Page 119 of Wild Card
I hum again, letting the vibration rumble in my throat as I tighten my suction. He makes a soft whimpering noise, and it feels like winning an Olympic gold medal. Making Sebastian Rousseau—Mr. Always in Control—fall apart is my crowning achievement.
I soak in his flushed cheeks, his lust-addled eyes, the way his hands tremble against my scalp as I tip my head back and let him fuck my face.
He growls my name, and his cock twitches against my tongue. My mouth fills with his cum, and I take my front-row seat to watching him crumble.
And I enjoy the hell out of it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
BASH
“I think I love yoga even more now,” I whisper as we walk out of the studio that I’ll never be able to look at the same way again.
Heading down the hallway and toward the front desk, I land a playful slap on Gwen’s perfect ass. Her only reaction is to throw her head back and laugh. I follow her, drawn to that sound like I have been since day one.
But the perfect moment comes to a screeching, heart-stopping, stomach-dropping halt when I look up and see Tripp at the front reception desk, arms propped against the flat surface. Sizzling fury dances over his every feature.
Gwen and I both stop in our tracks. All the lines I’ve run through in my head, that I thought would be perfect to explain this whole thing to him, evaporate on the spot.
“Hey,Dad.” He spits the word. “Good to see ya. And you, Gwen.” He nods in her direction without so much as looking at her. She doesn’t respond, but from beside her, I can hear her swallow.
I too am at a loss for words because weknow.
We know that this is about as obvious a way for Tripp to find out as possible.
“I figured I’d come by to pick your brain about some weird vibes I was catching during her birthday. I thought maybe I was out to lunch, thought I was making it all up until I mentioned it to my mom last night. She apparently doesn’t tell me much, but she at least had the balls to tell me about my birthday party. That she saw you slip into a powder room with my girlfriend before you tore out of their house in a rampage, leaving a hole in the wall.”
My heart stops, turns to concrete in my chest. Fucking Cecilia. Of course, she’d have seen that. And of course she’d have to play the hero by being the one to tell Tripp about it at the worst moment possible.
I give Gwen’s hand a soft squeeze as I step in front of her. She returns it, and Tripp’s narrowed eyes latch on to the contact between us.
“Tripp—” Gwen starts, but he cuts her off, arms slashing across the air in front of him.
“No, Gwen, I don’t want to hear from you. I want to hear from Bash. I want you”—he points at me—“to look me in the eye and tell me you are not fucking my girlfriend.”
Rage flashes hot and bright as I step toward him, closing the distance between us. I drop my voice, opting for low and threatening. “If you think I’m going to stand here and let you talk about her like that, you’ve got another thing coming. So watch your damn mouth.”
His jaw twitches as his eyes skitter behind me, and for a moment, he looks remorseful.
But truthfully, I don’t even want him so much as looking at her right now, so I draw his attention back with a snap of my fingers. “And I think you meanex-girlfriend, Tripp.”
I quickly glance over at Gwen. She’s turned the color of a beet and appears as though she would like to run and hide. And god, I can’t blame her. This is truly a fucking mess.
“Well, she sure as shit wasn’t my ex-girlfriend when you yanked her into a bathroom with you at my parents’ house.”
“I didn’t?—”
He forges ahead, fury shaking his voice now. “You think you can just roll back into my life, try to foster some sort of relationship with me, and steal my girlfriend all in one fell swoop? You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve?—”
I lose it then. I cut him off and say the one thing that’s been echoing in my head for months now. My voice isn’t quiet at all when I confess, “I saw her first!”
Silence descends between all of us.
It’s a childish sentiment, and yet it’s true. I saw her first. She was mine first. Whether we knew it at the time, that night changed our lives.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he says, looking utterly disgusted by this entire conversation.
I step ahead again, wanting to put myself between him and Gwen. “We met months before you knew who she was. In fact, the same week that I met you for the first time.”
