Chasin's Surrender (Gemini Group Book 5)

  Chasin’s Surrender

  Riley Edwards

  Chasin’s Surrender

  Gemini Group Book 5

  Riley Edwards

  Contents

  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

  Also by Riley Edwards

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  To my family - my team – my tribe.

  This is for you.

  1

  “Chasin.” His name in that sexy, throaty moan had him nearing closer to the edge.

  A pair of strong, thick thighs pressed tighter against his ribs, heels dug into the small of his back. She was using that strength to thrust herself as he drove his cock deeper.

  Genevieve Ellison.

  The woman was spectacular. A fantasy come to life. Even her name sounded like a fairytale princess. Hands, mouth, pussy—pure magic. Combine that with her curves, wicked sense of humor, smarts, and Chasin was gone. He couldn’t remember a weekend he’d laughed so hard. Straight-to-his-gut laughter that made him forget everything else but her and what they were sharing.

  She’d cooked him dinner, then breakfast, they’d drank, talked, and laughed. He wasn’t expecting it—the spark that’d had them tearing at each other’s clothes. It hadn’t been his intention to take them there. Hell, he hadn’t even planned on staying for dinner the first night.

  When he’d seen her fall off her dock and splash into the water, he hadn’t thought about anything other than making sure she was okay. But then her golden eyes had danced with humor when she’d told him she hadn’t hurt anything but her pride falling into the river, and he’d been hypnotized. So when she’d asked him into the house to dry off, he’d gone with the sole purpose of getting her number.

  “Christ,” Chasin growled and shoved his face deeper into her neck as her pussy started to ripple. “Find it, honey.”

  “Ohmygod,” she groaned as she tipped her hips. Her arms wound under his to lock on tight as her hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring herself to him like she never wanted to let him go.

  And that was all right with him.

  He never wanted her to let go.

  Chasin shifted his weight and balanced on one forearm, freeing his other hand to cup her tit. He glided his palm over the mound until he found her peaked nipple and rolled it between his fingers until he drew a sharp cry from Genevieve.

  Heaven.

  Tight, wet, slick, heaven.

  And there it was. Her orgasm broke, her pussy convulsed, and Chasin blew into the condom. Mind-bending. No other way to describe the throbbing in his cock as rope after rope of come shot fast and hard. Genevieve’s moans filled the room and her body trembled under his. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard her cry out in ecstasy, neither was it the first time he’d brought her to orgasm. But it was the first time he’d felt it not only squeezing his cock but shooting straight to his heart.

  Chasin couldn’t deny that, at the time, he’d thought having his mouth between her legs, her excitement on his tongue, that there was nothing better. Nothing had ever tasted so good as making Genevieve come with nothing more than his mouth.

  But that’d been before he’d sank into her pussy. It was then he’d realized he was wrong—really fucking wrong. Feeling her come around his cock was better.

  Euphoria swept over him and something else started to invade. A feeling he couldn’t place because he’d never felt it. Warmth spread, and as the tension waned, he started gliding, giving Genevieve slow, soft strokes after he’d taken her hard. No, after she begged for hard.

  With one last graze of his thumb over her nipple, Chasin’s hand went to her face and he brushed her hair behind her ear, marveling at the feel. Wet with sweat, it was still soft—how that shit was possible was beyond him.

  Genevieve was a beautiful woman, but with a freshly fucked glow, she was downright gorgeous.

  Soft golden eyes stared up at Chasin, so full of trust and wonder it stole his breath. That unknown emotion filled his chest and started to burn. He was relaxed, sated, just had the best sex of his life, which was a miracle in itself because all the other times he’d had her were the best, too. The woman was phenomenal, she matched him in both wit and sexual appetite. There wasn’t a damn thing shy about Genevieve. It had taken very little to light the match that had led them to tear at each other’s clothes. Now they were on night two and that match was brighter than ever. Chasin reckoned part of that was because she knew what she wanted and wasn’t bashful about getting it. She was into him as much as he was into her.

  The times when she’d wanted her mouth around his cock, she’d yanked him free, gotten to her knees, then set about sucking him deep until the tip reached the back of her throat. This wasn’t a chore for Genevieve. She wanted it, she took it, and she did it with spectacular enthusiasm.

  Over the weekend, Chasin had allowed her to play as much as she liked until he could take no more, then he’d pull her free from his cock, pick her up off the floor, deposit her on the nearest flat surface. His favorite was eating her on the couch. She’d spread for him before he’d have to ask. One foot on the floor, she’d rest the other leg up along the back of the sofa. She wanted it and had no issue asking for it. Even if that came in the form of a nonverbal demand. Then she’d further prove his presumptions correct when her hands fisted his hair and she ground her pussy against his mouth.

  The woman was hot.

  She was his perfect match.

  No inhibitions.

  No holding back.

  Wild, raw, rough.

  Sex that bordered on indecent.

  “Gotta take care of the condom,” he told her, not wanting to move but necessity mandating it.

  Genevieve’s lips curved up, a sexy smile played at her mouth before it turned wicked.

  “You got another one of those?”

  Hell, yeah, she was his perfect match. Unfortunately, he was fresh out.

  The only time Chasin had left her house in those two days was to run to the drugstore. He should’ve bought more.

  “That’d be a no,” he told her. Her smile faded, not hiding her disappointment. Fucking hell, but he liked that. “You want more?”

  “Would you think less of me if I said yes?”

  Holy hell.

  Perfect.

  Chasin ignored what he thought was an asinine question and instead told her, “Let me go, honey, so I can flush this condom. When I get back, I’ll eat you again.”

  Genevieve didn’t let him go, her thighs twitched then tightened.

  “Only if I get you back in my mouth.”

  Christ.

  Sheer perfection.

  “You want that, you won’t hear me complain.”

  “I want that.”

  “Then that’s what you’ll have. Now let
me go, Vivi.” At that, Genevieve didn’t twitch and tighten—she tensed. It was a quick flash and gone before Chasin could study the change.

  Her legs unwrapped and fell to the side and her arms unwound, letting him go. Chasin rolled off, not giving another thought to her response.

  He’d find later, he should’ve asked. But as he walked to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, his head full of musing about eating her pussy while she sucked him off, his other thoughts were on the topic of discussing medical history so he could fuck her next time without the latex barrier.

  With all of that on his mind, he flushed the condom, washed his hands, then went back to the sexy, naked woman waiting for him.

  When he found her still spread on the bed, he didn’t give a second thought to her reaction to the nickname or the strain around her mouth when he’d said it. Instead, he got in next to her, rolled to his back, pulled Genevieve over him, pussy in his face, his cock to hers. He gripped her ass to pull her to his mouth and ate her until she unlatched her sweet mouth from around his cock so she could shout her orgasm. Then he licked her clean while she finished him off.

  Chasin righted them in the bed and tucked her to his side. And with Genevieve’s soft body pressed tight, her fingers gliding over his chest, his hand resting on her hip—not to mention two outstanding orgasms—it didn’t take long for sleep to pull him under.

  As he drifted to sleep thinking about their night, he hoped Genevieve Ellison would be up for more. And not just more mind-bending sex.

  More of everything.

  Christ, she was his perfect match.

  He knew it was crazy. He didn’t know anything about her, but damn if he wasn’t half in love with her. Smart, funny, gorgeous, and outstanding in bed.

  Oh, hell yeah, he was half in love.

  Chasin woke to an empty bed. He rolled, looked at the clock on the nightstand, and noted it was three in the morning. He’d only been out for three hours. He lay in Genevieve’s bed and waited. Maybe she’d gotten up to hit the head or get something to drink. Fifteen minutes later, when it was clear she wasn’t doing either of those, he went in search of her.

  The house was big—actually, it was a monstrosity built in the late seventeen hundreds. Chasin knew the history of the house; it was registered with the historical society. Something that he learned after his buddy Jameson’s woman, Kennedy, had troubles with a greedy land developer, was that Kent County took its historical landmarks seriously.

  This house especially. There was no question it was beautiful, if you liked sixteen-foot ceilings, mahogany staircases, key-stoned arches—four of those arches on the second-floor landing that was bigger than an average apartment in Manhattan—seven more on the first floor, hand-carved scrollwork along the ceilings, the staircases, and trim work around the door. There wasn’t a sheet of drywall to be had in the mansion—the walls were plastered and skimmed to perfection.

  Chasin rounded the second set of stairs taking him to the first floor and heard Genevieve’s soft voice and smiled. There was a huskiness to it, tinged with a slow, southern drawl that had his cock jerking to life just thinking about it.

  “Y’all just gettin’ in?” Genevieve asked, but before Chasin could answer, she laughed and continued. “Right, I know it’s just midnight in Los Angeles. No, you didn’t wake me, my internal clock’s still on West Coast time.”

  Chasin stood under one of the large archways, leaned his shoulder against it, and took in her sexy form. Genevieve’s back was to him. She was looking out the window, likely taking in the clear view of the Chester River. All she was wearing was a tee that barely hit the bottom of her ass. No panties, plump cheeks poking out, and memories of those firm, round…

  “I know, honey,” she sighed, and Chasin narrowed his eyes on her back.

  Honey?

  “I swear I’m being careful,” she said into the phone. “It’s only a few days, Bobby, then you’ll be here.”

  Bobby.

  Chasin scanned the events that had led up to them finding themselves in her bed, and at no time had she mentioned that she had a man. Acid hit his gut and anger started to build.

  What the fuck?

  “No! I don’t want you to cut your trip short. I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” Another brief pause and she laughed. Not the same way she’d laughed with him earlier. It didn’t come from her belly, full and throaty, expressing her humor like she’d expressed everything else, with wild abandon and full of energy.

  Fuck.

  “Right. See you in a few days. Love you, too.”

  The acid that had been churning in his gut bubbled up and spewed out before he could contain it.

  “What the fuck?” he seethed.

  Genevieve startled and spun around. Even in the dim light, he could see her face had gone pale.

  “Jesus, you scared me,” she said, and covered her heart with her hand.

  “Bet I did,” Chasin returned, unable to keep the irritation from his tone.

  Genevieve tilted her head, took a step then abruptly stopped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t ask. Didn’t think I needed to. Apparently, I was wrong and I should’ve.”

  “Ask what?”

  “If you had a man. Didn’t take you for the type.”

  “The type?” Genevieve’s torso jerked, taking her back a step. “What are you talking about?”

  “The type of woman that’d turn out to be a lying, cheating bitch. Again, know I didn’t ask, but you gotta know that shit is whacked. What’s worse is, I’m not a cheat and you fuckin’ played me, making me one. Totally fucked, Genevieve. You wanna screw around on your man, not my business, but it’s not me who’s gonna fuck you while you screw over the poor chump.”

  Chasin turned to leave and heard her call his name. When he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, she’d wrapped her arms around her middle, face a shade paler, but he didn’t give a shit she looked like she was getting ready to cry. He hadn’t lied, he wasn’t a cheat, not on either end of that, and he was pissed as shit at her she’d turned him into one.

  He should’ve fucking asked.

  He hated cheats.

  “Never mind,” she mumbled.

  Without another word, he headed up the wide staircase. Wisely, Genevieve didn’t follow.

  He dressed, grabbed his shit off her nightstand, and with all due haste, he got the fuck out of her house.

  Chasin did this with acid in his gut and his chest hollow.

  How the hell could he have been so wrong?

  2

  I heard the back door slam and barely stopped myself from running after Chasin and explaining. I eyed my phone and debated calling Bobby back and asking her if she’d catch a red-eye to Maryland. Better yet, I’d send a plane and she’d be here in six hours to hold my hand through another colossal screw-up.

  But I didn’t do either of those things.

  Why’d I get out of bed? I should’ve stayed where I was, tucked close to Chasin in my big warm bed. Then I would’ve woken up in the morning warm and snug. Well, it wasn’t exactly mine, it was my uncle’s, considering he owned this monster of a house. I couldn’t say it was horrible, just huge, cold, and extravagant. It’d been in our family for generations, passed down to the first-born son.

  Besides, it was better I’d found out Chasin wasn’t the man I’d thought he was. So no, I wasn’t chasing after some asshole, even if I’d been stupid and thought we’d had a connection. Thought that he wanted to get to know me, the real me—Genevieve.

  I should’ve known better.

  He was just like everyone else jumping to conclusions about me, thinking they knew who I was because they saw me in the news rags, caught an interview, or listened to my music.

  Everyone thought they knew Vivi Rush.

  Everyone thought they knew, but really, they didn’t know shit. They had no idea that after all the years being in the spotlight, I still cried when people said nasty things about me.
I still flinched when some uppity bitch called me fat because I wasn’t a size four. Hell, I wasn’t even a size six, and that was okay.

  Likewise, I still got a thrill when someone told me they liked my music, and I was touched beyond measure when someone told me my music had sparked some sort of emotion. I still appreciated every fan, even the ones who bashed me, because it meant they were still listening.

  What I didn’t appreciate was people making assumptions about me. Calling me rich girl, privileged, or spouting shit like my big break was about luck rather than the eighteen-hour days I’d put in for years, writing, recording, open mic nights, working two jobs to afford studio time.

  I’d never been lucky in my whole damn life.

  But people will think what they think. They’ll say mean, nasty shit, not caring that there’s a real person on the other end of the venom.

  So fuck Chasin Murray and his good looks, charm, and sense of humor. Fuck his stupid dick, his magical mouth, strong hands, and nimble fingers. But mostly, fuck him for making me believe that there were still good people in the world and that I’d been lucky for once in my life and I’d found someone who fit me so perfectly that I had to fight the urge to grab my guitar and notepad and write a song.

  And he did all of that in one weekend.

  No, he didn’t, he’d done all of that in a matter of minutes.

  Minutes. That was all it had taken for me to fall head over heels in love.

  Fuck him. Fuck my life. And triple-fuck the asshole that had sent my life into a state of panic and alarm, scaring Bobby, my assistant, and my record label so badly I was forced to go into hiding at my uncle’s house in Kent County, Maryland. Population—nothing, middle of nowhere.