Play it Filthy (Kings of the Tower Book 4) Read online

  She laughed, raising her flute. "Where's that bottle? Your balls aren't the only thing that's empty."

  He obeyed. Ed was pretty certain he would have obeyed just about any command from her right then. She owned his ass, and she knew it.

  He wasn't used to that. Every time he'd had sex in the past, he'd been on top, in control. With her, he'd have to dance to her song. He found that he didn't mind that. At all.

  "Yes, mistress. Right away, mistress."

  She grinned. Bull's eye. He'd been right. She loved to play the top.

  "Given your taste, I find it...curious that you seem so averse to the Tower."

  Hester shrugged. "I don't mind what they do. It's just not my crowd, is all."

  Interesting. Instead of asking how so, he returned with the champagne and got to his knees in front of her, before filling her flute.

  She'd kept her shoes on; open-toed heels most women couldn't have walked in. Smiling, he lifted one, and kissed the tip of her toe, then her ankle, calf, the inside of her knees.

  "May I spread your legs, Hester? May I fuck your pussy with my mouth until you cum on my tongue?"

  She took a sip of champagne, feigning thoughtfulness, before saying, "You may. Just don't make me spill my drink. It's a delightful bottle."

  She winked and smiled, and he chuckled. Oh yes, he very much liked this game. Edmund wondered what she'd do if he did, in fact, make her spill. He couldn't wait to find out.

  Chapter 15

  Hester couldn't believe Edmund was letting her play with him like that. It wasn't the first time she'd assumed the role of a dom for kicks, but she would have never, in a million years, thought that a man like him would have let her be in control.

  He slowly slid her underwear down her thighs and off her shoes before parting her legs. Edmund looked up at her, and kissed her lips once, softly, before dipping his head lower, anchoring his knees on the floor and lifting her legs up in the air to have a good angle. His mouth wrapped around her clit and sucked at it, then his tongue teased it. He moved both of her legs into one of his hands to free his left one, and plunged a finger in her wet folds, curving it as his talented mouth kept kissing her sensitive spot.

  Fuck, he was good at this. So very good. She flung her head back and clasped her hand on the sofa to regain her balance, completely forgetting the half-drunk flute of champagne.

  Oh shit. Hopefully, the hotel wouldn't charge him a fortune to clean it. Normally, Hester would have apologized; and she would, too, eventually. Not right now, though. Instead, she glared.

  "What did I say, Edmund?"

  He moved his head from her clit, regretfully. "I wasn't to make you spill your drink. My bad. I suppose you're going to have to punish me."

  Shit. "I suppose I will. Stand up."

  He got to his feet, giving her the pleasure of another full view of his cock. Even now that it had softened some, it was still a thing of beauty, thick and long. Her insides clenched in anticipation.

  Edmund had been modelled after Adonis: he had the perfect torso, defined muscles and a fine layer of hair she wanted to curl her fingers around.

  "Turn around, Edmund."

  She had a hard time preventing herself from giggling like a schoolgirl when he obeyed. He was equally magnificent from the back.

  "I'm going to spank this delightful ass five times for disobeying me. You will count each blow out loud. Miss one, and I'll add one. Understood?"

  "Yes, Hester."

  Feeling quite foolish and extremely amused, she raised her hand and slapped the left bun. Her hand rebounded on the taut flesh. Shit, that was a nice ass. She ran her fingers on the reddening sensitive skin, caressing it.

  "One."

  She repeated the process on the other cheek, and again, until he got to five.

  "There you go. You can serve me another flute, now."

  "Oh, I don't think so." Edmund laughed, turning back to her. His cock was curving upward, completely hard again. "I think you've had your fun now. My turn."

  Hester had absolutely nothing against that development. She grinned broadly, as he bent down to grab her by the arms and then under the knees. He threw her over one of his shoulders and carried her to his room like a heathen. Hester laughed as he threw her on his bed, and crawled up to her. She spread her legs. Edmund glanced at her wordless invitation and snorted.

  "Yeah, right. You're planning on lying back and thinking of England? Oh, no, sweetheart. A bad girl like you ought to take it like a bitch."

  He pulled her waist up and flipped her over until she was lying on her front. Edmund kissed her ass, and pulled her hips back so she was on her hands and knees, before biting it, and slapping it, making her yelp in surprise and look back at him.

  "Can dish it out but can't take it?"

  She rolled her eyes. "I was actually wondering if your heart was into it. I didn't feel a thing."

  Fucking vixen. He drew his hand further back and spanked harder against her skin. This time, she breathed out, and her ass pushed back further against his hand.

  "Not your crowd?" he repeated her previous statement. Her perfect ass belonged in the Tower.

  She snorted. "Too rich for my blood."

  Edmund didn't understand her point at all, but at the moment, he didn't much care about getting to the bottom of it. Not with that round ass wiggling in the air, begging for his cock. He reached out to the bedside table and opened the new box of condoms he'd had sent up for the occasion, ripping one open with his teeth and rolling it onto his rock-hard erection.

  "Look at that slutty pussy pulsing, begging for my cock."

  She pushed back until her legs were right against his, his cock above her ass. "Are you going to watch all day? Should I have brought a magazine with—"

  She ended her sentence in a grunt as he plunged deep inside her heat, shutting her sassy mouth up for about a second. Then he withdrew from her pussy and plunged right back in. Her mouth opened again, letting out a moan.

  In his thirty-five years on Earth, Edmund might have fucked a good fifty women at least, and it had been over ten years that he'd prided himself on doing it well. He knew when to go maddeningly slow, and when to increase his speed, pacing himself to inch them both closer to oblivion. Now, all that knowledge flew right out of his mind. She was so fucking tight and perfect and her moans and laughs demanded that he keep pounding her harder and harder, until his legs stiffened, protesting against the effort. His balls tightened impossibly; he knew without a doubt that if he hadn't come just half an hour ago, he would have lasted less than three minutes. The previous release allowed him just enough control to keep going until Hester's ] him. She cried out and fell on her stomach. Her release triggered his; he couldn't keep it in anymore. He came, and came, and came, falling right behind her; her pussy wouldn't stop milking him, clasping around him hard each time she breathed.

  Ed had no clue how long they remained unmoving, panting. He wrapped his arms around her, rolled a little to her side, and fell asleep, only to be awoken later by his stomach.

  He frowned, finding his bed empty. Following his nose to the living room, he found Hester setting up plates from room service on the coffee table. And cheesy chips.

  He stayed back and looked at her until she noticed him standing there.

  "Hey, handsome."

  Yeah. He was used to it now.

  Chapter 16

  Edmund was glad he'd set their date on Saturday; he had Hester all to himself through the night, as many times as he could muster, and throughout most of the next day. She insisted on leaving late in the middle of Sunday night—apparently she needed sleep before work.

  The moment she left, he had to deal with real-life issues. At three am on Sunday night, it was Monday morning in the U.K. and the office had plenty of work for him to get through. He slept a few hours and woke up to funeral arrangement information. Shit, it was tomorrow.

  He managed to sort out the technicalities and went to buy a suit around midday, his mind
still on the weekend. It would be a long time before he forgot that weekend, or the woman he'd spent it with. Because of the sex, certainly—it wasn't everyday he met a switch who seemed up for just about anything under the sun—but also because of her smart mouth, and her laugh that never failed to make him smile along.

  What had she said just last week? That it had been nothing more than some good fun. She was right. They'd wanted each other, they'd fucked each other, and that should have been the end of it. Right?

  He tied up his workday by three, as it was eight o'clock in the U.K., and then Edmund stared at his phone, feeling strange. He'd had to stop himself from texting or calling all fucking day.

  Then he decided to say fuck it to hook-up protocol, and just sent a damn text.

  "Did you wake up okay?"

  He'd purposefully contacted Hester on her personal phone and he didn't expect a reply before the end of the work day, but his phone buzzed not even half an hour later.

  "No! I woke up at EIGHT."

  She was still typing, according to his phone. Soon, another message flashed on the screen.

  "And anyone who knows me knows that never, ever happens. I'm normally up by six, latest."

  "You went home at two in the morning," he reminded her.

  "Not the first or last time. My body clock always wakes me up, regardless. I made it to work before nine, but a lot later than usual. You're a dangerous distraction, Edmund."

  She was one to talk.

  And so they resumed their friendly conversation as if nothing had happened the previous evening. Ed was a little lost. What was their deal? They were joking and flirting and fucking. She didn't want to be seen outside of his hotel room with him so he couldn't call it dating, but at the same time, he talked to her way more than with any casual fuckbuddy.

  And he cared. He actually gave a damn about the woman. A lot more than he had about Anna, and maybe even Erica.

  He ate out in the city and returned to the hotel by nine, annoyed to see that his bed had been remade. He lay down on it and found that he could still get a whiff of her scent on the pillow.

  Holy shit. Was he really sniffing pillows now? What was wrong with him! He was itching to text Hester, check if she wanted to pop over for round…eleven? He'd lost count. Any other night, he might have. But he was burying his uncle the next day.

  Lola and Cici arrived at dawn; he had his assistant virtually book a room for them, and went to pick them up in person.

  "My favorite boy," Cici greeted him, air-kissing both of his cheeks.

  He smiled, knowing she meant it. Cici had two nephews, and there was only one she could stand the sight of.

  "Mama."

  "How have you been, Eddy? And that delightful girl of yours—I hope it's going well."

  "Woman, Mom. That's the correct term for adult females."

  Lola rolled her eyes. "We're all girls at heart. Your generation just likes to find everything offensive."

  He hugged his two favorite women and took them for breakfast. They only stopped at the hotel for half an hour to get changed, before heading to the venue where Jennifer had organized the funeral.

  The assistant had been quite handy in the end. Ed was going to have to give her a bonus before her returned home.

  The funeral wasn't as daunting as he'd believed it might be; they were celebrating a long, prosperous life. That it had ended was sad, he'd miss Malcolm, but his uncle had been suffering toward the end.

  The Trents attended with handkerchiefs they didn't need to use, and glared at his back the entire way. Cici grinned, taking his hand in a show of support.

  No sooner had the casket been lowered underground than the vultures circled around Cici.

  "I supposed you've heard about the peculiar way Malcolm's affairs have been arranged, Cecilia?" Daniela asked, her mouth thin.

  "Peculiar?" Cici repeated. "Pardon me, but what exactly was peculiar about Malcolm giving his money to whoever he damn well pleased?"

  Her four siblings gasped. "We're all part of his family! It isn't fair to any of our children that he should receive the majority of the funds from an estate that came from our father."

  Ed had heard it all already.

  "Listen to me carefully, dears. I shall not repeat myself. You're a bunch of nasty little gremlins and no one with two functional brain cells likes you. You've raised your children to emulate you. They're all just as horrible as the rest of you lot. Malcolm was a good chap, and he hated your guts. The only reason you have anything at all is because of the blood running through your veins. Now, you can stomp your foot and cry about it all day long, but the fact is, you're screwed. You won't get a penny except for what's in the will. Unless," she added, "you sign today. Then, I'll chuck a hundred thousand in each of your pockets, how about that?"

  Edmund wished someone had handed him popcorn. He just loved watching his grandmother in action.

  Then a deep-rooted unease troubled him.

  She had solved the problem for him; he was sure the Trents would sign before the end of the business day.

  Which meant that it was time for him to return to London.

  Chapter 17

  Lola ran a lingerie design boutique firm in Italy; not unlike her son, she was a workaholic, and nothing retained her attention in NYC. Her flight back home was scheduled at nine o'clock on the very same evening. Cici had opted for heading to D.C. to see her granddaughter, and Lola wasn't one to travel alone if she could help it.

  "You won't let your mama cross the ocean all by herself, will you?" she pouted. "You said it yourself, you're done here."

  Professionally, he was. But leaving NYC quite so fast didn't suit him at all.

  "I… Mom, I'm not even headed to Italy; I have to be in London next Monday."

  "And you can stay with me until then, no? Please."

  He groaned, wishing he'd learned sometime over the last three decades to resist the woman.

  "All right. I just have something to sort out first."

  It was close to six, so he tried to call Hester, twice, but was sent to voicemail both times. She was probably working late. Cursing, Ed sent her a message, and headed upstairs to pack his things. He knew better than to arrive late at JFK. Even with a first-class ticket, security was always a nightmare in that airport.

  He checked his phone periodically, and his frown deepened as he failed to get an answer. It was so unlike Hester. Maybe she had a conference call to Asia or something? She hadn't mentioned anything like that.

  "Passengers of flight 5896, we have opened the gate. We are now boarding first-class passengers."

  That was them. Shit.

  Edmund advanced toward the short line heading to the jetway.

  "Why the long face, Eddy bear? Is it a deal going sour?"

  He did his best to clear his expression, attempting a smile.

  Unfortunately, the woman who'd given birth to him knew him too well to fall for it. "Oh dear. That bad. What's going on, Edmund? You're worrying me."

  "It's nothing, there's just…"

  If he mentioned Hester right now, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Lola would never let it go. Ever. She'd dig until she knew all the details and she would, for the rest of his days, ask about the mystery woman who’d managed to make him tick.

  A smiling flight attendant greeted him and requested his ticket and passport. Blinking at the documents in his hand, Edmund stilled.

  He found that he didn't actually give a damn about his mother's nosiness. That wasn't what mattered right now.

  "Look, Mama, I can't do this. I…I have to go. I can't leave without saying anything, it's just not right."

  The flight attendant blinked. His mother's jaw dropped. Ed, who seemed to just realize the meaning of the words that had crossed his lips, put his passport back in his pocket.

  "Yeah. I…I have to go back to town." He kissed his mother's forehead. "Call when you land?"

  Lola snorted. "Oh, I certainly will. And I want her name, her p
icture, and all the dirt."

  She wrapped her arms around her son's middle and squeezed him tight. "I'm so proud of you, Eddy."

  He laughed. "For ditching you?"

  "For finding a woman who matters more than your mama. You're growing up."

  Was he now? If Lola knew he'd only met said woman a few days ago, she might think differently. It didn't matter. He knew he'd done the right thing. Right now, his place was in New York City.

  She'd gotten out of the office by six, and the last thing she remembered was one blinding headlight, pain on her right side as she hit the ground, then blackness.

  Hester woke up in a white room that felt cold and smelled of detergent.

  "Ouch," she said, blinking. Her head felt like someone had hit her with a baseball bat, like Noemi had in seventh grade.

  The rest of her body was pretty sour, but nothing compared to her head.

  "And she wakes!" said Chris's voice.

  She heard it from her right side, but couldn't see him, because she'd instinctively closed her eyes again. The light hurt less that way.

  "What happened?" she asked. "I didn't see a thing."

  "Bike messenger. We're suing. The hospital called the office; they couldn't find an emergency contact so they called work."

  That would be because she didn't have anyone listed.

  "How long have I been out?"

  "About an hour or so. Do you want some water?"

  She nodded, and winced. Bad idea.

  "There you go. Right in front of you."

  Eyes still closed, she tentatively reached and found a straw before her lips. She took a couple of sips.

  "Thank you."

  "You're very welcome. Bear with me, I just need to press that button—the doctor said I should call a nurse when you wake up."

  A few minutes later, a doctor forced her to open her eyes and look at a light. She winced through it, and wasn't very surprised when he told her she had a mild concussion.