My little brother was the stereotypical New Yorker: thick accent, sharp dresser, knew everybody. The only things we had in common other than our last names and hatred for our old man were our love for ink and slutty women. Even though we were so different, I would do anything for the kid and he always had my back, too. It was a family thing. No one was going to mess with either of us if the other one had anything to say about it.
“What about you, Gavin?”
I looked up from my plate, steak rolling around in my mouth.
“Huh?” I knew it wasn’t polite to talk with my mouth full, but after my father’s display of his complete lack of table manners, I couldn’t have cared less.
My mother sighed, glaring at me. She hated when I didn’t act like the son she had raised. “Is there anyone special in your life? Do you have a lady-friend?”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter. I nearly spit out my food before I had the chance to swallow it. “I think I am off women for the time being.”
“Son, you’re going to have to get back on the horse eventually. No one wants a weak captain that can’t get laid because he’s crying in the corner over some bitch leaving him at the altar.”
Dad for the win.
“Well, I guess we’re done here.” I shoved away from the table, trying to cool my temper before I knocked my old man’s teeth in.
“You sit your ass in your chair and respect your father.”
I bowed my head, working my jaw as I took my seat. “Yes ma’am.”
Chapter 4
Brayden
One Year Later
“Come back to bed.” A soft moan came from my blue satin-covered king bed.
If I could only remember her damn name.
I rinsed out the toothpaste and spit into the sink, wiping away the white foam from the creases around my mouth with a hand towel before throwing it onto the marble sink. The old mahogany whined under my bare feet as I made my way back over to her.
Long bleached-blonde hair curled and frizzed around her face as she peacefully lay curled up in the groggy moments of leisurely waking up. The heavy makeup she had on from the night before was smudged around her eyes and running down her cheeks, probably from gagging on my cock only a few hours before. I loved when a girl really deep throated and tears streamed down her cheeks. There was something so raw and real about those encounters.
Damn blackouts. I wish I could remember more of our sexcapade.
The end of the night was a blur, unfortunately. She had caught my eye with her tighter than tight light blue dress, insanely high, very flattering heels, and bright pink lipstick. Add in how juicy her butt looked as she waggled by and I was a goner. It was right about the time the lights came on and the DJ started to play Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’”. Before I knew it, we were making out in the backseat of a yellow cab, heading to my place. I did remember making her take her heels off as we snuck through the house—waking Myla up was very low on my to-do list, to say the least. My little sister did not need to hear me sneaking in another random fuck in the middle of the night.
I sat on the edge of the bed, sighing.
Too bad there isn’t time for one more quickie.
“I have a lot to do today.”Hopefully she can take a subtle hint.
I heard Myla’s shower start.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
“What is it, babe?” She sat up, running her dainty fingertips over my shoulder.
I tensed under her touch. “You really need to go. I’ll get you a cab.”
“Do you even know my name?” My dead eyes darted to hers as I shook my head. “You fucking bastard.”
I got up to hand her the blue dress I had thrown across the room. “I’ve been called worse.”
I could see the blood boiling under her skin as she thought of all the foul things she wanted to call me. As the pissed-off chick started to pull her heels on, I saw the light bulb go off in her brain. Within seconds she was out of her leopard print pumps and throwing one directly at my head.