Bradley's Whistle (P.ornstars of Romance #2) (11 page)

“You miss him already.” I realized, and Casey nodded. Then my mood plummeted, too, because Casey was only missing his other half because of me. “Have you ever been apart like this before?” I asked quietly.

“Oh, lots of times. Lionel has a Florida fetish and goes once a year; meanwhile, I refuse to do Florida.”

I gasped. “It’s the home of Disney World. I’m shocked!”

“I know, and while I adore everything Mickey Mouse, my mother lives in Florida, and trust me when I say she is not worth Disney World.” Casey halted in his tracks and glanced towards an exit sign. “Let’s get out of here. All this wax is making my skin crawl. We need sunshine and fresh air.”

With a renewed vigor, Casey grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the museum. As we rushed out onto the busy sidewalk, a double decker bus pulled to a stop, its doors opening wide. Casey spared me a quick glance over his shoulder, and I didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye. We boarded, and he paid because, let’s face it, I was pretty much broke. The only thing to my name was a return flight ticket home. I was grateful my rent had been paid in advance, and I had another month up my sleeve before things got really scary. Maybe I could ask my boss, Ryder, for an advance. I mused the thought as Casey tugged on my hand until we were finally on the top floor. We sat at the front of the bus, overlooking what seemed everything.

“Selfie!” Casey sang, and we took a quick photo with the giant front windows of the bus as our background.

We settled back into our seats and watched the passing scenery.

“So, where are we going?”

“On an adventure,” Casey murmured.

“An adventure to where? London is a big place. What if we end up on the other side, and this bus doesn’t have a trip back.”

“Then we find another bus,” Casey said easily.

“What if there are no other buses?”

“Then we find a taxi.”

“What if there are no taxis?”

Casey cast me a curious glance. “Since when did you become a cup-half-empty kinda girl? You are Wiska James, hear-her-roar, soul sista—she can do anything.” He snapped his fingers and wiggled his head with attitude.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, appalled by my abrupt negativity. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Spill, poppet, tell your glitter daddy what’s wrong.”

I thought about it for a moment. What was wrong indeed. I felt . . . flat.

“I guess . . .” I began, compiling my thoughts into some sort of order. “I guess I feel a little lost. I miss my home, I miss my mom and dad, I miss my friends, and yet I’m too scared to go home. I’m practically broke, and I think I need to ask Ryder for an advance. My reputation is dirt, and I’ve got a sexy hunk of brooding male who wants to screw me out of his system, so I guess this is what you call rock bottom.” I blurted it all out with tears in my eyes.

Casey tsked me as he wrapped an arm around my neck. “Okay, let’s fix one problem at a time. What scares you about returning home? The rumors, the gossip?”

I nodded at the mention of both of them.

“Fuck it,” Casey spat. “Fuck. It! Don’t you dare give a thought to the drama-hoes that talk behind your back. They are behind you for a reason, poppet. And anyway, Andi said chatter had already started to die down where you and Kasper the Unfriendly Dick are concerned. You’re broke? No problem, I have money. Actually, Lionel controls our finances, but we have a lot, and do not, I repeat DO NOT, ask Ryder for an advance. You don’t want to be in debt to business. If you need a loan, ask me. I won’t make you pay me back with blow jobs and bumping nasties with your camel cookie.”

A bubble of laughter burst from my lips.

“And your reputation? A reputation is just a word, poppet. Who you are in here is what really counts.” He tapped a finger over my heart. “Who cares what other’s think of you? What you think of you matters more.” Casey took a deep breath. “And Bradley wants to what?” he practically shouted.

I glanced around the almost empty upper floor of the bus, noting a nearby couple shift nervously and cast us a worried glance.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not a terrorist. I’m an American, and I love your weird and wacky English folk,” Casey said, waving them off. He then turned his attention back to me. “Bradley wants to what?” he seethed.

“Settle down, you folk loving fairy. He took it back, said he was frustrated that he wanted me, but he wouldn’t date me while I was working as a porn star. He said he wouldn’t share me; he wants to date or something.”

Casey thought about that for a moment. “I guess Mr. Secretive Sexy Pants and I will be having a talk after all.”

“What do you mean? A talk about what?”

“There is no one else here to protect your virtue but me, poppet. I’m all that is standing between you and that bag of horny male lust, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and let him have his wicked way with you.” Casey laughed. “Once I’ve waved my magical sexy-time wand, it will be you having your wicked way with him, and he’ll be begging you for it.”

“Why does that sound so ominous?”

Casey grinned and chucked me softly on the chin with his fist. “Because, poppet, there is nothing sexier than a woman who knows which man she wants and is prepared to torture him a little and make him beg for it.”

“You can be so weird sometimes,” I mumbled.

“Weird? Poppet, I am a damned limited edition!”

Casey settled back and began taking in the sights again, our conversation obviously finished. I had no idea what Casey meant by torturing Bradley, but oddly enough, I found the concept strangely exhilarating.

Bradley

I paced. Every time I stopped and forced my feet still, I’d end up lost in thoughts, and then, low and behold, I’d go back to pacing again. It was after nine, and Wiska and Casey were nowhere to be seen. I had plans to take Wiska on an evening sightseeing tour. I even had Aedan teed up to drive, but when Wiska and Casey still hadn’t shown up an hour ago, I’d sent him home. Glancing at my phone for the hundredth time, I knew I had no missed calls or messages, but I still checked the screen just in case. Wiska had not been answering her phone, and the sticky note stuck to the computer desk at the other end of the living room should have had Casey’s phone number on it. Except beside his name he had written ‘I only take booty calls’. Frustrating man!

When the door to my apartment suddenly flew open, and a laughing Wiska and Casey stumbled through, I finally stilled . . . and stared. Their arms were laden down with shopping bags. Wiska wore a shirt that read: Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go to London, while Casey wore one that read: If I had a British Accent, I’d Never Shut Up. He also had on a fur top hat with the British flag on it.

“Bradley, today we had an adventure,” Wiska declared when her eyes landed on me.

“We got lost,” Casey said with a grin. “And, in getting lost, we stumbled across the best shop ever.” He held up one of the tote bags they carried; ‘Souvenirs Suck, Said No One Ever’.

“There is a store called Souvenirs Suck, Said No One Ever?” I wondered out loud.

“Yes, isn’t it the most awesome business name ever?” Wiska said, throwing her shopping bags down.

“You could have called,” I said with a little more irritation than I intended. While I had been worried, I knew I had no reason to be; she was a grown woman, after all, and Casey was with her.

“I’m sorry?” Wiska replied with a raised brow, obviously noticing the underlying tension in my words.

“You know, Bradley, when a woman says sorry, she’s really just giving you a chance to change what you just said.”

“Thank you, Casey,” I murmured.

“Pleasure,” he replied, obviously missing my sarcasm.

“I was worried. You’re not from around here; I thought you might have gotten lost or something. And I brought dinner home.”

“You’ve got food?” Wiska asked, ignoring the fact I had been worried.

“There is leftover pizza in the fridge.”

Wiska just about mowed me down as she lunged towards the kitchen, and I remained standing in front of Casey who stared at me with a knowing look on his face.

I shifted nervously under his intense glare. “After dinner I had made plans to take Wiska . . . out.”

“Really? Out where?” He crossed his arms over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face.

I suddenly felt like I was facing down a staunch parent on a first date. “I am so hungry I could eat the south bound end of a north bound cow!” Wiska exclaimed, and both Casey and I paused as we watched her attack the pizza with gusto.

“Just for a drive,” I muttered as Casey’s gaze moved back to me.

“A drive where?” he persisted.

“Just out, sightseeing.” I turned my back on him and ducked under Wiska’s arm at the fridge to grab a beer before sliding onto a stool. I was pouting, pissed off that my night of wooing had been plundered.

“I’m going to take a shower,” said Wiska through a mouthful of lukewarm pizza.

“You’re taking your food into the shower with you?” I asked.

“Uh-huh, but don’t worry, it will be gone before I get wet.”

I coughed up a mouthful of beer at the mention of her being wet, and Casey sat down beside me, patting my back a little too hard.

When she disappeared into my room, I tried hard not to think of her stripping and getting wet. I tried thinking of my mom, but it only took a few errant thoughts before my imagination conjured up naked images of Wiska. I tried thinking about work, but it was thwarted by a fantasy of fucking Wiska on my desk. I tried thinking about baseball, which promptly turned into a fantasy of Wiska dressed as a cheerleader. My cock twitched and began to rise, almost a ‘fuck you’ to the intelligent portion of my brain that struggled to find composure.

“Bradley, I think we need to have a little talk about the birds and the bees,” Casey murmured.

I took a drink from my beer and cast him a sideways glance. “Bit late for that. I’ve been poking birds with my stinger for a long time now. I think I have the basics down.”

“Ohhh, that was clever. I must write that down, but in the meantime, I want to ask you what your intentions towards Wiska are.”

I laughed and took another drink. When he continued to stare at me, a thoughtful expression on his face, I blanched.

“Fuck, you’re serious?”

“As serious as a midget in a nudist colony, Bradley.”

I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. “I’m not sure.” I admitted.

“Not good enough. We’ll be checking into a hotel first thing tomorrow, and you and your wandering eyes can take a hike. Wiska doesn’t need a man who just wants to play feed the kitten with her. She needs something real, Bradley.”

“What I feel is real, Casey. I like her and have no intention of doing wrong by her . . . and I need to write down feed the kitten. That was a good one.”

“Thank you, but I don’t care about what you feel. Actions speak louder than words, and I want to know what course of action you plan to take.”

“Fine, I plan on wining and dining her, spoiling her, giving her the romance she deserves, and when she’s ready, I think I’ll start with just kissing, but I’ll let my hands roam a little. I bet she has sensitive nipples. I think I’d like to tug on them a . . .”

“STOP!” Casey shouted, his hands over his ears. “Desecration of thy ears, please stop!” He cast me a frustrated glance. “What on earth made you think I would want to hear about your crazy, kinky straight loving ways?”

I grinned. “You said actions speak louder than words. You wanted to know what actions I planned to take.”

“I want to know if you are planning on keeping her and treating her the way she deserves to be treated, or are you simply going for a stroll down Wiska Lane before detouring on a prettier, younger street.”

I chuckled. “You certainly have a way with words, Casey.” With a long sigh I put my beer down. “She intrigued me from the first moment I saw her, and yes, she’s hot, so of course I noticed the obvious things, but she’s different from other girls. She’s spontaneous, fearless, funny, and quirky. I just want to sit and talk with her because it seems every time we talk she surprises me, and I get the feeling that will never end between us, she’ll always surprise me. I wonder about more with her, kind of the same way I wondered about more with Leah, but the feeling is more intense. The thought of her going home makes me feel a little sick, and I’m selfish enough to admit I hope her problems back home don’t go away too soon, and in the same breath, I want to fix her problems, I want to make that fucker Kasper pay, I want to see him ridiculed and humiliated in the most appalling of ways.”

Casey’s serious face softened. “You L-O-V-E her.”

“I think it’s a bit soon for that word,” I mumbled.

“Of course it is. That’s why I spelled it out rather than actually say it. You are still on the letter L, but with a little work, you can make it through the rest of the letters. People fall in love one letter at a time, Bradley. L comes first and it ends at E, but it’s the journey in the middle that gives the word real meaning.” It was Casey’s turn to sigh. “Okay, you have my blessing, but, Bradley, fuck with her in the wrong way, and I don’t mean slipping the sausage in hole A instead of hole B—how someone could fuck that up, I have no idea—” Casey said with a shake of his head, “but you make her cry for all the wrong reasons, and I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

“Fair enough,” I said as Casey leaned in for . . . a hug? I pulled away until my back hit the kitchen counter and there was no way of escaping. Then he hugged me.

“Just let go,” he said in a soothing tone, his hand rubbing my back. “That’s it . . . relax. It’s just a hug, and our waists aren’t even aligned.”

“Ohhhhh, hug on,” Wiska exclaimed as she entered the living area.

Suddenly, her arms were around me, too, and the smell of soap and shampoo filled the space. My dick immediately stood up to sniff, and I shifted uncomfortably.

“Okay, that was a beautiful moment. I need to call Lionel and tell him about it. Goodnight.” Casey kissed Wiska on the forehead before disappearing down the hallway.

“Where is Lionel?”

“He went home. Lionel’s brother was taking care of their business, but he has to leave in a few days.” Wiska moved to the couch and began setting up her bed. “Casey and I booked our return flights home,” she said, not looking my way.

“You did?” I asked, that sick feeling I had mentioned to Casey settling into my stomach. “When do you leave?”

“Two weeks tomorrow. I need to stop hiding, and I need to go home and work so I can pay next month’s rent.” She collapsed onto the bed and finally looked at me.

“I can help you, if you’re struggling for money,” I suggested quickly, the thought of her going back to porn bothering me way more than what could be considered normal. I rubbed my chest in an unconscious effort to slow my racing heart.

She waved away my offer. “So can Casey and Lionel. The thing is, I’ve always paid my own way; there’s no reason for me to start taking handouts now.”

“So, you’re going back to Ryder and Kink Harder?” I said through gritted teeth, afraid of what her answer might be.

“It depends.” Her voice was so low I almost missed it.

“On what?” I found myself asking, my feet gravitating towards her.

“You’ve got two weeks, Bradley . . . two weeks to convince me you’re worth it.”

I leaned over the back of the couch and took her in. She was so beautiful, her face free of makeup, her hair a fall of white gold around her angelic face. She was wearing unassuming flannel pajamas, but she may of well have been wearing a silk negligee. My fingers itched to run under her top and feel the softness of the skin under there. She didn’t even have to try; she just had to lie there in her ordinary sleepwear and I’d want her. No other woman had managed to capture me in such a way, not even Leah. I got it now. I wasn’t Leah’s
it
, and I finally understood what that meant, because this smokin’ hot beauty before me was my ‘it’.

“Pussycat, you’re gonna need to get another job,” I whispered.

“Bradley, there is one more thing.”

I nodded, knowing there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

“I need to know what you do. I need your secrets.”

Okay, that gave me reason to pause. Nobody but the people I worked for knew exactly what I did. I didn’t keep this secret for shits and giggles. Hell, it wasn’t like I worked for fucking Ronald McDonald; I worked for the goddamn mob! I kept it from people to keep them safe. Could I share the secret I had kept to myself so long? When I glanced down and saw the disappointment on Wiska’s face, I decided right then and there I just might.

“Kasper kept secrets, big, colossal secrets, like bigger than J-Lo’s behind size secrets. Secrets are a deal breaker for me.”

My hand drifted to a strand of hair that fell across her forehead, and I gently moved it aside. “Get some sleep, pussycat. I’ve taken some time off work, and tomorrow, I’m going to start working on sweeping you off your feet.”

It was hard walking away from her—I was hard, dammit! I was pitching a permanent tent in my pants, my need for her eclipsing all modesty and reason. I pulled my door closed, but didn’t shut it. Part of me wanted Wiska to be able to get to her clothes and belongings if she needed; another part of me hoped she would be the first one to weaken and climb into my bed. Keeping my hands off my dick, I pulled the sheets up and somehow managed to send myself off to the land of wet dreams and fantasies.

*

“Where are we going?” Wiska asked as I drove through the streets of London.

In her lap was a brown paper bag, but she had no idea what was in it. I could tell she was just dying to open it and take a peek, but she didn’t.

“It’s a surprise,” I murmured.

“I hate surprises.” She pouted, but before I had a chance to panic, she grinned. “No, I don’t. I totally love surprises.”

When we reached our destination, I pulled into a parking space. I could tell Wiska didn’t recognize the place, even though she had been here before. I had come in from another direction, so the confused look on her face guaranteed that she didn’t really know where we were.

Opening her door, I reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. She came willingly and kept her fingers linked with mine. When the bridge came into sight, Wiska stopped.

“The love locks,” she whispered, and I tugged on her hand to get her moving again.

I didn’t say anything—I couldn’t. I was too fucking nervous. I took the brown bag from her hands and took out the big, silver padlock. Using the ridiculously small key, I opened it.

“You want to do the honors?” I asked, nodding toward the bridge.

“What does it say?”