The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Chapter 11

“Give me a color.”

I yank the man’s mouth off my cock with a punishing grip on his hair. He sucks in a lungful of air before gasping his response. “Green, Sir.”

“Good boy,” I mutter in response. “You’re being such a good boy.”

He smiles up at me proudly.

“I think my good boy deserves a reward,” I add. “Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, Sir,” he says with a grin. Then, his expression changes into somber concern. “But can I make you come first?”

Fuck.

I had a feeling he was going to ask me that. He has no idea how much I wish I could let him make me come first. But that’s just not in the cards for me lately.

What sucks is this poor guy is going to think he’s done something wrong. And there’s really nothing I can say to him to explain that I can’t come. And it has nothing to do with how good he is.

And everything to do with how fucked in the head I am at the moment.

“Seeing you come is what I really want,” I say, softly stroking his head.

I don’t miss the hint of disappointment on his face.

“You’re not going to let me down, are you?” I ask.

“No, Sir.” He shakes his head emphatically.

“Good. Now, be a good boy for me and lie on your back.”

“Yes, Sir,” he replies. Obediently, he moves into a lying position with his arms stretched over his head. His dick is hard, jutting upward as it leaks precum into the tip of the condom.

The entire time I’m stroking and sucking his cock, fondling his balls, and licking the tight rim of his asshole, I do it knowing that I’m making up for the fact that I can’t give my client one hundred percent of what he really wants.

And that is to please me.

This might be his first night with me, but I know clients like him. He’s a people pleaser with a raging praise kink. Which means my pleasure is just as important as his.

He’s paying me to come at the same time he’s paying me to make him come.

Judging by the way he’s moaning, writhing, and sweating on the bed as I draw him excruciatingly slowly to the brink of ecstasy, I’ve done enough to make this session worth it for him. When he finally fills the condom and shudders out his release, he’s a mess.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbles twenty minutes later as he slips on his shoes and smiles at me from the chair.

“I’m glad you’re satisfied,” I reply frankly.

He smirks to himself with a shake of his head. “You should give yourself more credit,” he adds. “I’m not just satisfied.”

Leaning against the wall, I ask, “What are you, then?”

Lifting those handsome blue eyes up to my face, he says, “Blown away.”

My eyebrows jump upward. “Blown away is good.”

“Blown away is very good.”

We both laugh for a moment and then he stands up and takes a step closer. My smile fades as I feel him reach for me, placing a hand on my waist.

“Is there a rule against grabbing a drink after your session?” he mumbles softly.

“I’m afraid there is,” I reply without looking him in the eye.

He nods as if he understands, but it still makes me feel like shit. Every once in a while, this happens, and it’s my least favorite part of my job. When my client and I share a moment, a laugh, a smile, something that makes them feel as if I could ever be more for them, I wish I could explain…

I’ll never be more for anybody.

“Damn,” he says. “Well…thanks for blowing me away. Next time, maybe I can do the same for you.”

“See you next time then,” I reply, forcing a smile on my face as I watch him leave the room. For a while, I’m stuck to the wall, too lost in my thoughts to move. Wondering if I should chase after him. What would happen? We’d have a few laughs. We’d fuck for fun a few times. Maybe, by some miracle, I’d actually get off.

Then what? Would he introduce me to his family? Take me to his home? Make a real boyfriend out of me?

No thanks.

Sooner or later, he’d end up disappointed. And the only way to avoid disappointment is to expect nothing at all.

I only have the one client tonight. So, after our session, I spend a few hours helping out around the club, ordering more supplies for my room, and planning some of the BDSM sessions that Sage has asked me to demonstrate for our patrons.

For some reason, I keep looking at the clock. I don’t really keep strict hours at my job. I work for my clients and then pick up small tasks here and there, but I don’t really clock in or clock out.

So it’s strange to feel restless, like I’m eager to get back home. Although right now, my home is a one-bedroom apartment above a garage in a suburban neighborhood.

My first few days at Caleb’s have been interesting, to say the least. I’ve hardly seen him at all, but his wife, on the other hand, has definitely taken a keen interest in me.

They don’t call them desperate housewives for nothing.

My first night, she was knocking on my door past midnight, and it’s almost midnight now. Will she be back again?

I smile at myself as I think how angry Caleb would be to know that his wife was hanging out with me while he slept.

Or that I’ve seen how perky her little tits are under her wet clothes.

Scheming to get revenge against Caleb by seducing his wife was almost a joke at first. It wasn’t a serious plan, but suddenly, it’s as if she’s fallen into my lap, and I can’t ignore that.

She’s making this too easy.

“Hey there.” I feel a soft hand drift across my back.

I’m sitting alone at one of the tables in the back of the club when Sage takes the seat across from mine. With her bubblegum-pink hair, tattoos, and face full of piercings, Sage doesn’t look like the kind of girl you’d expect to be with the pastor’s son—but alas, she is.

“How’s your dad?” she asks with concern.

“He’s good. Thanks,” I reply. “I actually just spoke with him earlier today. He’s all settled and already complaining about one of the nurses who bosses him around too much.”

She lets out a soft giggle. “I’m glad he’s doing well.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“And what about you?” she asks pointedly.

“I’m fine,” I say with a shrug.

“That apartment at Caleb’s is working out?”

“It’s perfect,” I reply. “Caleb and his wife are very…” My voice trails for a moment. “…accommodating.”

“I hope they’re treating you with respect,” she adds with a stern expression.

Which makes my brow furrow.

“Of course they are. Why would you ask that?”

She lets her head tilt to the side. “The Goodes are not like us, Dean.”

“You don’t think I know that?” I reply with a snicker. “You realize I basically grew up around these people, right?”

“I keep forgetting that,” she replies with a shake of her head. “They’re still new to me. They mean well, but you should have seen them when I started coming around.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if Caleb Goode is a big fan of mine,” I add with a coy smirk.

“No, that’s not you,” she replies, waving her hand. “Caleb doesn’t like anyone. How’s Briar been?”

The corner of my mouth lifts into a crooked smile. “She’s been great.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I can’t help but laugh. “It just means she’s been very hospitable, the perfect Southern host.”

I don’t miss the way Sage rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she has. I like Briar. I really do. But the woman strives for perfection. Perfect house, perfect husband, perfect children, perfect life.”

I blink down at the table, remembering how Briar came to my room last week, opening up about some of the struggles she and Caleb have had over the years. It’s not my business and definitely not for me to share. But I wish I could tell Sage that Briar’s life probably isn’t as perfect as she thinks it is.

“Maybe having you around will help her loosen up a little bit,” she says. “I’d really love to see her let go. I’m sure she’d be a lot happier if she did.”

“You don’t think she’s happy?” I ask. I have this nagging curiosity now when it comes to Caleb’s wife. As if she’s like an onion, and I’m desperate to peel back all the layers.

Because Sage is right. Briar does present herself and her life as being perfect, but it’s not real. There has to be a real person in there somewhere.

“I think she wants everybody to believe she’s happy,” Sage replies. “But that woman gives so much. It just makes me wonder if she’s asking for what she deserves in return.”

Interesting, I think to myself.

Sage lets out a big sigh as she stands from the table. “Well, anyway, I’m glad it’s working out over there, and I’m glad your dad is doing well. Let me know if you need anything here at the club, but if not, I’m gonna head out for the night. Sadie’s got it from here.”

“Yeah, I think I’m clocking out too,” I say as I stretch my arms over my head. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Of course,” she replies. “Take care of yourself, Dean. And again, let me know if you need anything at all.”

“Thanks, Sage,” I reply.

During the entire drive back to the house, I can’t stop thinking about Briar. After such a short period of time, it’s like she’s chiseled her way into my brain. For somebody that I thought was so predictable, the idea that there’s more to her than meets the eye is incredibly intriguing.

After parking my car in the driveway, I climb out and walk toward the back of the garage when I spot movement on the back porch of the house.

I freeze when I spot Briar sitting on the patio chair, holding a glass of wine in her hand and staring at her phone in the other. It’s half past one in the morning, and I did not expect her to still be up.

When she hears me approaching, she lifts her gaze and finds me in the dim light from the moon.

“Hey,” I say. “Can’t sleep again?”

“You caught me,” she replies groggily.

I make my way over to the back porch. She’s curled up on one of the patio chairs around the table with a throw blanket draped over her legs. She’s already taken off all of her makeup. And she has her hair piled on her head in a messy bun.

“How was work?” she asks.

“Work was work,” I say.

She presses her lips together and gives a slight nod. Judging by the look in her eyes, talking about my job makes her slightly uncomfortable but curious enough to want to know more. I know she’s afraid to ask.

“You want a glass?” she asks, holding up her wine.

I should say no, but I don’t.

“Sure, what the hell.”

As I take the seat across from her, she goes inside to get another glass. After filling it from the bottle on the table, she hands it to me.

“I hope you like merlot.”

“More of a malbec guy myself,” I reply, swirling the glass and taking a sip.

“How sophisticated,” she says, looking impressed. “I’m more of a…whatever catches my eye at the grocery store type of woman.”

“Fair enough.” Giving her a subtle smirk over my glass, I notice how easy it is to be around her. She’s far more comfortable now than she was after that pool rescue fiasco. Maybe it’s the wine.

I assume the wine also gives her the courage to ask what’s on her mind because she leans forward and looks deep into my eyes. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course,” I reply bluntly.

“What made you become a…” She stumbles on the word, her fingers touching her lips as she starts to blush. “I don’t know the right word to use.”

“Escort,” I say to finish her sentence. “Or sex worker, I guess. But hooker is just offensive.”

She lets out a short laugh, clearly from embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t,” I say to ease her nerves.

“But I’m just curious. What do you do? I mean…is it just sex? Or is there…more that you provide?”

Leaning back in the chair, I bring the wine to my lips as I contemplate my answer. “Well, technically, I’m providing an experience my clients don’t know how to find anywhere else. Sex is intimate, but they don’t know how to ask for what they want from the people they’re with. But for some reason, it’s easier to ask a professional.”

I watch the movement in Briar’s throat as she swallows, a knowing look in her eyes as if she understands. “That makes sense,” she replies. And then, in a low whisper, she adds, “And what exactly…do people ask for?”

There is a glossiness to her eyes as she stares at me across the table. The tension between us grows thick. So thick that even I have to force myself to swallow.

“Some people want me to praise them, control them, punish them, or just…fuck them. Most women who come to see me just want to be with a partner who makes them come. Who puts their needs first. Who gives them the attention they deserve.”

Briar hasn’t moved an inch. She’s practically frozen in place, and her breath has grown shaky. When she finally blinks, picking up her wine to take a large gulp, I notice the quiver in her hand.

The space between us is silent. “I don’t judge you, you know?” she says as she sets down her glass.

“Excuse me?”

Finally, her eyes meet mine again. “You probably think that I do, but I don’t. Especially when you explain it like that, I just think…if you’re happy doing it, then that’s all that matters.”

“I am,” I say, but it feels like a lie on my tongue.

“Good,” she whispers.

We sit together in comfortable silence, letting our gazes meet without it feeling charged or uncomfortable. For the next few minutes, we each finish our drinks. She doesn’t ask me any more questions, although I wish she would. I wish this conversation could go further.

I want to know what she would ask of me if she could hire me. I want to know what Briar wants. What she needs. I imagine myself praising her. Having her at my feet. Looking down at those beautiful blue eyes. Feeling her lips wrapped around my cock and calling her mine.

“I should get to bed,” she says after her glass is emptied.

I swallow my disappointment.

“Sleep well,” I say as she stands from the table.

“Feel free to finish the bottle. Stay out here as long as you’d like.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

Before walking away, she rests her hand on my arm and pauses there for a moment as she gazes down into my eyes. “Night, Dean.”

“Good night, Briar.”

When she pulls her hand away and disappears into her house, I feel the absence of her touch on my skin. This woman has found a way to make me miss her in such a short amount of time.

I do finish the bottle of wine after she’s gone. And while I drink it, something becomes increasingly clear to me. I want her.

I want to seduce her. I want to make her mine. I want to have Briar Goode at my mercy and in my bed.

Then I want to see the look on Caleb’s face when he finds out.

It’s funny, really. I’ve only wanted two people in my entire life. The first time, it was his brother.

And now, it’s his wife.