Chapter 36
36
brODY
H er mouth is swollen and wet, still glistening with me.
She’s on her knees between my legs, looking up at me like I’m pure sin, and the only thing I can think is how badly I need to ruin her. Completely. Thoroughly. One orgasm at a time, until she’s shaking and wrecked and doesn’t remember her own name, only mine.
She licks her lips like she’s proud of herself. She should be. But this round? It’s mine.
“Your turn.” My voice is full of want and need.
She barely nods before I scoop her up with one hand under her thighs, the other around her back. She wraps her arms around my neck, laughing breathlessly as I carry her down the hallway toward the bedroom.
“Queen treatment,” she says.
“Fuck yes,” I growl. “I love having you in my arms.”
The bedroom is dark, but I don’t bother flipping a switch. I don’t need to see her in anything but shadows and skin. I lay her down in the center of the bed, slow and deliberate, like I’m offering her up to myself. She props herself on her elbows, watching me as I strip off my shirt, and then I meet her eyes.
“Let me undress you,” I say.
She lifts her hips and lets me peel her leggings down, dragging her panties with them, leaving her bare and beautiful in the middle of my bed. Our bed.
My gaze rakes over every inch of her. Her thighs are already glistening, her pussy flushed and swollen, begging for my mouth, my fingers, and my cock.
I kneel between her legs and drag her down the mattress until her ass is flush with the edge, and then I place her knees over my shoulders. She gasps when I spread her open, my tongue already flicking out to taste every drop of her.
“Brody,” she gasps, breath catching as I flatten my tongue against her clit and lick her slow.
She tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted—sweet. Fuck, she’s soaked, dripping for me. I devour her like a man starved, my tongue working in circles, then fast flicks, then long, greedy strokes that make her hips buck and her hands claw at the sheets. Her thighs start to tremble around my head. I suck her clit into my mouth as she whimpers, her cries high, needy. It’s a broken sound that makes my cock throb against the mattress.
“Keep going,” she begs.
I slide two fingers into her tight cunt, curling them just right, dragging them against that spot that makes her see stars. Her body arches off the bed, and I know she’s right there, suspended on the edge, ready to fall over. I can taste it. I can see it in the way every muscle in her body tenses.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I mutter against her soft pussy. “Come for me.”
As if I snapped my fingers, Harper shatters.
Her legs lock around my head, and she cries out my name like it’s the only word she knows. Her pussy tightens around my fingers, wet and pulsing, as I ride it out with her, licking her through every wave until she’s twitching, breathless, begging.
“I need to feel you,” she gasps. “Inside me.”
I rise up and drag my cock along her soaked entrance. “Your wish is my command.”
I thrust into her in one slow, hard stroke.
She screams out in pleasure when I sink into her—tight, wet, pulsing around me, like her body was made to take every inch.
My hands grip her thighs, spreading her wider as I drive in deeper, grinding my hips into hers until I’m buried to the hilt. Her pussy squeezes around me like a fist, and I bite out a curse as I pull back and slam into her again.
“Fuck, Harp,” I groan out, sweat already beading down my spine. “You feel like heaven, wrapped in sin.”
Her head rolls back against the mattress, lips parted, eyes glassy and wild. “Don’t you even think about stopping.”
I shift her legs up, folding them toward her chest so I can go deeper, harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room like a goddamn rhythm. Her guttural groans only encourage me to fuck her harder.
“You wanted to taste me on your knees?” I pant, thrusting deep enough to make her cry out. “Now I’m going to fuck you until you’re a Calloway.”
“Yes. Yes, please?—”
Her voice breaks on the last word as I slam into her again, her breath catching with every stroke. I reach between us, rubbing her clit in tight, punishing circles that make her body jerk beneath me. She’s already so close again. I can feel it in the way she trembles, the way her thighs start to shake, how her pussy clenches, like she’s trying to drag me in deeper than I can go.
“You’re going to come again,” I order, voice feral. “On my cock.”
Her eyes roll back, her lips parting in a silent scream as her body seizes around me, orgasm tearing through her like a lightning strike. She spasms beneath me, sobbing my name, her pussy milking me so tight that it takes everything I have not to come with her.
I grab her hips and flip her over before the last wave even finishes, dragging her up onto her knees, her ass in the air, back arched like a fucking dream. I slide back into her from behind, gripping her hair as I drive into her again.
“Look at you. So fucking beautiful,” I growl in her ear. “And completely wrecked for me.”
“Only for you,” she chokes out. “Only ever for you.”
I thrust into her again, and again, and again, until I feel the pressure in my balls, in every fucking nerve in my body. She’s tight, soaked, clutching me with every pulse, and I know I can’t last much longer. I’m barely holding on.
“Come inside me. I want all of it,” she gasps, holding the comforter with tight fists.
My whole body locks as I thrust deep and come with a roar, emptying into her in thick, hot waves. My cock twitches inside her as I ride it out, breath ragged, muscles burning. We collapse onto the bed together, tangled and heaving. Her body is pressed against mine, both of us slick with sweat, shaking with aftershocks. I bury my face in her hair and wrap my arm tight around her waist.
“Harp,” I whisper, “you’re going to be the death of me.”
She laughs, satisfied, snuggling closer. She looks into my eyes and grins. “At least you’ll die happy.”
She’s not wrong.
* * *
By the time we return to Manhattan, everything feels louder.
Even the air is hotter, more humid, like the city’s already gearing up to test our patience this summer. The Charger glides into the private garage beneath my building, but I barely register the motion. Harper’s next to me in the passenger seat, hair curled over one shoulder, sunglasses on despite the overcast sky, legs crossed like she doesn’t realize how much she’s ruined me.
She’s wearing the ring that was always meant to be hers. It’s an oval spark of forever that holds more sentiment than any diamond ring I could’ve created for her. I catch her twisting it now and then, like she’s making sure it’s still there. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how fucking beautiful she is without even trying.
Tonight, Asher is throwing a get-together—part cocktail party, part networking trap, part power play—but underneath it all, it’s just his way of making sure people don’t forget how he can ruin them if he wants. It’s private. Exclusive. A cashmere-and-caviar kind of night. Everyone who’s anyone will be there, except Easton and Lexi.
Easton texted me earlier, saying Lexi will deliver their triplets any day now and she’s on bed rest until the babies come. We’re all pretending not to hover, but the truth is, none of us are more than one text away. If Lexi sneezes twice in a row, Easton will put the entire Calloway family on lockdown.
I reach for Harper’s hand, leading her into the elevator. She’s wearing a black satin dress, with a scandalous little thigh slit, and no back. She wore it just for me and knows exactly what seeing her so dressed up does to my self-control.
I lean in close, whispering in her ear, “If you’re trying to make it impossible for me to focus tonight, you’re doing a great fucking job.”
“I am,” she says boldly.
She kisses the edge of my jaw just as the elevator opens, and we step into Asher’s townhome that’s an entire building. And just like that, the temperature shifts.
People are everywhere—men in tailored suits and shiny shoes, women in heels that could kill a man if they were aimed in the right direction. Waitstaff move around the large floor with trays of champagne and charcuterie. Music hums from invisible speakers, just enough to let people talk without revealing too much. The last time I was here, Weston proposed to Carlee, and it feels like a lifetime has passed since then.
I spot Billie and Asher near the bar area. My cousin is wearing a midnight-blue gown, and Asher’s hand is possessively resting on the small of her back, like he dares anyone to look twice. She lifts her glass when she sees us, her mouth twisting up into something that says she’s ready to stir trouble.
Harper squeezes my hand. “Ready for this?”
I glance at her ring, then back up at her eyes. “I’ve already got everything I want.”
When we move closer to them, Billie is already smirking like she saw the diamond on Harper’s finger from a mile away, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Happy you’re back in the city,” Billie says, hugging Harper. “I was scared you two were going to move there.”
“We were gone for a week,” Harper says.
“A week too long,” Billie tells her as I grab a drink from the tray behind her.
“You know you were occupied with Banks while we were gone,” I say to her with a brow lifted.
“It’s not a lie.” Asher raises his glass in a lazy salute. “Welcome back, lovebirds.”
Billie gives Harper a once-over. “You look radiant. That’s either post-sex glow or a facial. Knowing you, it’s both.”
I glance at Harper’s flushed cheeks and the way her mouth twitches with the effort to not give herself away.
I lean into her ear. “You want to tell them, or should I?”
She smiles, then lifts her hand subtly, just enough for the light to cast little rainbows from her finger.
Billie’s mouth drops open a full inch before she recovers. “ Finally. ”
Asher grins and gives Harper a side hug. “Welcome to the Calloway club. Careful, they’re cranky.”
Billie gives him a playful smack, and I shrug.
“No lies detected,” I say. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”
We don’t have long to enjoy the moment before I hear the unmistakable sound of Weston with his loud laughter and exaggerated storytelling. He rounds the corner with Carlee on his arm, grinning like he owns the room. He does. No matter what, Weston is the life of every party he attends.
“Are we celebrating something?” he calls out, eyes scanning the group of us as he approaches. He’s wearing a green velvet blazer, no tie, and the kind of tailored pants that say I know my angles. His charm hits like champagne—bubbly, a little too much, but entirely effective.
Carlee has that effortless grace she always carries. Her hair is up, and her emerald earrings catch the light.
“Look who decided to show up,” Weston says, squeezing my shoulder before pulling Harper into a full-body hug like she’s his favorite person on earth. “You’re glowing. What did he do? Or do I want to know?”
Carlee raises a brow at Harper, then at me, then back again. Her eyes narrow like a woman who can predict what Harper will say.
“You’ve got that I said yes to something big look,” she tells her in a soft voice.
Harper lifts her hand again, slower this time, the smile stretching across her face. “Guess I’ll be a Calloway after all.”
She sticks her tongue out at Weston. There was a time when she tried to date Easton and then Weston, but they turned her down. The thought makes me laugh now.
“Yes! I knew it! Easton owes me a hundred thousand dollars!” Weston shouts, taking two dramatic steps back and throwing both hands in the air like he’s been personally attacked by joy. “I love this for me and for you too! Congrats!”
Harper’s laughing so hard that she has to lean into my side for support.
Carlee pulls Harper into a tight hug. “I knew it! Congratulations. So happy for the two of you. Truly.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you ,” Weston says, grabbing my hand and shaking it like I just saved a civilization. “Billie and I were both losing patience.”
“I was not,” Billie chimes in, sipping her champagne. “I was waiting with elegance and judgment. I knew it would happen. I’d wished it would.”
Weston turns to Harper, takes both of her hands, and kisses the air beside each cheek. “Did you elope?”
“No! You’re so annoying,” Harper tells him, smacking him. “Control your brother,” she says to Billie.
“Control him? Pfft. Impossible,” Billie replies.
“She’s right,” Carlee agrees. “Weston has a mind of his own.”
There’s another round of toasts, and before I know it, someone’s passed us new drinks. The mood in the room has shifted now—our announcement rippling outward through the party in low whispers and congratulations. Tonight was how we planned to announce that we were official, and it worked exactly as we’d predicted.
I glance at Harper, admiring her, and I take her hand in mine, kissing her fingers. Our eyes meet, and I shoot her a wink, ready to leave this fucking place. A small smile plays across her lips, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, and I think she does.
The music shifts to something slower, sultrier, with a low drumbeat woven through it. As my eyes scan the room, I spot Nick near the back wall, half in shadow, nursing a drink and smirking at his phone, which makes his face glow bright.
He’s leaning against a column, cocky as fuck, like he has nowhere to be and everything to hide, which is how I know he’s up to something. Dressed in black on black, the collar of his shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at trouble. He looks like the guy every girl here is watching out of the corner of her eye. The type of guy every father warns his daughter about.
Harper notices him, too, and drags me across the room with her toward him. “Didn’t think you’d show,” Harper says. “Know how much you love your brother’s business parties.”
He lifts his chin. “And miss the Calloway-Banks merger announcement? Please. This party’s basically a shareholder meeting now.”
Harper snorts beside me. “Don’t be dramatic, stepbro.”
“Ew, yeah, don’t call me that. Asher was right. It’s weird,” Nick replies without hesitation. Then, his eyes gleaming, he adds, “Tonight I’m being well behaved. For once.”
That earns him a suspicious look from Billie, who’s walking up beside Harper.
“You’re grinning like someone who isn’t,” Billie says, tilting her head. “Which means you’re either hiding something or freshly laid.”
She’s great at serving a hefty dose of reality. It’s one of her best qualities.
Nick raises his brows in mock innocence. “Can’t it be both?”
“God help us,” Asher mutters.
Carlee steps in, watching Nick like a bored socialite, but I know who she is and why LadyLux matters. “He’s been in a suspiciously good mood lately. I think he’s seeing someone and won’t admit it,” Carlee says.
Nick just smirks. He doesn’t confirm or deny. It’s the best policy when keeping secrets.
Harper watches him for a second longer, head tilted slightly. She’s known him longer than any of us, other than Asher. “You’re different.”
Nick’s smile falters, just for a beat, but he catches it quickly. “New haircut.”
I don’t push him. Not yet. But something’s changed.
And I have a feeling we’re all going to find out exactly what that is very soon.