“I need it. I need to taste you. Now. I want it now!” With her lips so close to me, her words hit my skin, the warmth of her breath a kind of taunting I almost couldn’t bear.
“You just want a taste? Or you want my cum hitting the back of your throat?”
“I want both.”
I smiled. “Good fucking girl.” My hand dropped. “It’s allyours. You can do whatever you want with it”—a bead of pre-cum bubbled from my tip—“except for bite it.”
Her eyes widened as she took me in, bulging as her brain connected with her vision. “Holy fuck … you’re?—”
I didn’t let her finish that statement because I filled her mouth with my dick.
ONE
COLSON
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Colson, you’re walking straight into enemy territory. I need you to be extremely careful.”
As my sister’s voice came through the speakers of my SUV, I pushed my head against the cushion behind me and took a long drink of my to-go coffee, wishing it were something much stronger. Something clear with a few rocks of ice, a lime wedge, and a lethal bite. This was going to be a long fucking day.
“Eden, I’m going to the Daltons’ law office. I wouldn’t call that enemy territory.”
My sister wasn’t dramatic; if anything, she was the rawest and most realistic member of our family. But her warning wasn’t in reference to our attorneys; it was about who I was meeting at their office, which was the Gordon family.
Our biggest competitor, rivals, and antagonists, and we were about to go head-to-head.
Still, I wouldn’t show any verbal concern. My calm nature was the reason I was in this vehicle right now and not any of my other siblings.
“We all know what she meant,” Hart, my younger brother, pointed out. His voice was sterner than Eden’s as it echoed from the speakers inside my vehicle. Most of my family was at our corporate office, where I envisioned them sitting at the conference room table, anticipating the result of today’s dispute. “And she’s right, you’re heading into the lion’s den.”
This meeting had been initiated several weeks ago by the Gordons—an attempt to mediate their frustration before they sued us, which they had threatened to do. We had picked the location, and our attorneys—Jenner Dalton and Troy Wolf of The Dalton Group—didn’t think all the Westons should be present. With the five of us siblings against the two Gordons, an argument was bound to take place. There were too many personalities—none as chill as mine; therefore, nothing would get accomplished.
But with a situation as contentious as this one, I wondered if I should be wearing armor.
“It’s going to be fine.” I twisted my neck, adding the smallest bit of space between my skin and the shirt and tie that hugged it, wanting nothing more than to rip both off.
“Why are you so confident?” Walker asked. “They’re threatening to destroy us, Colson. Do you know what that makes me want to do to them? Set the motherfuckers on fire.”
Paul was taking a left turn at the light, and as I swallowed, I stopped myself from shifting in the seat.
“We have the best attorneys representing us. You have no reason to worry.”
“Fuck that,” Beck, the second youngest in our family, groaned. “We have every reason to worry. This is bullshit.We’re both restaurant owners in the same space, serving the same food. Of course we’re going to have similarities.”
Beck was the star left wing for the LA Whales. Hockey came first, and The Weston Group came second, as it should. I was surprised, at this hour, he was able to conference in and didn’t have to meet his teammates for a workout.
“Do us a favor, call the second you leave the Daltons’,” Beck requested. “Don’t wait until you get back to the office to call.”
“You won’t be at practice?” I asked.
“I’m hoping the meeting won’t take more than an hour. If that’s the case, no, I won’t be at practice,” Beck replied.
“You’ll hear from me the second I get into the car.” Paul pulled up to the front of the Daltons’ law office and parked along the curb. “Any last-minute requests? I’ve just arrived.”
“You need to obliterate them,” Walker announced.
“Obliteratemay be a bit extreme,” Eden countered. “Just … make this go away.”
