“Yes, but if you and Bradley are going to court, we would both feel better if one of us stayed for moral support,” Lionel said calmly.
“Court?” I scoffed. “Did I just bump my head and wake up in the eighteenth century?”
“It’s okay, Wiska. It was my suggestion Casey stay a couple more weeks until you were ready to go. And you know the saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder?” Lionel gave me a cheeky wink before his gaze drifted lazily to Casey. “I expect my man to return missing me A LOT.”
Casey suddenly sprang out of my bed and grabbed Lionel’s hand, practically dragging him down the hallway to their room. “I’m going to help my man pack,” he called out. “But don’t come in for at least twenty-five minutes; you might see the kind of packing that will scar you for life.”
I snickered as I rolled to my back. The sound of their door slamming shut left me feeling a little lonely, but there was no way I was peeking in their room for at least half an hour, maybe forty minutes just to be safe.
*
“Which one is your favorite?” I whispered, feeling a little awestruck.
I was rubbing my wrist, and I couldn’t stop. The cast, which had been there for the last month, was gone, and good riddance to it! My wrist felt weird, though, almost foreign, hence the reason I couldn’t keep my fingers off it.
Casey snorted. “Not one of them has pubes. Just the thought of getting it on with any one of them makes me feel like a dirty, old perv.”
I sighed for what was likely the tenth time and took what had to be my fifteenth selfie in front of One Direction. It wasn’t the real One Direction; it was the wax version housed in Madam Tussauds Wax Museum. I didn’t care, though. The wax looked pretty darn real to me.
“Can we go look at something else now?” Casey begged. He tugged me in the direction of Marilyn Monroe and proceeded to have me take pictures of him in several different poses with what was clearly one of his idols. “A wise girl knows her limits, but a smart girl knows that she has none.”
“Oh, I like that,” I confessed, and Casey grinned.
“Sometimes, good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”
I turned and stared at the wax statue with a little more respect. “She said that?”
“That, and my personal favorite: ‘Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.’”
“I think I’m a little in love with her.”
Casey sighed. “Me too. I’d almost dabble in vag for Miss M.”
I couldn’t help but laugh loudly at Casey’s confession. “Sweetie, there is no way you could do straight; you’re as gay as a box of birds.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” he murmured as we approached a wax figure of Elton John. Casey sighed again. “Okay, Lionel’s panties will be in a serious twist when he realizes he missed this.”
Casey jumped in beside Elton and posed while I took a picture, but as he moved away, a sedate calmness seemed to wash over him, his mood suddenly somber.
“You miss him already.” I realized, and Casey nodded. Then my mood plummeted, too, because Casey was only missing his other half because of me. “Have you ever been apart like this before?” I asked quietly.
“Oh, lots of times. Lionel has a Florida fetish and goes once a year; meanwhile, I refuse to do Florida.”
I gasped. “It’s the home of Disney World. I’m shocked!”
“I know, and while I adore everything Mickey Mouse, my mother lives in Florida, and trust me when I say she is not worth Disney World.” Casey halted in his tracks and glanced towards an exit sign. “Let’s get out of here. All this wax is making my skin crawl. We need sunshine and fresh air.”
With a renewed vigor, Casey grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the museum. As we rushed out onto the busy sidewalk, a double decker bus pulled to a stop, its doors opening wide. Casey spared me a quick glance over his shoulder, and I didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye. We boarded, and he paid because, let’s face it, I was pretty much broke. The only thing to my name was a return flight ticket home. I was grateful my rent had been paid in advance, and I had another month up my sleeve before things got really scary. Maybe I could ask my boss, Ryder, for an advance. I mused the thought as Casey tugged on my hand until we were finally on the top floor. We sat at the front of the bus, overlooking what seemed everything.
“Selfie!” Casey sang, and we took a quick photo with the giant front windows of the bus as our background.
We settled back into our seats and watched the passing scenery.
“So, where are we going?”
“On an adventure,” Casey murmured.
“An adventure to where? London is a big place. What if we end up on the other side, and this bus doesn’t have a trip back.”
“Then we find another bus,” Casey said easily.
“What if there are no other buses?”
“Then we find a taxi.”
“What if there are no taxis?”
Casey cast me a curious glance. “Since when did you become a cup-half-empty kinda girl? You are Wiska James, hear-her-roar, soul sista—she can do anything.” He snapped his fingers and wiggled his head with attitude.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, appalled by my abrupt negativity. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Spill, poppet, tell your glitter daddy what’s wrong.”
I thought about it for a moment. What was wrong indeed. I felt . . . flat.
“I guess . . .” I began, compiling my thoughts into some sort of order. “I guess I feel a little lost. I miss my home, I miss my mom and dad, I miss my friends, and yet I’m too scared to go home. I’m practically broke, and I think I need to ask Ryder for an advance. My reputation is dirt, and I’ve got a sexy hunk of brooding male who wants to screw me out of his system, so I guess this is what you call rock bottom.” I blurted it all out with tears in my eyes.
Casey tsked me as he wrapped an arm around my neck. “Okay, let’s fix one problem at a time. What scares you about returning home? The rumors, the gossip?”
I nodded at the mention of both of them.
“Fuck it,” Casey spat. “Fuck. It! Don’t you dare give a thought to the drama-hoes that talk behind your back. They are behind you for a reason, poppet. And anyway, Andi said chatter had already started to die down where you and Kasper the Unfriendly Dick are concerned. You’re broke? No problem, I have money. Actually, Lionel controls our finances, but we have a lot, and do not, I repeat DO NOT, ask Ryder for an advance. You don’t want to be in debt to business. If you need a loan, ask me. I won’t make you pay me back with blow jobs and bumping nasties with your camel cookie.”
A bubble of laughter burst from my lips.
“And your reputation? A reputation is just a word, poppet. Who you are in here is what really counts.” He tapped a finger over my heart. “Who cares what other’s think of you? What you think of you matters more.” Casey took a deep breath. “And Bradley wants to what?” he practically shouted.
I glanced around the almost empty upper floor of the bus, noting a nearby couple shift nervously and cast us a worried glance.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not a terrorist. I’m an American, and I love your weird and wacky English folk,” Casey said, waving them off. He then turned his attention back to me. “Bradley wants to what?” he seethed.
“Settle down, you folk loving fairy. He took it back, said he was frustrated that he wanted me, but he wouldn’t date me while I was working as a porn star. He said he wouldn’t share me; he wants to date or something.”
Casey thought about that for a moment. “I guess Mr. Secretive Sexy Pants and I will be having a talk after all.”
“What do you mean? A talk about what?”
“There is no one else here to protect your virtue but me, poppet. I’m all that is standing between you and that bag of horny male lust, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and let him h
ave his wicked way with you.” Casey laughed. “Once I’ve waved my magical sexy-time wand, it will be you having your wicked way with him, and he’ll be begging you for it.”
“Why does that sound so ominous?”
Casey grinned and chucked me softly on the chin with his fist. “Because, poppet, there is nothing sexier than a woman who knows which man she wants and is prepared to torture him a little and make him beg for it.”
“You can be so weird sometimes,” I mumbled.
“Weird? Poppet, I am a damned limited edition!”
Casey settled back and began taking in the sights again, our conversation obviously finished. I had no idea what Casey meant by torturing Bradley, but oddly enough, I found the concept strangely exhilarating.
CHAPTER 11
Bradley
I paced. Every time I stopped and forced my feet still, I’d end up lost in thoughts, and then, low and behold, I’d go back to pacing again. It was after nine, and Wiska and Casey were nowhere to be seen. I had plans to take Wiska on an evening sightseeing tour. I even had Aedan teed up to drive, but when Wiska and Casey still hadn’t shown up an hour ago, I’d sent him home. Glancing at my phone for the hundredth time, I knew I had no missed calls or messages, but I still checked the screen just in case. Wiska had not been answering her phone, and the sticky note stuck to the computer desk at the other end of the living room should have had Casey’s phone number on it. Except beside his name he had written ‘I only take booty calls’. Frustrating man!
When the door to my apartment suddenly flew open, and a laughing Wiska and Casey stumbled through, I finally stilled . . . and stared. Their arms were laden down with shopping bags. Wiska wore a shirt that read: Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go to London, while Casey wore one that read: If I had a British Accent, I’d Never Shut Up. He also had on a fur top hat with the British flag on it.
“Bradley, today we had an adventure,” Wiska declared when her eyes landed on me.
“We got lost,” Casey said with a grin. “And, in getting lost, we stumbled across the best shop ever.” He held up one of the tote bags they carried; ‘Souvenirs Suck, Said No One Ever’.
“There is a store called Souvenirs Suck, Said No One Ever?” I wondered out loud.
“Yes, isn’t it the most awesome business name ever?” Wiska said, throwing her shopping bags down.
“You could have called,” I said with a little more irritation than I intended. While I had been worried, I knew I had no reason to be; she was a grown woman, after all, and Casey was with her.
“I’m sorry?” Wiska replied with a raised brow, obviously noticing the underlying tension in my words.
“You know, Bradley, when a woman says sorry, she’s really just giving you a chance to change what you just said.”
“Thank you, Casey,” I murmured.
“Pleasure,” he replied, obviously missing my sarcasm.
“I was worried. You’re not from around here; I thought you might have gotten lost or something. And I brought dinner home.”
“You’ve got food?” Wiska asked, ignoring the fact I had been worried.
“There is leftover pizza in the fridge.”
Wiska just about mowed me down as she lunged towards the kitchen, and I remained standing in front of Casey who stared at me with a knowing look on his face.
I shifted nervously under his intense glare. “After dinner I had made plans to take Wiska . . . out.”
“Really? Out where?” He crossed his arms over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face.
I suddenly felt like I was facing down a staunch parent on a first date. “I am so hungry I could eat the south bound end of a north bound cow!” Wiska exclaimed, and both Casey and I paused as we watched her attack the pizza with gusto.
“Just for a drive,” I muttered as Casey’s gaze moved back to me.
“A drive where?” he persisted.
“Just out, sightseeing.” I turned my back on him and ducked under Wiska’s arm at the fridge to grab a beer before sliding onto a stool. I was pouting, pissed off that my night of wooing had been plundered.
“I’m going to take a shower,” said Wiska through a mouthful of lukewarm pizza.
“You’re taking your food into the shower with you?” I asked.
“Uh-huh, but don’t worry, it will be gone before I get wet.”
I coughed up a mouthful of beer at the mention of her being wet, and Casey sat down beside me, patting my back a little too hard.
When she disappeared into my room, I tried hard not to think of her stripping and getting wet. I tried thinking of my mom, but it only took a few errant thoughts before my imagination conjured up naked images of Wiska. I tried thinking about work, but it was thwarted by a fantasy of fucking Wiska on my desk. I tried thinking about baseball, which promptly turned into a fantasy of Wiska dressed as a cheerleader. My cock twitched and began to rise, almost a ‘fuck you’ to the intelligent portion of my brain that struggled to find composure.
“Bradley, I think we need to have a little talk about the birds and the bees,” Casey murmured.
I took a drink from my beer and cast him a sideways glance. “Bit late for that. I’ve been poking birds with my stinger for a long time now. I think I have the basics down.”
“Ohhh, that was clever. I must write that down, but in the meantime, I want to ask you what your intentions towards Wiska are.”
I laughed and took another drink. When he continued to stare at me, a thoughtful expression on his face, I blanched.
“Fuck, you’re serious?”
“As serious as a midget in a nudist colony, Bradley.”
I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. “I’m not sure.” I admitted.
“Not good enough. We’ll be checking into a hotel first thing tomorrow, and you and your wandering eyes can take a hike. Wiska doesn’t need a man who just wants to play feed the kitten with her. She needs something real, Bradley.”
“What I feel is real, Casey. I like her and have no intention of doing wrong by her . . . and I need to write down feed the kitten. That was a good one.”
“Thank you, but I don’t care about what you feel. Actions speak louder than words, and I want to know what course of action you plan to take.”
“Fine, I plan on wining and dining her, spoiling her, giving her the romance she deserves, and when she’s ready, I think I’ll start with just kissing, but I’ll let my hands roam a little. I bet she has sensitive nipples. I think I’d like to tug on them a . . .”
“STOP!” Casey shouted, his hands over his ears. “Desecration of thy ears, please stop!” He cast me a frustrated glance. “What on earth made you think I would want to hear about your crazy, kinky straight loving ways?”
I grinned. “You said actions speak louder than words. You wanted to know what actions I planned to take.”
“I want to know if you are planning on keeping her and treating her the way she deserves to be treated, or are you simply going for a stroll down Wiska Lane before detouring on a prettier, younger street.”
I chuckled. “You certainly have a way with words, Casey.” With a long sigh I put my beer down. “She intrigued me from the first moment I saw her, and yes, she’s hot, so of course I noticed the obvious things, but she’s different from other girls. She’s spontaneous, fearless, funny, and quirky. I just want to sit and talk with her because it seems every time we talk she surprises me, and I get the feeling that will never end between us, she’ll always surprise me. I wonder about more with her, kind of the same way I wondered about more with Leah, but the feeling is more intense. The thought of her going home makes me feel a little sick, and I’m selfish enough to admit I hope her problems back home don’t go away too soon, and in the same breath, I want to fix her problems, I want to make that fucker Kasper pay, I want to see him ridiculed and humiliated in the most appalling of ways.”
Casey’s serious face softened. “You L-O-V-E her.”
“I think it’s a
bit soon for that word,” I mumbled.
“Of course it is. That’s why I spelled it out rather than actually say it. You are still on the letter L, but with a little work, you can make it through the rest of the letters. People fall in love one letter at a time, Bradley. L comes first and it ends at E, but it’s the journey in the middle that gives the word real meaning.” It was Casey’s turn to sigh. “Okay, you have my blessing, but, Bradley, fuck with her in the wrong way, and I don’t mean slipping the sausage in hole A instead of hole B—how someone could fuck that up, I have no idea—” Casey said with a shake of his head, “but you make her cry for all the wrong reasons, and I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
“Fair enough,” I said as Casey leaned in for . . . a hug? I pulled away until my back hit the kitchen counter and there was no way of escaping. Then he hugged me.
“Just let go,” he said in a soothing tone, his hand rubbing my back. “That’s it . . . relax. It’s just a hug, and our waists aren’t even aligned.”
“Ohhhhh, hug on,” Wiska exclaimed as she entered the living area.
Suddenly, her arms were around me, too, and the smell of soap and shampoo filled the space. My dick immediately stood up to sniff, and I shifted uncomfortably.
“Okay, that was a beautiful moment. I need to call Lionel and tell him about it. Goodnight.” Casey kissed Wiska on the forehead before disappearing down the hallway.
“Where is Lionel?”
“He went home. Lionel’s brother was taking care of their business, but he has to leave in a few days.” Wiska moved to the couch and began setting up her bed. “Casey and I booked our return flights home,” she said, not looking my way.
“You did?” I asked, that sick feeling I had mentioned to Casey settling into my stomach. “When do you leave?”
“Two weeks tomorrow. I need to stop hiding, and I need to go home and work so I can pay next month’s rent.” She collapsed onto the bed and finally looked at me.
“I can help you, if you’re struggling for money,” I suggested quickly, the thought of her going back to porn bothering me way more than what could be considered normal. I rubbed my chest in an unconscious effort to slow my racing heart.
Bradley's Whistle (P.ornstars of Romance #2) Page 11
