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

by Kirsty Dallas

  “I’m sorry . . .”

  She held up a hand to stop me from speaking. “I know what was going on. I’m not an idiot, Bradley, and I know women like Davina. I saw her the moment I got off the elevator, and she came running through this door like a bat out of hell. And I’m serious, I’m pretty sure she was spawned in hell, right alongside those beautiful, evil swans.”

  “You’re stunning when you’re mad,” I whispered.

  “I’m beyond mad. I’m furious,” she gritted out. “I’m so spitting mad I think I could take on Thor right now, and I don’t mean my vibrator. I mean the real Thor, with the big muscles and the big freaking hammer.”

  “Well, you know how I feel about hitting people. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Let me make it up to you.” I moved around the desk and approached her like one might approach a wild animal. She cast me a look that said she didn’t think I could.

  “I’ll be working from home for a while. No office, and no Davina . . . well, I guess I just fired her ass so she won’t be around here, anyway. And next week, Thursday evening, I have a charity function I need to attend on behalf of Willie Bianco and his UK business associates; I want you to come with me. I’ll give you the money to buy a dress, and tomorrow you and Casey can hit the shops while I work.”

  “That’s making it up to me?” she scoffed, shuffling from one foot to another. “Surely you can do better than that.”

  When I reached her, she took a step back, and I followed until I had her trapped against the wall. I dipped my head and whispered in her ear, “When I get you home, I’m going to tie you to my bed and eat you until you come so hard you’re riding my face like a fucking rodeo queen. Then I’m going to flip you over and ride you until you come again and again. You are going to come so many times you’ll pass out, and tomorrow, you’ll be walking bow-legged. Will that be to your satisfaction?”

  She worried her lip between her teeth. “I’m not really sure I like the idea of being bow-legged, but if you add chocolate sauce, you have a deal.”

  “I’ll one up you and bring some cream for my demanding pussycat.”

  *

  The sun was like a warm blanket, protecting me from the unforgiving reality that kept trying to steal my happiness. Wiska was sprawled out beside me, her head resting on my thigh, her long, blond hair cascading over my jeans. I drew a hand through that silky hair and watched as her mouth tilted into a small smile. It was just four days until the charity dinner, five days until she left London. Each hour that ticked by felt like a countdown to doomsday.

  Neither of us had talked about the future or the fact that I lived in the UK and she in the US. We didn’t talk about her jobless state once she got home, or the knowledge that if her financial situation was as dire as it sounded, she only to ask for her job back at Kink Harder. We didn’t talk about the gossip frenzy that surrounded Kasper Karish; Casey had assured me the fallout from that had died down. We hadn’t talked about how Kasper was Willie Bianco’s nephew, and I had every intention of demanding Willie take care of him for the shit he’d pulled with Wiska. I didn’t want the cheating man-whore at the bottom of the ocean. Oh, no, I wanted him humiliated, his name worth shit no matter where he went. I knew Willie could arrange it, and since I rarely asked for anything, and I knew my worth was far greater than Kasper’s, he’d do it for me.

  Even though we hadn’t talked about the future, we’d spent a lot of time talking. In the short seven weeks I had known Wiska, I felt like I had never known anyone quite so well. Maybe Decker, and unfortunately, thanks to his porn career, I had unwillingly seen him intimately, too. I knew she loved frozen berries and yogurt almost as much as she loved burgers. She loved yoga and hated weight training. She was terrified of going back to college to finish her nursing degree only to fail. She loved pink, hated brown, had a fondness for vanilla scented candles, and could eat an entire tub of cookies and cream ice cream. She loved making snap decisions and taking unplanned road trips, and had a secret crush on Neville Longbottom; apparently, he was smokin’ hot these days. She was everything a woman should be and more, and the thought of losing her made the remaining days of her stay bittersweet.

  I glanced to the blue sky overhead and watched a cloud drift lazily by. We were in the park at the end of the street, the same park we jogged in her first day in London, when she dared to take on a territorial swan and broke her wrist. The same park she was peed on by the over-excited Chihuahua. The same park we had quietly jogged side by side more than a dozen times now. The park would be empty without her.

  “What are you going to do when you get home?” I broached the question I had been avoiding like an ugly rash.

  She opened her eyes and rolled to her side so she was facing me. Her eyes traveled from my chest up to my face with female appreciation; she was being a total perv, and I loved it. She was also stalling, but since she was checking me out, I let her have it.

  “Casey said Lionel spoke to Andi. She knows of a bar a few blocks from her and Decker’s apartment that is looking for help.”

  The relief following the knowledge she wasn’t going back to porn took a heavy weight off my shoulders.

  “I’ll have a forty minute bus ride from my apartment to Manhattan, and I’ll be working nights,” she shrugged, “but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right?”

  “Why don’t you finish your degree?” I suggested. “I know you’re afraid of failing, but, Wiska, that’s not who you are. You aren’t afraid of anything.”

  She hesitated only a moment before speaking. “I only got through high school with the help of a tutor who was more like a prison warden. The freedom of college comes with too many distractions. I can’t stay focused long enough to study one damn page let alone an entire damn book.”

  “I could help you.” Wow, where the hell had that come from? Helping her meant leaving the UK. The UK was like a security blanket for me; shaking it off would be hard, yet as I gazed upon Wiska’s equally surprised face, not impossible.

  “You’d leave here?” she asked, her voice small as if almost afraid to ask.

  “I hadn’t really given it serious thought, but yeah, pussycat, in a fucking heartbeat. I’d follow you anywhere, like a crazy stalker.”

  She rolled over and climbed over my body until our noses nearly touched. I somehow restrained the need to glance down at her breasts that I knew would be on display in her shirt.

  “Go ahead,” she said with a roll of her eyes and a smile. “Take a look. I know it’s killing you.”

  My gaze dropped to see the mounds encased in a simple, white satin bra, and I sighed, my body and eyes content to have had their daily peek, or more like hourly peek.

  “I think I’d like to have you as my stalker,” she confessed when my pervy retinas returned to her face.

  I brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You are giving up your career for me. The least I can do is move countries.” I said it with a blasé shrug, as if moving countries didn’t come with the mammoth task of . . . moving. “It might take a few weeks to get things in order, but it won’t be too difficult. My apartment belongs to Willie. We’ll just sublet it out. The office space is nothing; he has plenty of offices in New York and can easily move me into one there.”

  “And you need a new secretary, anyway,” she said helpfully.

  “That I do. In fact, I know of this girl who needs a job.” The thought of Wiska as my secretary sent a bolt of lust right to my loins.

  “No way. I’d be permanently glued to your desk. That’s not my idea of a job.”

  “You were a porn star,” I offered, more a playful tease than an offensive remark. “The only difference would be I wouldn’t video it. Or, at least, I wouldn’t share the videos,” I added with a wink.

  “Hell no,” she said with a smile. “But I will totally entertain your secretary fantasy at some point in the not too distant future.”

  “Well, as long as office sex is on the table, I think I can deal with the disappoint
ment of not having you as my secretary.”

  “As long as your secretary is over the age of eighty, I’m cool with that.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Wiska

  Casey’s idea about falling in love one letter at a time really meant something to Bradley. He had surprisingly taken the notion with all seriousness, and the message that he was at V was as good as saying the actual word as far as I was concerned. It seemed fast, too fast, but falling in love wasn’t something that could be measured with a specific time frame. For some, it was a slow journey; for others, it was a hard, fast, out of control fall. What Bradley didn’t know was that I was already at E. I’d done the hard, fast, and completely out of control thing. There was no way I was telling him, though. I knew guys were easily spooked by girls who said the L word too soon. The fact Bradley was thinking it was enough to send my heart fluttering like a box of butterflies. Remembering the way we started our morning had my lady bits fluttering, too.

  I had woken up wrapped tightly in Bradley’s arms, for which I was glad. His bed was so far from the floor I was scared of falling over the edge like one might tumble down a mountain. Trapped in his arms, I felt safe and secure and cherished.

  “Morning,” Bradley had whispered in my ear, his voice still husky, caught on that fine line that balanced between sleep and wakefulness.

  “Good morning,” or something that was supposed to sound like that was pushed through my sleepy lips. At the urging of my bladder, I began to disentangle myself from his toasty warm embrace. It was with great reluctance and a healthy dose of protest that he finally let me go, and I rolled to all fours, hiding my relieved grin.

  “Where are you off to?” he murmured, his eyes skating over my naked body. I began to crawl my way to the end of his king size bed when a heavy hand wrapped around my ankle. “You won’t get far crawling around my bed like that.”

  “I need to pee,” I confessed, trying to shake off the hold he had on my ankle.

  “In a sec,” he purred, throwing the covers aside.

  “My bladder doesn’t have a sec.”

  I felt the warmth from his skin against my backside, his hands gripping my hips tightly. Vlad was pressing with impaling need against one cheek of my buttocks. I wriggled in an effort to dislodge him, which only made Bradley groan and hang on tighter.

  “You know, intercourse on a full bladder can heighten your orgasm.”

  “That sounds like something you would read in Cosmo.”

  Whack! Oh, hell no, he didn’t! I glanced over my shoulder, my mouth agape and eyes widened with surprise.

  “Did you just slap me . . . with your dick?”

  Bradley grinned, the look one of boyish charm and mischief. One big hand was wrapped around his dick, the other still holding me in place at the hip. Without warning, he swung his hips, and with the help of his hand, he slapped me with his cock again.

  “I don’t read Cosmo. It’s something Decker told me about.”

  “Figures,” I whispered, somewhat flabbergasted as my eyes watched him handle himself.

  “Are you being disrespectful to my best friend?” he asked with a raised brow.

  “I don’t think so?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted another slap with his big stick, so I panicked and answered with a question.

  Whack!

  “Dammit! Quit spanking me with your dick.”

  “It’s called a cock-slap, pussycat, and it’s hot as hell.”

  I paused and watched him as he rubbed himself all over my buttocks, his own intense gaze focused on his movements. A little bubble of laughter burst through my lips, and Bradley glanced my way, his own smile in place.

  “What would you do if you had a penis for a day?” he asked me.

  The question took me by surprise, and strangely enough, my full bladder felt less demanding for a moment as I wondered what I would do.

  “I’d probably play with it . . . a lot!” Bradley chuckled. “I would want to dance around the house and let it swing in the breeze, then I guess I’d want to finish up by sticking it in every available hole.” I was laughing now, as was Bradley.

  “You really need to be careful which holes you try to stick it in, and you really have to try cock-slapping, baby. It’s awesome. There is no better feeling than holding a heavy dick in your hand and spanking a stunning ass with it.”

  He drew back his engorged member and whacked the side of my buttocks once more, and that’s all it took. I fell to my stomach laughing so hard that the pressing need to pee re-emerged with vengeance.

  “Things are gonna get all golden showers!” I squeezed through bouts of laughter as Bradley tried valiantly to drag me back to bed. I fell over the edge of Mount Bed-Everest, arms first, and ended up in a messy pile of limbs on the thick, plush carpet. Bradley’s own laughter could be heard from above me as I staggered to my feet, clutching my stomach, and ran to the bathroom.

  “I’m totally cock-slapping you with Thor when I get back in there!” I called out from the toilet seat.

  “If you drag that monster out of your bag, you better expect me to use it on you.”

  I chuckled again, noting the subtle ache in my cheeks from laughing. I hadn’t laughed that hard in months. With a sigh, I finished my business, washed my hands, and strolled more comfortably back into the bedroom. Bradley was stretched out, deliciously naked, his hands laced behind his head, his cock proudly standing at attention. He watched me with a hunger that had me adding a little extra swing to my hips.

  “Decker was right,” he murmured as I climbed back into his bed.

  “About cock-slapping?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “That when you wake up in the morning, and all you wanna see is your woman’s smile, and all you wanna hear is your woman’s laugh, that’s when you know you are truly happy.”

  I might have swooned at that point. I definitely sighed as I reached out a hand to caress Vlad.

  “You are so getting lucky this morning.”

  “Earth to Wiska. How do you just blank out like that? It’s like you just slip into your own in-house movie theatre and sit back in a chair and check-out. You may as well walk around with a ‘do not disturb’ sign around your neck.”

  Casey snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I blinked back to the here and now, slightly disappointed my thoughts had been interrupted.

  “What about this one?” He held up a sparkling pink dress by its hanger.

  “Trust you to zero in on sparkles and glitter. It’s a charity function. I think I need something more conservative.”

  “Oh, big hairy bollocks. Conservative is for politicians. You can wear whatever you darn well like.”

  He hung the dress back on the rack and continued to search through the garments. We were giving Bradley a little alone time to get some work done while we shopped for the dress Bradley said I would need for his charity gala thingy. The last time I had been dressed up in a fancy dress had been prom. Due to my parent’s strict upbringing, the dress had been beyond conservative, with long sleeves and a gathered skirt that fell just below my knee. Compared to most of the other girls wearing dresses that left very little to the imagination, I’d felt like an old spinster walking into the gym. The memory made me want to rebel and wear the pink sparkling dress Casey had suggested.

  “So, what letter are you at?” Casey asked.

  It only took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. I shrugged with nonchalance. “I don’t know . . . V maybe.”

  Casey snorted. “Poppet, you are as good as at E. Don’t lie to yourself . . . or me. I’m like a walking lie detector.”

  “Do you think it’s too fast for E? I feel so stupid,” I said sulkily, only slightly distracted with the amazing black dress I had stumbled across.

  “Of course it’s not too fast!” Casey’s big strong hands gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him, an aghast look on his face. “And maybe being love and stupid are the same thing.”

  I shifted nervously under his
hands. “I always thought when I fell in love it would be a gentle fall. I feel as if I barely know Bradley. I mean, does he have a middle name? And is it awful? When is his birthday? What’s his favorite color? Does he want kids?” My voice rose in a panic. “What if he hates Harry Potter?”

  Casey sighed. “Nobody hates Harry Potter; he got that invisibility cloak and never so much as inched his little toe into the girl’s dorms. He’s too sweet to hate. I fell in love with Lionel the moment I laid eyes on him, and trust me, that very same day I laid a hell of a lot more on him.”

  “You did?” I asked, shocked. I should have known by now nothing about Casey was normal. Then again, what was normal? A highly overrated notion.

  “I did.” He smiled, a fond memory obviously filling his thoughts. “We quite literally ran into each other. I was walking out of the Wash Bar Laundromat, and he was walking in, neither of us was watching where we were going. I ended up wearing his Tommy Hilfiger linen slacks, and he ended up wearing my cappuccino. It was love at first catastrophe.”

  “And you bumped uglies that same day?”

  “Poppet, there was nothing ugly about it. And yes, we went to lunch, and by the time I dropped him back to his apartment, we could barely keep our hands off each other. It was insta-love, and I didn’t even know his last name.” He pulled my long hair over my shoulders with a small tug. “Some people fall in love slowly, gently as you put it. Then others, me and Lionel, and you and Bradley, fall in love hard and fast. Like bungee jumping, you just gotta go with it and have faith that the cord holds.” Casey glanced over my shoulder. “And I found your dress.” He gently pushed me aside and reached for a dress at the far end of the rack.

  “Oh, that’s stunning,” I murmured.

  “It’s perfect,” Casey said with a broad smile. “Let’s try it on.”

  He dragged me to a dressing room, practically pushed me through the curtain, and as almost an afterthought, handed me the dress.