Tool (A Step-Brother Romance #2)

Friend with benefits?

She doesn't respond. I flip around on my phone, paging through my social media accounts, while the music in the club provides an annoying background for my thoughts. I wait another few minutes, and get no response, then slide my phone in my pocket.

Friend with benefits. The thought of Delaney hooking up with someone else makes me unnaturally angry. So angry, that when I look up to see Chelsea standing in front of me, I snap at her. "What?"

Chelsea leans in close, her hand on my arm, her breath warm against my ear. "You're not having fun."

I shrug. "I have to take a leak."

"The bodyguard will go with you."

Shit. I can't even fucking take a leak on my own, without having some three-hundred-pound gorilla hold my damn dick for me? Being rich and famous is a real trip, that's for goddamn sure.

I'm too tired to even argue with Chelsea. I don't care. The bodyguard parts the sea of people in the club and starts to follow me into the bathroom. "What?" I ask. "Are you going to fucking watch me take a leak now, too?"

He ignores me, going in first and looking around. Delaney's damn father apparently hires security who think they're guarding the President or something, instead of a two-bit celebrity like me.

I'm washing my hands, noting that Delaney still hasn't texted me back, when the door opens. I expect it to be the bodyguard, but it isn't. It's Chelsea.

"Shit. Can't I get two minutes of quiet?"

She pouts. That damn pout of hers has got to go. It's so fucking annoying. What is it with girls and pouting? It doesn't look cute; it looks juvenile. Delaney doesn't pout. The thought goes through my head and I want to rip it out of my brain. Screw Delaney and whoever she's hooking up with in Dallas.

"Do you want me to leave?" Chelsea asks. She walks over to me, stands in front of me with her hand on her hip and one leg jutted out to the side. She knows how to work her body, I'll give her that much. She's wearing this little red number that offsets her creamy skin and her black hair.

Do I want her to leave? I hesitate before I answer. "Whatever you're about to say, don't. It'll just make it awkward in the future, Chelsea."

She purses her lips, eyes me thoughtfully. But she doesn't move. "You're my client," she says. "Which means I'm at your disposal. And you look tense."

"I am fucking tense," I say. "When can we get out of here?"

"An hour longer," she says, stepping forward. I realize she thought that my saying I was tense was an invitation for more. "If you'd like, I can help you feel…less tense."

I should take her up on the invitation. Or take the other chick up on her invite for more. That would be the smart thing to do. That would be the Gaige thing to do.

But my phone is in my pocket, weighing heavy on my thoughts. And more specifically, Delaney is weighing on my thoughts. It's her I can't get out of my fucking head.

"Well?" she asks.

"Well, nothing, Chelsea," I say, my voice hard. "I hope I don't have to get a new manager at Marlowe because things got awkward between us."

Chelsea slides her palms down the sides of her dress, straightening the fabric. "I hope not," she says. "It would be a shame to lose you as a client."

Then she turns and walks out of the bathroom like nothing ever happened.



“I’ve always wanted you, Gaige.” Delaney unhooks her bra and tosses it to the floor, her bare breasts full in front of me. She shimmies out of her panties, shaking them from her thighs, the movement making her breasts sway.

I reach out to touch them, but she shakes her head, making a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue before she drops to her knees at my feet. Holy shit. I take her face in my hands, her skin smooth against my palms, and pull her face up to look at me. I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t believe this is Delaney – the girl I lusted after all summer, the girl I still can’t stop thinking about. Classy, breathtakingly beautiful, out-of-my-league Delaney Marlowe.

On her knees, her face so close to my cock I can feel her warm breath against my skin. Christ, my fucking dick is about to explode already.

She looks up at me, mischief in her eyes, then opens her mouth, touching the tip of her tongue to the head of my cock, where pre-cum already glistens on the tip. Her eyes never leave mine, and the fact that she’s looking at me the way she is, her mouth open, like she’s begging for it, makes me want to come already.

“Shit, Delaney,” I groan. “You keep doing that and I’m going to come all over that pretty little face of yours.”

“Promises, promises, Gaige,” she says. “You’re all talk.” She reaches between my legs to cup my heavy balls with one hand as she wraps her lips around my cock, enveloping me with her warm wet mouth.