41. Brian
CHAPTER 41
Brian
The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting soft, golden rays across Jules’s luscious curves as she stirs in her sleep.
She’s sprawled out on her stomach, her hair a mess of dark waves across the pillow, showing the soft lines of her bare shoulders. Her glorious breasts rise and fall with each breath, and all I can do is watch her.
She’s breathtaking. Peaceful. Beautiful in a way that makes my breath hitch and my cock stir.
I want to touch her, but I won’t. I know better. If I even so much as run my hand down the curve of her hip, there will be hell to pay.
Disturbing Jules on a lazy Sunday morning? I may as well kick a hornet’s nest. A hornet’s nest that transforms into ten Godzillas.
I can already imagine her glare burning through me, her sleepy wrath ready to pounce. And make no mistake, my little Peach Pop is evil. I wouldn’t put it past her to throw a pillow at my head with the precision of a Navy SEAL, then roll over like nothing happened.
Is it my fault her mesmerizing body practically dares me to start a damn pillow war?
Because I’ve fought battles that were easier than going toe-to-toe with a cranky Peach Pop. Like when we were eight, and I told her she was too little to play WWE wrestling, thinking she’d pout and storm off.
Spoiler alert: she didn’t.
The damn girl had me in a headlock five minutes later, her legs locked around my waist like a python, flipping me to the ground until I ate my words—and half a mouthful of dirt.
Which was weird, because I was talking about a video game.
In my defense, I was scrawny for eight. And Jules? She was a damn hurricane in sneakers. Came at me with all limbs flying. Some serious Greco-Roman wrestling shit. Her arms and legs locked in around me like a candy wrapper and?—
Wait, why is this a bad idea?
Without opening her eyes, she mumbles, “We’re closed.”
I smirk. “Closed?”
“To that big cock knocking at my ass. Yeah, we’re closed. Come back in an hour.”
A grin tugs at my lips as I lean closer, my breath just grazing her hair. “I can’t. In an hour, my dick will have shriveled up from sheer neglect. Blue balls will have claimed their final victim. And then where will you be?”
“Sleeping blissfully,” she mutters, yanking the pillow over her head like a shield.
I chuckle, undeterred. “Plus, in an hour, we’ll be hitting the road. ”
Her pillow shifts just enough for one eye to peek out. “You’re coming with me?”
I’m not sure why she’s so surprised. As if I could last an entire day without her.
I sigh dramatically, flopping back on the bed. “Yes, I’m coming with you. Even if impending dick death is on the line.”
“How heroic,” she says, kissing a line across my chest. “You make it sound like my problem.”
“It is your problem. You’re a certified sex maniac. And I’m warning you—if you don’t feed him now, there will be hell to pay. You’ll be desperate and horny, and there’ll be nothing left for you to play with but a shriveled-up beef stick.”
Before I can even blink, her hand snakes under the sheets, wrapping around me, firm and teasing. A sharp breath escapes me as she squeezes.
“He seems pretty plump already,” she purrs, her voice like a warm shot of whiskey, and damn, I love it when we’re like this. Fun and playful, and so hot I swear I’ll lose all self-control if she keeps this up.
“Jules,” I groan, gritting my teeth. “Get up here.”
I want more. I need more. Coming in her hand? Polite pass. I can tackle that on my own.
My girl does what she does best. Tortures me. “What do you want, Mr. Bishop?”
“You .” Always. Forever. “Up here. Now!”
But she just grins, sliding lower, her breath ghosting over me. “Shh,” she whispers, her lips hovering just an inch from launching a full-on attack on my sanity. “You said it yourself—we don’t have time.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the second her lips wrap around me, warm and slick, whatever words I have vanish. Along with my willpower. And every last brain cell. Thinking? Not an option.
Hell, it’s taking every ounce of strength I have just to keep breathing.
Her tongue traces a slow, torturous line along my length, and I’m throbbing so hard I swear I’m on the verge of exploding.
Not just my dick. Me. Into a thousand pieces I will never recover from.
When she sucks, my eyes roll back in my head. My hands grip her hair as I groan. She hums in response, the vibration sending another shockwave of pleasure ripping through me until I’m on the edge, begging for it.
“Jules,” I rasp, barely holding it together. “Fuck. Yes. Suck it harder.”
Her hands grip my thighs as she sets a rhythm that’s damn near euphoric.
The heat, the pressure, the way she moves—it’s pushing me straight to the brink, and I’m barely hanging on.
Then her eyes flick up to mine—owning me in every way possible with just one look—and I’m done.
My body tightens, every nerve lit up like a fuse, and I’m gone. Completely at her mercy and loving every fucking second of it.
My whole body tenses with a guttural moan, and I’m done—completely undone, hard, fast, and so deep it knocks the wind out of me.
In pure Jules form, she doesn’t stop. She milks every last drop of pleasure from me, relentless, until I’m left trembling, my breath coming out in ragged bursts, completely wrecked in the best way possible.
Finally, she pulls back, a self-satisfied grin on her face as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how satisfied is he?”
“Ten thousand,” I gasp, still trying to catch my breath, barely able to string a sentence together. “You overdid it.”
Her brow furrows. “Overdid it? How?”
“You sucked him dry. He needs recovery time.” I dramatically throw a pillow over my head, groaning. “Must. Sleep.”
She snickers that evil little laugh of hers, before nuzzling her face into my neck. “I’m showering,” she sweetly coaxes.
I don’t move.
“Maybe I’ll have a moment with the shower nozzle if you’re too wiped out.”
I fake a snore.
But the second I hear the water turn on, I’m on the phone.
Mark picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Brian, what’s up?”
“It’s Grandma Spenser’s birthday, and I need a cake.”
There’s a brief pause before he laughs. “Last minute as usual. When do you need it?”
“An hour.”
“An hour ? Jesus, no pressure. All right, favorite flavors?”
“Halmeoni loves anything apple. And booze.”
“Allergies?”
“Definitely not.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’ve literally watched her eat everything from nuts to fruit, and even a mind-boggling assortment of wildflowers and weeds just to prove they weren’t poisonous. The woman’s practically invincible.”
I can hear the wheels turning on his end, the familiar sounds of him rummaging through his colossal pantry. “You’re in luck. I’m fully stocked. If I start now, I can do a Tarte Tatin with a bourbon-soaked crust and buttery rum caramel glaze. Or are you aiming for a real showstopper? Perhaps an apple cake with bourbon cream cheese frosting.”
“Surprisingly, she does have a thing for cream cheese.”
“Fine. Done. But only if you cease and desist all ABBA karaoke on my voicemail. I still read the transcriptions during meetings.” He pauses. “And let me tell you, reading ‘You are the Dancing Queen’ in the middle of a budget review is less than ideal.”
I snort, trying to keep a straight face. “I bet it is.”
“Not that I particularly mind being told I can dance, I can jive, having the time of my life. But do you have any idea how hard it is to keep from humming ‘Dancing Queen’ during meetings?”
I burst out laughing, doubling over, unable to stop the mental image of Mark trying to keep a straight face while humming ABBA in a boardroom.
“Do we have a deal?” he asks, deadpan.
I wipe away a tear, still grinning. “Deal.”
I hang up, elated that the birthday girl will have a very special cake, and I can’t wait to tell Jules. I slip on my prosthetic and head to the bathroom.
The steam clings to the mirror, and Jules is already under the water, her hair soaked. She catches me watching, her eyes dropping to my growing excitement with a teasing grin.
“Haven’t you had enough?” she asks, playful as ever.
I move in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing her back against my chest .
“Enough?” I murmur, brushing my lips against her ear. “When it comes to you, I’ll never have enough.”