Bradley's Whistle (P.ornstars of Romance #2) (17 page)

Her thrusts against my leg had become more demanding, and when she suddenly came apart beneath me, I stilled. Holy fucking shit-balls, she had just come, and we were both still fully clothed! Her breathing was hard in my ear, and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. Fuck it, maybe it was my own heavy breathing and frantic heart beat I was feeling. I had never, in all my years of fucking, experienced anything quite like that. Never had I made a woman come simply through a little clitoral friction and a few dirty words. Wiska’s passionate response had me wanting to rip the clothes from her body and fuck her for days.

“I hope I didn’t break a rule just now,” I whispered.

I felt her lips bend into a smile as she nuzzled my neck like a kitten seeking affection; she practically purred with a contented sigh.

“I think rules have flown out the window where you and I are concerned, Bradley. I’ve never orgasmed like that before, and I think I’m a little worried about what you can do without clothes between us.”

“Trust me, there’s a lot I can do without clothes between us,” I murmured as I kissed her neck yet again. My cock was like forged steel, painfully hard in my pants.

“I don’t put out on a third date,” she breathed between kisses.

“I think what you just did was something akin to putting out, and I don’t think you can call it a date because Casey came with us,” I purred in her ear.

“Nu-huh,” she argued. “This doesn’t count. You fried my brain with your seduction, and we kept our clothes on. You didn’t even reach second base. And Casey was a chaperone on
our
date.” I loved how breathless she had become so quickly.

My thigh rubbed against her crotch, and she groaned in my ear. “So no second base. It was a date, and I managed to make you come . . . with your clothes on.”

She pulled her hands out from under mine and gave my chest a gentle push. I could tell she didn’t really want me to pull away, but I did. I respected her rules; they actually made me want her all the more. Her rules, her charm, made her history with porn obsolete in my eyes. I was finally beginning to understand how Andi accepted Decker.

“Will you allow me to take you out tomorrow? Just you and me? A real date, without a chaperone?”

“I’d like that,” she said. I don’t think she realized it, but her hands still lingered on my chest. It caused my brutal case of blue balls to twist with pain.

“Wiska, are you in there? You two better not be twerking the pipe. I made Wiska a promise to protect her virtue, and sex on the second date is absolutely defiling her virtue. I’m coming in there in five minus, four, three, two, one—”

I stepped away from Wiska, and her arms fell innocently to her side. The almost-fucked, dazed look on her face was priceless, and Casey easily zeroed in on those red, pouty, kissed lips as soon as he burst into the room.

“Your cheeks are flushed. Did he make you come?” His eyes did a careful perusal of Wiska’s body, and his brows climbed up his forehead with surprise. “WITH YOUR CLOTHES ON?” His gaze crossed to me with renewed appreciation. “Well, hello perfect pectorals. You got her off while she was fully clothed? I am truly impressed.”

“What makes you think he got me off?” Wiska huffed indignantly.

“Poppet, you have that look, shocked and shagged, but your clothes are still on . . . unbelievable.”

Casey was still eyeing me like the best cut at the meat market. It unnerved me somewhat.

“Stop looking at him like that, or I’ll tell Lionel,” Wiska demanded.

Casey’s attention flew to her. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Those perfect pectorals are mine, so eyes off.”

I preened under her possessive claim, even if she was protecting me from a spoken for gay man.

Wiska stepped toward the door and then, as if an afterthought, she moved back to her suitcase and took her sweet time in selecting a pair of pale blue, lacy panties. Then she grabbed her pajamas and turned to walk away, but hesitated, reaching back for her giant vibrator which had been tucked beneath a small pile of clothing. She also claimed a bottle of lube and gifted me a saucy wink as she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. My heart almost punched its way out of my chest cavity.

“OMG, did you see the size of that thing?” Casey hissed once we were alone.

I resisted the urge to adjust my uncomfortable erection. “Uh huh, it’s not small.”

“And you’re not intimidated?”

“Hell no,” I confessed.

Truth was, while the giant vibrator had an easy inch on me, I knew how to use the equipment I had. No woman had ever left my bed unsatisfied, and considering I had just made Wiska come while fully clothed, Thor didn’t concern me in the least. Casey’s eyes dipped to my groin. There would be no missing the raging hard-on pressing against the zipper of my pants.

“Uh huh, I see,” murmured Casey. “You can borrow some of my lube so you can take care of that.” He signaled to my groin.

This was officially one of the most awkward moments of my life, right up there with the parental sex talk and Casey and Wiska’s waxing conversation.

“Nope, I’m good.”

“You sure are,” Casey purred as he backed away from the door. “And FYI, the vibrator has nothing on me.”

With a wink, he left, and I really, really wanted to purge the new thoughts that Casey’s words conjured.

Wiska

“Personally, I think Kim Kardashian is an alien, sent to Earth to spy on us.”

I burst out laughing as Casey lounged on the sofa bed painting my nails in a bedazzling shade of O.P.I.
Pineapple
. “I’m not kidding. She is absolutely, one hundred percent extraterrestrial.”

“What on earth makes you think she is an alien?” I balked.

“Her face. It’s fake. I have no doubt it’s some sort of alien prosthetic mask, but the aliens didn’t take into account the human ability to have so many different facial expressions. Kim has two: pissed off and fuck you. Plus, she is carrying an alien booty; that ass is just not real.”

“You’re just jealous she has such great skin,” I said, doubting he really believed she was, in fact, an alien.

“Her skin is some freaky alien prosthetic, too.”

The clearing of someone’s throat interrupted our celebrity trash talk moment. Casey was like my gateway to celebrity knowledge now. He knew everything about everyone, even who they were supposedly doing and where they were doing it. Casey obviously spent too much time watching TMZ and gossiping. I wasn’t going to give him a hard time for it, though. He was helping me make sure I’d never have another Kasper slip-up again, no more married, cheating celebrities for me. We turned at the same time to look at Bradley who stood at the end of his long hall. He looked nervous.

“Wazzup, homie?” Casey asked, and I shook my head at his terrible gangsta impression. “Would you like to join us for a manicure or pedicure?” Casey blew on my nails and sat up expectantly.

“I was born with a set of balls. I don’t do anything that ends with the word ‘cure’.”

“I have balls, and I get a manicure and pedicure weekly.”

“You were born missing a Y chromosome, so you don’t count,” Bradley argued.

“You do know that doctors have publicly stated the XY chromosome count doesn’t determine gender on its own?”

I swung around to stare at Casey, my mouth wide open with disbelief.

“What? I read!” He sniffed in an attempt to brush off my surprised stare. “So, no ‘cures’ for Bradley. Maybe Wiska could offer you a massage?”

Bradley’s gaze found mine, and I shivered at the intense look he pinned me with. “Maybe later. Get dressed, I’m taking you out on that date.”

“You know, there is a method to asking a girl. As in, you actually
ask
her.”

“I asked you last night.”

I clearly remembered that, but this walking in and ordering me around was getting old. He needed to find some manners beneath that brutish attitude. I just sat there and stared at him, and after a few moments, he huffed and stood a little taller. I could tell he was cranky, and it made me want to smile. He was so cute when he was flustered.

“Wiska, will you please get dressed because I’d like to take you out on a date, alone?” he gave Casey a pointed glare, which didn’t effect Casey in the slightest. He just smiled back, watching the interplay between us.

“So, so close,” I sighed. “Fine, give me ten.”

Pulling my feet away from Casey, I jumped up and ran to Bradley’s bedroom where I grabbed some fresh clothes. Secretly, he could have dragged me from the apartment by my hair and I would have been happy. Spending time with Bradley had quickly climbed the ladder of my top five favorite things to do. A warm bubble bath with a good book was still number one. I kind of hoped Bradley found a way to topple it from its prime position. Maybe there was something else that could be done in a bath that would leave me in a relaxed state of wrinkle toed mush.

*

“Where are we going?” I asked as we seemed to get further and further from the hustle and bustle of London.

“To a quiet pub out of town, somewhere we can talk.”

“We didn’t have to go out of town to talk. I’d have been just as happy if you had taken me to McDonald’s.”

“Pussycat,” Bradley said with a grin, “I’m not taking you to McDonald’s. This place is owned by a previous employee of Willie Bianco. They’ve done the place up real nice; it’s got old world charm, and the food is amazing. “

“Soooo,” I hedged. “Willie doesn’t bury his employees when they decide to leave?”

Bradley laughed. “No, it doesn’t work that way. It’s just like any other job—you quit and move on. I guess some of the people more closely associated with the inner workings of the organization have less flexibility when it comes to quitting.”

“Huh.” This mafia business wasn’t at all like the movies.

The rest of the drive passed quietly, with Bradley pointing out certain places of interest. My gaze kept drifting to the sun that was dipping over the horizon. It was a beautiful night, and as we left the city, I finally began to see some of the English charm everyone kept telling me about. When we arrived at a cute, quiet pub, the parking lot was so full we had to park quite far away, down a cobblestone street, under a quaint old lantern style street lamp.

“Must be busy tonight,” Bradley noted as he took my hand and led me back towards the pub.

As we grew closer, the noise grew louder.

“It’s rocking tonight,” I said with a smile.

It seemed the nice, quiet place we had spent the last forty-five minutes en route to wasn’t so nice and quiet tonight.

“Mr. Emerson,” said a short, balding man standing by the front door. He shook Bradley’s hand with a big, bright smile, then his eyes turned to take in little ol’ me.

“You brought a contestant?” he asked, his gaze lowering to my breasts.

I was silently thrilled when Bradley pulled me to his side possessively, catching the attention of Mr. McPervy who looked suitable abashed.

“A contestant for what?” Bradley asked.

“It’s Saturday, Mr. Emerson, Jell-O night.”

“Jell-O night?” I asked, sending Bradley a what-the-heck look.

“Go take a look.”

The man stepped aside, and Bradley pulled me into a pub that radiated very little old world charm and something more along the lines of a WWE fight night. With a sprawling mahogany bar to one side, the other side of the pub was filled to capacity, and between the thick crowd, I caught glimpses of a large, inflatable kiddie pool filled with green Jell-O.

“You brought me to a Jell-O wrestling contest? How . . . romantic,” I whispered with a chuckle.

Bradley just shook his head, his mouth open wide with astonishment.

“You like it, Mr. Emerson?” the doorman asked.

“I don’t suppose Maggi’s Café is open?” he responded.

“No, she flipped the closed sign an hour ago. In fact, you might find her in here somewhere. Her daughter Blair is wrestling tonight.”

“Blair? Little Blair with the pigtails?” Bradley scoffed.

“It’s obviously been a while since you saw Blair.”

“Not long enough,” I heard Bradley mutter. “Let’s grab a drink and see if they’re serving food,” he suggested, kneading the back of his neck nervously. “Scotch neat and a sparkling water,” Bradley called to the bartender over the rumble of laughter and voices. “Is the kitchen open tonight?”

“Not tonight, but the chef is back there. I can have some chips whipped up if you like.” The Scot pushed the drinks across the bar, and Bradley handed him some cash.

All the while, my eyes were glued to the rowdy crowd. I actually liked it; the energy in here was electric, and the people were in good spirits. I watched as cash quickly exchanged hands as bets were placed.

“I’d appreciate that. We’ll wait down there.” Bradley pointed to the quieter end of the bar and quickly dragged me towards an empty stool, spinning me around and lifting me onto it, all in one fluid and impressive movement.

“I’m not that small. I could have made it onto the stool on my own.” I chuckled.

“I’m not risking any more broken limbs, pussycat.”

“There are no swans around, so I should be fine.”

Bradley smiled, and suddenly the busy bar around us seemed to fade away and we were the only two people in the room. It sounded awkward, but it wasn’t. Okay, it totally was, but I didn’t care. What I wanted was for Bradley to lean forward and kiss me. Was he thinking the same thing? I stared into his beautiful green eyes that seemed full of mischief and seduction. I wanted to know what was going on inside that head of his. He was probably thinking I was a creeper with the way I was just staring at him. We’d been staring too long, saying nothing. We were just . . . I don’t know, connecting or something. When his eyes dropped to my . . .  nose? Did I have a booger? No, lips, his eyes dropped to my lips—thank goodness—and I instinctively licked them and leaned in a little closer. He was still staring at me. Was the lip licking lame? Did I look clueless? Seduction wasn’t a class I excelled in. Oh, screw it, I was going to kiss him. He was taking too long to make the decision, so I was going to be the proactive woman I was and make the decision for us both.

“EMERSON!” The high pitched scream made me flinch, and without warning, a red haired woman flung herself at Bradley and wrapped her arms around his body. Her hands roamed unashamedly down his back and were brazen enough to grab his ass.

With a firm but gentle push, Bradley managed to disentangle the female from him. An embarrassed hue filled his cheeks as he cast me an apologetic smile. Clingy bear was dressed in a scrap of bikini, her firm round breasts barely contained in the triangle cups. She was stunning, but her eyes held a touch of cray, cray. Rather than feel jealous, I kind of felt sorry for Bradley as he tried to keep the ginger twat away.

“Blair?” Bradley choked out.

Oh, this was the pigtail wearing girl Bradley hadn’t seen in a while. I was guessing she didn’t wear pigtails much these days. It appeared she didn’t wear much of anything these days.

“I missed you so much,” she purred, wrapping her arms around Bradley’s neck.

I raised a brow at Bradley, and he tried valiantly to peel Blair away again. Okay, she was getting a bit too handsy with a man I was beginning to think of as mine, and like Bradley, I didn’t like to share. Blair was pushing a green button, and any minute I was going to Hulk out and throw her through a wall.

“That’s sweet of you to say. I’d like to introduce you to Wiska.”

That seemed to get her attention, and she finally let go of Bradley, which somewhat pacified me. Blair spun around, her face not one of friendship. Yet, I pushed my shoulders back and smiled the sweetest, fakest smile I could manage.

“Well, hello! I love your bikini. It’s gorgeous,” I gushed.

I didn’t love it at all, it was far too flimsy for a pub, but I could fake nice with the best of them. Blair didn’t return that faux kindness, though; instead, she entirely dismissed me and turned back to face Bradley, her deep red lips curved in a seductive smile. Well, that clueless hussy! Anger boiled dangerously beneath my skin. I could feel my muscles trembling, and I just knew my clothes would tear from my body as I went Hulk any moment now.

“So, Emerson, I’m thinking we should pick up where we left off the last time we saw each other. Namely, you . . . between . . . my thighs.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, and I stood, not at all intimidated by this shameless, flirty, English twat.

“How about I wrestle you for him.”

Bradley’s eyes just about popped out of his head, while Blair looked completely taken aback.

“You want to fight me for him?” she asked, a little outraged.

“What, you don’t think he’s worth it?”

Her mouth dropped open for a moment before she shook herself back into a state of semi-composure.

“I mean, if you don’t think you can win, that’s fine. Bradley and I were leaving soon, anyway.”

“Bradley?” Blair echoed, confused.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t think you were up to it,” I continued sweetly, and Blair’s back stiffened.

“You don’t appear to have a suit,” she sniffed indignantly.

I waved her comment off with ease. “No problem. I’ll just wear my panties and bra. I’m not ashamed of my body, and since Bradley and I have been living together, he’s seen my underwear.”

Blair balked at that and gave a stiff nod. “Fine, I’ll go let the organizers know.”

Once the little red tart disappeared from sight, I turned to Bradley and gifted him with the most innocent smile I could muster.

“What panties are you wearing?” he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire.

That’s what he got from the scene that just transpired?

“The purple ones,” I huffed, wrangling my jealousy back under control.

“Geez,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m not sure I can let you strip down and show this room full of maniacs your beautiful body.”

“I’m wearing underwear; it’s just like wearing a bikini. Now, I have to go and get all wet and slippery, and take care of your crazy stalker.”

“She’s not crazy. She’s just . . . excitable.”

“She’s nuttier than squirrel shit,” I snapped, letting him see my irritation.

Bradley grinned. “Are you jealous, pussycat?” I glared at him, but he just continued to smile before leaning in to whisper in my ear, “I never touched Blair. She was way too young, and even if she wasn’t, she’s not my type. But I still kind of hope you are jealous. There is nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she wants and is prepared to Jell-O wrestle for it.”