Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Wesley
Ronan and I have so many bags in our hands, my arms are starting to hurt.
Seriously. Do not let my wife loose in a mall a week before Christmas with her little black credit card unless you’re ready to do some serious lifting.
Asher’s nickname for her is truly accurate.
She’s a fucking princess, but she’s our princess.
We found some cool remote-controlled cars for Aries and Ryder as well as a drone that I’m sure they’ll get into nothing but trouble with.
Skyla said she needed to find something for Vincent, but honestly the man would love nothing more than a coupon for uninterrupted Skyla time.
I think he’d be over the moon for that, and I told her so, to which she rolled her eyes and strolled into a clothing store.
Her fingers dance over cashmere sweaters and silk dress shirts, neither of which come close to Vincent’s “style.” If ripped black jeans and a leather jacket can be considered style.
“What do you think of this?” she asks me.
I look to Ronan, who’s keeping a careful eye on Blake and therefore providing no backup as I shake my head. “Looks great, little one. Can we go now?”
She pouts. “We can go as soon as you help me. Do you think this is too short for him? He’s about your height.”
“Yeah, but I’m more built,” I say with a flex of my arms.
Skyla sighs, shaking her head as she holds the sweater up to me. “You know, you should really be more cooperative. I spotted a dressing room in the back corner of the store that’s unattended.”
Now she’s fucking talking.
Nothing else needs to be said. In half a second, I drop all the bags to the floor and scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder as I haul ass to the back of the store. She giggles the whole way, and I even hear a store attendant call out to us before Ronan intervenes.
I step inside the dressing room and shut the door behind me, locking it, then pinning Skyla’s hands above her head. My mouth is on hers before she can even breathe, our tongues intertwining. A soft little moan escapes her that has my cock dripping pre-cum already.
“Fuck, little one. I’m so goddamn hard for you.”
She smirks against my lips. “Prove it.”
I let out a low growl, kicking the velvet-covered bench around so it suits us better before I lay her out across it.
Skyla smirks, slowly lifting her ass up so that I can pull her pants down.
They’re those stretchy maternity pants that come off so easily, which is honestly all of our preference.
Before we had kids, there would be days where Skyla would be in absolutely nothing, and it was fucking glorious.
“So do you like the sweater or not? You think Vincent will like it?”
I laugh. “He’ll love anything you give him.”
I reach down, grabbing the sweater she carried in here before I rub it against her bare thigh. She quivers at the touch before letting out another sweet moan.
“Feel how soft it is, little one. Tell me he won’t go crazy over it,” I practically purr.
She nods shakily, her hips wiggling as I dance the material against her swollen clit.
“Fuck,” she whimpers.
I grin. “You like that?”
“Uh-huh.”
I do it again and again before I rest part of the neckline against her clit, covering it with my hand as I start rubbing soft circles. “There you go, little one. Make a mess all over your husband’s sweater. It’ll be the best present he ever got.”
A breathy gasp leaves her, and I decide that I can’t take the torture anymore.
I push my cock into her, letting out a low groan as I sink fully inside.
Her pussy pulses around me as I begin thrusting, rubbing the sweater against her faster.
Does anyone know what cum does to cashmere?
It has to only enhance it, right? At least, in Vincent’s opinion it will.
I thrust in and out of her, desperate to fill her with my release as I rest a hand on her hip, holding her for better leverage. Fuck. I love her like this. Soft, open and fucking drenched for me. The group play we all have is fun, but sometimes a moment like this with my wife is all I need.
“Wes,” she pants.
“I know, little one. I know,” I say through clenched teeth. “You want my cum? Want me to fill you up?”
“Yes,” she moans. “I want your cum, please,” she begs.
I can’t help but chuckle. It’s no wonder she’s practically been permanently pregnant since we got married. My wife has the neediest breeding kink, and so do the rest of us. By the time we’re done with her, we’re going to have a few hundred kids. Sounds like a good fucking time in the process.
The base of my spine begins to tingle, and my balls tighten before I empty myself inside her. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, and neither Skyla nor myself attempt to conceal our pleasure as we fall apart together. Fuck them, who gives a shit if anyone knows that I can please my wife?
When we come up for air, I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before pulling myself out. The sweater is still balled up in my fist, and I raise it to my nose, inhaling deeply and groaning because all I can smell is her.
Yeah, Vincent’s gonna fucking love it.
I grab another end of the sweater, unable to stop myself from fucking with Vincent at least a little. I use the sweater to clean between Skyla’s thighs, and she looks to me in surprise before a laugh escapes her.
When we get to the front, Ronan is watching us with a patient shake of his head, Blake has a surprised shit-eating grin and the saleswoman looks downright mortified.
“Just the sweater, then?” she asks.
“You might want to throw in the shirt that’s in the dressing room. Not sure you’ll be able to sell it now.”
“Jesus,” Ronan says from behind us, doing his best to conceal his laugh as I turn around and shoot him a wink.
Skyla hands the woman her card, not an ounce of shame in her smile before she takes her new purchase, and we all head out of the store.
The girls link arms and begin whispering and giggling as Ronan steps up beside me, handing me the bags I dropped before clapping my shoulder and whispering into my ear.
“Hope you’re ready for round two later. Listening to you two has me hard as a fucking pipe.”
Surprise hits me when I see Ronan is watching me with hungry eyes. He usually never approaches me first. It’s always the other way round, and typically, it’s after a few beers or when we’re having one of our weekly—okay, daily—fuckfests. This… this is new, and I definitely don’t hate it.
Deciding to tease him a bit, I lower my hand, “accidently” brushing against his leg, and it takes no effort at all to feel his rock-hard cock. Goddamnit. My own cock jerks in anticipation, and I’m suddenly scrambling, thinking of places that we can sneak off to in the middle of this crowded mall.
Ronan wets his lips, and I smile at him when something catches my attention over his shoulder. A man wearing a hat, suspiciously pulled way too low, and holding up his phone in our direction. He doesn’t see me because he’s too busy taking pictures ahead. Pictures of the girls.
In an instant, Ronan catches on to my change of focus before turning around to see what I’ve spotted.
“What the fuck?” he says quietly.
The man locks eyes with us for half a second before quickly pocketing his phone and walking in the other direction.
“I’m gonna follow him,” I say as I head off in the same direction.
“Wes, wait—”
My eyes meet his for a moment before I see the man has broken into a full sprint. I take off after him, calling out over my shoulder. “Get the girls to the car!”
I dodge other mallgoers, bobbing and weaving between them before I begin throwing people. The guy in front of me is fast, and I don’t know if he has others with him or waiting somewhere.
“Stop!” I shout after him.
He turns to look at me over his shoulder before pulling out a gun and firing a round.
I jolt to the side, and the bullet narrowly misses me as he takes off for the stairs to the parking garage.
I follow him, bursting through the door as a body comes flying towards me.
The butt of a gun jams into the side of my eye, forcing me to see stars.
I reach out and quickly wrap the gun in my grasp before the guy headbutts me—not successfully I’ll add because he stumbles back, holding his head with a wince.
No one ever wins with a headbutt.
He recovers faster than I do, though, and takes off running once more.
I stumble a few steps before chasing after him up the flights of stairs.
We pass level after level before he pushes out one door and takes off through the garage.
He’s over thirty yards away from me, but he’s close enough that I have a clean shot, and I take it.
My bullet sinks into his calf, and he yells before collapsing.
Suddenly, a car pulls up beside him, and he reaches for the handle.
Instead of the door opening, the window rolls down and a gun emerges, two rapid shots hitting him in the head before the car peels out.
My head swivels to the black sedan as I shout the license plate out over and over, so I don’t forget it.
“AZ41TT3. AZ41TT3. AZ41TT3.”
I jog over to the now deceased man and roll him over to see if I can identify him. He doesn’t look familiar, though. Not to me anyways.
After pulling out my phone, I see three missed calls from Ronan and two from Skyla. I call Ronan first and am met with his thundering voice.
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
“South parking garage, fifth floor,” I heave through labored breaths. “Hurry. We have a body.”
The line goes dead, and I pull up the group chat I have with the guys and send a text.
I don’t know who that was or what they want, but I know they’re no friends of ours.
I also know that whoever killed him isn’t a friend either.
More than likely they just wanted to make sure that he couldn’t talk if I was able to catch him.
He wasn’t working alone, which means anyone could have pictures of the girls and their location right now. Maybe even more.
Me: We’ve got a serious fucking problem.