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He’s testing me.
I’ll take his bait.
Is it wrong that I’m doing this at his father’s funeral? I guess it depends on who you ask. I’m just trying to help get his mind off things. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Shifting in my seat, I scoot closer to the table and lift the tablecloth slightly so I can hike up my dress enough to position my phone inconspicuously. I glance at Holly and the Silversteins again, making sure that no one sees me, and then I carefully and quietly snap a picture. I hit send and grab the glass of champagne, gulping it down again. The liquid courage tickles my throat, and I rest my head on my hands, using my arms to keep myself propped up. I clutch my phone, staring at the screen. It chimes in my hand.
Sexy Beast: Fuck me. Goddamn. Give me one minute, and I’ll sneak under that damn table and reward you for that. Fucking hot. Send it to Wilder. He needs to lighten up.
Me: Look at you, being such a good brother.
Sexy Beast: I’m the best.
I laugh and shake my head, turning to grin at him. Wilder remains seated at the table, his head resting on his fist. Enzo was right. He looks miserable. I can’t exactly blame him. He has a lot of responsibility and stress going on.
I bring up his contact, smirking at the fact that Enzo put him in as dickhead, the same name that he has on his phone. Tapping the screen, I send him the same picture, showing off my lack of panties.
I stare at Wilder, watching as he frowns, pulling his phone from his pocket. He taps the screen, his brooding, handsome face morphing into surprise. Flicking his gaze to me, we hold each other’s stare. His brilliant blue eyes weigh heavy with his rising desire.
Me: Do you like it?
I turn my back on him, staring at my screen.
Dickhead: You’re in so much trouble, my brat. Teasing me when I can’t come over to fuck you. I’m going to spank that tight ass of yours later. Maybe even that pussy of yours too. You just wait.
Me: You’re all talk. All you’re going to do is kiss me everywhere. I’m so wet thinking about it.
Dickhead: Just wait until I pin you down. I’m going to tease you until you can’t take it anymore. You won’t be able to touch me at all.
Me: I always knew you were a glutton for self-punishment.
Dickhead: I just have excellent control. You’ll whimper and beg for my cock.
Me: That’s what you think.
Dickhead: I don’t think. I know. I can smell you all the way from here.
Me: You’ll be the one begging me to take your knot. You’ll see.
Wilder doesn’t respond right away, and I twist and watch him get up and walk away, heading toward the stairs leading to the grand garden below.
A minute passes, and I frown. I take another sip of my third glass of champagne, waiting anxiously until my phone lights up again with a picture. My body clenches at the sight of Wilder’s cock, his fingers laced around the shaft. I never knew how much I would enjoy a dick pic from him.
Dickhead: Come to the gazebo.
I shift in my seat, my clit throbbing in anticipation. Was it a mistake to tease him? Maybe. But I don’t give a shit. If he wants me to meet him, then I’ll meet him.
Me: Are you sure? What do you plan to do? I might need a little convincing.
Dickhead: I’m going to start off with that spank I promised if you don’t get your ass here in the next sixty seconds. And then I’m going to hike up your dress, bend you over on the railing, and fuck you so hard that you’ll feel as if you’re touching the stars above.
I squirm in my seat, chugging the last bit of my champagne. The hazy world moves around me, the intoxication hitting me harder now that I try to stand up. I take a breath and force myself to my feet, wobbling slightly on my heels.
Dickhead: Get it together, brat. My brothers are watching you and think you need an escort. I want you alone.
I flutter my lashes and throw my attention to the table where Arsenio, Desmond, and now Enzo sit and greet another man standing in front of them, offering them a velvet box.
Me: I’ll do my best. Don’t worry. If one of them has to carry me there, you can share me.
