The Casanova (The Miles High Club Book 3)

“Hello Brianna,” Elliot barks as he paces back and forth. “We have a problem.”

I listen as I sit on a stool at the kitchen countertop.

“Ducks. That’s what.” He listens. “Well, they attacked me.” He listens for a moment. “Feral ducks.”

My face breaks into a broad smile. After fifteen minutes of running around like a maniac, Elliot closed the doors and the ducks have retreated back to their lake.

Elliot frowns as he listens. “No. What clause, I never agreed to any such clause.” His horrified eyes meet mine.

“What?” I mouth.

He shakes his head. “Well . . . I don’t want them.”

He listens again.

“Since when would the sale of a house have animals in the contract? That’s preposterous.” He walks to the window and peers out over the field. “A goat?” he snaps. His eyes meet mine and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. “A fucking what?” he explodes. “A pony and a pig? No way. Not on your life. Come and take them away. Right. Now.”

He shakes his head in disgust.

“Who the hell do I sell them to?” he fires back. “This isn’t Jack and the Beanstalk, Brianna, you don’t go to fucking market to sell a pig.”

I burst out laughing, Elliot glares at me, and I slap my hand over my mouth.

“What do you mean?” He paces again, looks out the window and down at the paddock, then his eyes meet mine. “Well . . . you better find out.” He listens intently. “Fine.” He hangs up.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Apparently the woman who I bought the house off was eighty-eight and has a menagerie of animals. It was a condition of sale that the new purchaser keeps them on because she’s gone to a retirement community.”

My eyes widen. “Oh.”

“She’s finding out what I can do with them.”

My face falls. “Why?”

“I don’t want farm animals, Kathryn, I’m not Old McFucking Donald.”

“It’s a settling-in period, they’ll calm down.”

“Absolutely not.”

I walk to the back door and look out over the paddocks. The ducks are pecking away at the ground next to the lake. “They’re probably just hungry.”

“For human blood?” He grabs his keys. “I’m telling you now, it won’t be mine. We need to go and find breakfast before I faint.” He takes my hand in his. “Let’s go.”

Two hours later we pull up outside the front of my house. “Thanks.” I smile.

Elliot rolls his lips as he looks at my house, and I know he’s not happy about me going inside to Daniel. “What are you going to do all weekend?” I ask.

“Unpack a million boxes.”

I can help . . . No, play it cool.

“Okay, well, have fun with that.” I smile.

“What are you doing?” he asks as he slides his hand up my thigh; I lean over and kiss his shoulder.

“This afternoon I’m cleaning my house and then tonight I’m having dinner with my brother.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

We stare at each other and I smile shyly. Elliot Miles makes me feel like a schoolgirl; the earth spins fast and I’m giddy.

“I’ll give you a call?” he says.

“Okay.” I lean over and kiss him and his lips linger over mine.

I hate saying goodbye to this man.

Our kiss deepens and he smiles against my lips. “Stop it or I’ll drag you back to my place to play Old McDonald.”

I giggle and open the car door, get out, and lean in the open window. “Good luck with your ducks.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“What are you going to do?”

He shrugs. “Wait for the damn real estate agent to call me back.”

“Okay, good luck.” I give him a wave. “Bye.”

With a smile and a wave, he pulls out and drives away.

ELLIOT

I pull up at the valet area in the underground parking lot and get out of my car.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Miles.”

“Hello Raymond.” I smile. “Is my brother in?”

“I believe so.”

I hand my car keys over and take the elevator to his floor, get out at the private reception area, and ring the bell. I hear it let out an internal buzz and I wait, noticing a new painting which I inspect closely. “Hmm, average,” I mutter under my breath.

The door opens and a disheveled-looking Christopher comes into view, wearing only boxer shorts. He frowns. “Hey.”

I smile and rock up onto my toes. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up, get dressed.”

“Now isn’t a good time—”

I cut him off as I barge past him into his apartment, and come face to face with a beautiful brunette lying on the couch in only a T-shirt. “Oh.” I wince and turn to Christopher. “Sorry to . . . interrupt.”

Christopher widens his eyes in a subtle fuck off gesture. “That’s fine. Elliot, meet Siena.”

I nod. “Hello.”

“Hi.” She beams.

I hear a sound coming up the hall to see a drop-dead gorgeous redhead . . . also scantily clad in one of Christopher’s T-shirts. “Ah . . .” I smile. Two of them . . . I really am interrupting. “Hello.”

“Meet Chantel,” Christopher interrupts me.

“Hi,” she purrs as she hungrily looks me up and down.

She’s familiar, I’ve seen her on the circuit. With looks like hers she’s easy to remember.

My eyes go back to my brother’s and he twists his lips in a further fuck off, right now gesture.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, ladies, but I need to steal my brother for a few hours.”

“Oh no . . .” Siena frowns.

“Ah, duty calls,” Christopher replies casually as he walks into the kitchen. “Party’s over, girls. Until next time.”

“Aww,” they both complain.

I smile and follow my brother. I remember these days well. So many women, so little time.

Christopher turns on his coffee machine and makes two cups. “What the fuck are you doing here at this ungodly hour?”

I glance at my watch. “It’s ten thirty and we have a major issue.”

“What’s that?” he mutters dryly as he sips his coffee.

“There are killer ducks roaming around my new house.”

“What?” He frowns.

“Ducks, at least a dozen. They attacked me this morning, chased me, wanting my blood.”

His eyes widen. “Like, duck ducks?”

“Yes, Christopher,” I snap. “What other kind of ducks are there?”

“Well, what do you want me to do? I know nothing about fucking ducks.”

“Get dressed.”

“Why?’

“You’re helping me catch them.”

“We can’t do that?” he splutters. “Call somebody.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not calling someone every single time something goes wrong in this house. I want to do it myself.”

“Listen,” he mutters into his coffee. “If you must do this little-man-versus-the-wild experiment in enchanted land, can you at least leave me out of it? I’m a city man, haunted castles with wild animals are completely out of my realm.”

“No.” I stand. “Hurry up.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

The girls appear in the kitchen. “We’re going.”

Christopher stands. “Frederick will drive you home.” He kisses Siena and then turns to the redhead; his hand drops to her behind as he kisses her and I know from his body language that she’s his favorite.

They turn to me. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” I fake a smile. Fuck off already. I want to go. Christopher walks them to the door and I hear the soft giggles of the girls as they say their goodbyes.

Not so long ago, this was me: how did this life ever captivate me for so long?

I’m way past stupid women; womanizing just doesn’t excite me anymore.

I know it was fun at the time, but looking back it’s all a blur. Not one of them ever stood out.

Not like her.

I get a vision of Kate last night on top of me, the way she looked down at me as she rode me . . . the sheen on her skin, the arousal in her eyes . . . a tingle runs through my body at the mere memory.

“What’s that look?” Christopher mutters as he walks back into the room.

I look up, my fantasy interrupted. “What?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking you’re taking too long. Hurry the fuck up.”

I bring the car to a stop outside the front of my house. Christopher and I peer out the window. “I don’t see any ducks,” he says.

All seems silent.

“Hmm.” I open the car door slowly.

“Be careful they don’t peck your old fella off,” Christopher says as he climbs out of the car.

I look around, the coast seems clear. “My old fella would win a fight with a duck, hands down.”

Christopher and I stand on the edge of the gravel driveway. We go around the side of the house and look down toward the lake. “So where are they, then?” he asks.

My eyes roam around the lake, and over the paddocks. “I don’t know . . .” We both turn in a full circle as we search.

Completely peaceful.

“I don’t see any ducks,” he repeats.

With hands on his hips he looks over the valley. “Umm . . . EJ?” he calls.

“Yeah,” I call back.

“Is that your land over there too?”

I look back to see that he is looking over paddocks to the right of the house. “Yeah.”

He narrows his eyes as he focuses on something in the distance. “What’s it doing?”

I walk over and look to where his gaze is. “What is what . . . ?” I fall silent.

There’s a huge, black sheep, but it’s a different kind of sheep, with curly, round horns. We watch as it walks backward, takes a hard run-up and then head-butts the fence post as hard as it can.

We hear the bang as it connects; the sound echoes for miles.

“What the fuck is that?” I whisper.

“I don’t know.” Christopher frowns as he watches it run back and smash its head as hard as it can. “Some kind of psychotic sheep.”

Our eyes meet. “What is this godforsaken place?” I whisper.

Suddenly we hear squawks from behind us, and we turn to see the ducks running toward us up the hill, full throttle. Their wings are in the air, beaks open and ready to attack.

“Run,” I cry as I take off in the direction of the house.

“Ahh, fuck,” Christopher cries.

I grab the keys from my pocket, the sound of angry ducks coming up close.

I look down at the keys on the overcrowded keyring. “Oh no.”

“What?” Christopher cries as he runs alongside me.

“I don’t know what key it is.”

“How can you not know what fucking key it is?” he cries.

“The car. Run for the car.”

We dive into the car and jump in and slam the doors behind us. The ducks all squawk as they circle us.

“You weren’t kidding.” Christopher pants as he holds his chest, looking down at our attackers. “What do we do now?”

I start the car. “We get the hell out of here.”

We eat lunch, drink some beer, and devise a plan. Two hours later we head back up the driveway. I glance over to see the trusty shovel we bought sitting perfectly on the backseat.

I park the car and hand the house keys to Chris. He frowns as he looks through the keys. “Do you know which one it is at all?”

“I think it’s one of the copper smaller ones, though I can’t be sure.”

He nods. “The coast seems clear.”

“Hopefully they all drowned in the lake,” I mutter as I look around.

“What’s the plan?” he asks.

“I’ll guard you with the shovel, while you get the door open.”

“Okay.” He goes to get out of the car and then turns back. “Don’t slam the door.”

“Good thinking,” I whisper.

We all but tiptoe up to the porch, and Christopher quietly begins to try the keys, while I stand with my back to him, shovel in hand. Waiting for the attack.

“Hurry up.”

“What are you going to do if they come?” he whispers as he fiddles with the lock.

I grip my shovel hard. “I’m going to show them who’s boss around here.”

He chuckles. “Yes, you certainly look like the master of this domain.”

“Fuck off.”

The lock finally gives way and he opens the door. We go in, and I slam the door behind me. “This is ridiculous,” I snap as I march to the kitchen. “I didn’t sign up for this shit.” I begin to open the drawers in a rush. “Where is that envelope?” I open and shut all the drawers and finally locate it. I speed-read the letter and I get to point three:

The ducks will need to be fed their pellets each morning and will become aggressive if hungry.

The pellets are kept in the stables.

Huh?

“What does it say?”

I look up at Christopher in shock. “They’re hungry.”

He frowns.

“We were supposed to feed them.”

“Well, what do they eat?’

“It says here, pellets.”

“Where are they?”

“Stables.”

His eyes widen and he points at me. “If you think I’m going near that psychotic sheep you’ve got another thing coming.”

I pick up my keys. “Come on, we’re going back into town.”

“What for?”

“To buy fucking duck food, what do you think?”

I sit by the open fire and sip my Scotch; red shadows dance across the wall. It’s dark, the room lit only by the lamps and the glowing embers, and a sense of achievement is running thick through my veins. Not only did I unpack a lot of my things today, I sorted the ducks.

Poor bastards were starving . . . actually, they’re girls, so . . .

I smile as the golden fluid warms my throat. Either way, they were happy to receive their stupid pellets.

I look around at my surroundings and pride fills me. I love this house; there’s so much to do and it doesn’t feel like home yet, but I know it will as soon as I hang Harriet’s paintings on the walls.

I’ve had her art close to me for years, not seeing it is weird.

I pick up my phone and glance at the time: 9:30 p.m.

Should I call Kate?

No.

She’s out with her brother, leave her be.

I want to hear her voice.

I only saw her last night, calm down.

I get up and refill my glass, walk back through the house as I look at my surroundings. I love this house, I love everything about it . . . maybe not the ducks, but everything else is perfect.

I might message Pinkie instead . . . no, I want to speak to my girl.

Just a quick call to say goodnight.

My finger hovers over the name Kate. I shouldn’t.

But I will.

I press call and I listen as it rings.

“Hi there,” she purrs.

The sound of her voice brings a smile to my face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she repeats, and I can tell she’s smiling too.

“I called to say goodnight.”

“Did you now?”

Excitement rolls around my stomach.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Wondering how I can possibly last the night without you.”

“No need to wonder, come and get me.”

I smile. “I’ve had a few glasses of wine, I’m unable to drive.”

“Oh.”

“I can send Andrew to collect you.”

“Really?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m just leaving the restaurant now; can he pick me up from my place in say, half an hour?”

“Okay.”

She waits on the line.

“Oh, and Kate.”

“Yes.”

“Pack yourself a bag, that way you can stay for the weekend.”

I hesitate; slow down.

“Still in need of a human shield, you see,” I add.

She giggles. “How are your ducks?”

“All in a row.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I chuckle.

“Okay, see you soon.”

“Goodbye.” I drain my glass and march upstairs. I need to shower and I need to . . .

I need to last longer tonight. She turns me into a schoolboy; she only has to look my way and my dick begins to weep.

I turn the shower on and take out the lube from my bathroom cabinet, squirt it into my hand and smear it on my already hard cock.

I run my hand up over my length and then back to the base . . . hmm, that feels good.

The room begins to fill with steam as I work myself, sliding my fingers up under my balls and cupping them hard as I imagine it’s her hand touching me . . . satisfying me now so that I can give her more later.

I don’t know if I’ve ever jerked off so much since I became besotted with Kate Landon.

She’s the ultimate taboo.

The employee I can’t date, the one I shouldn’t want.

The woman I can’t get out of my fucking head.

At this moment in time, my dick lives and breathes to be inside of her.

Nothing else matters.

My chest rises and falls as I begin to perspire, my strokes getting harder and harder. My need skyrocketing by the second.

I close my eyes and I see her naked on my bed, her legs spread, her pink, wet flesh open for me. She slowly slides her finger deep inside her sex, warming herself up for me. She spreads her pink lips open in a come-here signal. “Elliot,” she whispers.

I grunt as my hand works at piston pace. Fuck yeah.

Already . . . what the hell?

I tip my head back and aim up onto my body, and my cock jerks hard. White, thick semen glistens over my chest.

I pant as I come down from my high, and I step under the hot shower, aim my face up to the water. It runs down over my head and I put my hand on the tiles to hold myself up.

She doesn’t even have to be here to make me come hard.

The memory of her is enough.

I need to get a hold of myself. That was only one minute.

Fuck.

An hour later I sit on the couch by the fire. I’ve left the door slightly ajar.

The car has just pulled up and I know Kate isn’t far away.

I’ve given myself a few rounds, whatever it takes to keep the monster at bay.

I need to last longer . . . fuck it.

The door opens and Kate comes into view. It takes a few moments for her to see me sitting in the semi-dark.

“Hi.” She smiles.

I sip my Scotch. “Hi.”

She’s wearing a black, long jacket and high stilettos. She walks over to stand in front of me and slowly undoes her jacket and drops it to the floor.

My breath catches: she’s wearing a black silk corset and suspender belt, with tiny black lace panties.

The light flickers as it dances on her skin.

I inhale sharply and she drops to her knees between my legs and pushes them open with force.

Yes.

With dark eyes she takes me into her mouth, her tongue flicking over my end, and I put my hands in her hair as I watch her.

Fuck.

This woman will be the death of me.

For ten minutes I watch her, feel her. Want her with every fucking fiber of my being. Until I can’t stand it, and I drag her up to me. We kiss violently, our teeth clashing with desire, and she straddles me over my lap. I pull her panties to the side and slide in to the hilt in one deep movement.

We fall still and stare at each other, the air electric as it zaps between us.

A tantric force that I have no control over.

“Can you feel how deep inside of me you are?” she murmurs.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare up at her. I nod. Unable to speak.

She brings herself to a squatting position, and I can feel every muscle inside her perfect body.

“Fuck me . . . Mr. Miles,” she whispers darkly, her eyelashes hooded, her voice husky and filled with desire.

My grip on her hip bones tightens, my control close to its end.

She puts her lips to my ear and licks it. “I’ve been waiting for your beautiful cock all day,” she whispers before kissing me deeply.

My eyes close as our tongues dance. I can’t . . .

I grab her hip bones and slam her down hard. “And so you shall have it.”