Chapter Twenty-Four
RHYLAND
Rhyland: Don’t forget I’ll have to get handsy with your sister tonight bc of Marshall.
Row: Not too handsy. She is saving herself for marriage.
Rhyland: SHE HAS A KID.
Row: She found Jesus.
Rhyland: You’ve lost your plot.
Row: Don’t take advantage of the situation, Rhyland. I mean it.
Rhyland: You don’t trust me?
Row: With my finances? Yes. With my sister? NO.
Rhyland: Would it really be the end of the world if I were your brother-in-law?
Row: Now you’re just begging to be punched.
Three days later, Row’s seasoning line, the Grill Deal, launched at Times Square. It was a celebrity-filled bash. Viral chefs, culinary influencers, and Food Network personalities glided up and down the red carpet, smiling big for the cameras and taking selfies.
Each guest received a goodie bag that included Row’s special spices: a collection of grill rubs for poultry, steak, seafood, pot roast, and pizza. The bougie kit would go for ninety-nine bucks at retail price—unheard of for a bunch of dried herbs. It was a total sellout move, another way for him to amass even more millions than he already had, but I could hardly blame him. Gotta hit the iron while it’s hot, and Row had already confided in me he wanted to retire early and spend all his time with his wife and daughter.
Speaking of hot things, I didn’t look too shabby in my Kiton suit. I’d skipped the dress shirt, going for a buttoned blazer that showed off my crazy-sculpted chest. I stopped on the red carpet to give the cameras a dazzling white smile, one hand casually tucked inside my front pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Row and Cal speaking to a hotshot TV executive I’d once fake-dated to get her parents off her back. Row was wearing an all-black three-piece suit, and Cal was wearing… What the fuck was she wearing? Some kind of burgundy velvet dress that blended in with the carpet, with two giant roses covering her tits.
Don’t get me wrong, she was a knockout by anyone’s standards, but I wasn’t a fan of the super-quirky style.
Row caught sight of me on the other side of the carpet and made his way over. He gave me a bro hug and a side chest pump. We sauntered back to Cal. The TV executive caught sight of me, remembered how she’d ended up in my sheets with her best friend, and lumbered toward a Food Network domestic goddess before our paths crossed. Kieran and Tate joined us.
“Thanks for being here, guys,” Cal squeaked.
“You’re most unwelcome. I have stock in Row’s brand. It is in my benefit that this line doesn’t crash and burn,” Tate drawled monotonously. “I’m not doing it out of the goodness of my heart.”
“I know,” Cal chirped. “Because you don’t have one.”
“Long time no see.” Kieran clapped my shoulder. “How’re you doing, Rhy?”
“Never been better,” I lied. My entire future, hopes, and dreams hung on Bruce Marshall, and I was becoming poorer by the nanosecond. “How ’bout you? Up to more destruction this month since leading Dylan to the bar her ex works in?”
“Come on, Rhy. We need to let her figure it out on her own.” Cal made a sympathetic face. “Now Dylan has the chance to have Tucker help her raise Gravity.”
“A chance she never asked for. You okay with this shit?” I cut my gaze to Row. The way he worked his jaw back and forth in response told me he wasn’t.
“Maybe he’s changed,” he muttered noncommittally.
“Sure. Nothing says ‘redemption’ like deciding you suddenly wanna take a part in your kid’s life when your ex walks in looking like sin on legs,” I snarled.
“Someone’s taking their fake engagement pretty fucking seriously.” Tate gave me a less bored once-over.
“Hold on a minute. Something’s missing.” Kieran frowned at me.
“Probably his balls,” Tate drawled. “He’s been fake-dating this chick for less than a month and is already whining about her ex.”
“Watch it,” Row warned Tate, but I kind of wanted Tate to take it further so I’d finally have an excuse to rearrange his face like I did Tucker’s.
Kieran tore off his horn-rimmed shades, cocking his head sideways and folding the arms of his glasses. “You cut your stupid ponytail.”
“Man bun,” I corrected. “And hold the press—we found this generation’s Sherlock.” I craned my neck, searching for Dylan. We hadn’t come here together, because she’d had an early shift at the Alchemist. She was making good money. At least one of us was.
“Has Tucker seen Gravity yet?” Row asked.
“No,” Kieran and Cal answered in unison.
That was a relief. I hadn’t asked Cosmos about it—I made a point not to take an interest in Gravity when she wasn’t right in front of me—but I didn’t trust that bastard with the kid.
“Mr. Casablancas.” A woman holding an iPad and a headset mic approached us. “They’re ready for you to take the stage.” She slid her finger over the screen. “Do you remember the verbiage? ‘Grill or no grill, I’m happy to unveil the Grill Deal’?”
Row nodded at her in reply.
Tate sneered. “When does the name becomes less cringy?”
“Never is my guess.” Kieran winced.
Cal shot them both warning looks.
As it turned out, Dylan didn’t make it to the Times Square event. Neither did Bruce and his wife. But I watched as my best friend killed it with the crowd, signing his cookbooks, taking pictures with fans, and selling five thousand units of that ridiculous kit, before we all folded to the after-party at Row’s eatery, Casablancas, in Bryant Park, a rooftop restaurant he’d opened last year as an homage to his wife, who was craving—sit down for it—fish fingers.
The bistro had a more modern feel to it than La Vie en Rogue, with cracked turquoise marble for floors, dimmed lighting, and an entire semitransparent wall that was also an aquarium containing some of the most colorful and rare fish in the world. It was dark, moody, and sexy.
I was the last to walk in, since I’d actually driven here and didn’t have a chauffeur like all my billionaire friends. When I got in, I saw all of them seated at a long table in the farthest corner of the VIP section, sipping drinks and laughing. Bruce and Jolene were there too, chatting to Cal and Kieran animatedly. Tate had another faceless model on his arm. The place was jam-packed. I moved through the mass of bodies, searching for my fake fiancée.
“Sorry, passing through. Passi—”
Gentle hands scrapped my back from behind, and when I turned to look at the person trying to cut in front of me, Cosmos was staring back. She was breathtaking in a powder-pink dress, her tresses cascading down her shoulders. Her mouth fell open as soon as she saw me.
“You cut your hair.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
I felt my face heating up. “Because you didn’t like the man bun.”
She cupped her mouth. “What? When did I say that?”
“Three days ago, before I kissed you.”
“Jesus, Rhy, I was just giving you shit. That man bun made my lady bits tingle.”
I sighed. “I’ll add some extensions.”
She laughed. “No, you won’t.”
Yes, I probably fucking will, because you like it.
The thought frightened me. Since when did I care about making anyone other than my dick happy? But I hadn’t seen her in a couple days in a bid to prove to myself I did not seek her out more than absolutely necessary. Now she was here, and it was time for our charade to resume.
“You look amazing, baby.” I reached down to kiss the edge of her shoulder, which was still hot from the leftover sunrays outside. She smelled of her body lotion—coconut and a sandy beach.
“I know.” She tossed her glossy hair back. “To be honest, I should’ve charged you extra just for letting you look at me tonight.”
I bent down, my stubble sailing over the smooth skin of her cheek, raising goose bumps all over her body. “Careful with that mouth,” I whispered into the shell of her ear. “Or I’ll have to fill it with something long and thick to shut you up.”
“Really?” She tipped her chin up to stare at me, her heavy-lidded sex eyes zeroing in on mine. “You think they serve cannoli here?”
That earned her a bark of laughter from me. I couldn’t help it.
I wrapped my hands around her waist, the tip of my nose gliding down the slope of hers. “Bruce is here.” My lips moved over hers sensually, and her body sought mine, enveloping me instantly.
“I see.” She knotted her arms around my neck. “So this is all a big, fat ruse.”
“Watch where your hands are going, Coltridge.” Row’s predatory gaze locked on us from across the VIP room, eyes darkening into two pools of tar. “Or I’ll have to make sashimi out of you.”
“Stop it, Row,” Dylan chided, breaking free of my embrace. “I’m not a child.”
“You do call me daddy sometimes.” I frowned.
Row was about to pop an artery.
Bruce, suddenly there, coughed into his fist, half laughing, half choking. “Why’d you mind that he kisses your sister, Casablancas?” Bruce enquired. “They’re engaged to be married. Even I’m not that strict.”
A muscle twitched in Row’s jaw. He licked his lips. “Having a hard time letting go, I guess. I helped raise her, see.”
“Who’s taking care of Gravity?” Jolene, Bruce’s wife, asked.
I could tell by Cosmos’ smile she appreciated that the woman had remembered her daughter’s name. “My mom’s in town, and she doesn’t like big crowds, so she’s home helping me out.” Dylan stuck out her hand at Jolene, but the latter flung her arms around Dylan.
They hugged, immediately chatting about preschools with Cal.
“Tell me, Dylan.” Jolene clutched her hands. “Are you taking care of yourself? Do you use face masks? Paint your nails? Have a set time that is completely yours? Taking care of yourself is a part of taking care of others.”
Dylan nodded but didn’t answer. I knew why. Truth was she didn’t have that time for herself. Her nails weren’t painted, she never had a minute set aside just for herself, and for some ridiculous, messed-up reason, I was feeling guilty about it, even though I hadn’t been the one to knock her up.
Bruce and I shook hands. My grip crushed his, and I could tell by his surprised face he wasn’t expecting that. “How’re you doin’, son?”
“Good. And about to get better once you sign the contract I emailed you ten minutes ago.”
Bruce’s brows shot up his forehead. “Putting the cart before the horse, I see. I didn’t accept anything y—”
“You will.” I cut him off. “As soon as we leave your house after our upcoming test drive. You know it. I know it. It’s a good deal.” Tate helped me draft it, which meant I was bulletproof and could screw Bruce six ways from Sunday if anything went wrong. Of course, I didn’t expect it to. Bruce had an entire floor to house his litigation team. But I was also sure they were all nepo hires from his small town, so who knew their level of incompetence?
We joined the others at the table. Expensive liquor, cocktails, and food began to flow to our corner of the room steadily. Lobster rolls, Maine crab cakes, shrimp alfredo, and stuffed lobster butter croissant. I sat next to Dylan and put my hand in her lap, giving her a squeeze. Truth was keeping busy these past couple days hadn’t helped with pushing her out of my mind.
“What’s the estimated annual profit margin on App-date?” Tate buttered a bread roll. He was playing this all out for me. He already knew all the deets.
“We’re looking at twenty billion revenue the first year,” I said. “Eight less than TikTok in 2023. Not too shabby for a so-called niche.”
“Really? People want a fake relationship that much?” Jolene sounded doubtful as she sipped her Bloody Mary.
“You’d be surprised.” My hand traveled up Dylan’s thigh, my tone cool and calculated. “It’s not the niche market you think it is. People need dates for weddings, parties, work events. People want to find other like-minded individuals to go on vacation with. Have deep, philosophical conversations that delve deeper than what apps like Tinder and Bumble offer. The sexiest thing about my app is that it isn’t about sex. It forces the participants to actually get to know each other. I think it’ll breed more married couples than all the dating apps combined,” I said confidently, knowing it was what she wanted to hear.
Bruce nodded absentmindedly. “I can see it. It’s like forcing people to go on real dates without the expectation to sleep together afterward.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“Can’t remember the last time I heard about an app predicted to have a revenue of more than three billion in its first year,” Tate commented dryly, taking a sip of his whiskey.
Up close, I recognized the woman on his arm. A Netflix actress who had a smash hit playing a vampire Cleopatra.
“This is a steal, Bruce,” Tate said.
“And you would know, as a thief.” Bruce patted the corners of his mouth with his napkin.
My hand settled on the crux between Dylan’s hip bone and her pussy, grazing the edge of her panties. They were satin, like last time. She arched into my touch while discussing something with Cal. She sounded distracted, which amused me.
“…Taylor Swift Eras concert in September,” I heard Cal say excitedly. “Would you be able to make it?”
“Oh my God, are you kidding me?” Dylan shrieked as my pinkie grazed her panties, back and forth. She cupped my shoulder, and there was something so intimate and familiar about it, like we’d done it hundreds of times before. “Rhy?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you be able to babysit Grav on September thirteenth?”
“Sure.”
“This is important. If you can’t do it, I’ll ask my mom—”
“I said I can.”
“Right, but see, I need you to lock it down. Cal and I are going to the Eras Tour.”
“And we have VIP seats.” Cal danced in her seat. “Taylor’s sweat is practically going to drip on us.”
“Weird kink, but this is a no-judgment zone.” I yawned.
Technically, this would be past my arrangement with Dylan, but I didn’t mind a one-off. Especially as I knew what a hardcore Swiftie Cosmos was.
“I’ll put it in my calendar now.” I made a show of plucking my phone from the table and blocking off 5 p.m. on September thirteenth, showing it to the ladies. “Happy?”
“You have no idea.” Dylan’s eyes glittered, childish delight painting her face. Feeling Bruce’s eyes on me, I cut my gaze to him.
He gave me a nod of approval. “I think I’ll use your contract as reading material tonight.”
“Perfect sleeping material, I bet.” Kieran smirked.
“There’s actually some spice in it,” Tate assured him. “Clauses 33A to 43B, Rhy fucks him over good if he withdraws for no good reason.”
I picked up my drink and saluted Bruce.
“I can’t believe I’m going to the Eras Tour.” Dylan reached to squeeze Cal’s hand. “Thank you.”
“So how did y’all find out you were in love?” Jolene’s eyes ping-ponged between us. She patted her stiff updo to ensure no hair was out of place. “That must be a story for the ages.”
My hand froze under Dylan’s dress. We’d discussed it on our fake date but never agreed on anything I was comfortable with. To be fair, Dylan had deranged ideas.
“It is!” Dylan cooed, her smile brightening the entire fucking universe. How had I never realized how stunning she was? How funny? How strong? “Honey, mind if I tell her? You know I always love talking about it.” She put her hand in my lap.
“Go ahead,” I grunted.
Row’s eyes narrowed, darting between our faces.
“He literally cried he was so desperate to date me.” Dylan put a hand to her throat.
I was going to kill her.
Fuck her first, but then kill her.
Kieran choked on his cocktail, pressing his knuckles to his lips. Tate smirked behind his whiskey. Row and Cal looked equal parts amused and confused.
“Oh, bless his heart.” Jolene slapped her chest. “You mean, with tears and everything?”
“Jolene, he was bawling like a baby.” Dylan rolled her eyes. “Hyperventilating. At some point, I considered giving him half a Valium from my dog’s ACL rupture surgery.”
Now she was making up a whole-ass pet with a whole-ass surgery. I didn’t know one man on this earth who was able to handle—let alone tame—this crazy, brilliant woman.
“Do tell us the story.” Bruce rubbed his hands together.
“Yeah, tell us.” I slipped my pinkie under her panties, and Dylan gasped, sitting up straighter.
“I-it was right after Christmas dinner. Rhy came to say hi to everyone. I’d been dating someone else. He spent the holiday with us. We were getting pretty serious. He was a doctor.”
“Wow.” Jolene’s eyes rounded in fascination.
“Actually, he was a surgeon. And an amateur pilot.”
My pinkie rubbed the hot, sleek slit of her pussy, which was bare. All the blood in the room rushed to my dick. Was it normal that I was jealous of a fictional boyfriend? Probably not.
“I mean, how small does your dick need to be for you to compensate by being a surgeon and a pilot?” I piped up.
Jolene choked on her Bloody Mary.
Tate looked affronted. “I’m a self-made billionaire and a pilot, and I have nine inches and some spare.”
Now wasn’t the time to tell him I was bigger. Actually, it was, but I refrained, because I also happened to want to be a billionaire, and I was pretty sure disclosing my dick size would send Jolene to the hospital.
Dylan rolled her eyes like she wasn’t growing wetter by the nanosecond under the table while my finger teased her opening and grazed her clit. “Anyway, he came to say hi. Chad was just helping my mom dry some dishes in the kitchen…”
Chad. She wasn’t even trying to make it sound real. Kieran snorted, and Tate pressed his lips together to suppress a wry smile.
“Rhyland and I bumped into each other under the mistletoe. There was a pause. I always knew he was pathetically in love with me, but I decided to spare his poor, fragile heart. I smiled, embarrassed, and was turning to walk away when he fell down on his knees, hugging my midsection. ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he started crying. ‘If I can’t have you, my life has no meaning anymore.’ I thought he might do something to himself. It was really scary.”
I slipped a finger into her, finding her drenched and warm and perfect. Her muscles squeezed my index finger for dear life, and I hissed out, imagining her tightness wrapped around my cock.
“Look at him,” Jolene laughed. “He looks anguished!”
You have no idea, lady.
“So you gave him a chance?” Jolene turned back to Dylan, whose eyes rolled—and not from attitude for a change. I was bringing her to the brink of a climax while everyone was watching.
“Y-y-yes.” She barely spluttered out the word.
I was semi-fucking her slowly under the table with my finger, punishing her for her little stunt. If she thought she was going to get awarded with an orgasm, she had another thing coming.
Her cheeks were bright pink, her lips parted in desire, every muscle in her body clenched tight. “I-I gave him a ch-chance. And he c-came through.” Her hips rolled, desperate for more of my touch. She was close. I could feel it.
“Well, one of us had to, sweetheart.” I kissed her cheek casually, giving her swollen clit a flick with my thumb before withdrawing from her panties in one go. She actually yelped in frustration.
“And you, Ambrose?” Bruce turned to Row. “How’d you take their coupling?”
“Not well,” Row grumbled darkly. “But I love my wife and daughter too much to spend the rest of my life in prison for first-degree murder.”
“Honey, you have to taste this special sauce.” I ran the finger that was just inside Dylan along the alfredo residue on my plate, bringing it to her lips.
Her nostrils flared in annoyance. “I’m not hungry.”
“Alfredo is your favorite sauce, sweetheart. Isn’t it, Cal?”
“Uh…yeah,” Cal confirmed, confused.
Dylan shot me a heated glare but wrapped her lips around my finger nonetheless. There was barely any sauce and a whole lot of pussy juice.
“Taste good?” I rasped.
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, we’ll be off. Early flight into Dallas tomorrow.” Bruce stood up, adjusting his belt over his stomach and screwing his cowboy hat on.
“Hope you forgive us for not staying for dessert.” Jolene smiled apologetically, assisted to her feet by her husband.
“Not at all,” Cal assured her. “Do what you gotta do.”
As soon as they left, Row turned his focus on his sister. “What’s that shit about you working at a pub, Dyl?” he demanded.
While I was glad that was the first thing to catch his attention, I didn’t like his tone. Neither did Dylan, judging by the way her spine snapped to attention.
“It’s a bar,” she corrected primly. “And I need to subsidize my life as well as my kid’s. You know, food, clothes, tuition, extracurricular activities.”
“I can take care of all that.” Row’s brows grooved into a deep scowl. “You should be focusing on your future. On going back to schoo—”
“I’ll do that on my own, thank you,” Dylan clapped back. “You’re doing more than enough for me. I want to succeed because of me, not because of you.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Row bristled. “You think rich kids who go to Harvard because Grandpa donated a fucking wing tell their families, ‘Oh no, I want to bust my ass for a scholarship or go to a community college. I don’t want to use my connections’?”
“I don’t know what those kids say, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t care. I’m me. The girl you left behind to live your glamorous life and advance your amazing career. The girl who was always less-than. Who was known as somebody else’s sister. You don’t know what it feels like, Row. To be the spare, not the heir. The talentless, unremarkable one.”
“What are you talking about?” Row was practically foaming at the mouth. “You’re a genius.”
“Not many people know that, though,” Dylan said. “I don’t want to be indebted to you or to anyone else. I don’t want anyone to question if I had any shortcuts. I want to prove the people who underestimated me wrong, and I want to do that independently so that my daughter learns that no matter what your starting point in life is, you can always fight your way up.” She took a quick breath, cheeks flushed. “And while I am grateful for the privilege of house-sitting for you because I get to live in Manhattan, I won’t let you pay my way through life.”
“Row.” Cal put a hand on her husband’s hand gently.
“No, Dot. She needs to hear it. You’re of the same mind as me. She is wasting her life away. Rhy.” He cut his gaze to mine. “Talk some sense into your fake fiancée.”
“Sorry, pal. I jumped on that feminism bandwagon when they started offering free condoms in college.” I sprawled out in my chair, soothingly toying with Dylan’s hair. “I’m letting her call the shots on her own future. Radical, I know.”
Row dug his big, rough finger pads into his eyelids, massaging them. “Traitor.”
I ignored him. “You know, I’m starting to warm up to the theory that women’s brains aren’t actually smaller than ours. I’m still not fully sold on giving them voting rights, but, like, some of them have profound shit to say.”
Kieran snorted. Row was fuming, his ear tips red, neck flushed, eyes luminous with wrath.
Kieran excused himself. “Sorry, this toxicity shit is bad for my chakras, and I need to take a call from my agent.” He gestured to the lit screen of his phone, disappearing behind the aquarium wall.
Coward. No wonder Dylan never gave him a chance when he pursued her. He half-assed his entire life. Anything that wasn’t soccer got the narcissistic jerk treatment and was promptly neglected.
“I’m staying right here,” Tate informed no one in particular. “Wouldn’t miss a public meltdown for the world.”
“Quit.” Row fixed his gaze back on his sister. “I don’t want you near Tucker. I don’t want you in a slimy bar. And I don’t want you—”
“I don’t care what you want!” Dylan shot to her feet, slamming her palms against the table. “Get it into your thick skull—you’re not my dad. Even if you were, I wouldn’t listen to you. I am my own person. Your concern, your love, your devotion, is suffocating. Because it’s always your way or the highway.” She visibly gulped, pupils dancing in their sockets. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and you’re living proof of that. Seriously, thank you for always having my back. Thank you for being protective of me. But I can handle Tucker.” She stormed away from the table, toward the restrooms.
Silence fell over us all.
“That went well.” Tate was the first to shrug off the past few minutes, tossing a shrimp into his mouth.
Cal shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I gave Row a scathing look.
“What?” Row barked my way. “I said what everyone at this table thinks. My sister is a fucking genius. Why can’t she—”
“Because she wants to look back and appreciate the journey, not just the fucking destination,” I roared. I was on my feet now, even though I couldn’t recall my brain giving my legs the order. “Take it from someone who spent the majority of his twenties as your sidekick—not everyone wants to live in your shadow, even if that shadow offers sweet perks. You should be proud of her for wanting to do this on her own. You’re right. She is brilliant. But not only because she’s book smart or some shit. Because she is fiercely independent.”
“Rhyland is right.” Cal bit down on her lower lip. “You’ve gotten so used to protecting Dylan since the time your father was alive, somewhere along the way, you forgot it was time to let go.”
Row said nothing, staring me down with murder in his eyes. “You remember it’s all fake, right?” he asked me. “If not, I can always remind you, and I’m not going to be so nice about it.”
Shaking my head, I left the table and ambled to the restroom to look for Dylan.
Taking a turn behind the huge aquarium wall, I entered the dark corridor leading to the restrooms. I skidded to a halt when I came face-to-face with a silhouette of Dylan and Kieran embracing each other, Dylan’s lean frame draped against the wall, him covering her.
My blood roiled in my veins, my body a live wire of high-octane anger.
“Get your hands off her before I break both your legs like chopsticks.” The blade of fury in my voice cut through the air between them, making Kieran stumble backward and break the hug.
“Jesus, Rhyland, not you too.” Dylan’s face was saturated with disappointment as she shook her head at me.
I turned to Kieran, struggling to keep my temper in check. “She’s not going to fuck you, buddy. Move along.”
To this, he responded with a chuckle. “Ah. I guess I am destined to be a prop in the jealous-douchebag kit. First Row, now you. I’m starting to see a pattern.”
There was a hot minute when Row thought Kieran was after Cal the year they got together. He hadn’t appreciated the competition, and Kieran sported a slightly crooked nose as a reminder of that episode.
“Leave us,” I ordered, steely.
“The hell I will!” Dylan threw her hands up. “I’m going to stand here and give you a piece of my min—”
“Not you, Cosmos. Kieran.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Kieran turned to Dylan. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
She nodded. “It’s okay. I can take him down. I’ll aim for his balls.” She curled her fists. But once Kieran had scurried back to the table on the other side of the aquarium and it was just me and her, she dropped the charade and pressed her forehead to the cool fish tank, closing her eyes and blowing out a breath. “Oh God.”
“Is he still hitting on you?” I leaned a shoulder against the marine wall, studying her.
“No.” A wry chuckle left her mouth. “Even if he did, you and I made a promise to each other we’d be exclusive for the length of this arrangement.”
Her eyes were still closed. Maybe it was time I stopped worrying so much about her porking other people and more about the fact that she seemed upset. I was still new to this “giving a shit” business.
I pinched my lower lip between my fingers. “You know Row was only trying to be helpful in his own backward, ooga-booga, me-a-tough-big-ape, you-a-small-cute-ape kinda way, right?”
She pushed off the aquarium with a sigh, her forehead leaving a smudge on the glass. “Yeah, I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that I still feel fourteen sometimes. Like I’m not fully in charge of my own life.”
“Because Row is an overbearing prick?” I frowned.
“Because my family doesn’t trust me to do the right thing by myself and by my daughter. I’m like a fish in a tank.” Her finger traced the path of a bright orange discus fish over the thick glass. “Swimming aimlessly, pretending to be free, but very much a prisoner in my own beautiful golden cage.”
“Well, you know, that’s just like, uh, your opinion, man,” I blurted, bringing my palms to rest atop my head.
She turned to give me a funny look.
“Are you Big Lebowski-ing me after my big emotional speech?” Her eyes widened.
“Are you getting a reference from a nineties movie?” I lit up. “Impressive.”
“I’m Calla Casablancas’s best friend. I know everything about the nineties.”
“What I mean to say is you might feel like a fish in a tank, but trust me, you’re more like…a shark in a pool.”
“Meaning?” She slanted her head to study me.
“Yeah, your brother is domineering, but you’re just as stubborn and opinionated as he is. You don’t let him push you around. You’re made of the same cloth, so it’s not like he has the upper hand. You guys are just butting heads. You always end up doing whatever you want anyway.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Her lips twitched with a small smile. “I am just as stubborn and bossy.”
“You could use someone to boss you around. It’ll give you a chance to let go a little. I bet you’d like that.” I studied her intently. “Being a little more submissive in bed.”
From the color in her cheeks, I knew I was heading in the right direction. My pulse drummed its way up to my throat.
“Come here.” I curled a finger her way.
She did, pushing off the aquarium and erasing the gap between us in three strides. She stopped, waiting for more directions. My dick twitched. I slipped my hands inside my front pockets, clinging to my nonchalance as if it were a goddamn anchor.
“Are you wet?”
She snorted. “You wish.”
I tsked, giving her a slow once-over. “Flip your dress up, and show me your panties.”
Her satisfied smirk disappeared, and she looked at me with uncertainty. I knew she was wet.
“What will I get if I do it?” she bargained.
“The orgasm I denied you back there, when you made up a whole story about me sobbing to take you out.” I jerked my thumb behind my shoulder.
She gulped. Grabbed the hem of her dress, slowly hiking it up a millimeter at a time. Didn’t matter, because by the time her pink satin undies were on full display, I could see the stain of her arousal where the slit was. Her eyes traveled up to meet mine, her blush deepening.
“God, you are gorgeous.” I grabbed the back of her head, tilted it up by fisting her hair, and kissed the fuck out of her.
We were in the corridor. The only thing standing between us and our group of friends was the half-see-through aquarium wall. It was risky and illicit, and I found myself throwing caution to the wind. At the end of the day, what were humans if not mere animals—impulsive, egotistical, and emotional? I took an AP class in psychology before college, so I knew damn well I was rationalizing to myself an excuse for why my thumb was currently brushing the junction between my best friend’s baby sister’s inner thigh and underwear. Even before I made it to the center—to the slit, the main event—I could feel her wetness. Every fiber of my body and soul wanted to take a knee, dunk my head under her pretty rose dress, and feast on her pussy like a starved man.
Our tongues were at war, and I walked her over to the crook between the aquarium and the emergency exit, the darkest corner of the restaurant. Our friends’ table was right in front of us. I could see their faces from the other side of the aquarium in my peripheral. If one of them walked toward the bathroom, they’d be able to see my broad back as I crowded her but not what I was about to do next.
I broke off our kiss, licking a path down her jawline, traveling south to the column of her neck. She tipped her head back, giving me full access, one hand gripping the back of my neck and the other clutching my erect cock through my slacks. She gasped at my size.
“How is this thing going to fit into my vagina?” she moaned.
“It’ll fit.” My tongue swirled its way down as I peeled off the corset of her dress, freeing those magnificent tits that didn’t require a bra. “It’ll fit your pussy.” I kissed the top of her right breast. “Your smart little mouth.” I kissed her lips. “The space between your wonderful tits.” I scraped my teeth over her left breast. “And your ass too.” I used my free hand to squeeze her ass cheek, my hand traveling down and forcing her thighs open for me from behind. I reared my head back to study her bare breasts. Fantastic. Pear-shaped, heavy, and tan. Her nipples were light brown, tiny, and on point.
I dove down to swirl my tongue around one areola. She hissed, rolling her hips to meet my crotch, her grip on my cock tightening through my slacks.
“Look how sweet and pliant you are,” I murmured into her breast. “Not so tough now, are you, Cosmos? Touch yourself until you’re ready for me.”
“Rhy, I’m already too—”
I bit the tip of her nipple gently. “More masturbating, less mouthing back.”
She groaned, bringing her hand into her panties and playing with herself.
I turned to give my attention to her other tit. It was just as delicious. Then I kissed her again, using the palm that was cupping the junction between her ass and her slit from behind to apply delicious, taunting pressure to her pussy, my fingertips grazing hers as she worked her pussy faster and harder. She had three fingers inside herself. Good, but not nearly enough. Past experience had taught me that women—especially narrow women like Dylan, judging by the finger I put in her earlier—needed proper prepping before I fucked them.
“Rhy, I can’t take this anymore. I’m embarrassingly soaked,” she moaned into my mouth.
I looked down to examine her panties. Jesus. They were ruined. It looked like she’d sat in a fucking bucket of water. Not gonna lie, the fact that she was so responsive made my dick harder than the Empire State Building.
“Take me out,” I ordered her, trying to keep the strain away from my voice.
She eagerly unbuttoned and unzipped me, pushing my Armani briefs down. My cock sprung out like a freaky clown from a jack-in-the-box. It was thick and long, with a fat crown glistening with precum and a natural curve that made it too easy for me to hit my partner’s G-spot.
Dylan gasped at the sight. “I’m never going to walk again.”
“Come on—we need to be fast. Put it in your underwear, but no penetration,” I ordered.
She stared at me, aghast. “Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious when I have my cock out in a public place and a pretty woman by my side.” I was downplaying the entire thing. I’d never done anything half as crazy as this with anyone else. And she was more than pretty. She was a work of art.
“I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”
“Trust me. I’m prepping you now for next time, when we exchange clean health bills and things get serious.” I grabbed my cock and slid it into her panties.
Her pussy immediately made a slurping noise. My dick leaked more precum. This was bad. I mean, it was great, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to last more than five seconds once we did the dirty. Plus, the health-bill talk was bullshit. We’d already done enough to catch a whole lot of STIs.
Not that I cared. She could literally shoot me in the femur, and I’d say “thank you.”
Holding the base of my cock, I slid it up and down from the edge of her ass crack until my wet tip flicked her clit. Dylan threw her head back against the wall and moaned so loudly I wouldn’t be surprised if she woke people in Rhode Island.
“Rhy.”
“Shh, baby.” I pressed my palm over her mouth. “We need to be quiet. Now, take my cock and do what I just did. No penetration.”
She nodded eagerly, taking over, sliding the tip of my cock from one corner of her pussy to the other, up and down.
“Can I play with your ass a little, baby?” I nibbled on her earlobe, kissing the side of her face and enjoying the slurping sounds we made together.
“Yeah,” she mewed.
I retrieved the hand that was grabbing her ass, spat onto my index and middle fingers, and returned it, teasing her tight hole while Dylan quickened her pace with my cock.
“I’m going to come just from this,” she said breathlessly. “Oh my God, that’s never happened.”
I slapped her hand away from my cock with my spare hand, and she purred in protest—until she realized what I was doing. Tapping the crown of my cock over her swollen clit, withdrawing every now and then to slide just the tip into her before teasing her clit again.
“Yes,” she panted. “Yes, just like that.”
We both looked down, watching with fascination the imprint of my dick through her drenched panties.
A cry of panic and disbelief sounded behind my back. I shot a quick glance over to our table. Everyone was there, Kieran included.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I growled to whoever was behind us. From the sound of clinking heels, they took orders better than my fucking fake fiancée.
“I’m coming,” she announced.
Thank fuck.
“So am I.”
A few seconds later, her entire body convulsed, her jaw went slack, and she closed her eyes, rocking to the rhythm of the pleasure rushing through her body. My own orgasm followed suit, in the form of my balls tightening and tingling, followed by shooting my load right inside her panties. Health bill, my ass. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other for the duration of one meal. We hadn’t even made it to the entrées.
I pulled back, steadying her. She looked a mess, and I knew it was going to be damn near impossible to explain why we both looked like we’d been hit by a train.
“Holy shit. I need to get rid of this underwear before it wets my entire dress.” She grabbed the elastic of her panties, tugging them down her thighs.
I clutched one of her thighs, giving it a squeeze. “Keep them.”
She stared up at me, horrified. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I want your pussy to swim in my cum while you eat your dessert.”
Her nostrils flared, her pupils dilating. She opened her mouth to refuse, so I cut in, “You said you want to let go of some of your control. You deserve a little filth in your life, Dyl. You’ve been on the straight and narrow for too long.”
Taking a ragged breath, she nodded and pulled her panties back up with some struggle. They were too wet and knotted together.
I watched the small river of transparent white cum in the gusset. Fuck. Her pussy was going to be dipped in my cum all night.
“We need to get back to the table.” I grabbed her hand.
She didn’t budge. “Rhyland?”
“Yeah?”
She seized my wrist and slipped it under her dress, running my fingers through her dripping cunt again. I shuddered. She raised my wrist and brought it to my lips. It was full of our cum. I sucked on my index and middle fingers hungrily, and she pulled me in, her lips fusing with mine against my two fingers, both of us licking them like we were sharing a lollipop. The scent of her heated my blood. I could feel the pulse inside my cock as it strained against the fabric of my slacks again.
Dylan leaned back on the balls of her feet, and I knew—just knew—she loved that I was taller than her even though she was a tall girl. “A hundred bucks says you’ll end up jerking off to what happened between us tonight as soon as you get home.” She smirked brazenly, combing through her hair with her fingers and smoothing her dress over her legs.
I took my phone out of my pocket, my thumbs flying over the screen.
“What are you doing?” She readjusted the shoulder straps of her dress.
“Venmo-ing you two hundred bucks.”
“I said a hundred,” she laughed.
“Yeah.” I scratched my jaw. “One time won’t be enough.”