Chapter 15 #2
Blake moves deeper into the living room and collects a small black and red carry bag from where it’s been sitting on the end table near the sofa. He holds it out to me. “Here.”
Confusion and curiosity burning through me, I move closer so I can take the bag.
“Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that you’re getting back out there,” Blake tells me, the stony demeanor slipping away; he could never hold his temper for long.
“And I’m sure the kids will be too, but is this really the way you want them to find out you’re seeing someone?
Getting lingerie delivered to the house? ”
I just stare at him in complete bafflement. There is no part of anything that he’s said since I arrived in the living room that makes any sort of sense. Now I’m trying to figure out if I’m the one who’s lost the ability to comprehend English, or if Blake’s lost the ability to speak.
“What are you talking about?”
Blake sighs. “Damon, I’m not judging you. Like I said, I think it’s great that you’re seeing someone—”
“But I’m not—”
He holds a hand up. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t say anything until you’re ready.
But if your secret did come out it’d be your own damn fault for pulling this shit today.
I mean, you could have at least got them to wrap it in tissue paper and put it in a bag that doesn’t have “sex kitten” written all over it and little cartoon cats in handcuffs. ”
“WHAT?”
I’ve been so distracted by Blake and trying to figure out what’s suddenly sent him off the deep end that I haven’t even looked at the bag in my hand yet.
I yank it up to my face and see Blake is correct.
It’s a blood-red bag with the words “sex kitten” and a kinky cat design printed all over it in black.
And it’s finally occurring to me that the video was a decoy to lull me into a false sense of security, and that this is the attack Jazz had planned all along.
But then something Blake said finally pings in my brain and I snap my head up. “Wait—what do you mean lingerie?”
Blake arches a brow at me. “I mean panties. You should know—you’re the one who bought them.
And I’m sorry for looking in the bag,” he tells me, holding a hand up in apology.
“It was just…instinct, I guess. When the woman said it was an urgent delivery, I just kind of assumed it was a treat for the twins. That was before I noticed the pattern on the bag, obviously…”
Panties? I sigh and roll my eyes before opening the bag and reaching inside. Clearly Jazz is just trying to mess with me again. Although I can’t think what possible purpose this would serve.
“I didn’t buy these,” I grumble, retrieving the scrap of silk and lace from the bag and holding it up. “I mean, Jesus, these probably cost more than a whole night’s worth of tips.”
A slow grin spreads across Blake’s face, his eyes suddenly alight with levity. “I stand corrected. And I apologize for jumping to conclusions. But I’m dying to hear all about this sugar mama.”
I let out a harsh scoff. “Sugar mama? Seriously? That’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Then who’s buying you expensive panties?” he prods. “And no doubt paying a hell of a gratuity to get them delivered within a few hours on Thanksgiving Sunday.”
“What?” I cry, my voice coming out weirdly high. “These aren’t for me.”
“Dude, these are men’s panties.” Blake chuckles and plucks the panties from my grip, holding them up by the waistband. “See? Lots of room for your junk.” He adjusts the angle of his arms to give himself a better view of the crotch. “Lots and lots of room. She’s got a high opinion of you, bro.”
I blink slowly as my brain tries to connect years of panties knowledge with the sight in front of me and the words coming out of Blake’s mouth. Men’s panties. They make expensive silk, lacy panties for men. And Jazz bought a pair for me. Which means he’s going to make me wear them.
And I actually want to. What. The. Actual. Fuck?
I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the thong—yes, thong—in my brother’s hands. The bright red color is practically searing my eyes, and the thought of getting that expensive silk all messy with my cum is so insanely hot I’m having trouble controlling my arousal.
“Are those for me, daddy?” I hear Owen tease from behind me, jolting me out of my dirty daydream. Thank god. I was about five seconds away from yanking that thong from Blake’s hand and high-tailing it to the closest bathroom.
“I’m flattered, but…”
Blake lets out a soft chuckle, offering Owen an indulgent smile. “They’re Damon’s. Although he claims he didn’t order them.”
“I didn’t,” I hiss, grabbing the panties from Blake and examining them in my hands. “I didn’t even know these things existed ’til just now.”
“You’ve lived a sheltered life, brother,” Blake says dryly.
Owen shrugs, offering me a kind smile. “He’s straight. It’s kind of like prostate play. I can’t imagine it’s something you’d think to try without some kind of…introduction. And there aren’t a whole lot of straight guys who get that kind of exposure.”
“I was straight,” Blake points out.
Owen arches an eyebrow at him. “You had threesomes with other men and online sex with strange guys. Damon’s really straight.”
“The way you phrased that made it sound really creepy,” Blake says with a disgruntled pout.
Owen grins. “It was kind of creepy. But in a really sweet way.”
“And sexy?” Blake presses, leaning closer to Owen.
Owen nods. “Very sexy.”
“This isn’t getting awkward at all,” I grumble.
Blake straightens and hits me with a pointed look. “Dude, you are literally standing there holding a thong your secret sugar mama sent you. Don’t even start on awkward.”
“I don’t have a secret sugar mama,” I protest.
“Then who sent you those panties? And who were you sexting with while we were out last night?” he presses, one eyebrow arched in accusation.
My mouth gapes open in dismay. “I wasn’t—they’re not—”
“Dad, is everything okay? Why are you guys all huddled up like that?”
“Fuck.” I panic at the sound of Ava’s voice and glance up to find her moving into the living room.
I hastily shove the panties into the front pocket of my sweats while Blake kicks the carry bag under the sofa.
I smile at Ava as she draws closer. “Everything’s fine, baby. You all packed?”
She nods. “Yeah. And Joel’s just finishing up now.”
“Okay, great. We can go in—”
I break off as I feel an alarmingly pleasant sensation tickling at my inner left thigh. I try to ignore it, shaking my head and focusing back in on my daughter. “Um…an hour? That should be plenty—-fuck…”
The sensation intensifies and I have to lean over and grab onto Blake just to steady myself. “They’re vibrating,” I murmur in his ear. “Why the fuck are they vibrating? Why the fuck did I put them in my front pocket?”
Blake’s body starts shaking with silent laughter, which is not appreciated.
“It’s not funny, asshole,” I growl at him.
“Sorry,” he says, but there’s so much amusement in his voice it’s hard to take it seriously.
“Dad, are you sure you’re okay?” Ava asks.
“I think it’s that leftover eclair he had this morning. It’s not sitting well,” Blake says, dusting off his rarely-used talent for pulling bullshit out of thin air. Then he gives me a couple pats on the back. “You should go take care of that, buddy.”
“Right…yeah.” I turn from Blake and move across the living room, past an anxious looking Ava.
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” I assure her. “We’ll go to the station in an hour.
” I wait for her to nod and smile before moving toward the foyer, letting out a harsh curse and stumbling in my step sightly as the vibration ramps up again.
The moment I’ve rounded the dividing wall and am out of sight of the others, I rush to the elevator and pound on the button. As soon as I’m inside I grab my phone from my back pocket and send a text.
Me
Have you ever considered using your intelligence for good instead of concocting elaborate schemes to mess with people?
Jazz Grimsay
You’re the only one I want to mess with dirty boy. And we both know you love getting messy…