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

by Kirsty Dallas

  “Do you want me to change your plane ticket home? Maybe give you a few more weeks? I can’t stay, but I think you’ve got this now. It’s like watching my baby go off to her first day of school, except this school is all about sex.”

  “Ahhh, no, it’s all good. I’ll leave with you in three days.”

  Casey’s head popped through the curtain just as I was shucking off my jeans.

  “Ohhhh, nice panties. What do you mean you’re still leaving? Are you going to do the long distance romance? It never works, trust me. You must be in the same zip code to let love blossom.”

  “No, Bradley’s moving back to America.”

  I carefully began to climb into the dress. Casey was behind me in a heartbeat, helping me pull the snug fitting garment over my hips, through my arms, and around my neck.

  “He said that?” he asked, almost doubtfully.

  “Uh huh.”

  Casey clipped the dress into place and watched me via the mirror.

  “Do you have a magic vagina or something?”

  “No,” I snorted. “Well, maybe. I gave up my career for him, so he’s giving up London for me.”

  “Ohhhhhh,” Casey cried out, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re both at E.” He spun me around and checked the fit and line of the dress as it hung from my body and brushed the floor. “And this is the most superb dress I have ever found. I almost wish I were a cross-dresser. I need a photo for Lionel. He’s going to cry like a baby when he sees our little poppet all grown up and at E.”

  I slapped his hands away as he fiddled with the gown and turned to admire my reflection. In a stunning Tiffany blue, the dress had a high fitted neckline with sheer lace that was clasped together between my shoulder blades by a delicate crystal button. That sheer lace edging scooped the back of the dress which reached low enough to skate over the curve of my buttocks. From the waist, the gown draped elegantly to the floor in layers of fine silk. It was daring, yet sophisticated. Casey and I sighed in unison as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

  “You’re a princess, just like every girl should be.” Then he winked at me. “And every gay man.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Bradley

  It was Friday, Fancy Dress Friday to be precise. Wiska had only had one dose of her regular Friday night shenanigans, and that had turned into a miserable mess courtesy of one overzealous receptionist.

  I’d been at my computer most of the day, making final arrangements for Willie’s new business venture, which was importing organic cigars out of the Bahamas under the label Wild Cigars. I didn’t know much about cigars, but from all the information I had, it looked like a profitable venture.

  I’d then spent a few hours putting my move back to the US into motion. While I hadn’t thought it would be that big of a job—shifting finances, finding a new office in New York, packing, moving—it was beginning to feel a little overwhelming. All I had to do was allow my thoughts to drift to Wiska—and trust me, it wasn’t hard—and the mammoth job ahead of me seemed inconsequential.

  My constant hard-on wasn’t quite the frustrating nuisance it had originally been. Accepting Wiska, and allowing myself to just go with the flow, had found me in an agreeable mood with my barely placated dick. I wondered if I would ever grow tired of being buried deep inside her. I grinned as I remembered how I had pinned her to my bed last night—her stomach pressed to the sheets, her legs hanging over the mattress. I’d taken her until she muffled her scream into a pillow. Yeah, I’d never get tired of that.

  Damn, I was already at E, as Casey put it, but there was no way I’d tell Wiska that. It was too soon. I’d confessed to V, and writing that acknowledgement on a sticky note had propelled me into a state of mild panic. I’d never uttered that innocuous little word to a woman before. I’d come dangerously close to using it with Leah, and what a mortifying mess that would have been. Wiska was different, though. Our relationship had found momentum like a wild fire. What started as a reluctant spark was now a raging beast with flames that would never be quenched.

  My last chore for the day had been to call in a favor from Aedan, and he owed me, big time. After offending Wiska the way he had at the Lovely Lounge, even if it had been inadvertently, he had, in effect, tried to move in on my whisking, and that was a serious slight against dude code. You didn’t move in on someone else’s claim.

  Half an hour ago, he had dropped off three costumes. I was already in mine, and this time it was not a skirt. No, this time I was dressed as the legendary Norse God of Thunder, Thor, and I had a hammer. I gave the plastic toy a quick flick of my wrist and threw it into the air just as the door to my apartment flew open. Thankfully, I caught it, retaining my impressive visage.

  Wiska and Casey stopped dead in their tracks, and the looks on their faces made me laugh. The garment bag hanging from Casey’s arm had me curious, and I stepped forward to take a peek inside.

  “Tut, tut, hands off you godly beast. Why are you wearing that?” Casey asked, moving out of my reach.

  “Oh, my god,” Wiska whispered excitedly. “Fancy Dress Friday!”

  I nodded as I retrieved their costumes from the sofa. I couldn’t wait to see Wiska in hers, and I couldn’t wait to see Casey’s face when he climbed into his.

  “Get dressed and hurry up. Mocktails are ready, and we’re playing poker.”

  Wiska ran off to the bedroom with her bagged costume, and Casey eyed his like someone might eye a deadly snake ready to strike. I slapped his shoulder good-naturedly.

  “Bet your wishing you didn’t dress me in a skirt now.”

  “You’ll be hard pressed to embarrass me, Bradley. I’m as shameless as they come.” He pressed his shoulders back proudly as he marched down the hallway to his room.

  “Uh huh.” Yeah, I couldn’t wait to see his face.

  I turned in time to see Wiska saunter out of my bedroom, and my hammer rose—not the one in my hand.

  “Damn, pussycat,” I purred.

  “Catwoman!” she shrieked as she did a little twirl. The lycra body suit left little to the imagination and looked just as good on her as it did in my fantasy.

  “If I can come home to this sight every day for the rest of my life, I’ll die a happy man.”

  Wiska snorted. “Bet you won’t wanna see me in lycra when I’m eighty.”

  The implication of what we were both talking about seemed to hit us at the same time. Forever. This was no shy or uncertain relationship anymore. This was Wiska giving up something for me, and in return, I was giving up something for her, which we both seemed to hope would pave the way to forever. The future before us overshadowed her past; her history as an adult film star was trivial and practically forgotten. She was mine, and I was never letting her go.

  “Jesus H. Christ, Bradley Emerson, what were you thinking?” Casey screeched from behind us.

  Wiska’s hand slapped over her mouth when she saw Casey’s costume. I asked Aedan to find the most ridiculous outfit in the store, and he had done well. Casey was dressed in a replica of Miley Cyrus, sparkling silver leotard, with a weird bear on the front, from her VMA performance.

  “Miley Cyrus?” he cried out. “Miley freaking Cyrus?” he repeated.

  “You fill it out well.” I nodded to the bulge at his groin.

  “Of course I do,” he said in an exasperated tone. “Lucky for you, I can rock a leotard, but dressing me as Miley Cyrus means war.” He stuck a finger in my laughing face. “Be afraid, Bradley, be very afraid.”

  A knock at the door interrupted the Kodak-worthy moment, and I quickly answered it.

  “Aedan?” Wiska exclaimed, as she froze mid-pour of her virgin appletini.

  “Hi there, love,” he said sheepishly. He was dressed as Luke Skywalker and carried a blue glowing sword. Dammit, the sword was way cooler than the hammer!

  “I hope you don’t mind that I invited him. He’s been feeling adequately guilty over his behavior at the Lovely Lounge. He’s promised to behave tonight.” I gave him a
dare-you-not-to glare, and he returned it with a subtle nod.

  “I’ll do my best, but I am Irish—we are renowned scoundrels.”

  Wiska laughed, and Casey leaned boldly against the kitchen counter.

  “I know you see all this and want it . . .” He ran a hand down the length of his leotard. “But I am taken. It doesn’t mean you can’t look, though. Nice sword,” he added, as almost an afterthought.

  “I knew you’d like the sparkles,” Aedan admitted.

  “You are the reason behind this?” Casey suddenly demanded, standing a little taller.

  “No,” Aedan said nervously. “He is.” He pointed my way, and Casey narrowed his eyes.

  “Both of you are so on my shit list right now.”

  Wiska sauntered forward, handing me a beer. The fingers on her free hand ran across the tip of my hammer—the plastic one, not the one in my pants—which responded as if it had a direct link to the one in my pants.

  “Thor, huh.”

  “Well, I do believe I rock your world,” I whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip in thought. “I wish you’d fit in my suitcase, so I could take you home with me in three days.”

  The melancholic tone drew me up short. Wiska didn’t do melancholy. She did joy and exuberance, impulsive and sweet, angry and wild, and sometimes, when I was on my knees between her thighs, she did this cute little thing that was a cross between a sigh and a snort. But she didn’t do melancholy. With a finger beneath her chin, I lifted her gaze to mine.

  “I’ll be right behind you, pussycat, chasing down that tail like the horn-dog I am. Just try and keep me away.”

  Her frown turned upside down, and I wanted to pat myself on the back for making that happen. Sometimes it only took little things to make a man feel ten feet tall.

  *

  “Are you for real?” Wiska asked with a furrowed brow.

  Our cards lay face down on the table, ready for the next hand, but Aedan had Wiska’s undivided attention right now.

  “I do not cod ya, love.”

  “Cod what?” Wiska shook her head, trying to make sense of his words.

  “I’m not joking,” Aedan said with laughter in his eyes. “The average male produces enough of the jack-off juice in a two week period to impregnate every fertile female on the planet.”

  “Holy mother of . . .” Wiska trailed off. “Did you know this?” She turned to me, and I raised my hands in defense.

  “Had no idea, but it doesn’t surprise me considering the walking hard-on I’ve had since meeting you.”

  “You say the sweetest things,” she said with a small smile.

  “Did you know sperm can be used as invisible ink?” Casey asked, taking a dainty sip from his Shirley Temple.

  “Get out!” Wiska exclaimed, slapping his arm and forcing the liquid to splash from his glass onto his leotard.

  Casey gave her a frustrated frown as he patted himself dry with a towel. It wasn’t the first spilled drink of the evening; the towel was now on stand-by.

  “All you need is a splash of love juice, and you have yourself readable invisible ink.”

  “I wanna try it,” she squealed.

  “While I’m willing to donate to the cause, I don’t think now is the best time to explore invisible semen ink.”

  “We are so trying that sometime,” she murmured, sitting back in her chair. “Did you know the male orgasm only lasts six seconds compared to twenty-three for females?”

  My head tilted in deliberation. I didn’t know that, yet it didn’t surprise me. Also, I was pretty sure Wiska lasted a hell of a lot longer than twenty-three seconds. The mathematician in me started calculating.

  “That means you should give me four orgasms for every one of yours to make us even.”

  Aedan spat out his drink in laughter, and Wiska gave me a saucy wink.

  “That’s totally doable, if you think you can keep up.”

  I leaned forward until my elbows were resting on the table. “Pussycat, is that a challenge?”

  “You know it is.”

  I didn’t think, I just acted. As I rose from the table, my dick rose, too. I grabbed Wiska’s elbow and, none too gently, hauled her off to my room.

  “Is the game over?” Casey called out from somewhere behind us.

  I kicked the door to my bedroom shut and assumed he’d get the picture.

  “We can’t just leave your guests.” Wiska giggled.

  “Guest,” I corrected her as I found the zipper to her cat suit. “Casey practically lives here, and Aedan will find his way home.” I pulled the outfit from her body and carefully slid the black thong down her legs. “Put these back on.” I shoved her feet back into the black heels she had been wearing.

  “Wow,” she whispered breathlessly. “You’re quick when committed to your mission.”

  I threw her onto the bed, grabbed a condom, and tossed it beside her, then spread her thighs and buried my face in the place I wanted to live, breathe, and die.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed, her hips thrusting to meet my mouth.

  “Holy something,” I murmured, thrusting a finger into her wet heat before my mouth closed over her clit.

  I ravished her, exploring every inch of her pussy until I was sure I could sketch it from memory, assuming I could sketch, which I highly doubted. Her unashamed moans grew louder and louder, and she used a hand on the back of my head to force my mouth closer. I kinda wished I could get closer, but my tongue was currently buried as deep as I could manage.

  Climbing onto the mattress, I finally lifted my head from between her thighs and slid the condom over my dick. I lifted her hips a little higher, drawing her legs over my shoulders. With one thrust, I was impaled deep in her body. There was no time for slow and no room for gentle. Dressing her in that damn outfit had been my downfall. I’d been craving her since she’d walked out of my room dressed as a fucking cat. I shook my head as I pounded into her body relentlessly. I’d been craving her since she’d stepped off that fucking plane.

  I leaned forward and sent a silent thank you to whoever gifted her with such flexible genes. With her knees pressed against her shoulders, I kissed her, my hips still thrusting and retreating with fast, powerful strokes.

  “I want you to come all over my cock, pussycat,” I growled.

  Like the good girl she was, her pussy clenched around my dick, and I knew she was tumbling over.

  “Holy motherfucker,” she groaned as her body thrashed beneath mine.

  Her rarely spilled filthy words, combined with the feeling of her inner walls gripping my shaft, was all I needed to follow her over the cliff, and all too soon we were a panting, sweaty mess tangled in the sheets.

  “Holy crap,” she said on a long exhale. “Do you think Aedan and Casey heard us?”

  “I hope they did,” I quietly confessed. “That was impressive.”

  “That was fast.” Wiska chuckled.

  I kissed her cheek and rolled off the bed, quickly disposing of the condom. By the time I returned and climbed back in beside her, she was slipping into a sleepy, sated place where she had no business being. I grabbed her hand and placed it over my softening cock.

  “No resting, pussycat. You owe me three more orgasms.”

  The disbelieving look she gave me was priceless, but just the feeling of her little hand over Vlad caused a response, and ever so slowly the big fella stretched and began to rise to the occasion.

  “Again, already?”

  “Baby, I’ll always be ready for you, including the two orgasms you will owe me after this.”

  She laughed, but I’ll give the feisty girl credit. She made me come twice more, and a third time around dawn.

  CHAPTER 24

  Wiska

  I barely recognized the woman staring back at me from the mirror. She was elegant in a way I never thought I could be. My hair was swept into an intricate knot on my head, thanks to Bahula, the sweet Indian girl who
had squeezed me in for a shampoo and style. My makeup was flawless—a smoky grey look to my eyes, a line of blush to accentuate my cheekbones, and a dusty nude lipstick to finish my full lips. I was wearing a pair of silver heels, courtesy of Casey who demanded he be allowed to buy me something new. When I pointed out this wasn’t a wedding, he shushed me, like he so often does, and purchased a pair without even letting me try them on. Lucky for his sharp fashion sense and eye for sizing, they fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper.

  I glanced to the sticky note stuck to the top corner of the mirror in front of me.

  Damn, that man could undo me with his sticky note romance. Casey was busy snapping pictures from every angle, a request from Lionel. I could hear Bradley moving around in the kitchen, and my heart flipped. Was this good enough for his charity event? Was it too daring? Was it too revealing? Was it too formal? Gah, enough already!

  I finished applying my lipstick while Casey stared over my shoulder.

  “You do know that most lipsticks contain fish scales.”

  “I really didn’t need to know that,” I whispered, grabbing the black clutch that I had brought all the way from New York. It wasn’t fancy, but it would do. I threw in my fish scales lipstick, some mints, my cell phone and credit card, and turned to give myself one final inspection in the mirror.

  “You’re going to knock his boxer briefs off, poppet,” Casey said with a proud grin.

  I lunged into his arms and hugged him tight. “Thank you, Casey. You have done so much for me, and I don’t know how I will ever repay you. You’re more than a friend. You’re the sister I never had.” I slowly released him in time to catch the glassy shimmer in his eyes.

  “Now, stop it. You’re going to make me cry and ruin my mascara.”

  “You’re wearing mascara?”

  “Of course. Now, let’s get you to your prince. I hope he has a pretty pumpkin with a big V8 engine and privacy screen to take you to the ball.”

  Casey led me out of the guestroom, and my heartrate practically tripled until I thought I might be having a heart attack. Wouldn’t that suck? At the end of the hallway, Casey stepped aside with the typical flourish that only Casey could do, and revealed a drop-dead gorgeous Bradley.