Beautifully Used (The Beaumont Brothers Book 2)
The Beaumont Brothers
Susan Griscom
Amber Glow Books
Susan Griscom
www.susangriscom.com
http://swblog.susangriscom.com
Kindle Edition
Published in the United States by Amber Glow Books.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
Beautifully Used is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2014 by Susan Griscom
Amber Glow Books
AmberGlowBooks.com
www.susangriscom.com
Kindle Edition
Edited by Michael Leah Olson
Cover designed by Susan Griscom
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Acknowledgments
About Susan Griscom
Chapter 1
Brodie
The buzz coming from under my pillow pounded in my ears like thunder. I’d set my phone on vibrate, and it was determined to ruin a perfect morning of slumber. I stuck my hand under the cushion attempting to silence it but only managed to knock the offending instrument onto the floor. The girl beside me pulled herself into a cute little ball with her knees hugging her chest and her adorable little derriere shoved against my cock. She moaned something about it still being dark outside. No shit. I frowned and rolled over to reach for my phone, unfortunately catching a glimpse of the digital clock on the nightstand in the process. A glaring, red four-fifty-nine assaulted my eyes with a brilliance that even Einstein would have been shocked by. Who in God’s name was sending me a text so early in the morning?
I let the phone slip from my fingers to the floor without bothering to read the message. There was nothing in this world so important at five o’ fucking clock in the morning that couldn’t wait. I rolled back toward the hottie. “Sorry, baby,” I whispered into her neck and showered her with little kisses there, wishing I could remember her name. Casandra, Clarista, Carry? It was one of those C names. Or was it K? No matter. Normally, I was pretty good with names. I’d never once called a woman the wrong name, but this girl had such an uncommon, yet so close to common name I’d had trouble all night long. I finally had to resort to calling her baby or sweetheart. I hated using those terms of endearment because none of the girls I’d been hooking up with lately were anyone I’d think of as endearing. “Go back to sleep,” I said, more of an order to myself than to her.
When she scooted tighter against me, moving her hips the way she did, all of a sudden she seemed very endearing to me. I rocked with her, closing my eyes, shutting out the visions of the bedroom I was in with its dark purple wall and massive black and white picture of a nude couple embracing on an adjacent pale pink wall. Lacy, pale pink curtains hung in the window. Not my room. That explained the bright digital clock beside the bed—not something I would ever own. Since privacy at home had become an issue, this was a commonality for me recently, waking up to find myself in unfamiliar, feminine surroundings.
Cassandra, Clarista, Castalia, or whatever the fuck her name was, let out a sexy moan before turning around and wrapping her hands around me. Stroking and squeezing oh so firmly, just enough to make a guy not only forget where he was, but not care. God, it felt so good, but not as good as when her tongue slid over the tip right before she took me into her mouth.
I must admit, my breath hitched as the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat and I caught the slight gagging sound she made. “Oh, baby. That feels so good.” Actually, this Cassandra or whatever, was a bit timid in this particular department, but I wasn’t about to complain. Any attempt at a blowjob was better than none at all in my book.
This was my life. I wasn’t complaining. Nope, not at all. Today was starting off much like any other day lately; lazy, with a little romping between the sheets. It got my blood running, and today I needed to be on my game. Today, or tonight rather, was my brother’s bachelor party, and I was hosting it.
Buzzzzzzzz.
My phone again. “Hey, baby. Give me a minute will ya?” I groaned, pulling myself out from the soft sucking and into the cold air. Shit. What was wrong with me? I leaned over the edge of the bed and picked up my phone. This time I read the message. Only it wasn’t a message. It was an alert I’d set on my phone as a reminder. Pick up Gabby from airport. My brother’s soon to be bride’s maid of honor—and a major pain in my side—was flying in this morning at six-twenty, and I’d been volunteered by Jackson to pick her up. Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Bro.
“Fuck.”
“What’s the matter, Brodie?” what’s her name asked, licking her lips and grabbing for me like she’d just had her favorite lollipop taken away.
“I gotta go.”
“What? Why?”
“Sorry, baby.” God, what was her name? “I promised to pick up a friend from the airport.” Friend was a huge stretch of the English vocabulary when it came to Gabby. Gabrielle Demeres was not my friend in any sense of the word. In fact, she hated me.
The last time I saw Gabrielle, about a year ago when she’d spent a few nights in my house while visiting with Lena, she’d told me to go bungee jumping from a bridge without the cord. Ouch. All I’d done to deserve that nice suggestion was try my damnedest to show the woman a good time. Of course, my idea of a good time and hers were completely different, apparently. I found that out the second my lips brushed gently against hers and my hand strategically covered her left breast. She’d shoved me away so fast my poor lips never got a chance to make even a hint of a memory of hers. Right before she told me to go jump off a bridge, she’d slapped me and said I wasn’t her type. Pffft. I was every woman’s type. But hey, I copped a clue right away and backed off the minute she shoved me away, she didn’t need to make an imprint of her hand on my face. There was something seriously disturbing about that chick.
I shook the memory away and grabbed the waist of the hottie I was with, pulling her back against me. “I wish I could stay, baby, but I promised my brother.”
“Can we hook up again tonight?” she asked.
“Sorry, no can do. Got a bachelor party to host.” Glad for once I had a bona fide excuse at my disposal.
“Aw. What about tomorrow night? I’ll only be in town for another couple of days.” Relationships just the way I liked them. Short and noncommittal. “We could have a replay of last night, maybe even take a video so I have something to remember you by.”
Take a video? No way. I had a fine physique and all, and I may be promiscuous, very free with my body, some might even say I’m a man slut, but I didn’t need my ass in a starring role plastered all over the Internet. “Love to, except I have commitments this weekend.” Besides, I’d never spent the night with the same woman more than twice, and this one was barely worth the one I’d already spent.
I quickly pulled up my pants and shrugged into my shirt. I slipped into my well-worn, comfy shoes and grabbed my phone. As I headed for the door, she purred out. “Call me?”
“Sure, baby,” I lied as I shut the door and deleted her number from my phone. I never saved them, and I never answered my phone when a number came up without a name attached.
Chapter 2
Gabrielle
“Excuse me,” a man mumbled in my direction after his suitcase on wheels collided with mine as he sat on the bench next to me.
I forced a smile. “No problem.” This same guy had been sitting behind me on the plane, snoring for most of the trip from San Diego to San Francisco. Then, as luck would have it, he got the seat next to me on the connecting flight from San Francisco to Redding. God, I needed some coffee and a pillow. I’d need the caffeine just to make the walk to Lena’s car. Maybe I could snooze on the hour and a half long trip from the airport to their adorable little town, Turtle Lake.
I said a silent prayer that the guy didn’t start snoring again, and was relieved when a few minutes later, he stood as a woman and a small boy approached him. The little boy jumped into his arms and squealed, “Daddy!”
My smile was genuine this time as I watched the three walk away. Nice family, I mused, picturing them as my best friend and her soon to be husband.
Where the hell were Lena and Jackson anyway? The airport baggage claim area was crowded and buzzed with the hum of tired and cranky people. Just like me. Flying the midnight express had its disadvantages, but it was cheaper than the flights during more reasonable hours.
I’d been sitting at the airport for thirty minutes now. That was after the twenty-five minutes it took to exit the plane and retrieve my luggage. Luggage, by the way, that consisted of one huge suitcase, a medium sized duffle bag and a carry on, all packed to capacity and extremely heavy considering I would be spending two weeks with Lena and Jackson helping them prepare for their wedding. After the struggle of getting the monster pieces off the luggage conveyor, I’d managed to drag, kick and shove them over to the bench right outside the door for curbside pick-up where I plopped my butt down and waited.
I was tickled for Lena and Jackson. They really deserved each other. Well, Lena deserved someone like Jackson. The guy literally saved her life, or was it she who saved his? The story gets jumbled in my head. Though, when you come right down to it, I think they saved each other in different ways. Jackson saved Lena by allowing her to hide out, so to speak, from that monster she’d been married to and helped her gain the self-esteem and respect for herself that Troy had stolen from her. And Lena had apparently saved Jackson’s life by killing said monster, and stopping him from pounding Jack’s brains into mush. I squeezed my eyes tight and quickly shook that scary vision from my mind. Poor Lena. Such a frightening life she’d had. I should have known, and it was something I was having trouble coming to terms with. Why didn’t I know? I couldn’t imagine what Lena must have gone through—is going through—contending with the idea of killing someone, even if that someone was about to kill someone else. It would have been a very sad day in the world if a guy as wonderful as Jackson had been killed. Too bad his brother, Brodie, didn’t possess the same qualities. I’d learned the hard way what type of guy Brodie Beaumont truly was from the brief three days I’d spent as Lena’s guest in Brodie’s house. His crude seduction tactics earned him a slap to the face after he actually groped my breasts while attempting to kiss me. No, I can’t say I was looking forward to another encounter with Brodie Beaumont.
I glanced at the time on my cell phone, yet again, and sighed, realizing it had been an hour and a half since my plane had landed. Now I was beginning to worry that something might have happened to them. It wasn’t like Lena to be this late and not even call me. I dialed Lena’s number to find out where she and Jackson were, and my eyes fell upon a large pair of men’s Sanuk Vagabonds facing right toward me. I reluctantly looked up to find Brodie Beaumont in all his yummy glory standing three feet in front of me, frowning. Yeah, I know, I slapped him and declined his not so eloquent proposal, but despite his lack of discretion in the romance department, the guy was hot.
“They sent you?” I said, sounding every bit as dejected as I felt. How could Lena do this to me? But then, I guess she didn’t really know how much her soon to be brother-in-law despised me. I’d kept the little episode of him groping me like he was a teenager on prom night to myself. He was a philanderer and never tried to hide it. After that night though, he’d kept his distance. I had to give him that much. Besides, it hadn’t really been all that terrible. I’d even been thinking about him that way and wondering what it would be like to have his lips on mine. And he’d smelled so yummy. He’d caught me by surprise the way he moved in so quickly the minute Lena and Jackson had gone to bed. I suppose if I’d known him more than a millisecond, which is what the couple of hours in his presence had felt like, I might have handled it differently. The only thing was, I hadn’t handled it differently, and now he hated me.
“I don’t like it any more than you do,” he quipped. “But Jack and Lena had to meet a caterer this morning and couldn’t cancel, so you’re stuck with me.” It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. On the contrary, I hadn’t been able to get Brodie Beaumont off my mind since the night he tried to kiss me, no matter how hard I tried. I’m glad I turned him down, especially after Lena filled me in on Brodie’s sexual habits. The way Lena had explained it, it sounded as if he had an addiction to sex or something. I’d considered Brodie a troubled soul back then, but this time, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Too bad his first words to me now had to be about how much he didn’t want to be around me.
I grabbed the handle to my duffle bag and hoisted it on top of the large suitcase, my backpack hanging loosely down my upper arm. He yanked the backpack from me and slung it over his shoulder, grabbed the handle to my luggage and started walking away with them. I opened my mouth to yell at him and tell him I could take them myself, that I didn’t need him, but that just seemed like a stupid move on my part, especially as I watched how his low-hanging jeans held tight against his fine tush. Wow. To think I could have had a piece of that. I shook my head, knowing if I had, it would have only been once or twice because everybody knew Brodie Beaumont used women like a vampire uses his victims—sucking them dry and discarding them after having his fill. However hot I considered Brodie to be, I didn’t want to be on his list of conquests. I held my chin up and trailed behind him. I would not let him get to me.
We walked for what seemed like a mile before getting to his truck.
“Why didn’t you just pull up to the curb?” I asked almost out of breath from trying to keep up with him. His stride was huge, and he made carrying my gigantic duffle bag look like nothing more than a five-pound sack of potatoes.
He shrugged, even with the weight of the luggage in each hand. “I thought you’d enjoy the morning walk.” When I didn’t say anything, he slowed and turned around toward me. “I couldn’t get in close enough so that you’d see me, and I knew you’d be looking for Jackson’s or Lena’s car, so I thought I’d better go park and get out of the truck to find you.”
“Oh.” Gosh darn. That made total sense.
When we finally reached the truck, he practically threw my luggage in the back and I prayed my bottle of perfume hadn’t busted. I loved the stuff, but I didn’t want my clothes drenched in jasmine to the point of asphyxiation. I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it considering it was too late. I didn’t need to make the ride to Turtle Lake any more unpleasant than it was sure to be already.
Brodie yanked the passenger door open and stood waiting for me to climb up to the seat. It was a hard climb up, and the sundress I had on was a bit on the short side. I’d worn it because it was comfortable and stretchy. Now I was regretting that decision. I bunched up my little lightweight jacket I held in my hands and placed it behind me, hoping it might help hide my exposed thighs as I climbed. An item I was glad I’d brought. Airplanes get so chilly when you’re just sitting there for a long stretch of time. As I took my first step up, Brodie walked away and headed toward the driver’s side. I let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t stick around to ogle my bare thighs.
He slid in and started the engine, not even glancing in my direction. Okay, then. I got the message. He didn’t want anything to do with me now.
“You were late.” I said, buckling up and instantly regretting the harshness of my tone.
He afforded me a sideways glance. “I was busy.” I guess I deserved that rude three-word response to my equally rude three-word statement. “I brought you some coffee,” he added.
I glanced down at the center console and noted the two tall cups from Starbuck’s. He’d brought me coffee?
“The one on the right is yours. It’s a Caramel Snickerdoodle Macchiato, double shot.”
“My favorite, well, not the double shot, but thanks for that. I can use it this morning.”