s withering death glare with one of his own. “We discussed a number of topics. It was a sales pitch. You do remember how those work? I know better than to leave out details when the final contract is drawn up, though. What’s he asking for?”

  “Faster access to delivery drivers. Deliveries without uniforms or our branded vehicles.”

  “Things that were part of his negotiation with the other provider. Maybe he’s confused about who promised him what.”

  Brett clenched his jaw. “That’s helpful. He says your comment to him was that we’d do an
ything in our power to give him the same service and appearance he’d get from the competition, but with our corporate power driving it.”

  “I told him we’d see what we could do.” Hence the month of business trips Wyatt took. Brett had threatened his job over those, too, until Wyatt landed the contract. “In the end, he came back to me and said he wasn’t happy with our competition’s offer. He dropped most of his requests, and he and I were on the same page when I handed him over to Contracts.”

  “He doesn’t feel the same way.”

  “Then make him understand.” Wyatt was done with this conversation. He’d severed ties with Chuck after the man insulted Fiona.

  Brett stood, managing to make his chair scrape audibly across carpet. “Who knew? When you’re in charge, you’re even more asinine to deal with.”

  “Your fifteen minutes are up.” Wyatt turned to his computer, to emphasize his point.

  Brett left, but it didn’t mean Wyatt cleared the conversation from his mind. The other man hadn’t given up on trying to get Wyatt fired, and Wyatt’s promotion was another reason for Brett to be pissed off.

  Grammie’s couldn’t argue the details of the contract. Wyatt was better than that, but more critcally, his legal team excelled at their contracts.

  That didn’t stop him from being concerned that something he’d said to land the deal—and he’d said a lot—would come back to bite him in the ass.

  CHAPTER THREE

  PARKER HAD DONE TOO many live streams from hotel rooms in the last week. His vlog was supposed to be a video travel diary, and the closest his viewers were getting was a series of mass-manufactured flower prints, framed in gold and hanging behind him on one taupe wall after another.

  “And thanks to all of you, I’m moving on to Month Three.” He spoke to the webcam built into his laptop. “Thank you for each and every vote, view, and Like. Let’s all do this together.” Someplace else.

  Atlanta was fine, but he rarely filmed in a single spot for more than a couple of days, and they’d been here a week.

  He signed off and shut down the stream, before closing the lid on his computer. Fiona’s voice drifted in from the other room. The separate bedroom was a necessity with her here, because he kept any hint that she was with him off-camera.

  Neither of them was interested in a repeat of what happened with Tim. Fiona had been stalked. Kidnapped. And it could have been so much worse. Parker was keeping her close, but out of sight.

  He joined her.

  “So when are you landing?” She was on the phone with Nick. “Got it... No, it’s not a big deal. I can stick around here a few more days...”

  Parker was grateful she focused on her notes, because he couldn’t hide his frown. This meant either sucking up the dwindling filming options here or moving to the next state without her.

  A few days apart were better than the months they’d been looking at right after the incident with Tim. Parker was a big boy. He could stop pouting.

  “Hey.” Her cheerful greeting snapped his attention back to her. She’d disconnected and was watching him with a hesitant smile.

  He dropped onto the mattress next to her. “Is Nick coming here?”

  “Yup. We’ve been invited to pitch to the delivery company. They said he could dial in, but he wants to make an impression.”

  Of course he did. Where Fiona was the tech, Nick was the real salesman behind the app.

  “Are you introducing him to Wyatt?” Parker didn’t know how much, if anything, she’d told Nick about the physical side of what happened with Wyatt. However, Nick knew the guy had palled around with them across multiple cities, never bothering to mention who he worked for.

  She pursed her lips. “Wyatt’s not part of the pitch, so I admit his name didn’t come up.”

  Parker needed to wrap his head around his emotions. On the one hand, he’d kept his feelings for Fiona to himself for years. He was happy she felt the same way about him that he did about her, but he couldn’t expect her to drop her old life because he confessed his love.

  Then again, Wyatt wasn’t part of her old life. How long would Parker stick around if she couldn’t make up her mind? “I’m heading out to that local sandwich place to do filming. Do you want dinner?”

  Her smile whispered back in. “Sure.”

  He’d gotten good at keeping her off camera, but he would prerecord this trip instead of livestreaming it, like he did with any footage when she was around, so he could edit her out just in case. Parker wouldn’t push the Wyatt issue now. She was being honest with him, and he didn’t want to lose that. They hadn’t been together long enough for him to expect her to move on.

  He’d stop overanalyzing for now, and they’d cross the Wyatt bridge when they got there.

  They chatted about random things, as they took a bus to the diner. Fiona relaxed, and Parker pushed Wyatt to the back of his mind.

  When they arrived, Betty, the diner owner, welcomed him with a broad grin and outstretched arms. “I’ve got a table for you right over here. Have a seat and tell me what you’d like. The five-pound burger is free if you eat it in a single sitting.” She looked them over. “But I don’t imagine the two of you together eat that much in a day.” Her tone was warm.

  “Thanks,” Parker said, as he and Fiona followed her across the room. “Before I turn on the camera, I want to go over a few things with you.”

  “Ah. Not filming yet.” Betty’s expression slipped a little.

  “No. I always like to go over what to expect, get a release signed—things like that.” Usually he handled the what to expect talk over the phone, but when he’d called to schedule, she had to run before he reached that point.

  “Sure.” She was still friendly, but some of the twang vanished from her voice, and she wasn’t speaking as loudly.

  Parker explained the process to her, including the release form. He also asked that she try to avoid standing near Fiona or addressing her while the camera was on, even though it might seem odd. It could be edited later, but he’d rather not have to cut something good because of that.

  Betty nodded. “I understand. After you reached out to me, I did some looking into this competition, which led me to the stories about the kidnapping.”

  Fiona tightened her grip on his thigh. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. There were still rumors that the two of them invented the entire thing with Tim. That they faked Fiona’s situation, to get Parker more views and sympathy.

  “I believe you, hon.” Betty was kind. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but having to defend yourself on top of it isn’t right. I’m glad you’re getting back out there again, though.”

  “Thanks.” Fiona relaxed a little.

  “You must be relieved at the news,” Betty said.

  Parker looked at Fiona. Her knitted eyebrows said she didn’t have any more of an idea than he did what the news was.

  “This Tim guy was remanded without bail, just a few hours ago. His history made him a flight risk,” Betty said.

  “Thank God.” Fiona’s relief was audible.

  Betty patted her other hand. “I’ll try to avoid getting you in the shot. Should we do this?”

  “Let’s.” Parker set up one camera on a tripod, to capture the food. He had a second one he could keep mobile.

  Betty launched into the same greeting she’d given when they arrived. They decided not to go for the five-pound burger, but did try the house specialty peach pie.

  Parker followed Betty around the diner, getting footage of the kitchen and the cooking, and talking to some of the staff, but he turned off the camera while they ate, so he could enjoy Fiona’s company.

  He did a little more filming after the meal—a bit of wrap-up and some closing shots—before he put away his equipment.

  He and Fiona were chatting with Betty, when a random guy dropped into the chair next to Fiona. “I know you.” He didn’t wait for a pause in the conversation. “You’re one of those YouTube contest guys.”


  “I am.” Normally Parker appreciated when someone recognized him. Random’s approach and posture put him on edge, though.

  “Does it ever bother you that you can’t hold a candle to Ms. Passion?”

  “Can’t say I spend a lot of time thinking about it.” Parker had to force himself not to speak through his teeth. Ms. Passion was a fellow contestant. She’d figured out how to review sex toys in a way that let her skirt censorship, and she was one of Fiona’s most vocal detractors.

  “I can’t believe you two set that Tim guy up to take the fall for the sake of your cheap gimmick.”

  Parker clenched his fist, but Betty was on her feet before he could react. “I need to ask you to go.” The southern hospitality was gone, replaced with a low, threatening tone.

  Fiona covered Parker’s hand. “Leave it, please,” she whispered. The request barely drilled through his growing irritation.

  “I’m out.” Random stood and held up his hands. He stepped back from the table. “That won’t change the fact that your girlfriend is a cheap whore who’s destroying people’s lives for your shit—”

  Parker punched him in the face. Fuck, that hurt. He flexed his fingers. He must have hit bone.

  Random swung back. The next few minutes were a blur of pain, shouting, and someone—multiple someones?—restraining them both.

  One of the waitresses fetched him an ice pack that he held pressed to his face with handcuffed hands, in the back of the police car, as they took him to the station.

  Betty asked the same waitress to give Fiona a ride and meet him there.

  Three hours later, Parker still waited in Booking. He’d given up on alternating the bag of what was now water between his cheek and his knuckles. He might be crawling out of his head, if Fiona weren’t next to him, resting her head against his arm.

  “Do you want me to track you down more ice?” she asked.

  “I’m all right.”

  She’d thanked him several times for defending her honor, and professed he was her hero. That almost made the pain worth it. Seeing her relaxed definitely did.