4. Wrinley
Wrinley
Four Years Later
“ H ey, Dad,” I chirp, drawing my father’s attention from his very loud RuPaul’s Drag Race marathon. “You’re still watching that?”
He just took a two week vacation from his accounting business, at my insistence that he deserved a break after years of working himself like crazy.
Now he has no idea what to do with himself.
Unfortunately, I promised him that if he took the two weeks, I’d finally come and work with him.
I’ve tried pushing it off and I will probably keep trying to do just that, since working at an accounting firm is not on my bucket list of things to do with my life.
What is on my bucket list, you might ask?
I have no fucking clue. I just know I don’t want to do… that.
“Yeah, kiddo,” he sighs. “I’m invested now and can’t stop. Besides, some of these queens have such terrible families. I want to adopt them all and prove to them that there are still good people in the world.”
My father and his heart of gold, ladies and gents.
“But where would we put them all?” I question, looking around the house at all the space we don’t have.
“Ah, well… if it meant showing them some kindness and consideration, I’d find a way.”
“I know you would, Dad.” He’d give anyone that felt unloved, space in his home, where they could feel safe. He’s done it for my bestie Arabella more times than I can count, when her mom was being especially bitchy, but I believe he would do it for a stranger too.
Except, I have a feeling it’s more about loneliness than anything else. He was never the same after we lost Mom. Neither of us were. He buried himself in work and special projects while I spent my time making sure he was okay.
“I’m heading out for a bit. Do you need anything?”
“N-no,” he stutters. “But where are you going, kiddo?”
“I have a date. We talked about this, remember?” What I neglected to tell him, is how this is no ordinary date.
I fully intend on losing my V-card tonight.
My parents made me promise to abstain until I turned eighteen, and now that I am, I’m too horny to wait any longer.
I found the perfect guy, too. Tall, dark, obviously handsome and did I mention he has a big ole dick?
I’m too wound up to even be scared, honestly.
It’s time and I’m not letting anything or anyone get in the way.
“You know the rules. Who are you going out with? Where are you going? What time will you be back?” He barrages me with his usual line of questioning.
“Write his number down on that pad of paper, right there, in case I need to reach you. Is this person picking you up? What kind of car does he drive?”
Here we go. He’s spiraling–freaking out–because, frankly, I’m all he has left. Which means if he had it his way, I’d never leave the house and stay with him forever. But his fear and anxiety, as warranted as they are, are smothering me.
“You realize I’m eighteen, right? I’m moving out soon.
What are you going to do then?” I ask, knowing full well he doesn’t have an answer.
“Life is full of unknowns. You can’t keep me in a bubble forever.
” It’s sad, because I don’t even believe my own hypocritical bullshit.
Here I am, spewing on about unknowns and trying my best to ease his fears, when I can’t even get in a fucking car without some degree of panic.
If I could avoid them all together, I would, but life doesn’t fucking work that way, so unfortunately I have to sacrifice a little of my mental health to get places.
I guess I’ll just have to consider Jared’s dick my reward for that sacrifice.
“That’s what you think,” he mumbles. “While you live under this–”
“Ah,” I interrupt. I don’t need to hear the rest. “I know what you’re going to say.
You’ve won this one, Big Guy.” He knows I can’t say no to him.
I haven’t in a long time. I also can’t stand the thought of him worrying more than necessary, so I do exactly as he asked and give him all the information he needs to feel even a little bit safer.
I have zero interest in anything coming out of this guy’s mouth right now. He’s going on and on about some rare, expensive, classic car he got his meaty hands on, but unless he’s going to rail me in that non-moving car later, I don’t give a flying fuck.
“Excuse me, Jared.” I stand, disrupting his train of thought. “I’m going to use the ladies room.”
“Sure thing, dollface. I’ll be right here.”
Walking to the back of the restaurant, I remind myself of my singular goal for this evening. To use this man for his body. The least I can do is listen to him talk and let him buy me dinner first.
Rounding the corner into the hallway that houses the restrooms, I’m staring at the floor when I walk straight into a brick wall, knocking me back, almost on my ass.
Except, brick walls don’t have legs and they don’t wear leather boots.
I rake my eyes slowly upward, pausing at the thick thighs threatening to break through the dark denim covering them.
I’m halfway to imagining myself humping that thigh before a throat clears, pulling me from my very dirty thoughts.
“My eyes are up here.” I know that voice. My gaze wanders up to the assessing, spectacle covered, caramel eyes hovering at least a foot above me. Fuck. “It’s common courtesy to apologize when you run into someone. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners, Wrinkley?”
Axel Bradley.
My best friend’s brother, who has spent most of the time I’ve known him being a shithead to me; like my existence has personally insulted him.
Except the Axel I remember, was lean and lanky.
His arms and legs disproportionately long for the size of his body.
The Axel that stands before me now, has grown into his body and now appears to be…
all man. A very attractive man with dark hair my hands itch to run their fingers through and those arms. Biceps much?
How many tattoos does he have on those arms, anyway?
There have to be at least a dozen from what I can see.
Jesus, Wrinley. Focus.
“You know, I didn’t like that shitty nickname before. I don’t like it any better now,” I scoff. “What are you even doing here? I thought you fucked off years ago.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” He repeats, completely unphased and expressionless.
I realize it’s been a while since he’s seen me, and a lot has changed. “My mom died,” I spit out abruptly. “Only half the manners had time to stick. Sorry about your luck. What about your fucking manners, four eyes? Nice glasses, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Thanks? That’s all he has to say?
“As riveting as this is, I have someone waiting for me and I have to pee.” I place a palm to his chest and push. Of course the fucker doesn’t even budge. Based on the initial feel of him, he must have twelve-pack abs under there. “Axel, I swear to god, if you don’t move out of my way, right now–”
All he offers in return is a dark chuckle as he stands firm. “Who would be waiting for you, Wrinkley?”
Okay, now he’s intentionally trying to piss me off. Jokes on him, because I’m about to make him puke up his dinner.
“Jared.”
“Jared?” He quirks a brow.
“Yep. He’s my date,” I offer with a cocky smirk. “He’s buying dinner and then we’re going to the hotel across the street so he can rail me into next week and finally pop my cherry.”
Without flinching, he retorts, “I didn’t realize you’d turned into such a whore.”
“I’m not a whore, but hopefully, I will be when he and that big cock of his are finished with me. Are you jealous, Axel?”
“Sorry to disappoint, Babycakes, but you’re not worth the energy.
Run along and fuck your little boy toy, before he changes his mind.
” His shoulder bumps mine as he pushes past me in the hallway, disappearing around the corner and I let out a long breath, relieved he’s finally gone.
The fucking nerve of that asshole. He’s even worse than I remember. Hotter–for sure–but definitely worse.
By the time I make it back to the table, Jared is nowhere to be found, except he’s clearly left because there’s cash on the table, like he couldn’t be bothered to wait for the check.
My back stiffens and my fists clench at my sides.
I have waited–not so patiently–to lose my virginity and that guy was my ticket to O-Town.
More specifically, the side of town where orgasms don’t come from your own hand. What in the actual fuckity fuck.
Axel
Wrinley Jaymes is all grown up. I’ve never seen her as anything other than my sister’s best friend, but there’s something different about her now. Something darker lurking under the surface.
The girl standing before me isn’t a girl at all.
She’s considerably more… adult. Those tits of hers were about to pop out of her shirt–at least I think that’s what it was–and those leggings hugged every luscious curve of her ass so well.
She ruined it pretty fast by opening her fucking mouth, though.
Thunder cracks in the distance as I lean against my Matte Black Ducati Panigale V4.
A storm’s rolling in. If I don’t get on the road soon, I’m going to regret it when I get pelted on the ride home, but some sick part of me needs to see the frustration in her face when she charges through the door.
It probably shouldn’t give me this much pleasure to ruin her plans, but I couldn’t stop myself from fucking with her.
It’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure, and it honestly hasn’t lost its appeal.
I did not expect her to push back like she did, though. That was definitely new. I think I might like this fiery side of her.
Just as the sky lights up, and raindrops start to fall, she busts through the restaurant door, with a scowl marring her porcelain skin.
When the skies open, she abruptly turns her gaze upward, standing there for longer than the average person would care to get soaked.
She clearly couldn’t care less. My pulse quickens and my teeth clench at her rapid change of attitude. She’s supposed to be pissed.
“Where’s Jared?” I spit, his name like venom on my tongue. “Let me guess. He likes his whores to look like drowned rats.”
She snaps her gaze to mine, her hazel eyes bright and her long, chocolate hair plastered to her face. “What do you even care, Axel? I know you’re baiting me, but let me be clear when I say that I do not give a single fuck.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah,” she scoffs, walking toward me with quick but sure steps. Catching me slightly off-guard, she pokes me in the chest with her index finger. “He had an emergency and had to go. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Sure, it isn’t,” I laugh. She’s so full of shit. “You were practically salivating to spread your legs for him. You expect me to believe you’re just fine with him leaving you high and… dry?”
Spreading her arms wide, she twirls in the rain and then with her back to me… starts walking.
“Where are you going?”
“Home, asshole.”
Fuck. I wanted to piss her off and fuck with her a little bit. If she gets pneumonia because she walked home in the pouring rain, it’ll be considerably less fun for a while.
“I’ll take you,” I shout, but she waves me off.
“Pass,” she replies, not even looking back.
Jogging to catch up, I grab her wrist and turn her back to me. “Get on the goddamn bike, Wrinley. I’m not asking.”
“You want me to get on that death trap so you can what… ease your conscience? No fucking thank you. You know that thing will kill you, right?”
“First, I don’t have a conscience. Second, are you worried about me, Wrinkley?” I shoot her a smirk, waiting for the denial I’m sure is coming.
She turns away again, resuming her slow walk home, but I manage to hear her mumble, “Just when I start to think you’re half human, you ruin it.”
This girl is giving me a migraine and I’m over her stubborn ass. Striding a few large steps in her direction, I grab her around the waist and hoist her over my shoulder before she knows what hit her, then plop her on my bike and shove my helmet onto her wet head.
“What the fu–”
“Shut the fuck up,” I interrupt her protest. Once I’m seated in front of her, I reach behind me to grab her hands and position them firmly around my waist. “Hold on tight and lean with me when I lean. You can thank me later.”
“Axel, no.” It’s pouring, but despite the cold as fuck rain pelting my face, I can hear the pitch rise in her voice. “Please. I can’t.”
Ignoring her, I kick up the kickstand and start the engine.
I need to get her home–yesterday. Except I’m not even on the main road when I feel her press her head against my back and I glance down and notice her small hands clutching my soaked t-shirt like her life depends on it.
I really don’t need her freaking out worse and causing us a problem.
It’s hard enough as it is to ride in the rain.
Reaching down, I cover her small fist with my left hand, encasing it until it relaxes just a little and I feel her rough exhale against my back.
Thankfully, I don’t need to ask her for an address. I’ve driven Arabella to and from her place more times than I can count. I’m not sure she could tell me right now, anyway.
When we eventually pull up at her house, she lets go of me and jumps off before I can even turn the engine off. I sit there and watch her fiddle with the helmet for far too long.
This girl.
“Have you always been this much of a trainwreck?” I question, amused at her struggle.
She freezes. “Have you always been such a fucking dick?” She retorts.
“Yeah,” I smirk.
When she finally frees herself from my helmet, she shoves it to my chest and stomps away without another word.
“You’re welcome,” I shout, but two middle fingers is all I get in return.