Chapter 14 #2
Bianca presses against me, my hard-as-fuck cock between us, and smiles into my mouth while her nails scrape my scalp. I turn us just enough to give the three of them a clear view, and the frustration that rolls through the room is so good I could almost come from it.
“Dickhead - why the fuck didn’t you tell us, your best friends, that you bought her a house?” Owen finally snaps, and I’m surprised it’s taken him this long.
I let him simmer while I take one more taste of Bianca. Her fingers tighten in my hair as if she approves of my priorities, but then she laughs against my mouth and twists in my arms to look at him.
“Because then I would’ve missed that face.”
Owen points at me, apparently too offended to choose between violence and words. “Fucking showoff. I was going to offer her motorcycle and mustache rides anytime she wanted, and you bought her coastal real estate.”
Bianca’s laugh gets louder. “Were those separate offers?”
“Package deal, Princess. Still on the table.”
“Good. I accept both.”
That takes some of the murder out of him. Not all of it - Owen is still Owen - but his arms loosen across his chest, and his attention drops to the hand I have around her waist as if he’s already calculating when he can collect.
Bianca sees it too. Her smile turns softer as she slips out of my hold, although her fingertips drag across my stomach on the way past, which feels less like leaving and more like a promise to come back.
“What about you, Frederick?” she teases. “Were you going to proposition me with anything?”
Freddie glances at the house around us, then at Owen, and whatever joke he reaches for doesn’t quite make it out. “I didn’t have house money. Or a motorcycle. Or any cool shit that could compete with these assholes.”
Bianca is smiling when Freddie takes her hand.
“But I’d do anything for you. And... I’ll make sure you never go without snacks and comfort.
And by comfort, I mean cuddles, and movie nights, and running baths for you, and scratching your back for as long as you want, and going down on you until you tap out... ”
Bianca’s nose goes pink as she stares down at their joined hands.
“Freddie.” His thumb moves once over her knuckles, and she brings his hand to her mouth instead, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. Freddie holds his breath.
“That sounds perfect,” she says.
I have the urge to mock him, because I’m a tad jealous he always gets the ooey-gooey omega side of her easily. And maybe I would if we weren’t standing in a house I bought for the same girl we’ve been obsessed with for forever, but never even managed to ask on a date.
We are definitely ass backwards.
Bianca lets him go slowly, blinking hard before she turns to the only person who has been damn near silent since we entered the house. Weller stands near the end of the island with his attention divided between her and us.
“And what about you, Mr. Serious?” she asks.
Weller’s gaze settles fully on her face and locks in. “It’s not a competition.”
“You’re losing anyway,” I tell him.
His eyes cut to mine, promising a later correction, but Bianca steps between us. Her bare feet stop inches from his shoes, and she lays one hand flat against the center of his chest.
She moves closer until there is no room between their bodies.
“Were you going to dress me up and take me to dinner somewhere expensive?” she asks. “Show me off a little?”
His hand closes around her wrist, not to remove it. He holds her there while the beat beneath her palm inevitably gets faster.
“Bianca.”
The warning only makes her eyes brighten. “Would you have let me misbehave until I got you all worked up, then taken me home and spanked my ass until you felt better?”
Owen inhales sharply, and every filthy possibility in my head rearranges itself around the image of Bianca’s bare ass across Weller’s lap as she falls apart.
Fuck.
She moves her fingers to the top button, releasing them one at a time until she can get her hand inside his shirt far enough to press them against the spot where she left her bite mark.
“Then I bet you would’ve fucked me, tucked me into bed next to you while you read those poetry books you used to carry around everywhere, and felt content that you had dominated me into submission for the evening. ”
Weller’s fingers close around her hips, and I expect him to kiss her. Instead, he lowers his body in one smooth movement until both knees meet the wood floor, and his face presses into the soft plane of her stomach.
Nobody utters a damn word.
I have watched Weller sit in a cage as if the concrete belonged to him. I’ve seen him bleeding, drugged, shaking hard enough that he could barely use his hands, and he still found a way to hold himself higher than the men trying to own us.
Bianca looks as shocked as the rest of us. Her fingers hover above his head before settling carefully into his dark hair, and Weller’s eyes close when her fingers start moving.
And fuck if it doesn’t make me jealous.
“I would’ve given you anything you wanted,” he says against her stomach, jolting me out of the vivid fantasies playing in my head. “I will give you anything you want, but maybe not always when you want it.”
Her throat moves. “Well?—”
“I was planning to pay for any schooling you wanted that went beyond the scholarships. One house or ten - in any country you fancied. Financially, there was no limit.” His arms tighten, bringing her closer until the sheer cover-up gathers beneath his cheek.
“That’s... too much.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
Of course he says it like that, still on his knees with his face against her and the audacity to sound as if he just offered to cover dinner. Bianca doesn’t argue. Her hand moves through his hair again, slower now, and his breath catches against her.
When he finally looks up, there is nothing soft about his expression. Bianca’s lips part as his thumbs press into the dips beside her hips.
“Would I enjoy disciplining you?” he asks, and I’m not sure if he’s asking her or himself.
Bianca’s nails catch lightly in his hair. “You tell me.”
“Yes.” Weller’s thumbs press into the dips beside her hips. “Very much.”
My grip tightens on the island.
“And if I didn’t enjoy it?”
His hands go still. “Then I wouldn’t.”
“Even if you thought I needed it?”
A line appears between his brows. For once, he doesn’t have the answer waiting.
His palms slide up the backs of her thighs. Bianca’s fingers tighten in his hair, and he stops before he reaches the hem of her cover-up. “I want to know what you need before you have to ask.”
“And if I change my mind?”
His hands return to her hips. “You tell me your limits, Bianca. What you want, what you don’t, and where it stops. I will never decide those things for you, but if you want me to take control when you need to let go, you can trust me with that.”
Bianca looks like a deer in headlights. Years in the mountains, knives hidden on her body, blood on her hands, and somehow she looks impossibly shy and deliciously fuckable.
“You can spank me,” she says.
Owen makes a rough sound behind me. I don’t look away.
Bianca wets her lips. “I want you to make me forget how to think.”
Weller’s fingers flex against her hips, once, hard enough to pull the fabric taut. His eyes close, and the control he has spent his entire life building disappears for exactly one breath.
“We’ll discuss it all properly,” he says when he opens them again, and his scent is potent.
“This feels pretty proper. I don’t really have limits. You’ll know if I don’t like it.”
I chuckle. I’m going to eat her up. Hope she doesn’t get sick of me.