Mr. & Mrs. Wright: A BWWM Romance (Wright Brothers Series Book 2)

by Stevens, Camilla

“In fact, just turn the page—quickly.”

  “Good, god,” Brooklyn said shuddering as Alex flipped to the next page.

  * * *

  “Oh Alex,” she moaned, “Yes, yes!”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled through lips that were pressed tightly together.

  “Jesus, this feels amazing,” she said, her claws digging into his flesh. “It’s like…like they knew it would hit the spot just—ohhhh!” she screamed as yet another orgasm came.

  Alex grimaced as her spasming body shifted his own past the point of discomfort and straight into actual pain.

  “That was like the third one,” she breathed with awe. “You can come too, baby,” she coaxed.

  “Babe, I couldn’t come in this position if you held a gun to my head.”

  She giggled as she came down from her climax. “So maybe not this one? Too bad, it’s a good one.”

  “Special occasions only,” he insisted. “Like if we end up getting married and it’s our 50th anniversary.”

  She laughed, deciding to ignore the implication for now. “On to the next?”

  “For the love of God, yes!”

  * * *

  “Oh, babe,” he moaned. “This one, the way you look right there in that position is enough to get me off.”

  “I feel like I’m giving birth to alien spawn,” she complained.

  “Okay…that just killed my hard-on.”

  “Not so fast,” she said quickly. “We could still try something else.”

  * * *

  “This is nice,” Brooklyn said, looking up into his eyes.

  “Yeah,” Alex agreed, staring down at her as he slid his cock inside of her eager wetness. “I get to look at my favorite part of you.”

  She smiled as she brought her legs up around his waist in proper missionary style. “Is it enough to get you off just looking at it?” she asked teasingly.

  “At the top of my spank bank list,” he assured her.

  “So you have a list, do you?” she mused.

  He grinned. “Shut up and enjoy the ride,” he ordered.

  He leaned over her, resting on his elbows and looking down at her with those bright, almost turquoise blue eyes of his.

  He slowly lifted his hips off her, pulling out until the large head stimulated the outer folds of her pussy that were already swollen with excitement. He pressed back into her gyrating his hips so that his dick performed a tantalizing dance along her slick walls, hitting every secret, sensitive spot.

  “Alex,” she sighed, closing her eyes as she felt the building wave rise inside her. The hand grabbing his muscular shoulder gripped tighter. The legs wrapped around his waist flexed in anticipation.

  “That’s right,” he purred, working himself faster and harder into her. “Come for me baby, come hard around my dick.”

  His rhythmic pumping accelerated, hitting every part of her so perfectly, as though he had been created specifically to accommodate her body. As the large, round head of his cock stroked the slick lining of her pussy the wave grew stronger.

  Brooklyn lifted her pelvis, pressing herself into him. She wanted as much of him against her as possible when the inevitable crash happened.

  “Fuck yes!” she screamed to the high ceiling, her head thrown back as her body grew rigid with the electric pulses that ran through it.

  Alex grinned down at her, still working himself, harder now that he knew she had been pleasured. The convulsions of her inner walls still pulsated against his long, hard dick as he picked up the pace, riding her wave to catch his own.

  “Jesus, you feel so fucking good, Brooklyn,” he moaned, closing his eyes to concentrate on his own building orgasm.

  “It’s your turn, baby,” she purred, still reveling in the enjoyment of having him inside of her. She used her inner muscles to clinch and milk his climax. “Come for me. Come hard!”

  Her words were like a catalyst, sending him hard over the edge.

  “Fuuuck!” he groaned loudly, as he emptied every drop of built up cum from his balls.

  When he was done, he fell down against her, his hard, muscular chest against the softness of her breasts and stomach.

  “I think that’s the best one,” Brooklyn breathed, after a moment.

  “Yeah,” Alex said. “No need to break with tradition.”

  They both laughed.

  * * *

  “Let me see!” Brooklyn insisted, kneeling on the bed as Alex lay on his back.

  Both of them were still naked and he was covering his pubic area protectively. “You’ve already seen it,” he protested.

  “I just want to see if we did actually match up,” she pouted. “Like you said, I’ve already seen it, and mine is a sweaty smear right now.”

  Alex looked over at the temporary tattoo on Brooklyn’s pubic area. The NY was completely invisible. The red heart was there but half gone, the rest obviously buried in Alex’s pubic hair. Somehow the I had managed to survive their adventures with the Kuma Sutra.

  Brooklyn gave an exasperated sigh and finally did the work of prying his hands away from his pubic area.

  “Look at that,” she said gleefully. “I think it rubbed off right on top of yours.” Her fingers spread his black pubic hair apart—tiny chips of red, temporary tattoo covering it—to find the embarrassing remnant of a misspent youth: a tattoo that brazenly read, Hello Ladies!.

  “See?” she said, falling down next to him on the bed. “We match perfectly. Like it was meant to be.”

  “A love story to put Romeo and Juliet to shame. They should write plays and novels about it. I can see it now: The Tattooed Love Affair,” he said gesturing his hand as though highlighting a marquee.

  Brooklyn laughed and slapped his chest lightly. Then she snuggled in closer to him. “I love that we’re so good in bed together.”

  Alex brought his arm around her, pulling her body closer to his. “I love that we’re so good together, period,” he said, kissing the top of her head of natural curls.

  As she fell asleep in his arms, he stared at the ceiling pondering his current situation. In the three months that he’d known her, he’d spent more time in New York than he probably had in the past three years. Usually it was a quick jaunt in and (quickly) out to take care of housekeeping: Dealing with the trustee of his trust fund, which he refused to touch; maintaining some sort of residency in the world; maybe catching up with old friends.

  He’d met Brooklyn right after finishing up working with the club, Jealous. They’d spent two fabulous weeks together before he took off once again. Fortunately, he’d managed to get her to follow him, if only for a while, for another two weeks in Paris.

  She had this power over him, drawing him back to the city—and the father—he tried so hard to stay away from.

  As his eyes grew heavy with sleep, he thought about what that meant.

  Chapter Three

  The morning after their little role-play date, London and Michael were eating a leisurely room service breakfast before heading off to work.

  “At some point we have to figure out a solution to this hotel thing,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Especially now that I’m actually allowed to kiss you in public,” he teased.

  London shot him a scolding look that couldn’t hide her amused acknowledgement of the statement. “Fair point,” she said, digging a fork into her fruit plate. “But are you going to move uptown? Your job is by Wall Street.”

  “And yours is in Harlem, so you moving downtown would also be a pain in the ass.”

  He was hinting at something and she knew exactly what. “So we should think about getting a place in mid-town.”

  “Well, it isn’t as if we don’t spend almost every night here anyway. We both make decent money but if we’re going to throw money at a place to sleep, on the rare occasion that it occurs,” he gave her a wicked grin, which made her smile into her bite of cantaloupe, “we might as well make it permanent.”

  “You want to buy? In Midtown?” she asked incredu
lously, the dollar signs in her head already giving her a headache.

  “Buy?” he asked in surprise, blinking at her. “God no! Well, not now. In fact a lease would be good. Give it a year, see if we work out.”

  “So test drive each other, huh?” she said, giving him a teasing smile.

  “Well, I’ve already experienced the ride and I’m quite the satisfied customer,” he said winking.

  She laughed, and put her fork down, tilting her head as she gave him a critical look. “Why do I all of a sudden feel like a sex doll?”

  “But seriously, we’ve been seeing each other for almost three months now, and even with the little bumps, it’s been good,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “My lease is up in a few months. I don’t know about yours, but we could at least start looking. We should give it a shot.”

  London’s own lease was up in a few months as well. She stared at Michael and thought about how quickly he was moving, without any prodding from her. She had been with her ex, Clayton for 10 years and he’d never even hinted at moving in together, always changing the topic when she brought it up, somehow convincing her that they did indeed work best when they had their own separate places.

  She squeezed the hand that was holding hers. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to look.”

  His sincere smile was all the reassurance that she needed.

  * * *

  “I don’t know why you read that trash,” Michael teased as London opened up the New York Post on her phone while she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Of course it’s trash, but I like the funny headlines,” she said. “Besides, it’s research. Every other day there’s an article about the mayoral election. Heaven knows both Dion Davis and, more likely, your father have enough going on to create headlines for days.”

  “I’ve got the New York Times pulled up here if you want a credible source,” he said just to annoy her as he scrolled through to the New York section of the Times, sitting next to her.

  Normally, she would have given him a teasing elbow to the ribs. However, at that moment, neither of them was in a playful mood as they read the headlines on their respective phones.

  “Oh honey,” London said, her mouth hanging open with shock. “You do not want to see this.”

  “London,” Michael said at the same time, his voice getting serious, “You should really take a look at this.”

  * * *

  The two of them looked at each other.

  “What is it?” they asked at the same time.

  “You really don’t want to know,” said London.

  “This,” said Michael, handing her his phone.

  London held on to hers while she read the headline in the New York Times.

  Council Member Claudia Rivera Announces Run for Mayor

  London read on with acute interest. It was surprising news, but perfectly expected when one actually thought about it. A June announcement was not completely unheard of, and considering the issues surrounding the two current lead candidates, London should have been less surprised than she was.

  State Representative Dion Davis, the current Democratic candidate, was being represented by the firm she worked at with her father and brother, Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson & Associates. It had been a rather rocky relationship mostly due to the Summer Lunch Program theft scandal that had tainted the campaign for the past month. After the finger being pointed at almost everyone associated with Dion Davis, including the Jefferson firm itself, the dust finally seemed to settle on Sean Carmichael, Davis’ Chief of Staff. Still, the taint surrounded the Representative like a bad case of body odor that wouldn’t go away.

  Thus, it was no wonder the Democratic party had quickly, and obviously very quietly, scrambled up a less...problematic candidate. Claudia Rivera represented the district right next to Harlem and from what London knew of her, was extremely tough and competent.

  “Well, she’s got my vote,” London said.

  “Better not say that too loudly,” Michael laughed.

  “Oh, screw Dion Davis,” London said. “Speaking of which, I think your father’s unbelievable run might just be over. You were wondering what the scandal he was involved in was? Well, you’re probably better off left in the dark as long as possible, based on what I just read.”

  “That bad,” he said with a wary frown.

  “I’ll just put it this way, if it didn’t affect the man I love and Richard’s two youngest sons it would be hilarious.”

  “Okay, now I have to know.”

  “No,” she said, giving him a warning look that was tempered by the evidence of her own amusement.

  Michael grabbed the phone and his jaw dropped as he saw what was there:

  WRIGHT

  &

  (oh so)

  WRONG!!

  The headline wasn’t the wittiest the New York Post had ever put out, but with the image that accompanied it, it didn’t have to be, that morning. No one would have been paying attention to the words anyway.

  London placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as she watched his thumb scroll through the article and photos.

  “My god, is that a ball gag?” he exclaimed.

  “Svetlana wears leather pretty well,” London pointed out.

  “How many leather clad women are there in this photo?”

  “This photo’s not so bad,” she offered.

  “He looks like a geriatric Chippendale’s dancer in a biker uniform, London.”

  “What do you even call that thing he’s strapped to in this one?”

  “Is she actually walking on him? With heels like that?”

  “Okay, this one just looks like fun.”

  “Promise me you’ll never do this—whatever it is—to me, London.”

  “You don’t have to ask twice.” She shuddered.

  “Okay, I’ve seen enough,” Michael said. He handed the phone back to London and fell back onto the bed with a sigh.

  London leaned down closer to him and looked at his face to gauge his reaction to this bit of enlightenment. Both of them had known there was a mysterious scandal waiting to come to light for the Wright family, but neither of them had expected this.

  “So your father’s into a little BDSM,” she offered. “A lot of people are. You yourself get a kick out of spanking me,” she teased.

  “That was not a little BDSM, London.” he remarked. “In fact, I’m pretty sure they were at an actual dungeon!”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get your wish and he’ll finally drop out,” She said, helping him find a silver lining to all of this.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “I just wish it hadn’t come about by such…scandalous means.”

  London ran a comforting hand over his head of thick black hair. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked with concern.

  “The partners at the firm might get a kick out of it. Mostly I’m worried about River and Chauncey,” he said, referring to his two youngest half-brothers. “Chauncey is only six years old so he may be fine. River’s…going through a weird phase right now though.”

  “Well, you’ve survived your share of your father’s scandals,” she said encouragingly, “and look how terrific you turned out.”

  He gave her a weary smile. “I suppose it is a Wright tradition to be thoroughly embarrassed by our father.”

  London smiled. “It’ll be fine. There’s no way the ‘Family Values’ party will keep him on as the candidate now. Eventually it will all blow over.”

  Michael closed his eyes as she continued to rub his head comfortingly. Then he pulled her in closer. “Do you know how great it is to have a woman next to me with an actual head on her shoulders?” he said.

  “As opposed to all the headless women you’ve slept with?” she suggested teasingly. “And here I thought your father was the kinky one.”

  Michael laughed despite himself. “No, I just love that you get it. No agenda. No pretend cluelessness. An actual partner in the truest sense.”

  Londo
n smiled as she snuggled into him. “I love you too, Michael,” she smiled into his neck.

  “Yeah,” he laughed, nuzzling his face into her head. “I guess that’s where I was going. I love you, London, my someone very special.”

  Chapter Four

  Brooklyn felt the phone vibrating in the handbag against her leg. She pulled off her headset and reached down to pull out her phone.

  It was the Manix Gallery.

  She quickly tossed the headset aside, hoping her boss, George, didn’t see her. It had been a slow Tuesday at Douglas & Foster so most of her fellow coworkers in IT were probably playing solitaire or surfing the net anyway.

  Hitting the answer button, she quickly made her way out of the cubicle farm on the 37th floor of the firm’s offices and into the foyer by the elevator banks to speak in private.

  “Hello, this is Brooklyn Jefferson,” she answered, maintaining a professional tone.

  “Hello Brooklyn, this is Jared Bragg,” said the nasally, slightly pompous voice on the other end.

  “Yes,” she responded, trying to keep the excited pitch out of her voice.

  She had spent the past several weeks going to any gallery that even remotely fit the sort of art she created, which was her real passion in life as opposed to the IT department she had just made a brief escape from. She knew that her mixed media style of Graphic Design and textured paint was the real deal, but even so it was incredibly hard to even get a foot in the door of any gallery to have it shown—and hopefully sold.

  “After some consideration we are interested in talking more with you about representing you in our gallery,” Jared said.

  Brooklyn muted the phone. “Yes!” she screamed into the empty elevator lobby, pumping a fist into the air. She quickly un-muted the phone and responded calmly.

  “Well, thank you so much for your consideration,” she said, trying to sound as professional as possible.

  “We’d like you to come down in about an hour to discuss more,” he continued. “One o’clock, sharp.”

  “Now?” she asked, slightly surprised.