I adjust the radio on my waistband to pull Sulli a little closer. To Banks, I say, “When would you like me to hold your hair back while your head is on a guillotine?”
“Your head is gonna be beside mine, so that honor is hers.”
“Oh no,” she says strongly, “I’m not watching either of you die. Count me the fuck out.”
Banks and I exchange a brief smile, then I notice how Sulli grimaces, staring out the window. My face sobers. “What’s wrong, Sulli?”
“A part of me just really wants Runaway Sulli gone.” She balls up Banks’ tee. “I want to ensure you two aren’t headed for anything fucking bad, not without me.”
She is here. She didn’t leave us.
Before either of us can make a comment, she asks me, “Why did my dad lay into you back then?”
I can’t even remember if she heard anything. It’s years back, and if she was there, maybe she forgot too. “It was mostly about security logistics when you turned eighteen,” I explain. “Like I said, he wanted to be in control of protecting you. But I had to stop listening to his orders, and I took yours. It was a rough transition for him.”
“You’re his baby,” Banks says plainly.
Sulli lets out a long groan, cheeks flaming. “It’s not fucking fair.” Is she embarrassed? She’s avoiding our eyes.
“Sul?”
“He should be treating me like a woman, Kits. It’s what I am. I’m a fucking woman.” She sounds as defensive as she does passionate.
I smile, “We know, string bean. No need to convince us.”
The nickname usually grants me a punch to the arm, but her lips seem to ache to rise instead.
Banks checks the mirror before switching lanes again. “If you were underage, we wouldn’t have made a move on you.”
She shifts a little on my lap.
Fuck.
Her ass grinds down against my cock, whether unconsciously or consciously—it ripples a shockwave through my entire body. I flex my muscles, and I kiss her cheek lightly.
“You’ve both only done it to me once,” Sulli mentions. “And by it, I obviously mean putting your dicks inside me.”
I heat up at her crudeness and the fact that only clothing separates Sulli from sitting on my cock. “Due to time and opportunity constraints,” I tell her. “Not because I don’t want to be inside you.”
Her dad just yelled that I’m a brother to her, and I want to make clear I’d love to fuck her. Slowly, deeply, with my hand pinning her wrists to the bed. In ways we definitely haven’t yet, because she was a virgin.
Slow.
Go very, very slow with Sulli.
Banks glances briefly at her, then the road. “You worried it won’t happen again?”
“I guess I just need some reassurance that my dad didn’t scare you guys away. He can be intense.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Banks says.
I nod, “We knew who your dad was before we slept with you.”
Her lips fall in thought, like she just realized something disastrous. “I know who my dad is, too. But right now, I can’t tell you if he’ll be blurting this all over the family gossip networks or keeping it to himself.” She lets out an exasperated breath. “Fuck.”
That thought lingers in the car, even as I hold her tighter.
I really don’t like the idea of Ryke Meadows being the one to tell everyone about our relationship. It should come from Sulli, Banks, and me.
Only way to fix this is to start telling more people. It’s what we discuss on our way back home. By the time we enter the Philly apartment complex and rise up the elevator, we agree that we won’t change our first decision. No mega announcements. We’ll tell everyone casually when we see them.
Only issue is that Thatcher and Jane are still on their honeymoon. I’m at least glad my friend didn’t insist on being Jane’s bodyguard during the trip. Gabe Montgomery was the better option. The bodyguard has been part-time temping and part-time protecting Jack Highland-Oliveira, who needed more security after being with Oscar. With Gabe on Jane’s detail during the honeymoon, Thatcher can relax, and he can personally see if Gabe has what it takes to make it on the full-time roster.
Banks fiddles with the keys to our apartment door. We still live three floors below Sulli’s penthouse. Before we go to Sulli’s place, we’re making a pitstop to change out our battery packs and get Banks a new shirt.
Sulli nibbles on a vegan granola, crinkling her nose in slight distaste.
I keep my eyes alert on the hallway. Comms crackle in my ears, and I listen for a second. No one speaks. But someone is pressing on the mic and breathing weirdly.
Great.
Just great.
I pull out my phone to text in a group thread. Take your sticky finger off the mic.
Since Thatcher is taking time off work and he’s the lead, I’m picking up his tasks. Like being aware of SFO’s whereabouts.