Park Avenue Punk

by Aria Cole

  “Wait… I didn’t even get to eat dinner and I have to clean up?” Lori scrunched her nose. “I really need to find a job—I had an interview this morning at the shoe department of Bergdorf’s, but the manager didn’t look too happy by the time I left.”

  “Oh dear…” Mom bit down on her lip.

  “Why the hell would you want to work there?” I shot from the kitchen.

  “Shut up, Jameson. Not everyone can live off paint fumes and angst. I need some cash flow as soon as freakin’ possible.”

  “Language, Lori.” Mom stood from the table, the small smile twitching at her lips bringing my own smile to my face. We’d been through a lot over the years, and it was my mom’s attitude that pulled us through every one of them.

  “Wait. I might know someone hiring.” A grin lit Deven’s lips. “Let me text someone. Hang on.” She dug into her bag, and then her fingers sped across the screen.

  “Anything but waitressing.” Lori popped a piece of crispy broccolini into her mouth from the bowl left on the table. “I’m a horrible waitress. I’ve been fired from three places.”

  “Three? I thought it was just two.” I frowned.

  “Third was the coffee shop. I fucked up the orders daily. It was awful.”

  I laughed, thinking my sister’s talents were few and far between. She was talentless exactly, but she was a free spirit and an artist, her skills on the piano and violin unmatched by anyone else in our family, but short of being a music teacher, it was hard to monetize a skill like that.

  “I need like…something…”

  “Easy?” I offered unhelpfully.

  “Low-key.” Lori rolled her eyes at me.

  “Yes! He is looking for someone. His last lady died, so he’s been—”

  “Wait, what kind of job is this?” Lori’s face dropped.

  Deven’s laughed warmed up the room. “No, his nanny was like a hundred years old. She passed a few weeks ago, and he’s been dragging his feet hiring someone new.”

  “Who is it?” I went to Deven’s side, trying to peek over her phone. When I saw the name she’d been texting, my eyes widened. “Are you shitting me?”

  “Jameson!” Mom chastised.

  “No way. You’re not working for him—he’s probably a scam artist or—”

  “Jameson, stop. He’s been a family friend for years. I think he went to college with my dad. Plus”—Deven shot me an annoyed glare—“he got you off, didn’t he?”

  “Wait, who got what off?” Lori quizzed, eyebrows angled up.

  “My lawyer,” Deven breathed. “My lawyer is looking for a part-time nanny.”

  “Lori is horrible to children. I wouldn’t let her near mine with a ten-foot pole,” Jameson commented.

  “I love kids!” Lori’s eyes lit up. “I was a counselor at music camp four summers in a row!”

  “Perfect.” Deven ignored me, dodging my hands when I tried to snatch her phone. “So, I’ll tell him you’re interested?”

  “Very.” Lori nodded enthusiastically, popping another broccolini between her teeth. “I can start as soon as he needs. Like, yesterday.”

  “You can’t work for the enemy,” I deadpanned, stealing the bowl of broccolini from the table just so she couldn't eat any more. I walked it to the kitchen, dumping the rest in a storage container and then placing the bowl in the sink.

  “He’s not my enemy, Jameson, and he’s not even yours. Stop being so weird about successful people.”

  “I'm not weird about success—”

  “He’s totally weird about it,” Deven said to Lori. “And Sebastian Vaughn just confirmed. He’s wondering if you can meet him for an interview?”

  “Yes!” Lori beamed. “Give him my number.”

  “What? You should keep that private—” I tried to interject.

  “Jameson, please. I’m nineteen. Chill the fu—”

  “Kids, language!” Mom shook her head, bringing her empty glass to the sink, smile on her face with every step.

  “Deven and I should get going.”

  “Oh, okay, honey. It’s been so nice having everyone in the house again.” She pulled Lori into a hug. “Please, let’s make family dinners a weekly thing.”

  “Weekly?” I scowled.

  “Monthly at least, and please, bring Deven with you.”

  “What she means is don’t bother coming without Deven.” Lori pretend-slapped my cheek. “Love looks good on you, dude.”

  I shook my head, prepared to defend myself against sappy things like love and happiness, but I couldn't. They saw the difference in me, and I felt it. Deven was good for me, sunup to sundown. I thought about nothing but her.

  “Ten-four, baby sis.” I laughed before a rap song sang through the dining room.

  “Oh, that’s me,” Lori darted across the room and picked up her phone. “And look at that, it’s my new employer.”

  “Not yet,” I grunted.

  Lori only shrugged, responding to a text on her screen, a grin darting across her face.

  “Lord knows what’s going on over there,” I bristled.

  “She’s in good hands.” Deven tucked herself into my shoulder.

  I looped my arm around her, snuggling her close and pushing my nose into her hair. She smelled so delicious, I couldn't wait to get her home tonight and make her cry out my name as she creamed on my face again.

  “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Styles. It means even more than you know to me.”

  I couldn’t help the sense of pride I felt when the two women who meant the most to me hugged.

  “Anytime, dear, and feel free to come over even without Jameson. We girls could pour some afternoon cocktails and have some real fun.”

  “Mom,” I husked, “behave.” I kissed her on the cheek once.

  “Thanks for leaving me leftovers, fam. It’s been real!” Lori waved from the kitchen, forkful of broccolini in one hand, thumb working the keyboard on her screen in the other.

  “She’s crazy,” I whispered.

  Mom waved me off, and Deven laughed.

  “Crazy awesome,” my girl said. “She dances to the beat of her own drum. I think she’ll make the perfect nanny.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.” I kissed her on the nose once, pulling the hat on her head.

  By the time we were stepping out into the cool night air a minute later, the cloud that constantly seemed to hang over my head felt nearly evaporated, the sense of warmth radiating from the house behind me something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Maybe not ever.

  “The moon is bright tonight,” Deven commented, gaze tipped to the navy sky.

  I grinned, pulling her into my arms and thumbing at her cheeks. “You are bright tonight and every night.” I placed a kiss on her lips under the starry night. “You’re like the sun and moon in my life—you shine brightness and warmth without even realizing it.”

  “You’re awfully romantic tonight,” Deven teased before succumbing to my kiss, body swaying against me.

  “I can’t wait to get you home and bend you over the kitchen island for dessert.” My cock throbbed with the visual of her ass in the air and soaking for me.

  “There’s the filthy man I love.” She shrieked when I swung her into my arms and carried her off down the sidewalk, hell-bent on getting back to her place as fast as my feet could carry us.

  I could already hear Deven’s screams of pleasure in my ears.

  Chapter 20

  Deven

  “I've been thinking about this pussy so much I swear I can taste it on my tongue,” Jameson mumbled against my lips as we crashed our way into my apartment.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d carried me across the threshold of my apartment, and I hoped it was far from the last. Being with him, our future…it’d been on my mind a lot lately.

  I hadn’t known what to expect from dinner at his mom’s house tonight, but it’d felt so warm and welcoming. They’d made me feel a part of their family—even Jameson’s sister was s
o good-natured and funny. I could see myself spending more time with all of them.

  “Love the way this pussy quivers against my fingers,” Jameson hummed as his fingertips danced across the seam of my pants.

  I groaned, arching into him as he kicked the door closed, one hand already unbuttoning his pants as he strode me into the kitchen. He plopped my ass first on the counter, our lips connecting as the unzipped teeth of his zipper dug into the cotton covering my pussy.

  Everything inside me ached for him, waves of pleasure already sparkling to life inside me with his lips and hands on my skin like they were.

  “When I first moved here, I hated it, so cold and modern,” I confessed between kisses, “but when you’re here, everything feels like home.”

  I felt his grin cock to the side, his kiss pausing as he trailed a hand up to tweak my nipple. “Is that your way of saying you like having me around?”

  “I love having you around.” My eyes caught his. “I love having you around so much, I want you to move in with me.”

  His eyes flared for a moment, the bite of his cock against my core unfurling sparks of desire in my belly. Jameson fucked me so thoroughly—my heart, my mind, my body—I wanted to wake up to him every day, close my eyes to his kisses each night.

  “I’d love to move in with you, Fairchild.” He brought his lips to mine in a commanding kiss, both hands now working at my nipples, twisting and kneading until he elicited tight gasps of pleasure from my lips. “I’ll fuck this pretty mouth every day for the rest of our lives, beautiful, as long as you agree to let me make an honest woman out of you.”

  He dropped to his knee, pulling what could only be a ruby red family heirloom from his pocket and slipping it onto my ring finger. “I let you get away once, and it was the worst decision of my life. Marry me, Deven Fairchild, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you're drunk on happiness”—his grin turned sideways— “and my dick.”

  “Jameson Styles!” I squealed, grin growing wide. “Yes, yes, oh my God, yes!”

  He pulled me into his arms, hugging and kissing me as our hearts hammered against our chests.

  “You just made me the happiest man alive, Fairchild.” His eyes grew dark with need. “Now bend over so I can show you how much.”

  I nodded, heart lodged in my throat as I turned over on the counter, pussy dripping wet as his fingers hooked in my waistband and he stripped me of my pants.

  I was a hot and needy mess by the time his tongue stroked me once, and I was crying out with my first orgasm by the time he swirled and nipped at my clitoris with his teeth.

  “I love you, Jameson Styles. I’ve always loved you, even when I wished I didn’t.”

  He landed a swift crack at my ass, tongue darting back to my pussy and swirling with hungry intent before one of his fingers sank swiftly inside my body.

  I called out, crying his name when he hooked his finger and massaged deeply, wave after wave of intense pleasure rocketing through my system.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Cream all over me. Show me how much this sweet cunt drips for me.”

  He pulled me back on the counter, impaling me with full force onto his cock and thrusting eagerly. With every plunge of his cock, he spat filthier and filthier words at my ear. “I love you spread so open for me, wrapped around my dick like a sexy Park Avenue whore.”

  His hands worked between us, a thumb fingering at my asshole as the pads of his other fingers swam at my clit. His thumb pushed passed the first ring of my backside when he pinched my clit, and my body shuddered and shook apart, the sheer force of him nearly too much for me to take.

  “You’re so beautiful coming around me like that.” His own release pulsed through him then, muscles bunching and twisting tight as his release poured out of him, soaking down my thighs as he stroked and hummed at my ear.

  “Can’t wait to make you my wife.” He plucked my finger into his mouth, lips sinking to the glimmering ring before he sucked. His dark eyes danced, his cock still pulsing with release half inside me, our cum mingling together and dripping onto my expensive kitchen floors.

  “I love you, Jameson Styles. I love you so much.”

  His cocky grin turned sideways. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Fairchild. I was just too much of a punk to see it before now.”

  He latched my ankles behind his waist. Cock still pressing inside me, he carried me down the hallway before depositing me into the mountain of pillows in our bed. “Thank you for saying yes.”

  And then he pressed his lips to mine.

  “Now I plan on eliciting at least a few dozen more yeses from you tonight alone. Hang on tight, baby.”

  He grasped my thighs, yanking me to his face. I pushed my hands into his hair, hanging on tight, before he drew out more yeses than I’d ever thought possible.

  Jameson Styles—my Park Avenue Punk—the most talented man I’d ever met and soon to be my husband.

  I was his, and that made me the luckiest girl in the world.

  Epilogue

  Jameson –Three Months Later

  “Mm, my sexy wife, so fucking hot in this dress. I can’t wait to peel it off you.”

  “Jameson, you’re not even supposed to see me. Your mom is going to kill you,” Deven breathed, trying to shut me out of the tiny changing room she was sequestered in at the church.

  Her mother had insisted we get married at one of the most iconic churches in the city and had pulled some strings to do it. Apparently marrying the Park Avenue Punk and his princess would be a media circus, especially since we’d insisted on getting married so quickly after our engagement.

  Deven’s mother had orchestrated the venue, even though she wasn’t at all happy we were getting married. In fact, Deven had spent more time planning the details of the wedding with my mom and sister more than her own.

  It’d all worked out for the best, because here we were three months later, and Deven Fairchild was about to become mine.

  “She’s right, I am about to kill you.” Mom placed a hand on her shoulder. “Now go wait for your girl at the end of the aisle. I need a minute with her.”

  I frowned, not liking that I hadn’t felt her in my arms in more than twenty-four hours. I fucking hated traditions.

  I’d begged Deven to elope with me after I heard both of our mother’s plans for our wedding, but Deven had been so patient, as always, and we’d managed to make this uniquely ours, even with their influence.

  “Jameson!” Lori called, waving her expensive bouquet of fresh flowers from her place near the aisle.

  “Wait, honey.” Mom straightened my bowtie as a smile whispered at her lips. “I’m so proud of you. I wanted to pass down something of your grandfather's, but I know you don’t have much use for stuff, so I decided, well…” She pulled a small sapphire necklace from a pouch. “This was your grandma’s, and I thought I’d give it to Deven to be her something blue.”

  “It’s great, Mom.” I kissed her cheek, wishing Grandma and Grandpa could be here to see me marrying the girl of my dreams. They’d passed in the years since Deven’s and my breakup the first time around in high school, but they’d known and loved her then.

  Just like everyone had.

  “I love you, Mom. Thank you for being so accepting and supportive through everything,” I whispered, nearly overcome with my emotions.

  “Anything for my babies. I love you so much, sweetheart. You make me proud every single day.”

  We hugged a long moment before Mom slipped into the room with Deven and I trailed up to the head of the aisle, Lori’s fingers dancing across her screen the entire time. She hadn’t just gotten the job as nanny to Deven’s lawyer, but I suspected there was a whole lot more going on by the way her face lit up every time she talked to him or about him.

  I couldn't be sure, but my sister looked like a young woman for the first time in, well, ever to me, and I didn’t like it a single fucking second.

  I was about to stomp over to her now and s
hut down whatever conversation she was having that she was so into, but the organ music started, signaling my girl’s entrance.

  One of the stipulations of our church wedding was that we kept the ceremony small, the guest list close family and friends only. Deven hadn’t wanted a bridal party, only her mother to walk her down the aisle.

  Untraditional to the core, my girl was.

  And while my mother and Deven’s hadn’t exactly talked a lot, they’d shared a few dinners and come to a quiet agreement to forget the past in favor of the future.

  “Jameson,” Lori whispered from the front row then, tearing my thoughts from me when I glanced up to find Deven waiting, large sparkling sapphire at her neck and smile on her face.

  My eyes traveled her form, getting my fill of her for the first time in that expensive wedding gown my mom had insisted on buying for her.

  And no wonder… She was radiant.

  And she was mine.

  By the time she reached me at the end of the aisle, my heart was battering my rib cage as I fought the need to haul her over my shoulder and steal her away for some privacy. I hated sharing her, hated feeling the other sets of eyes on her. The only thing that made me feel better was that she was mine and only mine.

  Deven Fairchild had only ever been mine.

  “Hi.” Her eyes clung to mine.

  “You look beautiful,” I uttered, pulling her close enough to hear my words.

  She nuzzled into my chest a moment. “Are you sure you want to marry me?”

  “Are you fucking kidding? I want to wake up to this smart mouth every morning for the rest of my life.” I grinned and placed a kiss on her lips. “I want every Christmas with you. Every birthday. Every memory. I want it all.”

  “And here I thought you just wanted me for sex.” Her eyes swam with amusement.

  “I want that too.” My lips curved up in a cocky smile. “You sure you want to marry me? I’m a demanding, controlling asshole.”

  “You’re my demanding, controlling, loving asshole,” she whispered. “Those are only a few of the things I love about you.”