CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
The thought of my cum swimming inside her has me still half hard.
Keeping her always full of me is instantly my most pressing mission.
I nestle my face in the crook of her neck.
It’s vanilla bourbon and one more place where we fit together perfectly.
A blissful serenity I never saw coming. But I don’t get to stay there.
As we’re settling down from our high and grounding ourselves in the pool, my consciousness grabs on to the unappealing music list right as “Dick in a Box” cuts through the night.
That takes us both out of commission, our laughter drowning out the song.
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
It was a marathon all right. We migrated from the pool to the shower, where Sylvie managed to have me rock hard again by the time I finished washing her, so I shoved her to her knees and fucked her throat. And there she was—small and wet and kneeling before me, but holding all the goddamn power.
I carried her into my room and tried to let that be enough.
We were both exhausted, but within an hour of climbing beneath the sheets and talking about music and magic and trivial things that seemed far more important because I got her take on them, I thrust inside her again, committed her rapturous cries to memory, and stayed there until we woke up this morning.
We slept in late and had breakfast in bed, and now we’re side by side on the love seat in my room, where she rode me into another state of consciousness less than a half hour ago.
We’re willing ourselves to find the energy to start the day, both of our phones buzzing incessantly.
She shuts hers off without looking at it, which has unease prickling my skin.
I think it’s her sister she’s avoiding, but I don’t question her about it.
We’re still in a starry-eyed bubble, and since I know there’s shit to deal with and some perilous days ahead, I plan to soak up every second of jubilation we have.
When I grab my phone and chuckle through the first several texts on a thread with my brothers, she nuzzles closer, so I pull her onto my lap.
She’s wearing another one of my T-shirts, some faint bite marks from yours truly, and a pair of panties.
I think I’m going to mandate that she never wears more than that while in this room, but so far, I haven’t needed to.
Ryker: Mercy has been emotional. I don’t think I’m supposed to say it has anything to do with the pregnancy, but I might need some help.
Jax: What kind of help are we talking about?
Maddox: I second that. Boat? Handcuffs? Reinforcements?
Ryker: Do not ever mention handcuffs regarding my wife again.
Maddox: That’s fair. I’m not even gonna call you a bulldozer for that one.
Axel: I’m in between calls. You have a very small window to obtain my advice.
That catches me up, so I can chime in at the ideal time.
Me: That’s cold, even for you, Axe.
Axel: You know what’s cold? An empty pool.
“Oh my gosh,” Sylvie whines, burying her face in my chest, which only makes me laugh.
I don’t call her out on the fact that she dished the razzing without issue when I first brought her home, but I do prepare her. “You gotta get over any type of embarrassment with this crew. They will smell that fear and pounce on it.”
“That makes me feel much better,” she deadpans, peeking at the next message coming in.
Maddox: I’m guessing we escalated past the “I Touch Myself” part of the evening, huh, bro?
Me: Sure did, jackass. We cruised right into the “Dick in a Box” portion.
Maddox: Impeccable timing. Did Sylvie like her gift?
“This is less about you and more about this time I orchestrated a blow job between him and Tessa during an important call, and it got sticky.”
“Sticky?” she parrots, but I don’t elaborate.
I need to find out what they spilled about me before I give up prime dirt like that.
Axel: This is why I should never stop working to engage with you all. What the hell are you even talking about?
Ryker: I have a real issue here.
Axel: Let’s focus on that then.
Jax: If Cash’s dick was in a box, he might have a real issue too.
Me: Fair fucking point. Thanks for caring, Papa Axe.
Sylvie cackles. “Stupid.”
Axel: They aren’t scrubbing red off the pool walls, so I’m assuming it’s still attached.
Maddox: Damn. Someone’s in a mood. He needs an “Afternoon Delight.”
Me: Maybe he’s too over the hill to get his “SexyBack.”
Axel: Please. You all wither in my “I’m Too Sexy” shadow.
Jax: Papa Axe “Coming in Hot.”
Ryker: Fucking focus.
Jax: The thread is yours.
Ryker: She said she had a dream where she was locked out of La Lune Noire forever and I was trapped inside. The only guests were women. The employees were women. I was surrounded by women in this scenario, except her.
Sylvie winces, and the alarm is warranted.
Me: Tell me you did not engage. You were celibate for this woman for years. Did you fuck it up in a hypothetical?
Ryker: I handled it brilliantly.
Maddox: So brilliant that you got burned. Like looking directly at the sun.
Jax: On that note, I got a sick flamethrower.
Me: What could go wrong there?
Axel: Get rid of it. And do not demonstrate for your therapist.
Jax: One fucking time. Dr. Mary has been around for nearly a year. And she’s 100, so that’s a feat. You’re welcome.
Axel: She’s 57, but old enough to die from a jump scare. No flames.
Me: That sounds like ageism, old man. I bet Dr. Mary would welcome a jump.
Maddox: She’d be feeling those flames.
Jax: There’s no way she’s 57. She fell asleep mid-sentence last week.
Axel: Did you give her weed?
Jax: …
Ryker: Back to me. I asked if she was with the men.
Axel: That seems fair.
Ryker: Right? Usually, my wife’s lawyer brain would have appreciated the redirect, but in current conditions, she saw it as an accusation.
Jax: I can see that angle.
Ryker: I could not, but I rolled with it. I asked where you all were in this bizarre hypothetical.
Maddox: Way to pass the buck. So, she’s pissed at us?
Ryker: No, but I laughed when I asked.
Axel: The laughing was bad.
Ryker: So bad. She mistook my humor for me imagining other scenarios. Every goddamn person on the planet knows I’ve been obsessed with her since we were kids.
Axel: Did you remind her?
Ryker: She’s not listening, and I’m mildly freaking out about the stress on her.
“Aww,” Sylvie coos. “He seems really worried.”
I scratch my fingers up and down her spine beneath the T-shirt, understanding Ryker better than I ever have. “He is.”
She hums in thought, and I wonder if Mercy being pregnant bothers her or if finding out that Rena is expecting will. I know her miscarriage devastated her. I have no idea how to approach that.
“He needs to answer the original question,” she finally says, “so she feels like it was a rational concern in the first place. I don’t know Mercy that well, but from what I’ve seen, I’m guessing she’s probably upset, aware she’s overreacting, and defensive because she’s still irritated.”
That’s insightful, so I seize the opportunity to get a glimpse of how Sylvie would like things handled. “How should he answer it?”
She smirks and slants her head. “How would you answer it?”
This feels like a trap, but I go with my gut. “Nothing would keep me from getting to you. I’d plow through the women and the walls and any other force between us.”
Her breath catches, and she nods. “Tell him to say that.”
Maybe I’ll be better at this relationship stuff than I thought.
As I’m texting Ryker that response, Sylvie burrows into my chest.
“So, this is how you all solve your issues. You troubleshoot together, and half of you only take it mildly seriously?” There’s humor laced through it, but she pretty much summed us up.
“Yep. So, if I ever get it wrong, it’s probably their fault.”