Bull Honkey
OVER THE PAST THREE WEEKS, Reagan and I have developed a bit of a routine. We wake up, we fuck. She goes off to work, and I spend the day sketching for Ram. I meet her for lunch, we fuck. Then, I pick her up from work, come home and cook her something that makes her start moaning…which makes us fuck. We end up spending the rest of the night playing around, experimenting with things she’s curious about, which leads to more fucking.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I never saw myself as a goal-oriented kind of guy but I know now that I want to do this every day for the rest of my life. Goal-oriented as fuck.
Reagan is just…
“A walrus.”
I jerk my head to stare at the client who sells baby gear and organic shit. “A walrus?”
“Walter Ruston. Get it?” The guy with the receding hairline and trendy black-rimmed glasses grins at me. “My husband thinks it’s clever.”
Ram scribbles something down on his pad. “Actually, that’s really clever. We could launch an entire brand around your name. ‘Walter Walrus Ruston.’ I like it. Give me a few days to come up with some ideas and slogans. Linc, you got any ideas rattling around in your head about logos?”
I focus on my task rather than my fuck-hot girlfriend. Sitting up in my chair, ignoring the stiffness of the navy dress-shirt Reagan insisted on getting me, I start sketching. The shirt looks all right on me, I guess. A far cry from my normal attire. She rattled out words like corporate and sexy, and the next thing I knew, she was on her knees in the dressing room, showing me just how hot she thought I looked.
I smirk as I sketch the walrus. When I draw on the same black-rimmed glasses Walter is wearing, he squeals and claps his hands. Ram chuckles behind me. After a few minutes, I push the pad over to Walter.
“This is art,” he sighs, clutching his chest with one hand. “I can already see this logo on price tags and shopping bags. I love it.”
Ram claps a hand on my shoulder. “Good work, man.” Then he turns his attention to Walter. “I’m going to work up some mockups for you for your website and maybe even throw the logo on a couple of shopping bags, so you have an idea. This is going to turn out awesome, Mr. Ruston.”
“I completely agree. Do you mind if I take a picture of this to show my husband? He is going to freak out,” he exclaims, his smile wide.
Pride fills my chest that I can do something easy as shit and make people happy. This gig is actually kind of fun. I’ve gotten to know Ram a lot better during these past three weeks, too. Not all the clients want hand drawn logos but many do. Everyone wants to be different and stand out from the rest. It’s been fun being a part of the process. I never dreamed that drawing could actually lead to a career.
And it is a career.
Ram handed me my first paycheck and I nearly shit a brick. Took my girl out for some celebratory steak afterward, too. After a lifetime of being a fuck up, I’m finally finding some solid ground to stand on. I feel like my life is coming together.
Only problem is, Reagan and I are still keeping our relationship a secret. My sister made good on her word and never spoke of our relationship to Roman or anyone else. As much as she likes to blab her big mouth, I think she knows how Rey’s brothers, especially Roman, can be. We don’t like each other, bottom line. I don’t need to give him another reason to hate me. We’re not friends but we tolerate each other. That’s the best relationship I could ask for with him.
“We’ll keep in touch,” Ram says as he stands, offering his hand to Walter.
“I knew you guys were going to help make this real.” Walter beams at us. “It’s real. It’s really real.” He starts fanning his face. “My mother is going to go bananas once I show her this logo, too.”
Ram and I both chuckle at the man’s excitement. Once we’re finally in Ram’s Mustang, he tosses his bag in the backseat and we gun it through town. I lose the tie and unbutton the top button so I can breathe.
“Want to go to Bender’s and celebrate? Lunch is on me,” he says with a grin.
“I could go for a Bender Bacon Burger.”
While we drive, I text Reagan.
Me: Hey, beautiful. Small problem.
She responds immediately.
Rey: Oh no!! Did you not land the client? What’s wrong?
I’m grinning like a fucking idiot. Ram side eyes me as if he’s curious as to who I’m talking to.
Me: Actually, the client loved my logo and Ram has a pretty fucking cool branding idea he’s going to work on. The client was excited. But, your brother wants to take me to Bender’s to celebrate.
Her response is quick.
Rey: OMG! GO!!! Don’t worry about me. Andie just came into the office with Molly anyway. When she leaves Roman’s office, I can flag her down and grab lunch with them. This is great, honey! I’m so proud of you!
Once again, pride fills my chest. Reagan never fails to make me feel good about myself. When we’re not fucking like two bunnies, we’re still the same ol’ best friends. Linc and Rey. Thick as thieves.
Me: Thanks, babe. I’ll make it up to you later…
Rey: How? Tell me. In detail.
I jerk my gaze over to Ram but he’s drumming on the steering wheel as he jams out to something on the radio that has to be at least twenty years old.
Me: I’d take this fucking tie you made me get and gag you with it while I had my way with you.
The three dots are moving as she replies.
Rey: OMG. I just shut my office door. Tell me more because now I’m feeling hot and bothered.
I snort because I can almost imagine my beautiful girl fanning her face. Those high cheekbones painted crimson. Her perfect bottom lip caught between her teeth as she anticipates what’s to come.
Me: Then, I’d bend you over your desk and push up your sexy as fuck skirt so I could see your ass.
“Tuesday special is half-priced draft beer and appetizers,” Ram says as we pull into the parking lot.
When I look back down at my phone, Reagan has replied.
Rey: Would you spank me?
Me: Would you deserve a spanking?
Rey: Yes. <PHOTO ATTACHED>
I nearly choke when she sends me a picture of her wet fingers. Fuck. And I’m stuck having lunch with Ram.
Me: YES. A hard spanking. One that will make you scream so loud everyone in the office will know you’ve been a naughty girl. You’re supposed to save yourself all for me. Now you’re being greedy…
“You going to text your girlfriend all day or are we going to go eat?” Ram asks with a lifted brow. “Who’s the chick, anyway? You’re kind of silent about it. I probed Reagan and she didn’t know either.”
Gritting my teeth, I jerk the handle open and stalk to the bar. Over my shoulder, I say, “Nobody. Just a friend.”
“You seem to have a lot of those,” he says with a chuckle. “Friends.”
With my phone stowed away in my pocket, I try to focus on placing my order with Brent at the bar. Ram and him cut up back and forth about Dani and Andie. It gives me a minute to check my phone.
Rey: Bad for you. You like it when I’m bad…
Rey: <PHOTO ATTACHED>
Fuck.
Me.
She’s taken a picture with her panties slid down to her thighs just below her skirt as she sits in her chair. I can’t even see her pussy but it has to be the most erotic thing I have ever seen in my life. My cock is hard and I can’t begin to think straight.
After Brent leaves, Ram babbles on about Walter Ruston and another client we are going to see tomorrow. I’m nodding, all the while, desperate to check my phone again. It keeps buzzing, and I am dying to know if she sent more bad-girl texts.
Brent sets down our burgers when a woman screams behind me. Ram and I turn to see an older woman patting her husband on the back. He’s a sick shade of purple. Tossing my phone on the bar, I slide off the stool and stalk over to them. The man is choking. I guess those bullshit CPR and first aid classes they made us take while in juvi are coming in handy just like they told me they would because I don’t think, I act.
I grab the man under his arms and lift him right out of his seat. Remembering vaguely what I’m supposed to do, I clasp my hands and hit him on the chest in an upwards motion. It takes four times before a big hunk of hamburger shoots from his mouth and lands in his wife’s tea glass with a splash.
“Oh, my heavens,” the woman cries out. “You saved my Morton!”
The old man coughs but turns to look at me. “Thanks, kid.”
I’m about to back away to go eat my burger when the woman comes over to hug me. “Don’t you dare run off, sweetheart. I need to tell all my bridge friends about the guy from Prison Break who saved my husband. Let’s take a selfie.”
Prison Break?
What the fuck is she going on about?
“Morton,” she hollers, “grab my selfie stick from my purse.”
Selfie stick?
“Ma’am—”
“Oh, dear. You sound just like Michael Scofield, too.”
Morton rummages through her purse, grunting. “Dammit, Belinda, you have too much crap in here. I can’t find the damn thing.”
She exhales loudly. “Honestly, Morty. Wear your bifocals when we go out in public. How many times have I told you?”
“Listen,” I say. “It was nice saving your husband’s life and all, but my burger is getting cold.”
“Bull honkey,” she chirps. “I need proof that Mr. Scofield saved Morton’s life. They’ll never believe me otherwise.”
“I’m not Michael Scof—”
“FOUND IT!” Morton yells.
Just wait until I tell Reagan about this shit.
Reagan.
Fuck.
I jerk my head over to where Ram is sitting and he’s glaring at me. His jaw is clenched and my phone is in his grip. He’s not looking at it, thank fuck.
“I really need to—” I start.
“Hold still,” Belinda chides. She fiddles with her phone and connects it to a stick. Then, with way too practiced efficiency for an old lady like herself, she extends the stick out in front of us. “Say cheese!”
I smile because I just want to get the hell back over to Ram before he sees something that might scar him and Reagan both for life.
“Well, hold on,” Belinda grumbles. “My hair looks horrible.” She fusses with her white bangs for a moment before ordering, “Say cheese!”
Morton stands there staring at us with disinterest as if this sort of thing happens all the time.
“This is a wonderful picture, Mr. Scofield. The ladies will be so green with envy. I can’t wait to put this photo up on the Facebook.”
I give her a nod and wriggle from her grip. “If you don’t mind—”
“Not so fast, mister,” she huffs. “Let me give you something for saving his life.”
While she roots around in her purse, I shoot another worried glance over at Ram. He’s chewing on his burger but his brows are still furrowed. I’m definitely fucked.
“Here you go, sweetie,” Belinda coos. “A little something for your troubles. I know you’re a big Hollywood man but I know sometimes it’s nice to have a little pocket money for when you’re out and about trying to blend in.”
She hands me a crisp five-dollar bill and grins.
Reluctantly, I take the bill so she’ll leave me alone and wave at them both. “Thanks for the, uh, money.”
I bolt back over to my barstool. Ram sets the phone down face first and slides it over to me.
“There are some things a man should never see. And I mean never.” His voice is hard. “’Just a friend,’ my ass.”
Turning to him, I let out a sigh. “Look, man—”
“I’m not done talking,” he snaps.
Clenching my jaw, I glare. “So talk.” I’m not backing down on this. I fucking love Reagan. I’m not letting Ram or anyone tell me I’m not good enough for her. She’s mine.
“How long?”
“Since after Chase.”
He picks up his beer and gulps it down. “Are you good to her?”
“Of course I fucking am,” I growl.
His stiff shoulders relax a bit. “Good. Now as much as I did not want to see my sister’s boobs…” He shudders and makes a little gagging sound.
I’m just irritated she sent a shot of her boobs and I didn’t even get to see them yet.
“I’m glad she’s happy,” he says, his tone hoarse. “I knew something was different with her. At first, I thought it was because she broke up with Chase and felt free. Now I realize it’s because she’s been with you. What kind of plans do you have with my sister?”
“The forever kind,” I tell him, my tone dead serious.
His brow lifts and he smirks. “I knew you had a good head on you, man. Despite what Roman says about you.” Then he scowls. “But you hurt her, even if it’s fucking emotionally, I will gut you.”
Reagan has always been closer to Ram than Roman, so I know he means every word.
“I wouldn’t dare,” I vow. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a loud sigh. “Can you…can we keep this between us?”
“Well, Reagan already knows I know,” he grunts. “I thought it would be funny to send her a picture of you being treated like a celebrity. I’d just snapped the picture and sent it when she replied immediately after with a picture of—” Another gag. “Her fucking boobs. Goddamn, can you two try and not leave that shit around for people like me to find?”
I groan. “Duly noted. Thanks for…”
“Not killing you?” he quips.
“Yeah, that.”
He shrugs. “I figure Roman will think of a thousand ways to murder you the moment he finds out.”
I pick up my burger that’s now cold with one hand and my phone with the other. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t find out.”
He snorts with laughter and then launches into an animated conversation with Brent when he comes to refill his glass. I scroll through the texts I missed.
Rey: What would you do to these?
Rey: <PHOTO ATTACHED>
Gorgeous goddamned tits with perfect pink nipples. Then, it shows where I sent her a picture of me with Belinda. Immediately followed by Ram losing his shit.
Me: WHAT THE FUCK, REAGAN?! YOU AND LINC?! SEXTING?!
Rey: Ram! Oh crap! Omg!
Rey: Omg.
Rey: Omg.
Rey: Oh. My. God.
I chomp on my burger while I text her.
Me: I’d put my dick right between your perfect tits and fuck you until my cum shot you on your neck giving you the prettiest pearl necklace anyone ever did see. Don’t say I never got you jewelry.
Rey: Oh, thank God. You’re back. How bad is it? Does everyone know? Is Roman on the warpath? And FYI…how do you make something so nasty and dirty seem romantic?
Laughing, I reply back.
Me: Ram is good. I’m not allowed to hurt you or he’s going to disembowel me. No biggie.
Rey: Gawwwwd. I am so sorry.
Me: I guess you should get your pretty ass ready for your spanking then.
Rey: I deserve it. Let me make it up to you…
I’m still grinning like a fucking idiot when I get another text.
Detective Dickhead: Almost time.
My blood runs cold. That day Chase got fired and I got hauled away by a fake-ass cop, I learned exactly what this asshole wanted me to do.
Only I would manage to get the motherfucking Feds on my ass just as I’ve started to put my life back together.
Me: Waiting on instructions.
Detective Dickhead: Good dog.
The murderous scowl is wiped right off my face when my phone pings and it’s from Reagan.
Rey: <PHOTO ATTACHED>