30

Drew's Trust

Bryce had only just set his briefcase down before his cellphone rang. Grimacing, he stuck his hand in his suit pocket and ended the call. Then he strode into his kitchen and yanked open the fridge to get a beer.

“You’re home early.”

“It’s eight.” Bryce closed the fridge, leaning against the door as he popped off the top and took a long swig.

“Yesterday it was nine.” Joy winked at him and gestured him to her with her fingertips. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, baby girl.” Bryce used his hip to push away from the fridge and gathered Joy into his arms. She was tall, almost as tall as him, with the legs and ass of a runway model. And God, did she love flaunting those legs of hers. She wore one of his shirts — she’d taken it out of the hamper again if the traces of cologne and sweat were any indication — and it barely covered that fine ass. He could smell rum on her breath; she was probably three drinks ahead of him already.

“You eat?”

“A little,” she murmured into his neck. “But I’ll make us something after.”

“After, huh?” He grinned at Joy and got a wide smile in return. She was pretty enough; her skin shone with expensive moisturizer, and her hair had the sleek, glossy look of hair products that probably cost more than a year’s supply of the stuff he used. “After what, exactly?”

Joy ran her hands up his arms, pressing her fingers into his shoulders. “After I get rid of these knots.”

He let her lead him through his apartment. It was austere — not purposefully but just because he didn’t give a shit about decorating the place — but he loved every inch of it. Maybe because he owned it outright; there was something to be said for knowing you could drive your fist through a door and no one would care. The only thing he’d really splurged on was the bed. You had to have a good bed. Chicks appreciated a mattress that didn’t creak when you banged them.

Joy’d gotten his shoes and tie off before his phone rang again.

“Jesus,” he muttered, taking another swig from his beer before batting away Joy’s hands. “Let me take this.”

“Seriously?” The woman crossed her arms over her chest, her chestnut hair sliding around her shoulders as she shook her head. “There’s something wrong with you, Bryce Sugar.” She washed her hands down her body, her face sullen. “I mean, hello?”

He grabbed her, gave her a rough kiss, and pushed her so hard that she fell with a squeal on the bed. “I gotta take this.”

Joy pushed up to her elbows and scowled hard at him as he hunted through his jacket for his phone. She was toying with the top button of her shirt — his shirt — when he answered.

“Sugar.”

“Bryce? This is Harry Reynolds, Drew’s attorney.”

“Christ, is he suing me already?” he cut in, taking a last swig of his beer before setting it down the nightstand.

Joy’s hand was halfway down her belly; the buttons above all undone.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

A smile twitched his mouth as he slid his knees on the bed and ran a hand over her collarbone. His fingers disappeared beneath the fabric of her shirt.

“I’m sorry, suing you?”

“That’s what this is, right? Look, it was just a prank, buddy. It got out of hand, feels were bruised, people got fired—”

Joy made a pleased sound when he tweaked her nipple. She lay back on the bed, parting the shirt so he could see the entire expanse of her flawless skin. Delicate, citrus notes rose up to him as he bent his head to press his lips to that same dusky nipple.

“P—prank?” Harry’s voice broke into a stutter. “Why’d I b-be calling about a prank? This is about the trustee position.”

“The what now?” He skimmed his free hand down Joy’s stomach, smiling when her muscles trembled at the touch. She gasped quietly when his hand disappeared between her legs.

God, she was dripping wet for him. Had she been keeping herself busy with that neon pink vibrator of hers? The thought made his dick swell.

“Mr. Sugar…” The lawyer noisily cleared his throat. “Your brother is adding you as a successor trustee to the D. M. Sugar trust. He wanted it kept as some kind of surprise, but it’s my legal obligation to ensure that you are made aware of the fact before I—”

Joy grabbed hold of his dick through his pants, squeezing him hard. Then she parted her legs, exhaling a warm breath against his cheek when he glanced up at her.

“He’s what?” This with a laugh. “Wait, the what trust?”

Harry let out a long, blustering breath. “Your brother, Drew? It’s his trust.”

Bryce tugged Joy’s legs open, climbed between them, and unbuckled his pants. Her arms lifted and grabbed hold of the top of the headboard. She gazed at him with hooded eyes, her lips parted with anticipation.

“Sure it is,” he said. “Look, I’m kinda in the middle of something, yeah?”

“I… I can hear that.” Harry cleared his throat again and then rushed out, “I’m having the trust deeds couriered to Drew. He said something about giving them to you this weekend. You’ll need to keep a copy in a safe place at all times, along with—”

“Hey, Harry? Do me a favor, would you?”

“Yeah, okay?” The man’s voice on the other end of the phone became wary. Had he heard Joy? Was he wondering what the hell had made that noise? Or did he already know?

Joy began squirming impatiently, pouting at him as she tried to tug him closer with her legs. He slapped her ass, hard. She stilled, her mouth falling open, and her lips trembling.

“Tell Drew to go fuck himself.”

“Mr. Sugar, you don’t seem to understand—”

“Listen, buddy… I’ve got places to be.” Bryce thrust hard into Joy, making the woman gasp. “Let’s chat later, yeah?”

But Harry had already hung up.

Bryce grinned at Joy as he dropped the phone to the bed beside him.

“What was that about?” she asked, her voice tight with effort.

“Not sure yet.” Bryce leaned down, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ll know soon enough.”

Joy wrapped her legs around his waist when he thrust into her again. This time, her moan was loud enough that his neighbors must have heard.

That was the other great thing about owning an apartment; no one could kick you out because you fucked your girlfriend too hard.