I knew she’d come.
More like hoped she’d come.
Fuck.
Fine.
Mentally begged she’d show up.
She arrived an hour late, wearing an insanely low cut red dress to match that damn red lipstick I wanna fucking smear.
Need to fucking smear.
Need fucking smeared on me.
My group of friends chuckle together at some joke, and I offer a small smile.
No idea what the hell they’re laughing at or even talking about. Ever since Julez joined us it’s the only place my attention has been stationed. No matter which way the conversation turns, all my mind can focus on is the high slit exposing her thick thigh.
The way the club lights highlight the thin fabric, allowing me to catch faint outlines of her nipples.
The low, side ponytail I wanna wrap around my hand and pull.
I snake my fingers inside my white dress shirt and tug at the collar.
She’s all I’ve fucking thought about since I left her hotel room last night. And not just how I wish I would’ve gone inside, hiked that dress up, and buried my dick where it rightfully belongs.
No.
I’ve been hearing her beautiful laugh echo in the back of mind.
It’s a sound filled with shameless joy.
The same sound I spent over half of my life having to hide.
I’ve been replaying her accomplishments on an endless repeat.
She’s seen the world.
Staked her claim.
Set her eyes on a prize and won’t be stopped until she’s cradling it with both arms.
And on the physical note, she is can’t stop jerking off sexy.
5’10, taller than most men are comfortable with. Brown skin that I wanna spend all day drinking in like my favorite cappuccino. Curves…fuck me…so many curves I wanna trace with my fingers…my toes…my tongue…fuck, even my nose. I want all five of my senses to fuck every inch of her just like my dick.
But I can’t.
She’s my bros sister.
The sister I’m still slightly pissed I didn’t even know existed. What the hell is that about? We’re supposed to be family. What we have runs deeper than blood ever could, so how could he not trust us to know about her?
Or better yet not trust all of us?
And how the hell am I supposed to trust him like I used to?
How do you continue to trust someone who clearly doesn’t completely trust you?
Shaking away the thoughts, I plaster a phony grin of thanks as our VIP lounge waitress sets two more bottles of alcohol on the round glass table. After being reassured we don’t need anything else at this time, she lets herself exit the red roped off area we’re occupying in the underground club.
The sight of the unopened booze encourages me to suggest, “Let’s play a drinking game.”
“Why the fuck do we always have to play a game?” Nate gripes from the opposite curved couch.
I playfully wink. “Keeps us young at heart.”
That and of course I’m fucking dying to know more about Julez without ringing her big brother’s warning bell.
Her big brother who is thankfully already slightly buzzed with his hand creeping higher and higher between his fiancée’s thighs.
However, in spite of where his mind is obviously lingering, he’s kept one eye planted firmly on his sister. He practically growls each time any male stares a little too long.
On one hand, I’m grateful. He’s helping fend off my competition. On the other hand…he’s turned cock blocking into a boxing match, and he’s the undefeated heavy weight champion.
In my best gameshow voice, I announce, “Our sponsors of the evening proudly present, a good old fashion round of Never Have I.”
Ainsley’s face lights up. “This should be fun!”
Nate gives her bare shoulder a soft stroke.
Yeah, it’ll be fun as long as we steer clear of anything that makes me looks like too much like a womanizing dickhead who has to fuck every female that crosses his path.
Huh. This is could be a bad idea.
Ryann questions, “What are we taking shots of?”
“Whiskey?”
Holden winces. “Tequila?”
Meena jokingly snips, “El hecho de que soy parte marrón no significa que tenga que beber tequila.”
Julez and I both chuckle under our breath at the retort.
“What’d you just say?” Holden twists towards her. “Did you say something bad about me?”
She didn’t. She just joked about being half Hispanic doesn’t mean she has to like that type of beverage.
Holden’s irritation continues. “Did you tell them I can’t hold my tequila?”
I chortle a little louder. “No puedes.”
“English,” Holden grumps, tugging Meena closer to his body. “New rule. We only speak English in group settings.”
“Boooooooo.” I give him a thumbs down. “And since it’s my birthday, I overrule that request.” With a smug smirk, I question, “Ora, cosa dovremmo bere?”
Holden glares again at the same time Julez, who is sitting on the other side of Pax states, “Vodka.” She snatches up the tall clear bottle and wiggles it in her hands. “What do you say we skip wasting glasses and just take it straight from the bottle?”
My body unconsciously leans forward, my smile turning crooked. “Demonstrate.”
She slowly wets her lips causing my cock to stir. “Manners, birthday brat.”
“Please, demonstrate.”
Fuck. Seriously? There wasn’t even a hesitation to do what I’m told.
What the hell is wrong with me?!
She should be jumping to meet my commands not the other way around.
Julez winks, presses the bottle to her painted lips, and takes a decent gulp.
Between the bold execution and the delicious visual, my dick thumps against my zipper, begging to be sucked on next.
“Not classy,” Pax scolds at the same time I inconspicuously cover my cock with folded hands.
“It’s Wyatt’s birthday. Classy didn’t even get out of bed this morning,” Nate teases.
They collectively snicker, but I keep my attention on the green eyed temptress. “You’ve got the bottle. You go first.”
She lets her eyes caress my cut features before stating, “Never have I had a gym membership.”
Unconsciously, I flex my biceps, loving the way it causes her to bite the corner of her bottom lip.
“Really?” Meena squeaks in surprise and takes the bottle to have a drink. “Never?”
Julez’s eyes finally release their hold on my frame to meet hers. “No. I’ve been a member of many many studios and private lessons but never an actual gym.”
Meena passes it to Holden who has a sip. “You know Wyatt can help with that. He’s basically the Prince of fitness.”
Her attention soars back to me despite the fact I wish it didn’t. “Is that so?”
Pax has a gulp then offers it to Ryann. “Yeah, his parents own a global franchise.”
Ryann denies her turn to drink. “Nope. Never had the extra money to afford it.”
“Wait,” Ainsley pipes up, “do school gym memberships count? Like we’ve got a gym on campus that I can use as long as I’m a student.”
Julez shakes her head as I take the bottle. Once I’ve taken a swig, she inquires, “Which franchise?”
I lean over to pass the bottle to Nate while reluctantly answering, “Gym Life.”
“Where we make going to the gym a way of life,” Ainsley quotes the obnoxious slogan.
Nate has his drink and shakes his head. “You’ve seen that commercial way too many times.”
A small blush hits her cheeks.
“I didn’t know your family owned that company,” Meena speaks up, surprise caked in her tone.
Because I hate the fact that they do.
Because I hate the fact I was raised in a family where image is everything.
Because I hate the fact I was brought up to believe food was the enemy, there was no such thing as friends, just allies, and that marriage is merely a business transaction in which love should never play a factor.
I am the walking embodiment of what happens when people with too much money make the mistake of trying to raise a child.
We’re talking down to the shame of secretly hoping my full time nanny was my real mother instead.
Growing more and more uncomfortable the longer we linger on the subject, I force myself to politely grin. “I prefer to make a name for myself. Which I successfully have as you all know.”
“The Charming Chef,” Ainsley coos between giggles.
I wave a hand down my body. “The one and only.”
My eyes momentarily catch Julez, and the smirk I’m sporting turns genuine.
How does she do that?
Fuck, why is she capable of doing that?
“Nate was the last one to drink, you’re next,” Pax’s deep voice pummels through my thoughts.
“Never have I…” he pauses in contemplation, “had sex in an airplane.”
“I don’t wanna know that shit about my sister,” Pax immediately grumbles.
“Too bad,” Ryann scolds. “Risks of the game.”
“Sono una donna adulta, Paxton. I’ve had sex before.”
“Doesn’t mean I wanna hear about it.”
“Grow up. It’s not like we were asked to provide details,” she snips.
Fuck, I would love those details.
Nate offers the alcohol to Ainsley who promptly shakes her head as does Julez.
The new information has my mind reeling a direction it knows it shouldn’t.
I extend my hand to take the booze when Meena intercepts it to have a drink.
“What?!” Holden practically barks. “When?! With who!?”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” I smoothly interject. “You know the rules of the game. It’s judgement free fun.”
He shoots me a displeased sneer at the same time she slides the bottle past Pax and Ryann to me.
“Relax, mi corazón,” Meena commands, hand giving his thigh a comforting squeeze. “I married you. You can have me any way you want, any time you want, including in the air or bent over the top stair.”
“That was like a naughty Dr. Seuss rhyme…” Our laughter over my comment dissipates the tension that was building. “Last with the bottle makes it my turn.” Unsure of which direction to lead the game has my eyes circling around the group. Too sexy and Pax will most likely threaten to end the whole thing, too tame and everyone may grow bored. Where the hell is the middle ground? “Never have I…kissed a member of the same sex.”
For a moment no one moves a muscle.
That seemed like a safe, non-safe way to take everything, but if no one drinks then it’s pointless.
Ever so slowly, Ryann reaches for the bottle, and Pax groans with enough force to shake the entire couch. “When?”
“College.”
“Just once?”
She simply winks, has a sip, and looks around to see if anyone else needs to grab it.
The hand that is wedged between her thighs twitches in excitement.
Ryann doesn’t bother hiding her snicker. “Never have I left the country.”
Her fiancé snatches the bottle for a drink first, passes it to his sister, who drinks and eventually passes it to me. After I’ve had my fill, I pass it to Meena who takes a hit and hands it over to Nate, leaving him in charge of the continuation. He doesn’t hesitate to state, “Never have I been a parent.”
“Really?” Holden huffs. “That shit feels narrowed down as fuck.”
“Hey, Julez could have a secret love child or something,” Nate poorly defends.
She lightly laughs. “I don’t.”
“But we didn’t know that,” Nate slyly states.
“I did,” Pax grunts.
Hey, I’m with Nate on this one. It’s good information to have. It’d probably be a deal breaker since I am in no way, shape, or form ready to be a dad.
I mean…if there was a deal to break.
But there isn’t.
Because no matter which way I spin this fucking thing she is still Pax’s sister.
Still off limits.
Julez toys with the curls in her hair, still smiling wide.
Still a little out of my league…
Out of my league?!
No such thing.
Pax, Ryann, Meena and Holden all have a shot of the vodka.
Holden bitterly bites, “Never have I owned more than four pairs of shoes at one time.”
My face is first to fall. “And that’s not fucking specific?”
He casually shrugs. “Not my fault your closet looks like a fucking Foot Locker.”
Julez’s eyes soar to me. “Shoe connoisseur?”
“I’m a shoe connoisseur,” Pax argues. “He’s a sneaker head.”
“Kicks,” my laid back correction grows her grin. “Prefer kicks.”
Her jaw drops in surprise. “Me too!”
“Fuck…really?”
She hastily nods. “Oh yeah. Have been since I was like sixteen. They’re pretty much the only thing I wear to the office. Heels aren’t exactly the friendliest footwear when you’re a giant, and honestly? There are kicks that are way sexier than any pair of Louboutin pumps could ever be.”
Am I dreaming?
Did Holden digitally create me the perfect woman in his Bat Cave and now gets his laughs from dangling her right out of my fucking reach?
“But did you see the spiked sneakers he designed?”
“Have a pair of the red ones,” she confidently coos.
My cock requests to rejoin the conversation with a not so casual thump.
“Drink,” Holden commands, in an attempt to severe the connection. “Both of you.”
I quickly toss back a shot, pass the bottle to her, and state, “These were my birthday treat.”
The moment I hike up the edge of my dark denim jeans she loudly gasps, “Oh shit! Are those Zendetti 418s with the gold shark fin and side zip up?”
Biting back a groan has never been more difficult.
This has to be some sort of government experiment being tested on me. How long can one man resist the woman that was made for him?
“Those are so sexy,” Julez whimpers right after her sip. “How’d you even get a pair?” The bottle is passed to one of the other women. “They aren’t due on the market for another two weeks.”
Before I have a chance to answer, there’s a collective grumble of disapproval.
“Can we change the subject?” Ainsley sweetly questions.
“They hate when I talk about shoes.”
“Ramble,” Meena corrects.
I roll my eyes.
“Shoes and food.” Nate nods slowly. “We all get a glossed over look.”
The corner of Julez’s lip pulls upward as she shoots me a reassuring glance.
Her eyes wouldn’t gloss over.
She wouldn’t change the subject.
Fifty bucks says she’d get wet hearing me describe how soft the leather of these kicks are…
Damn.
Is she already wet?
Holden prevents my dick from doing another set of pushups by adding, “Treated yourself to shoes, which means the next treat will be blonde and easy, right?”
Worst. Wingman. Ever.
Always has been.
Nate’s usually a close second.
However, rather than actively cock blocking like Holden is, Nate has begun to take a page out of Pax’s playbook and distracted himself with his female company.
Julez lets out a heavy sigh. “On that note, I think I’m gonna go the bar.”
Pax pulls his attention away from Ryann’s neck. “That’s not necessary. We have lounge service.”
There’s a hint of venom in her bite, “Yeah, well, I wanna see more than all of you making out for the next hour, so if you’ll excuse me.”
Ryann wiggles out of her fiancé's clutches to volunteer her company. “I can walk around with you.”
Pax grunts his disapproval.
“I’ll show her around.”
All eyes immediately swing to me, yet it’s Nate who asks, “Why you?”
“You’re all rather…occupied.” I motion my hand to Ainsley whose chest is starting to heave for some reason. “Besides, have any of you actually been here before?”
They all shake their heads in unison.
“I rest my case.”
Pax predictably prepares to object when Ryann’s tongue snakes out to tease his earlobe. His groan is as heavy as his sister’s sigh was. “Fine.” He points a harsh finger at me. “But hai bisogno di guardarla.”
“I will.”
“Sono serio. Don’t let her out of your fucking sight, Wyatt.”
“I won’t.”
And that’s the goddamn truth.
The two of us exit the roped off area, leaving my group of friends to their inebriated, tangled messes.
As soon as we reach the bottom step to the main dance floor, my hand instinctively lands on the small of her back. Her body instantly melts into the faint touch igniting unexpected warmth throughout my veins.
I’m the only man on this whole fucking planet who can protect her.
Who should be given the right to protect her.
The right to touch her.
The right to….
I shake my head in a desperate attempt to disperse the ridiculous thoughts.
Effortlessly, I guide us through the sea of bodies grinding to hip-hop classics from the early 2000s. We pass numerous pairs of people one zip away from fucking on the dance floor as well as too many couples in matching attire to count.
That’s just the type of shit New Year’s Eve does to people. Turns them into his and hers sex machines cranked to full capacity. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to join them.
To be them.
Having Julez’s body pressed against me, withering and whining for more while the world watches would be a much better gift to myself than these fucking kicks.
I usher us up the three steps on the exact opposite side of where we left our group and over to the two empty seats at the bar. Julez’s eyes drink in the neon backdrop illuminating the shelves of liquor while mine drink in the way her backside fills out the seat.
She hits me with a wicked smirk.
A small laugh bounces my chest at the realization I’ve been caught.
Again.
Moving my chair a bit closer, I confess, “Never have I wanted to ditch my own birthday party to spend some one on one time with a chick.”
Her smile turns teasing. “Never have I been eye fucked so hard that I wish I’d worn my glasses for protection.”
The two of us laugh loudly together.
Julez’s hand crosses the space between us to gently brush my cheek. “You do blush.”
“Only for you.”
She softly hums and drops her touch, leaving a small ache in my chest.
Needing a distraction from the pain, I casually inform her, “This whole club used to be a bank in the 30s and 40s, but down here was where they kept The Hillstringer mob’s money.”
Her eyes widen. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
Thrill thrums her expression and more pride pumps through my chest from being the one to put it there.
“Down that hall,” I point to the narrow area on the side of the bar, “leads to the vault, which they turned into a storage cooler.”
“How do you know that?”
“Know the guy that owns the place. He’s got an affinity for rhubarb pie, and I just happen to know this little bakery right outside the city that makes the best in the state.”
The corner of her lip kicks upward.
“See, that’s what makes me different than most chefs. They have a tendency to wanna bring to you what they think is culinary genius. What they love having on their pallets. Me? I just wanna bring to you what you already love in the best form. Life’s too short to eat shitty food.” The female bartender finally notices us prompting me to add, “Or drink boring booze.”
Intrigue makes a grand entrance into her expression. “How do you do that if you don’t know the person?”
My smirk becomes cocky. “People are much more transparent about their taste buds than they think. You are what you eat. Your personality defines your pallet.”
“Prove it.” Her tongue grazes her lips. “Order me a drink you know I’ll love.”
Anxious to prove I’m not just another arrogant asshole who can navigate his way around a bar, I toss my head to the bartender waiting for our order. “We’ll take two flaming Dr. Peppers.”
She nods her understanding and grabs two glasses to begin the order.
“They’re illegal in most bars around the country.” My attention latches onto hers. “Potential fire hazard. The drink packs heat and a hint of danger. Like you.”
Julez snickers at the comment and drops her hand to my thigh. “You have no idea.”
Considering the fact my best friend didn’t even want to acknowledge she existed and now refuses to have her out of his sight without an escort, I can probably make a good estimation.
The waitress places the half-filled beer glasses in front of us and the shot glasses to the sides. “You ready?”
I smirk. “Light it up.”
She flicks the lighter over the shot glass, and the top layer catches flame.
“Drop and chug.”
Julez doesn’t hesitate to follow my lead. We drop our shots in the beer and begin gulping back the combination that when done right, which this bar always does, tastes exactly like the soda.
I barely finish my beverage before she does proving once more she’s not like any other woman I’ve come across.
She can take what’s dealt.
She can stand toe to toe with me.
Lead and follow.
If that shit isn’t sexy as fuck I don’t know what is.
Julez wipes away the dribble of beer from the corner of her lip. “I haven’t drunk this much in months.”
“Why’s that?”
“Typically, not my style.” Her fingertip roams around the rim of the empty beer glass. “See, there are three main reasons for drinking.” She taps the object. “To be social, say for someone’s birthday extravaganza or going away party.”
“The last reason you drank in a larger amount?”
Julez sweetly winks. “To lower your inhibitions, so you can find the balls to ask the girl to get a drink,” she motions to our empty glasses, “or invite the guy back to your place for a little late-night hook up.”
All she has do is fucking ask, and I’m there. Damn the fucking consequences. Besides the fact it’s my birthday and she’s the only gift I wanna unwrap? This chick has managed to stay on my mind, which is something I can honestly say no other woman has done in the past. Sure. I’ve given them second thoughts, especially when I procrastinated a situation, making it more difficult to close the deal, but nothing like this.
Nothing this…frequent.
Strong.
Undeniable.
“And lastly, to forget.” The hint of sadness to her tone is one I unfortunately recognize. “Sometimes a little vodka or double shot of whiskey burns those hard to shake memories away…” I drop my hand on top of hers and tightly grasp it. Julez steals a small glance of the sight before letting her eyes meet mine again. “Which one in particular I do definitely depends on which day it is.”
“Hopefully tonight it’s because of my birthday.”
Her smile turns teasing yet again. “And the holiday.”
“Now, holiday drinking is my specialty.” My thumb softly strokes the back of her soft hand. “At The Row, we had all sorts of parties and special events, but holidays always got the little extra attention they deserved.”
“Ah, The Row,” Julez dramatically aggrandizes. “The party palace of Clover Rose University. Home to the men who would live on as legends.”
Hearing her use a slightly mocking tone causes me to shift in my seat. “Take it Pax has told you a story or two?”
She nods. “Tons. I used to swear boasting about the three of you was all he could do. He built you guys up to be Gods walking amongst men with an infallible bond between you. Not to mention each of you were your own brand of perfection. Perfect Nate and his superior intellect. Despite how hard he partied he never failed to make the Dean’s List.”
Always came as a surprise to him.
“Perfect Holden and his impeccable hacking skills. He has enough blackmail on people to make a high ranking politician nervous.”
He could discover enough blackmail on political figures to probably bring down their country…
“Perfect Pax and his historically large size. Enough strength to protect the monsters from getting into your fortress or to yank them out when they managed to creep in.”
Or in my case help defuse a few boyfriends who wanted to blame me for their girlfriends’ decision to get a good dick elsewhere.
“And let’s not forget perfect Wyatt. The guy known for what he could do with his mouth and do to yours.” Her hand guides itself slightly higher to rest on my stirring cock. “In and out of the kitchen.”
She flexes her hand, and the air in my lungs vanishes. “You know all about us…”
“I know what I’ve been told,” her rebuttal is followed with a smirk. “Tell me something new.”
“Like?”
“Which holiday was your favorite to celebrate?”
“You mean aside from my birthday?”
“Obviously.”
“Valentine’s Day.”
“Not surprising.”
A sly smirk slides onto my face. “Shouldn’t be. It’s a day devoted to desserts.”
Her expression turns sardonic.
“I’m serious. I mean, yeah, I love a horned up chick looking to forget she’s single for the night as much as the next guy, but desserts are kind of my secret pleasure.”
Julez’s jaw tips slightly down as if hanging on for more.
“Sugar was something forbidden in my house growing up. My nanny used to sneak it to me when my parents were out of town, and I used to con my friends or girls who had a crush on me into sharing their candy bars or brownies. When I got to Clover Rose and we started throwing parties, the perfect dessert was as necessary to me as the perfect combination of booze we served. I’d spend fucking hours making shit from scratch. Valentine’s Day was always about perfecting the chocolate to non-chocolate ratio. Our junior year, I made chocolate dipped cherries and drizzled white chocolate on top of them.” The memory kicks my smile up another notch. “We actually used them for a game of lick or blow.”
Julez’s eyebrows launch in curiosity. “Which is…?”
“A revised version of suck and blow.”
“The card game people play in like high school?”
“Yeah, but instead of trying to pass a card around to make out with another person, chicks would have to carry the pair of cherries by their tongue from one dick to the next. If they couldn’t place it or it fell off, they had to suck.”
“That’s kinda hot.”
Images of Julez on her knees licking melting chocolate off my dick begin to overpower my mind. My dick twitches under her touch, and she gives it a strong squeeze of approval.
“You guys didn’t mind seeing each other like that?”
I immediately shake my head. “We’ve never given a fuck about bullshit boundaries like that. It wasn’t the first time we’d seen each other get head or shared a girl willing to give it. It damn sure wasn’t the last. After we rushed the same frat freshman year where we were forced to do shit like sleep next to each other’s pools of vomit, there were no invisible lines between us. We took a shit while someone brushed their teeth. Pissed while someone else trimmed their balls. Swapped clothes. Shared chicks. Just about everything and anything except my shoes.”
On that note, Julez erupts into laughter.
“Nobody wears my fucking shoes but me.”
Or fucks my woman but me.
The ridiculous thought strikes a nerve I’m tired of being touched. “We respect the few rules we’ve each come to have…” I slowly remove my hand from hers, “even when we don’t agree with them.”
Like not fucking your best friend’s little sister despite the fact something, somewhere deep inside of you knows she’s meant for you.
I prepare to tell her we should head back when a mischievous gleam glimmers in her eyes. “My turn.”
Curiosity has me lifting my eyebrows.
“I wanna pick a drink that I think fits you.”
A small chuckle escapes. “Alright. I’ll play. Order a drink that describes me.”
Julez flags the bartender back over who immediately offers, “Champagne for a midnight toast?”
“Two Cinnamon Toast Crunch shots, please.”
The woman flattens her palms on the counter in intrigue. “Not sure I’ve made one of those before.”
“Equal parts Fireball Whisky and Rumchata Liqueur. Combine over ice in a shaker. Shake until it’s cold and strain in a glass,” I rattle over, impressing the bartender but not my date.
Er.
Drinking pal.
Buddy.
Acquaintance.
Best friend’s little sister that I’m not supposed to bang.
“Normally, you dip the rim of the glass in a cinnamon sugar mix, but instead we’ll take a bit of agave syrup in a separate glass and a pinch of sugar for body shots.” When the bartender begins to grab the appropriate glasses, Julez turns her impish smile to me. “They’re gonna be body shots because according to Prince Kellan of Doctenn, who I met two years ago at my closest friend Yasmine’s birthday party in Vegas,” her voice grows an accent, “’It’s not a proper birthday party without one.’.”
“Spot on impression.” A short chortle frees itself. “Did he give you the not British but Doctenn speech?”
“Nah, but I know the difference.” We exchange another smile. “When’d you meet him?”
“The first time? Probably four years ago. We used to end up at a lot of the same parties…He’s got killer taste in food.”
“And women,” Julez promptly adds. “Have you seen his fiancée?”
“Yeah, she’s hot, but um…” my eyes helplessly roll down the front of her dress, “I’ve definitely seen better.”
Julez’s smile softens as she reaches for the shot glasses being placed in front of us. “This drink is you because you’re sweet, sticky, fun, and something I wouldn’t mind starting my Saturday morning with.”
The explanation has me lightly laughing again.
She dips a finger from her free hand in the syrup and drags it along my jawline. I clench it tight, anxious not to shutter, not to shake, not to fucking shatter into a million tiny pieces from the feathery touch. With my entire body frozen in place, I allow my eyes to intensely watch her sprinkle sugar directly on top of the path she paved.
I can’t let her do this.
I can’t let her lick me.
It was one thing when I didn’t know who she was or which family she belonged to.
It’s another cooking channel when I know exactly what I’m doing.
When I know exactly whose trust I’ll be betraying.
Who will never forgive me.
My mouth moves to tell her to stop but is much too late.
Her hot tongue flattens itself against my skin shutting my eyelids on a heavy sigh. It lightly sways back and forth, searing away every care or concern that was previously shouting in the front of my mind. As soon as her tongue reaches the edge of the line, it retreats in the exact same direction it came. However, instead of allowing her to slip away, my mouth moves to catch hers, desperate to taste the one thing I know I shouldn’t. The moment my tongue finds hers it forcefully swipes away the sweet mixture that was previously on my body and recoats it with bitter brushes of brutal frustration.
Confliction.
Starvation.
Abruptly, Julez yanks her mouth away, leans her forehead against mine, and lets her half dazed vision connect to mine. “Couldn’t wait for midnight?”
My fingertips relocate to the nape of her neck to tug her back to me. “Fuck that. I’ve already waited long enough.”
The sounds of the countdown continue around us yet fade from my ears the second our lips touch again.
Julez lets out a soft whimper, and I can’t stop my grip from becoming bruising. Our tongues enter an unexpected battle for dominance, each determined to lash the other into submission, each unwilling to submit to the pleasure it knows the other is capable of providing. Her body gravitates closer. I latch my other hand onto her hip at the same time I sink my teeth into her bottom lip. She lets out a deafening gasp. Uses her hands to tug at my dress shirt. Moans hungrily when I suck on the puncture marks I’ve made.
Her voice trembles my name, “Wyatt…”
My cock pulses in a new discovered pain.
“Bathroom,” Julez whispers out, eyes now piercing mine. “Two minutes.”
The instructions have me nodding in agreement. “Hallway’s on the left side of the bar.”
She nips at my bottom lip, gives me a wicked smirk, and saunters away taking my attention with her.
Damn. She’s got an ass that would make a fucking priest repent for feigning over it.
An ass I can’t wait to my get my fingers between.
My tongue.
My dick.
Another groan festers in my throat as I pull out my wallet to pay the bartender.
Everything in the VIP section is paid for. The section was a gift from the owner, but the booze coverage is a gift from my bros. I don’t actually need them to buy me fancy shit or go on outrageous trips to celebrate. I honestly don’t give a damn what we do as long as we celebrate. I grew up having my birthday barely acknowledged. Getting nothing more than a pat on the head and a be grateful we put that money in a Trust Fund for you instead of wasting it on presents or a party.
Now there’s a secret my bros don’t know.
And I’m about to add one more to the vault.
I down the two untouched shots and hand the bartender a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
She nods her gratitude.
Afterwards, I spin on my heels to head the direction of my dreams and come face to face with the unexpected.
Holden’s green eyes harshly glare. “Bro, tell me I didn’t see what I’m pretty fucking sure I saw.”
I simply tilt my head to the side in question.
“Tell me that kiss was just a drunken mistake.”
Oh shit…
Nervousness begins to cut off my airways.
He quickly shakes head at me. “Come on, bro. You know you can’t fuck Pax’s sister.”
The unconscious movement my head makes steals a hard huff out of him.
“Shouldn’t.”
Accurate.
“You shouldn’t fuck Pax’s sister, Wyatt. You shouldn’t even fucking consider it.”
“But-”
“No, bro. No fucking buts about this shit. Pax trusts you. Really fucking trusts you. And the list of people he trusts around his sister is miniscule.” His hands plop themselves firmly on my shoulders. “Listen to me. Do not betray his trust. It would be like Alfred betraying Batman.”
The overgrown child inside of me questions, “Who’s Batman in this scenario?”
He shakes his head. “Stay away from Julez, Wyatt.”
My lips press firmly together to prevent explaining that I can’t.
That some part of me can’t control how hard it wants her.
Has to have her.
Maybe it’s the same relationship I share with sugar or maybe…maybe she’s my forever.
My one chance to climb out of the shit hole of expectations I’ve sunken into.
My one opportunity to have the happiness they have.
The happiness I never thought I’d be worthy of having.
Question is, is my shot at that type of happiness really worth risking my past, present, and future with my bros?
With the only fucking people I’ll ever consider family?
Do I even have a future worth living without them in it?