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

by Kirsty Dallas

  “Thor’s got nothing on Vlad,” I murmured.

  “Vlad?” Casey wondered out loud. “Oh, my god, the Impaler! That’s a good one.”

  “I have to go into the office for a few hours,” Bradley said as he stood beside the sofa bed, his cell phone clutched in one hand.

  “Not a problem. Casey and I might hit the shops.”

  Casey’s eyes lit up, and he nodded with enthusiasm.

  “If you can get yourselves ready in twenty minutes, I can drop you off somewhere.”

  Casey twirled before disappearing down the hallway. Bradley stood still, casting a vacant look across the room. It was almost as if he was slipping Broody Bradley back into place, all playfulness wiped away. I didn’t like it one little bit.

  “What’s got that look on your face?” I wondered. “Should I offer you a quick paint job to get you smiling again?” That did it, Bradley’s eyes twinkled with laughter as his gaze lowered to mine.

  “I had hoped to spend your last two weeks completely at your mercy. Work is a distraction.”

  “Maybe I’m the distraction?”

  “Pussycat, you are a distraction men would kill to have.” He reached out a hand and pulled me from the bed. “You take the first shower, but be quick. I really have to get into the office.”

  “If we shower together, it would go faster.”

  “Now that is a downright lie,” he said with a grin. “But tonight we can shower together and time ourselves, just to be sure.”

  When Bradley dropped us off in front of Westfield Shopping Mall half an hour later, I cast Casey a look that I hoped expressed the mischief I was feeling. I wanted to do something special for Bradley when he got home from work. I wanted to show him the wicked spontaneous fun he had shown me.

  “What’s that look?” Casey asked, taking a cautious step away.

  “I’ve got about five hundred dollars left in my bank account, and I want to spend it on a gift for Bradley.”

  “What kind of gift?”

  “The naughty kind.”

  Casey smiled and tapped a finger against his chin. “My favorite kind.” He took my hand and dragged me into the shopping mall. “And I know just what you can get him, and it won’t cost five hundred dollars.”

  *

  My heart was thumping hard and fast. I wiped a sweaty palm down my thigh and readjusted my ponytail. Sitting on the end of Bradley’s bed, I began swiping through the UK vacation photos I’d begun accumulating on my cell phone. I paused at a selfie of Bradley and me that I had taken the night of our paint date; it made me smile and a little of the nerves receded. He was so damn handsome. I could honestly admit I had never dated a guy who looked quite so freaking hot before. It bolstered my confidence that such an attractive man wanted me. He was mine—all that yumminess was mine. I wanted to high-five someone, but since I was alone, I settled for a quick pat on my back.

  “Well done, Wiska, you made a good choice this time.”

  Placing the phone on the armoire, I stretched out my arms and tried to shake away my nervous tension, before bending forward to touch my ankles. Standing, I rolled my shoulders and reached for the two items I had laid out on the end of the bed.

  “Well, good evening, Mr. Emerson. You look as tense as a weight lifter with a bad case of diarrhea,” Casey practically yelled from the living room.

  He promised me he would make sure I knew when Bradley was home. Tucked away in his bedroom with the door shut, I hadn’t even heard the front door open and close. I was grateful for his loud, obnoxious voice.

  “Where are you going?” I heard Bradley’s muffled voice.

  I could picture the scowl on his face, the abrupt and growly words confirming he was in a mood. I was used to his moods now, though. They didn’t bother me like they had when we first met, but I did want to find what button to press to make that surly look disappear. Tonight was an experiment in seduction and bad mood banishment.

  “I’m joining Floyd and his wife, Elizabeth, for dinner.”

  “Floyd is married? He asked you over for dinner?” I heard Bradley ask, his voice rising with disbelief.

  “Sixty-two years and counting, and yes, we exchanged phone numbers a few weeks ago. Toodles.”

  “Where’s Wiska?” Bradley called out.

  When there was no answer, only silence, I assumed Casey had left. Game on, Wiska. I glanced around the room to make sure everything was in place. I had a breakfast tray resting on the bed with all the kitchen necessities sitting atop it, ready to go. Three candles were lit, throwing a dancing light over the shadowed walls, and I was dressed to kill . . . well, at least seduce.

  When the door to the bedroom flew open, Bradley took one step forward and froze. His surprised eyes fastened firmly on me, as they should have. I was wearing my most expensive black and red satin bra and panty set, with a garter belt and thigh high stockings that I had purchased earlier today. I was also wearing the high, spiked heel ankle boots that Bradley had barely been able to take his eyes off when we went to the Lovely Lounge. In my hands, I held two of his leather belts loosely at my sides.

  “Fuck. Me,” he finally managed to say.

  “We’ll get to that,” I purred.

  This vixen that scratched beneath my skin was not normal, but I had always had a healthy and curious sex life. Although I didn’t readily or easily sleep around, I liked to explore with my lovers. This was a new exploration, but from the heavy lidded look in Bradley’s eyes, and the quickly growing bulge in his pants, it was well worth exploring.

  “Strip,” I commanded, just as he had done with me on our paint date.

  He stepped further into the room and kicked the door closed. Slowly, he began loosening his tie while his eyes devoured me from head to toe.

  “What have you been up to today?” he asked, the slight tremor in his voice almost bringing a smile to my lips and destroying the dominant look on my face.

  “No talking, strip, and lie on your back on the bed, your hands at the headboard.”

  Bradley cocked a defiant brow before removing his jacket.

  “Okay, pussycat, we’ll play it your way for a bit, but just remember, turnabout is fair play.”

  I think my effort to swallow was audible as he removed his suit. Unlike last night when he had ditched his clothes like a speed demon, tonight he went slow. It was meant to tease, and it freaking worked. Not familiar with playing the dominant role, I chose to ignore it and enjoyed the body that was revealed to me, one layer at a time. Once naked, he obediently stepped to the bed and went to move the towels that I had carefully laid out aside.

  “Leave them. Lay on top of them,” I ordered.

  With a smile, he rolled to his back, raising his hands above his head to hold the slatted headboard, and just stared at me, a grin on his face that dared me to keep going. I stepped onto the stool that I had found in his walk-in closet and climbed onto the bed. Crawling over his prone body, I enjoyed the way his gaze became almost hypnotized as he watched my breasts sway. I straddled his chest and used one of the belts to secure a wrist to the headboard, all the while my breasts were poised directly before his lips. He leaned forward to try and capture one in his mouth, but I rested back on my hunches before leaning forward to secure the other hand. This time he did lick the top of my breast, just above the cup of my bra, but I quickly pulled away, leaving an adorable pout on his face.

  “Completely at my mercy,” I sighed.

  “And what are you going to do with me now?”

  I moved the tray I had prepared earlier to my side and shifted down his legs until his proud, hard cock was between my knees. Taking a cube of ice, I slipped it between my lips and let it sit in my mouth a moment, twirling it around my tongue before slipping it back out and placing it on the dish. Then I leaned forward, took his cock in my hand, and slipped my mouth over the head of him.

  “Holymotherfuckinghellthatisfuckingfantastic . . .” he said, all garbled into an unintelligible mess.

  I bobbed and
sucked like my life depended on it, and when he would have begun to buck and thrust into my mouth, I pulled back. The panicked look in his eyes as I moved away filled my veins with heady power.

  This time I reached for the chocolate sauce, which had been heated and was now lukewarm. I scooped some into a spoon and held his cock while drizzling the chocolate across the head and shaft.

  “Damn,” Bradley sighed.

  When my hands were free again, I dipped low and began to lick and suck every drop of chocolate off him. Soon enough, he was moving beneath me once more, and I allowed his dick to slip from my lips as I sat back and reached for the next apparatus in this blow job extravaganza.

  I had already sliced the grapefruit and hollowed it out to an approximation of Bradley’s girth. I had seen the grapefruit blow job performed on the Internet, and I had several expectations for how this might go. Citric acid slipping into the eye of his dick and causing some kind of weird food infection was high and foremost on that list. Casey assured me he had researched this thoroughly and even performed it on Lionel. He was very insistent that I used no less than three towels beneath Bradley, as the mess was somewhat mood evaporating. Then he promised me the results would be more likely my gag reflex tripping as Bradley tried to bury himself in my throat. While the thought of gagging halfway through my careful seduction didn’t appeal to me, the thought of Bradley losing control under my hands was erotic as hell. With one hand still wrapped around his dick, moving in a slow leisurely pace, the other hand brought the carved grapefruit up high so Bradley could see what I was doing.

  “I’m going to put this on Vlad,” I explained.

  “Ummmm, okay,” Bradley managed, albeit nervously.

  I carefully squeezed the cool grapefruit around his cock and pushed it down his shaft. Bradley’s loud groan confirmed it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Then I again leaned forward, wrapped my mouth around him, and began to suck, working the grapefruit up and down with one free hand. The cool liquid spread around his dick, and I licked and lapped at it like a kitten with milk.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Bradley’s mantra filled the room, along with the slurping and sucking of one very juicy fellatio journey.

  When Bradley started to buck under me, I sucked a little harder, and within seconds, he came, the warm, salty liquid filling the back of my throat. I wasn’t usually a semen throat catcher—I wasn’t particularly fond of the taste—but the grapefruit certainly added a delicious flavor to the experience. When he finally stilled, I sat up and watched him, my tongue catching the juice that dripped from my lips.

  “That was fucking incredible.” Bradley panted the words out, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. His gaze dropped to the grapefruit which was still wrapped around his softening member, and I carefully pulled it off. “It’s a bit messy, huh?” he observed.

  I untied his wrists and went to move away so he could stand, but Bradley caught me around the waist and held me steady as he rose to kiss me, his tongue sweeping in to lick and taste the grapefruit that still lingered.

  “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to pay you back for that one, but I’ll damn well think of something,” he whispered.

  “I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” I murmured.

  Rolling off him, I pulled the tray of food and ice off the bed and left it on the chair in the corner. Once Bradley was up and in the shower, I pulled the messy towels from the bed, happy that the juice hadn’t seeped through to the linens, then tossed them onto the floor in the bathroom before carefully stepping out of my heels and lingerie.

  “I like that outfit,” Bradley purred as he watched me, lathering his body with soap. When he would have dropped his hands to tend to his grapefruit sticky groin, I raised a hand to stop him.

  “I messed it up, I’ll clean it up,” I said as I stepped into the shower.

  Bradley grinned and held his hands up high in surrender. “Be my guest.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Bradley

  I was back in the fucking office again; the two week vacation that I had scheduled for myself was interrupted by falling stocks, and Willie’s latest business venture.

  It had been three days since Wiska had opened my eyes to the pleasure of a grapefruit blow job, the single most mind blowing moment of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about it; the soft, cool feel of the grapefruit moving around my dick had not been dissimilar to an actual vagina. Coupled with the warm confines of Wiska’s mouth, I was pretty sure I had found my version of heaven. Fuck, I hoped when I drew my last breath and made my way to the pearly gates that would be what awaited me.

  My dick hardened just thinking about it, and my hand dropped to my lap to shift the rigid demanding fucker aside. I was nearly finished here, and I was dying to get back to Wiska. She had officially moved from the sofa to my bed, and having her fall asleep in my arms last night, only to waken in them this morning, was a new experience that I didn’t think I could ever let go of.

  Spending the night with women had always been a firm HELL-NO rule. I was always sure I had an escape at the end of the night, and the women were always aware I didn’t cuddle, and I sure as hell didn’t spoon. I had been tempted to spend the night in Leah’s bed once or twice, but she had always tossed me out like a dirty bag of laundry as soon as she was finished with me.

  Sleeping with Wiska had been like sleeping in a fucking cloud of awesomeness. A big, erotic, sexual cloud of awesomeness that had spooning! And sleeping with Vlad nestled into the curve of a Wiska’s ass had been spiritual. I don’t think Vlad would be happy if he didn’t fall asleep there every night from here on out.

  I glanced at the sticky note I had found in my brief case when I arrived at work this morning.

  I smiled. It sure as hell was my new favorite citrus fruit.

  There was a soft knock at my door, and Davina slipped through, a file in one hand. She was dressed in a pencil skirt and tight fitting button-up blouse. She was a beautiful woman, yet the sight of her didn’t affect me one bit. The thought of Wiska playing secretary in a suit, sauntering into my office, now that made me grow harder.

  “This is the signed contract for the villa. The money should be in the account tonight.” Davina placed the file down on my desk, then boldly moved around to sit on it, just as she had done all those weeks back when I had been brooding about my want for a teeny, tiny, hot as hell porn star. Her leg brushed against my arm, and I tried to move, putting some distance between us.

  “Would you mind removing yourself from my desk?” I asked, not the least bit apologetic for my rude, arrogant tone.

  Davina ignored me, her fingers moving to the buttons on her blouse as she began carefully slipping them free, her large breasts peeking out the fabric. I was furious she would be this bold, and I had absolutely no interest in seeing her ta-tas. The only breasts I cared to see were attached to a stunning blonde who I hoped was sitting and waiting with sliced grapefruit in my bedroom when I got home. I stood and pushed my chair back just as the door to my office opened.

  “Oh, crap, sorry, Mr. Emerson.” Karly, the receptionist from across the hall tried valiantly to look away. “You had someone looking for you, and I couldn’t find Davina, so I brought her over myself.”

  It was then I noticed Wiska’s shocked face standing on the other side of a highly embarrassed Karly.

  “Wiska, this isn’t what it looks like . . .” I said with raised hands.

  Wiska’s eyes dropped to my groin, and I knew what she saw: the hard-on I had sported for her, which was now quickly deflating under this awkward, embarrassing moment. Wiska rolled her eyes, but instead of storming away like I expected her to, she gently pushed her way past Karly and gave the woman a forced smile before closing the door on her surprised face.

  “You should know I KO’d an adult male photographer in the States.” She was so calm as she said it I think my balls actually retreated in fear. Her furious gaze settled on Davina, and she shook her he
ad while clucking her tongue. “You poor, pathetic excuse for a woman. You are so damn fake even Barbie is jealous.”

  Davina’s back stiffened as she rose to her feet. “You should know, Emerson has a thing for his secretaries. He pays us well and we get the pleasure of sucking him off whenever we feel like it.”

  I opened my mouth to refute her claim, but Wiska’s laughter brought me up short.

  “Really, Davina, how closely related were your parents?”

  While laughter escaped my lips, righteous indignation escaped Davina’s.

  “You little bitch. I guess you’re happy to fuck anyone and everyone, so you probably don’t care that Emerson is sleeping with me.”

  Again, I opened my mouth to lay into the presumptuous cow, but Wiska beat me to it.

  “Wow, I really wish I could see things from your point of view, but I don’t think I could get my head that far up my ass.”

  Davina’s eyes flared, and I took the quick moment of silence to quickly insert my voice before this verbal battle turned into claws and fists, however hot that might have been.

  “Nothing happened. She was attempting to seduce me, and it didn’t even come close to working. This—” I pointed to my quickly deflating dick, and Wiska’s eyes dropped to it. “—was for you. I was fantasizing about fucking you on my desk when Davina walked in here and started this shit.” I glared at Davina. “And you’re fired.”

  Shit, another secretary down. That had to be some sort of fucking record.

  “You can’t fire me!” She practically screamed in a voice that would make the dead surely rise.

  “I can. I’m your fucking boss. I can do what I like.” She stared at me with a ridiculous look on her face that was seconds away from tears. “Really, Davina, you want to know how I truly feel about you? It’ll bring me a lot of joy when you walk out that door.”

  With what little dignity the woman had left, she did the wisest thing she had done since I employed her: she shut her mouth and walked out the office door. My shoulders sagged with relief, and I glanced back to Wiska, wincing at the burning fury in her eyes.