Chapter 33 – Jarred
Jarred stumbled out of the shower with weak knees. Showers with Wave were dangerous, as Irishen had just learned. She had kept playing with them until Irishen had broken down to threats of spanking and orgasm denial if she didn’t let them come.
They would probably try the spanking part pretty soon, based on how turned on his Claimed had become at the mention of it. His respect for Irishen rose when the male managed to resist the urge to fuck Wave against the shower wall. Jarred had no complaints about his orders to eat her out instead.
The two of them got out of the shower with equally unsteady legs, and Jarred held a towel open for Wave. She came to him easily and hummed happily when Irishen took a second towel and began drying her hair.
The bathroom was a tangle of limbs and towels when they all tried to get dry and then Irishen pulled out clothes for all of them. Wave was drowning in his dress shirt, but didn’t seem to mind that it was closer to an indecent dress on her.
Irishen’s T-shirt was almost too small for Jarred’s broader frame, but the way Wave’s eyes lit up made the tightness worth it. Sweatpants for him, that he rolled at the ankles—Irishen was fucking tall—and socks and he was ready to face the day.
True to his style, the man himself pulled on slacks, a fitted shirt, and a sport jacket. Together, they looked so ridiculous that Jarred couldn’t help but laugh.
“Right, breakfast,” Irishen commended, giving Wave a light slap on the ass. “Move, mate.”
“I want pancakes.”
“Well, you are not getting pancakes because I don’t have the stuff to make them here and I’m not taking you out in public without underwear. There’ll be murder if you flash that pussy to anyone outside of a very short, very curated list, mate.”
Wave pouted. Jarred’s own stomach growled loudly at the mention of food.
“I could eat.”
“See? Your Claimed needs food. Don’t pout, mate.” Irishen softened and leaned to kiss her cheek. “I’ll make you pancakes next time, okay?”
“Fine. What do you have?” Wave relented.
“Healthy stuff.” Irishen grinned unrepentantly.
“Fuck. At least promise to drown it in cheese?”
“One very cheesy omelet coming up,” Irishen agreed, and because the man apparently had a death wish, he threw Wave over his shoulder and marched to the kitchen.
By the time they got Wave back to her dorm to get some proper clothes, she was running late.
“I’ll talk to Chrissy for you,” Jarred said to Irishen while they waited outside for Wave to get ready.
“About what?”
“Getting Wave clothes at your place. We have a full closet at the Powerhouse thanks to her.”
“Oh, that’s actually a good idea, but I could just buy—”
Jarred shook his head. “Nope. She loves the stuff Chrissy makes and you’ll have a better chance of seeing her in a dress if it has Chrissy-spelled pockets.”
Irishen looked a little lost and Jarred chuckled, clapping his shoulder. “You’ll catch up. And she’ll probably protest vehemently to the clothes at first, so for the love of any god, don’t make a big deal about them.”
“Huh?”
“Hellion said she cried when he told her we got her clothes.”
“Fucking Hellion,” Irishen muttered.
“In this instance, I don’t think it was his fault.” Jarred tried to be tactful.
“Okay, whatever. I can talk to Chrissy myself.”
“Suit yourself. She talking to you now?”
“They all are, as long as I don’t step over that threshold.”
“That’s quite a change,” Jarred said.
Irishen nodded. “Probably thanks to Wayla—Wave. Fuck, we need to be careful about that one in public.”
Now it was Jarred’s turn to nod. “And you need to keep an eye on all the mates you drop around, too. Or is that going to be public knowledge?”
“Depends on Wayla. With how things are going, she might want to keep that under wraps.”
“How does that make you feel?” Jarred asked knowingly.
“Fucking pissed.” Irishen grinned. “But I can deal. I want to make her life easier, not harder.”
Their conversation died down when a harried-looking Wave rushed out the door with an equally flushed Chrissy on her heels. The moment Chrissy’s eyes landed on them, she shrieked.
“You let her out in public looking like last year’s tramp! How could yo—”
Jarred scowled. “Watch it.”
Chrissy was undeterred. “She has an image to uphold and every crack in her armor will give an opening for the idiots trying to tear her down!”
“So about that,” Irishen said calmly. “I need you to plan and execute a full wardrobe for Wayla that we can have at my place.”
That shut Chrissy up and a calculating gleam entered her eyes. Wave was about to object, so Jarred used his most effective distraction technique and kissed her hard.
“You paying for all that, Prince Sleethill?”
“Absolutely,” Irishen replied easily. “And make sure everything has pockets.”
Damn, the man was smooth when he wanted to be. Jarred couldn’t help but chuckle, and Wave took that moment to punch his stomach and step away.
“I don’t need—”
“Of course you do.” Chrissy rolled over her. “Now get to class. I’ll have something ready for you tonight and the rest by the end of the week.”
“Thank you, Christiana Spindle. I’ll be in your debt,” Irishen replied formally, sealing the deal.
They piled back into Irishen’s sports car with groans and he gave a sigh when he looked at Wave wriggling onto Jarred’s lap.
“Okay. What kind of car do you want me to have?”