Bradley's Whistle (P.ornstars of Romance #2) Page 16

  I smiled as I strolled into my room and pulled off my shoes, placing them neatly back into the shoe rack in my walk-in closet. I tugged off my suit jacket, tie, and shirt, placing them in a dry cleaning bag that was almost full. When I stepped back out of the closet, Wiska was leaning against my bed.

  “Casey is on the phone with Lionel. I thought I’d give them some privacy, and it would give us a chance to talk. You have a job to tell me about.”

  Her eyes lingered on my chest long enough for my shoulders to draw back with pride, but when her steely gaze settled back on mine, they quickly slumped forward with defeat.

  “Yeah, we do.”

  Wiska turned and climbed onto the bed, crossing her legs, an expectant look on her face. “Okay,” I said as I turned and began to pace. “You gotta understand how I got into this; it was purely by accident.” I gave her a sideways glance, and saw she was watching me intently. “I was almost finished with college. I met this girl, we both had plans for a future that didn’t include relationships, but we found a mutual agreement that was beneficial to both of us. It was a chance to let off steam, you know . . .”

  “Friends with benefits?” Wiska asked helpfully.

  “Yeah, something like that. I also helped her study—I was good with numbers . . . real good.” I nervously ran a hand through my hair. “So, when she graduated, she introduced me to her father. I had no idea who he was at this stage, but she suggested I meet him; she thought he might be able to offer me a job.” My tongue became tied with memories and nerves. “It’s not like she thought he’d just give me a job outright. He had connections, and she thought he might use one of those to get me a job.”

  “Uh huh,” was Wiska’s encouragement when I stalled.

  “So, we met. He asked around the college about me and discovered I was somewhat of a numbers prodigy. I had a talent for taking a few dollars and turning it into a lot more . . .” I looked at her thoughtfully. “Stocks, bonds, property, I even helped Decker when his dad started up his business buying old property and renovating it. I’m good at making money.” My pacing paused as I glanced at her again.

  “So, you buy and sell stocks and property for this man? That’s it?”

  I bit my bottom lip and decided fast was the best way to go about this. Like ripping off a band-aid, real quick so the sting was over and maybe she wouldn’t notice it. Maybe she didn’t even know who Willie actually was. She had mentioned his name as someone who wanted to lure her into his own adult film company, but she didn’t acknowledge him as mafia.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I do . . . for Willie Bianco.”

  Her brow rose in surprise. “Willie . . . Bianco . . . like, the Willie Bianco of New York? Like, the Italian Mafia Willie Bianco?”

  “So you’ve heard of him,” I said, a little deflated that she knew who he was.

  “Well, I don’t know him personally, but his company, Brutal Babes, tried to lure me over. Ryder told me to stay away, said that Willie seemed like a decent enough guy, but he was Italian Mafia, and all things considered, that was kinda reason enough to stay away. He’s freaking Mafia, Bradley. How many people does he make swim with the fishes?”

  “His brother takes care of Brutal Babes. He doesn’t run as tight a ship as Ryder,” I said, avoiding the whole swimming with the fishes comment. I had no idea about the when, where, how, and why of the more sordid aspects of being a mafia crime lord.

  Wiska was silent, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. This was the moment she would likely stand and walk away, or more like run away. Getting messed up with a man who worked for Willie Bianco was crazy. Bloody hell, I worked for the New York Mafia! Okay, I was being ridiculous. I knew I worked for the fucking mafia, but every now and again, reality would slap me, hard. This was one of those moments.

  “You had to move here to work for him?” she finally asked. She wasn’t hyperventilating or dialing the police; it was a good start.

  “Not exactly. I could live anywhere to do what I do.”

  “Then why here?” she asked, an expression of honest curiosity on her face.

  I shrugged. “To begin with, I had warped impressions of what Willie and his organization was. I worried my family and friends would be threatened in an attempt to keep me compliant. I felt like moving here kept me distanced from those I loved, keeping them safe. I think I watched The Godfather a few too many times.” I mumbled that last past. “The reality is, Willie is a businessman. I don’t ask where the money comes from; I assume that the way he obtains it is somewhat illegal, but what I do isn’t. I make him money, lots of it. In return, he pays me well, and he couldn’t give a shit what my friends and family are doing. Except Decker. Brutal Babes has had a hard-on for him for years. When Willie realized I couldn’t persuade Decker to move over to his company, he let it drop.”

  I leaned against the door, which I only now realized was closed. The possibilities had my dick give a gentle nudge against the fabric of my pants. Not a fucking chance, Vlad. Stand down!

  “For a minute, I worried Willie might make Decker disappear or something. Turns out, Willie is “new” mafia. Power is in money, and he wants lots of it. Killing people and breaking legs doesn’t get him money, and that in turn doesn’t get him power.”

  “So, he’s like the sweet and kind mafia, the kind you take home to meet the parents?” Her brow was raised in a challenge.

  “Not exactly, smart ass,” I said with a half-smile. “Willie knows how to be unkind, when the moment calls for it. In my dealings with him, I found him to be a shrewd businessman; he’s smart, partial to very expensive whiskey called Kirkland Glenlivet, and has a fondness for the sea. He has a yacht and spends most of his time on it—it’s bigger than this apartment.”

  Wiska nibbled on her lower lip in thought. The vision of her sitting on my bed, still in her snug fitting outfit, minus the shoes, which was a shame, sent a bolt of lust right to my cock.

  “And what happened to Willie’s daughter?” Of all the questions she could have asked me, that wasn’t one I had expected.

  “Last I heard she is a successful doctor, happily married to a ruthless lawyer, and they’ve made very pretty babies together.” The corner of Wiska’s mouth twitched in what I thought was a suppressed smile. “You’re taking this better than I anticipated.”

  Wiska shrugged. “Honestly, you had me so tied up in knots worrying about what you did, I was entertaining thoughts of everything from assassin to male gigolo. If you are so good with money, why aren’t you sleeping on a bed of one hundred dollar bills?”

  “Firstly, who the hell would do that? Sleep on cash? Do you know the kind of germs and bacteria that are found on bills? And secondly, I’ve got my own decent nest egg going. I’m more than comfortable and can provide for my friends and family if need be. I like what I do, though. I like the thrill of taking someone else’s money and gambling with it on the stock market, and if I’m lucky, and I usually am, five million becomes more like ten million. I don’t have that kind of cash to play with, but Willie does.”

  “Okay, fair enough. So, you work with money, stocks, and bonds. It’s kinda boring.”

  I straightened, my male pride slightly wounded by her words. “I deal with millions on a daily basis. One wrong move and I could bankrupt Willie in a heartbeat, then I’d be swimming with the fishes!”

  Wiska waved my comment away. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Bradley. I think you’re hot, no matter what you do for a living.” I stopped a few steps from her and watched as she sighed and gave me an oddly dreamy look. “You’re kinda like Al Bundy.”

  My mouth fell open and promptly shut again. How exactly was I supposed to respond to that? It wasn’t exactly a flattering comparison.

  “How? I don’t know anything about shoes, and I’m far from married with children.”

  Her brow creased with confusion. “What does the gangster Al Bundy have to do with shoes?”

  I suddenly realized who she was talking about, a
nd I couldn’t help but laugh. “Pussycat, I think you mean Al Capone. Al Bundy was the lazy, sexist pig from the television show Married With Children.” Wiska’s following blush had me laugh harder. She rolled her eyes and tried to slide from my bed, and I quickly stepped forward and trapped her body between mine and the mattress at her back. “And no, I’m nothing like Al Capone. I’ve never even seen a gun, let alone hold one. Just where do you think you’re going?”

  “If I’m here purely for your amusement, I think I’ll go get ready for bed.” She squirmed, and Vlad gave her a gentle prod, almost like a dog nudging your hand for attention. She stilled, and I knew she had felt him.

  “While I find you very amusing, I can think of a thousand other things I want to do with you.”

  She looked at me with those big, beautiful, blue eyes and the desire I saw in them had me harden so fast I thought I might pass out from the sudden rush of southbound blood.

  “What would you do with me?” she whispered.

  I grabbed her hands and gently pushed them to the bed, leaving my hands over them to hold her in place. She was effectively trapped. I dipped my head and breathed in the soft scent of perfume that clung to her neck. Fuck, she smelled good. I rocked my hardness into her body so she would not miss what she did to me.

  “For starters, I’d fuck your mouth with my tongue, just like I want to fuck your pussy. I’d kiss you until you begged me for air.” I kissed a tender spot right below her ear, and the catch in her breath persuaded me to continue, “Then I’d pull this top from your body so I could see these stunning breasts.” My chest rubbed against hers for effect. “My lips would drop to one nipple, and I’d suck it,” I murmured as I took her earlobe between my lips and gave it a gentle tug. “I wonder if you would want it hard or soft . . .” She pushed back against my body, and I forced a leg between her thighs. Her subsequent groan spurred me on. “Then I’d pull these incredible, tight pants from your legs so I could finally see your pussy. Your conversation about waxing has me curious. Are you smooth down there, or do you have a neat little patch of hair?” I asked. She rubbed that very place against my thigh, and I sucked gently on her neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to let her know I wanted her, badly. “Then I’d lift your calves to rest over my shoulders, I’d part your pussy lips with my fingers, and I’d lick you, pussycat. I’d lick softly first, then I’d suck you deep and nibble with my teeth. I’d maybe slip a finger inside you and finger-fuck you like I’ve dreamed, and I wouldn’t stop until you came all over my tongue.”

  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.

  CHAPTER 16

  Wiska

  “Pers
onally, 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?”