Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
AUGUST
W omen can be such…challenging creatures.
Take Sinclair, for one. I’ve been showing her how I feel for at least a month. Probably longer. And she was clueless. Afraid I was what? Using her? After I invite her to my parents’ home so we can all spend time together? I don’t do that just for fun. Hardly any of my friends have been here. And I sure as shit have never invited another woman here. Only her.
And it will only ever be her.
I suppose as individuals, we all have different love languages. It pains me to even make that mental statement because it sounds silly as fuck. But considering Iris has talked about love languages for years and mine is definitely in the acts of service realm, apparently, Sinclair’s is words of affirmation. She needed the words, so I gave them to her.
As I pounded inside of her only a few hours ago, I told her how much I needed her greedy little pussy. How I owned that cunt and it was mine. She ate it up, creaming all over my cock, coming so hard I wondered if I rendered her unconscious for a moment .
Christ, I sound like I’m bragging even in my thoughts but it’s true. She was a puddle by the time we were through. Wrecked and beautiful. I added to the wreck by scooping up the cum between her legs and smearing it all over her stomach, making a mark.
My mark.
I’m a sick fuck and so is she, but we’re in this together. I feel like she’s my match. I adore her. I do.
I love her.
I’m downstairs in the family room with Iris and Brooks, who’s bouncing his precious little monster on his knee while she coos at her father. My mother and Sinclair aren’t in the room yet, and my father is at the bar, making us all a cocktail.
“I need to talk to you,” Iris declares out of nowhere, her focus on me.
“Go ahead and talk.” I settle into the overstuffed chair, ready for her to grovel.
A sigh leaves her and she glances around the room—specifically at our father—before she returns her gaze to mine. “Not in here. Somewhere more private maybe?”
“We can discuss whatever it is in front of Brooks and Dad. I have nothing to hide.” I arch a brow like the dick older brother that I am.
She clutches her hands into fists on her lap. Ah, Iris. Doesn’t she realize I’ve got her all figured out and I know how to get under her skin? “Fine. I’m sorry for what I said to Sinclair last night.”
“What exactly did you say to her?” I believe what Sinclair told me, but I want to see what Iris says.
“I told her to be careful because come on, Augie. You’re not the best when it comes to women.” Iris shakes her head, reaching out to pet her little monster’s head. That downy blonde hair looks soft to the touch, I can’t deny it. “Though I figured you were serious if you brought her here. ”
“When have I ever brought anyone here?”
“Never.”
“Exactly. So why would you say that to Sinclair about my so-called intentions? I’d think they were pretty obvious since I brought her home this weekend with me. I never do that,” I say again.
“You’re right. You’re right, but sometimes we need to…I don’t know. Hear you say it?”
She sounds like Sinclair. I’ve always been told actions speak louder than words so here I am doing the actions all over the place. Guess they need the words too.
“I’ll give you that.” I incline my head toward her. “Please don’t say anything bad about me to her parents tonight.”
“I would never.” Iris rests her hand against her chest. “I did a little research on them. Did you know her dad invented Jock Rot?”
Dad chokes on his drink, setting it on the bar in front of him with a hard thud. “What did you just say?”
“Jock Rot, Dad. You never heard of it?”
“No.” Dad shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“Wow, really? I used that stuff before back when I was playing football with Rhett.” Brooks shakes his head, seemingly impressed. “It works.”
“Ew.” Iris shakes her head. “The name is horrible.”
“I suppose I should let him tell the story, and I’m sure he will, but according to Sin, once he sold it, the business that took over changed the name and sales tanked,” I explain.
“But the selling point was the name. Teenage boys all over the country loved that shit because it was called Jock Rot, which sounds gross, but it cured it,” Brooks says, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Why would they change such a cool name?”
“Retailers wouldn’t carry it on the shelves if it was called Jock Rot. That’s why,” I tell him .
“What the fuck is jock rot anyway?” Dad asks, sounding impatient.
Brooks launches into a long explanation as to what exactly Jock Rot is and Iris and I make faces at each other from across the room as Brooks describes the symptoms. So gross.
“That’s disgusting,” Dad says when Brooks is finished. “I’m glad my wife wasn’t in here to hear all of that.”
“Sorry, sir.” Brooks ducks his head, his face turning red. Poor guy always puts his foot in his mouth around us and…seriously, what the fuck? Am I actually starting to feel sorry for him? That’s something I never do.
“You’re fine, Brooks.” Dad sighs, shaking his head. “When are her parents supposed to arrive? And where’s your mother? She’s taking forever.”
Iris jumps to her feet. “I’ll go look for her.”
“I believe they’re supposed to get here around six.” I check my watch to find that it’s only just past six. “Sinclair mentioned they could be late sometimes.”
“I hate lateness. It’s so fucking rude,” Dad mutters as he pours himself another drink. He didn’t even pass around the ones he made for us and I stand, going to the bar and grabbing my drink. “Have you met them?”
“No.” I slowly shake my head, taking a sip of the bourbon Dad poured for me. “She’s told me stories though. They have that typical new money attitude.”
“Ah, Christ. They’re probably going to be salivating over us all night, right? I sound like a dick, but those types? That’s what they usually do.” Dad shakes his head.
“Don’t be a prick, Dad.” I can say this to him because he knows that sometimes, he acts like a massive dickhead. We can’t help it. It’s part of our DNA. “Just…try not to let them bother you. I need you on your best behavior. I don’t want to upset Sinclair.”
My father watches me for a moment, amusement dancing in his eyes that are so much like mine. “Well look at you. Caring about someone else for a change.”
I know I can be a selfish bastard but it sucks when your father calls you out for it. “I’m trying to be a better person.”
“You’re not a bad person, son. You’ve just been wrapped up in your own bullshit your entire life. I get it. I was the same way. Then you find someone who wrecks your plans and changes your entire outlook.” He sends me a measured look. “And now you’re forever changed.”
“Wrecks your plans? I never knew you were a Swiftie, dear father of mine.” Iris appears out of nowhere, standing right beside me. When I send her a questioning look, she explains. “Those are lyrics from one of her songs. Well, kind of. Close enough.”
“I am not a Swiftie.” Dad appears positively offended. “And I thought you went in search of your mother and Sinclair.”
“I couldn’t find either of them.” Iris shrugs, unbothered. “I’m sure they’ll make an appearance soon.”
Nerves eat at my gut, which is not normal. I don’t give a shit about impressing people but with Sinclair’s parents? For whatever reason, I want them to like me. I want their approval and that goes against everything I normally care about.
Maybe Sinclair did wreck my plans—for the better.