The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Part 4 – Chapter 43

Part 4 – The Lover

Briar sleeps peacefully at my side, and I love to see her so at ease. My heart aches for the years she spent in frustration and pain, blaming herself and her body for things that were completely out of her control.

How did I not know this sooner? Why did I keep this up for so long?

I thought it was what she wanted, but I should have known sooner that she needed a break for herself. That we needed to weather that storm together rather than battling each other through the hardest periods of our lives.

I’m just grateful now that we are coming out on the other side, stronger and more connected.

Still, after everything, I can’t sleep, and I find myself tossing and turning, thinking about Dean. I still don’t know where his head is at with all of this. And I fucking hate that he’s with someone right now at that club.

Someone is touching him.

Kissing him.

Making him feel good.

Maybe they think that he’s theirs. That they can lay some sort of claim on him. What if he does care about them? What if that’s all we are to him? Just another client.

Clearly, I’m spiraling. And I don’t want to wake Briar to express any of this. But if I lie here another second, I’ll explode.

Climbing out of bed, I get dressed quietly. I sneak out of my own house, knowing Briar could track my location if she woke up and was worried about me. As I pull out of the driveway, I know that this is crazy and reckless, but I don’t know what else to do.

When I park in the lot across from the club, I start to worry that I’ve completely lost my mind. What if I go in there and see him with someone? I have no right to be at his place of work. And I know that I could very well ruin things between us if I fuck this up, so I need to get my head on straight.

I’m going in there to see him. To understand. And if he really wants me to, I’ll find a way to accept that this is his job.

Getting out of my car, I head to the front entrance. Even though I’ve been here before, and my brother basically owns the place, I still feel like an outsider. Like I don’t belong here.

But when I walk in the front door and meet the young man at the host stand, he gives me a shocked expression as if he recognizes me.

“Good evening,” he says softly, pasting a fake smile on his face.

Under my breath, I mutter, “I’m just here to see Dean.”

He glances down at the iPad on the stand. “Do you have an appointment?”

My molars grind together as I force myself to breathe. “No, I don’t need an appointment.”

The man’s lips part in surprise as he straightens his spine. “Well, he is between clients right now. If he’s not on the floor, he’ll be in his room. Number four.”

“Thank you.” I brush past the host and into the club, ignoring when he calls after me for something.

The main floor of the club is dark and loud. There are soft-pink lights ahead that keep the space bathed in a warm hue. There’s a bar in the middle and tall tables stationed around it.

My eyes scan the crowd for someone familiar. I don’t spot Adam or Sage, which is a good thing. But I also don’t see Dean, which isn’t a good thing. What if he’s with someone?

I make my way to one of the high-top tables and stand there alone, surveying the room. I’m in the corner, so I’m out of the light, watching like some sort of voyeur. No one is doing anything particularly dirty out here. In fact, it’s surprisingly tasteful. There is a room I can barely see from here that is labeled Open Play. We passed it on our first night here, and Briar seemed especially interested in it.

What if Dean is in there? Does he have sex here that’s not part of his job?

No, he wouldn’t do that. He knows we have something special between us. We might not have set up boundaries or expectations in our relationship, but he knows we’re not just casually hooking up.

Yes, I technically cheated on Briar to be with him, but he wouldn’t do that to us. That’s different. We’re different.

“Can I get you something to drink?” a woman with long red hair braided over her shoulder asks.

“Whiskey neat,” I reply, pulling out my credit card and handing it to her. My eyes continue to scan the crowd as she disappears and returns a moment later with my drink and my card.

Slowly sipping it, I start to feel more and more worked up. Where is he? If I don’t see him before I finish this drink, I might break down the door of room four, and I don’t care if they have to take me out in cuffs.

Finally, he appears, coming from a dark hallway in the back. I bolt upright, standing taller, as I watch him walk across the floor by himself. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt, his nipple piercings showing through the fabric, a pair of holey blue jeans, and black boots. The way his shirt strains against the muscles of his shoulders and chest has my mouth watering.

I hate that someone else gets to touch him. Someone else gets to peel that shirt off. Someone else gets to kiss the soft skin underneath it.

My fingers tighten around the glass. I’m being irrational, and I know it. But I have to draw the line somewhere, and I can’t just sit by and allow this when he belongs to us.

He doesn’t see me as he reaches the bar, leaning on the surface and speaking to the bartender. There’s something different about him. He’s missing that charismatic Dean smile. In fact, he looks almost disgruntled and worried.

I want to go to him, but I also want to keep watching. It’s like seeing a whole new side of him. And I can’t take my eyes off him.

Then, a man sidles up to the bar next to Dean and gives him a look that curdles my blood. I set my drink down and watch as the man says something and Dean only replies with a polite nod and clipped response. I can’t hear them from here, but I can read body language enough to know the man is making advances and Dean is shutting him down.

The man doesn’t seem to get the message as he continues to talk to Dean. But when he places a hand on Dean’s lower back, I snap. Marching across the room, I grab the man’s arm at the wrist, squeezing tightly as I sneer in his face.

“Keep your fucking hands off,” I say with a growl.

“You’re hurting me,” the man howls before I shove him away. Security guards rush over and crowd us.

“Caleb?” Dean’s voice drags my gaze from the man currently being escorted away. “What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s Briar?” he asks.

“You just let random people touch you like that?” I shout, ignoring his questions.

His eyes widen as he glances around, clearly not wanting to cause a scene here.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath before grabbing my arm and hauling me away from the bar. When I spot Sage coming out of the dark hallway, she gives me and Dean a shocked look. “What is going on?”

“Nothing. I’m handling it,” Dean mutters, sounding angry.

I don’t say anything to her but I know, in her head, she has to be spinning so many questions.

As we reach Dean’s room, he uses his key to unlock it like last time, and once the door opens, he grabs my shoulder and shoves me in.

The door slams behind him, and neither of us wastes a second.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he shouts, putting far too much space between us.

“How can you let people treat you like that?” I bellow, taking a step closer.

His nostrils flare as he lets out a heavy breath. When he puts a hand up to stop my advance, I halt in my spot. “You can’t just come into my place of work and start manhandling our patrons because someone touches me, Caleb!”

“Yes, I can,” I mutter.

“Why? Because we’ve fucked, you think you have ownership of me?”

That stings, but I try not to let it show. “Is that all it was, Dean? A fuck? Tell me right now that that’s all it was to you, and I’ll walk out this door right now.”

He rubs his hands over his head, letting out a grunt of frustration. “Jesus, Caleb! Of course, it was more than that, but it still doesn’t mean you own my body.”

“I own something,” I yell, taking a step closer and pressing my hand to his chest.

He averts his eyes, and I see the pulse in his throat pumping hard as he fights the urge to argue with me. “Now what?” he asks coldly. “Where do I truly fit in all of this, Caleb? You and Briar are married. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being the dirty secret you keep in the apartment above the garage.”

“I would never⁠—”

His gaze is fierce as he stares into my eyes. “So, what, you’re going to tell everyone I’m your boyfriend? Are you going to move me into your house? Into your bed? What about your daughter? Your mother? Your career? What happens when all of Austin finds out you and your wife share a sexy little fuckboy?”

I slam him against the wall. “You are not a fuckboy.”

“This isn’t going to work, Caleb. Besides, you can’t stand my job, and I don’t plan on quitting just because I’m in a relationship. Would you stop being a lawyer?”

“That’s different, and you know it,” I reply with a growl.

“I won’t give up my life for you,” he spits back. “And if you truly loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to.”

“It’s because I love you that I’m asking you to,” I argue, slamming his back against the wall again.

The room grows quiet and thick with tension as we stare at each other. The anger between us is laced with passion, and it’s come to a head.

I can’t stand the space between us, so I keep him pressed to the wall as I take his mouth in a brutal, hungry kiss. He opens for me, sliding his tongue against mine. I press my entire body against him, moving my hands around the plane of his chest, feeling every muscle, every ridge and ripple.

“Mine,” I growl into his mouth, and he answers with a groan.

We are a frenzy of hands and lips, taking and claiming. I yank up his T-shirt to feel his skin against my fingers. My hands run over his pecs, toying with the silver barbells on either side. He reaches for the buckle of my pants, tearing it open like he can’t live without my dick. Goose bumps erupt all over my body as he undoes the button and reaches his hand inside to wrap his fingers around my already hard length.

I whimper in response, resting my head against his shoulder as he strokes me and nearly brings me to my knees. Kissing my way along his neck, I suck hard against his flesh, drawing blood to the surface to leave a mark.

“Mine,” I growl, licking the already red patch.

My hands rush down to his jeans, working open the button. Grabbing another man’s dick is still foreign and new to me, but I’ll never tire of the way it feels to stroke his velvet-smooth length. Hearing his gravelly groans of pleasure is my reckoning.

“Fuck,” he mutters before kissing me again. We’re stroking each other, and it’s like heaven, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need him to reassure me that we mean more than all the rest.

I’m too scared to ask for that reassurance. The idea of his rejection terrifies me.

“God, Caleb,” he mutters before biting my jaw. Then he releases my cock and pulls me against him so our dicks are aligned, squeezed tightly between our bodies. Moving by instinct, I begin to rut against him, and the warm sensation of his shaft against mine is like heaven.

“Say it again,” he whispers in my ear as we move against each other. “Tell me what you just said.”

My brain is mush, so it takes me a moment to realize what he’s referring to. And when I finally remember the last words I said, my heart soars. Grabbing his neck, I put my lips against his ear as I growl, “What? You want to hear it again? I love you.”

He whimpers, holding me tighter. Then he nibbles on my earlobe, driving me wild.

My rutting grows more frantic, and I know I’ll come soon if I don’t slow down. He must feel the same because he shoves my hips away, catching his breath as his head hangs, staring down at our leaking cocks.

“Come here,” he whispers, reaching for my dick again. I’m breathless as I stare down with my mouth hanging open.

When he rubs the tip of his cock against mine, I feel the cum leaking from his tip.

“Hold still,” he whispers, and I watch in lustful awe and a little confusion as he slowly slides the foreskin of his uncut length over the spot where our cocks meet. An uninhibited gasp flies from my mouth as the crown of my dick is engulfed in warmth.

With a wicked grin, he glances up at me as he strokes us together, one tight sleeve of pleasure bringing us to the brink. He’s watching my reaction as I melt into the rapture of feeling him slide against me. It’s all too fucking filthy and perfect. I can hardly breathe.

“Say it again,” he commands.

Speak? I can hardly breathe. But with what he’s doing to me right now, I’ll sing it for him if he wants. I force the words through my strained lungs. “I love you. Fuck. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He looks up at me with a wink. “Look at you. You’re a mess for me, aren’t you?”

“God, yes,” I reply weakly.

“I love you, too,” he whispers. It feels amazing to hear it, but I sort of wish my dick wasn’t in this tight, warm heaven right now because there’s not enough blood left for my brain to process him saying those words. “Does this feel good?”

“Fuck yeah, it feels good.” My hands grip tightly on his neck and arm, squeezing as he strokes us in tandem. My hips keep up their rutting as I hold on to this sensation for as long as I can.

“God, I’m about to come.” He groans. He’s gripping my arm tightly as he jacks us faster.

“Me too,” I say, my voice tight and gravelly. “Don’t stop.”

“Let me see you come first,” he says. “You come so pretty.”

I actually fucking whimper at that.

Staring down, I can’t get over the vision of what he’s doing to me. It’s like we’ve become one. We’re fused, feeling the same thing, our dicks aligned and covered as one.

How the fuck is Dean so good at this? And I don’t just mean the magic trick he’s pulling with his dick right now, but all of it. It’s the dirty talk, the attention, the knowing exactly what the other person wants and needs. If making people feel good is his job, then fuck…he was made for it.

Who am I to take that away?

My toes begin to curl, and my eyes squeeze shut as the pleasure ignites in my bones, sizzling like a fire from my head to my toes.

Reaching down, I grab my cock at the base, my fingers grazing his as I feel the warm pulse of his cum filling the same pocket of foreskin I’m filling. He quickly releases, and we continue to stroke ourselves as the mess covers our hands. We’re moaning and breathing the same air with our foreheads together.

It feels like a long time passes as we stand there, dripping onto the floor and onto our pants. I don’t give a shit. I’m in euphoria that I’m here with him, and for the moment, he’s mine.