House Rules

By: Rebecca Brooke



Sweat dripped down every muscle in rivulets. I dropped on the bed next to her, pausing when she sidled up to me, like she expected to cuddle. What had given her that impression, I had no idea.

“That was amazing,” she purred, pressing her lips to my chest.

Fuck, what’s her name again?

Long, bleached blonde hair and blue eyes. Skimpy clothes and fake boobs. For the last four nights I’d brought home a different woman, but although each one scratched an itch, none of them were satisfying enough to keep in my bed any longer than necessary.

My breathing evened out and I sat up on the side of the bed, my back to . . .


At least I thought it was Shelia. Not that I really gave a shit. It wasn’t like we’d ever cross paths again.

Small hands wrapped around my waist. “Why don’t you come back to bed, handsome?”

Disentangling her arms, I stood and grabbed my phone, sending a quick text to Dean. He was going to make me pay for this one.

“I’ll be going to bed once I get you out of it. Dean will take you home.”

Her mouth dropped. “Are you throwing me out?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“But we were so good together.”

Wow, this chick was dumber than I thought. “Really? You can’t come up with something better than an overused cliché?”

She hopped off the bed and started snatching up her clothes. “You’re such an asshole.”

“That, my dear, is the first thing you’ve gotten right all night.” I nodded to the stuff in her hands. “Dean will be here in about five minutes. You can either get dressed, or you can parade your ass out to the car naked. Either way is fine with me.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped, pulling her dress over her head.

I tried to muster up some kind of pity for the woman stuffing her discarded undergarments into her purse and slipping on her shoes.



“Do you need me to show you the door?” The sooner she was out of my hair, the better.

Without a word she spun on her heel, the door slamming into the frame behind her. I open and closed my fists at my side. If I’d listened to my brother, I would have stopped bringing them back to my place. But there was nothing appealing about going to a hotel for a quick fuck.

Not bothering to dress, I walked out of my room and down the hall to my office, where I poured myself a large glass of scotch and sat down on the sofa in the corner. I didn’t want any more than a quick orgasm from these women, and I made it clear from the beginning. But each and every one of them thought they would be different; that they’d finally trap Miller Hawes. All they really wanted was my money. That, or the connection to my father.

I knocked back half the glass, the alcohol burning away the memories of the night.

Why the fuck did I bother? Getting wasted and jerking myself off in the shower brought a better orgasm than any of the loose pussy I’d slipped my dick in recently.

I downed what was left in my glass. I needed to get some sleep. There was shit to do in the morning that wouldn’t keep.

Leaving the glass on table for Julie, my housekeeper, to clear away, I climbed into bed and let my mind wander back to my sex life.

I wouldn’t call it a sex life because it wasn’t sex—it was fucking. And not all of it was good. A woman to share my bed on regular basis would be nice, but I refused to waste my time on notions of love. That shit was for chumps and suckers. My goal was to take over from my father someday, and that couldn’t happen if I had my head in the clouds because of some bitch on my arm. My brother Aston’s girlfriend, Elena, seemed to think I’d feel differently if I’d found someone to give my heart to.

What she failed to accept was that I didn’t have a heart to give a woman.

My family . . . yes. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for any of them. Even Elena had breeched my defenses. She cared about my brother in a way I don’t think even he had expected. Most women wouldn’t be able to handle the life we led. Violence, crime, and risk surrounded us all of the time. There was no reprieve. No time out. Elena and my mom were a special kind of woman, accepting the men in their lives for who they were. They didn’t expect them to change.

No woman in the world could change me.


“Raise a grand.”

The lighting in the room was low, but I didn’t have to see his face properly to know that this fucker had no idea what he was doing. If he kept this shit up, he was going to have to see my brother for a loan to keep playing.

Wasden slid the chips into the center of the table, his hand shaking. He never knew when to just give up. Worked for me. His tells were obvious, and I could always weasel more money out of him than any of the other morons who graced my tables.