The Suit (The Bro Series Book 3)

by Xavier Neal

  My pussy pulses around him, praising our first time together and the endless dedication his dick has to the moment. I dig my nails deeper into his muscles, moaning at the hiss stripped from his lips. Soft satisfied sighs settle between us, and I shut my eyes from the newfound euphoria.

  Am I crazy for wanting this for the rest of my life?

  For wanting him forever?

  Shouldn’t I be more cautious and careful especially since it’s not just my heart on the line?

  And if I should, then why does this feel so perfect?

  Like everything else failed so that we could be given a moment to succeed?

  If this is too fast or too crazy or too spontaneous, then why do I feel more alive now than I have since that nightmare that brought me the other dream come true in my life?

  Is there something wrong with living my life just a little more for me?

  Chapter 8

  Charlotte: Will sending you a nude encourage you to work FASTER?

  I grind my teeth at the same time Ryann lets out an annoyed huff for the sixth time.

  Thankfully, she’s not pissy about me working. That she actually understands and relates to more than I predicted. It could be because she herself spends quite a lot of time working away from the office, though when her phone is constantly vibrating with text messages it’s usually from the dick head father of her child or Eden. She hates feeling like she’s neglecting Hattie, but I’ve been reminding her lately, that her little girl is going to be fine without constant adult supervision. When that doesn’t work, I take the initiative and ask Hattie would she like company or some alone time. Ryann is still adjusting to hearing the latter, and while she’s doing it well it is still very much so an adjustment. It reminds me of when my mother had to lecture me about my little sister not being so little anymore. Julez learning about boybands completely changed our dynamic, which pushed me to try to hold on tighter. Some nights when I can’t sleep, I think back to those times on how I could’ve been a better brother. Smarter. Stronger. Prevented what tore us apart from ever occurring. It’s a self-loathing game of what if that never has a real winner.

  My phone unfortunately vibrates again.

  Charlotte: If you continue to ignore me I will call ANOTHER impromptu dinner meeting with my divorce attorney.

  She is continuously demanding time I don’t want to give in person and through texts. I keep swearing to Ryann it’s work, but I can see the accusations starting to brew in her eyes.

  I’m not lying.

  Dealing with Charlotte is strictly business.

  Business to keep my business from sinking.

  Business to keep my business from possibly negatively affecting my personal.

  More like destroying my personal.

  Not sure how Ryann would handle hearing about my betrayal to her step father.

  I quickly text Charlotte in return.

  Me: I’ve been working all morning. I’m working as we speak. Your constant texting is SLOWING ME DOWN. Please allow me to continue to without distractions. Enjoy your weekend Char.

  Her response is immediate.

  Charlotte: I always do…

  Ryann grunts her frustration, and I toss the phone next to my open lap top that’s on her coffee table.

  I reach my hand over to give her thigh a comforting stroke. “Buttercup, you know I can always change our tickets if I have to. It’s not a political crisis.”

  Her eyes narrow my direction. “It’s the principle of the matter, Pax. He should’ve been here by now.”

  The dirt bag baby daddy who I have never had the pleasure of pounding into the pavement. I honestly don’t know much about the maggot. I know he pays child support late and a ridiculously low amount that I feel her attorney had her take because he didn’t have the balls or intelligence to negotiate higher. I know Hattie tenses up when we ask questions about him. I also know she dreads spending a couple hours with him every week. Asshole is entitled to four and barely keeps her for two. Anytime I try to bring him up to Ryann she changes the conversation insisting she doesn’t want to talk shit or explain the situation around Hattie. When we’re alone? She finds other ways to distract me that I care more about than why they’re not together or never really were. But I do need to know eventually. And I wanna hear it from her not the digital version Holden has most likely already discovered. I don’t want there to be secrets between us…even if I’m hiding a few of my own.

  That’s hypocritical as fuck…

  But my secrets are different.

  They don’t directly correlate to our daughter.

  Er. Her daughter.

  Fuck me…That’s a lie since Bart is her grandfather.

  The disarray my thoughts have taken has me seeking stability. “What’s the deal between the two of you?”

  Ryann’s long neck visibly stiffens.

  “You can’t dodge the topic forever.”

  “I can if I try hard enough,” she mumbles as she attempts to get off the couch.

  Rather than allow for her escape, I grab her by her jean shorts covered hips and tug her into my lap. “Talk.”

  “Later.”

  “You always say later, Ry, and later never comes.”

  “Or…it just hasn’t come yet.”

  My expression doesn’t change.

  “Fine. I’ll explain the whole Jesse nightmare tonight. After Hattie is asleep.”

  “And before you’re screaming into a pillow.” She grows a mischievous grin, which prompts me to add, “La tua parola. Give me your word.”

  The playfulness fades. “My word.”

  I gently pull Ryann closer so her head is resting on my shoulder. She sweetly curls her body completely against mine and relaxes.

  This is my favorite shit. I mean, I love fucking her. Inside, outside, pussy, ass, mouth, toes, pretty much anywhere and everywhere I can get my dick, but this? This feels more incredible than blowing my load or listening to her come undone. There’s something so intimate about having my arms around her. Having her body rely completely on mine for everything it needs. It’s like I’m holding the weight of the world in between my arms, and the only mission I have is to insure its safety.

  That it stays whole.

  That Ryann remains whole.

  She quietly grouses, “Hattie’s going to need to eat like the second she walks through the door.”

  “The theater has a full menu.”

  “Yeah, but she’ll need something right away. Despite the doctor’s orders that I email him copies of it, he never pays attention to what or how much she’s eating-”

  “Which is why I have a chocolate and peanut butter granola bar next to your purse along with a bottle of water.” I fold my hands together on top of one of her hip bones. “She hates the sea salt and caramel ones with the weird seeds. She begged for us to buy a different kind when school starts next week.”

  Ryann slides up to shoot me a touched look. “Should I be worried you know more about my daughter’s favorite food than I do?”

  “It’s my job to know my girls.” The proud smirk quickly contorts into a wicked one. “For instance, the way you like red wine dribbled down your stomach,” my finger trails a path, “and then licked off your sweet little pus-”

  A heavy knock on the front door prevents my hand from reaching its destination.

  Ryann pops up out of my lap and rushes to the front door, leaving me trailing behind her.

  Just the sound of his voice has me grinding my teeth. “Babe.”

  “Mom!” Hattie joyfully shouts, jumping into Ryann’s arm.

  “Hattie!” She exclaims back just as lovingly. “I missed you!”

  Approaching the situation, I add, “I missed you, too, Hattie Pattie.”

  Her joyful screeches land on me. “Pax!”

  “Hattie Pattie!” She wiggles out of Ryann’s arms and into mine. The feeling of her tiny face nuzzling my neck fills me with a peace that’s impossible to find anywhere else. After a soft hum of rel
ief she’s home in one peace, I pull back and tease, “Did you grow since yesterday?!”

  “No,” she giggles.

  “You sure?”

  “So sure!”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Jesse’s voice barks.

  I don’t bother making eye contact. “Language.”

  “Did you just say language to me? Like I’m not a grown ass man who will knock you out? Like I’m-” his voice stumbles when my hard stare lands on him. He gulps and takes a small step back. “You don’t talk to me around my kid like that.”

  “You watch your mouth around my-” having to stop the sentence suddenly becomes the second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, “girlfriend’s daughter.”

  Jesse’s head snaps to Ryann. “Girlfriend?”

  With a snap of fingers on my free hand, I command his attention back to me. “Yeah. Girlfriend. I suggest you watch your tone. Your language. And how you disrespect my girls in the future. Now, apologize to Ryann for being late again, tell Hattie Pattie you’ll see her another day, and get off this doorstep before I assist you in the process.”

  “Did you just threaten me?”

  “I gave you an order. Follow it.”

  He nervously swallows again before he does as he was instructed. “Sorry, babe. Didn’t realize you had plans.”

  “Even if I didn’t, Jesse, it’s ridiculous for you to always be late! There are guidelines and regulations put in place for a reason. And trust me; I’ll be adding another tardy drop off to my complaint list with my attorney.”

  He steals a quick glimpse of me. “You’re not the only one who will be taking a complaint to their lawyer.”

  Adjusting Hattie in my arms, I correct, “Attorney.”

  “What?”

  “Most likely, the person who probably gets paid a ton of money to unfortunately represent you, passed the bar. Making them an attorney. Perhaps you should further your education to be a better example to your daughter.”

  “I’m a fantastic example and will make sure my legal counsel is aware of your opinion and behaviors today.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ryann swiftly interjects. “Mine will be completely aware as well.”

  Before things can get uglier, I grunt, “Say goodbye to your child.”

  Jesse rolls his eyes but tosses her a wave.

  She flinches away and curls against me. The clear indications of fear have me digging my feet into the floor to prevent from dropping her to beat the fuck out of him.

  There are only a handful of reasons why children pull away from their parents like that.

  None of them are acceptable.

  All of them worth the ass kicking I would go to prison for.

  He turns on his heels without offering so much as another look. I stroll us inside and attempt to put her down, but she clings on instead. I immediately hold her tightly in return.

  What kind of fucking monster doesn’t love his little girl?

  Doesn’t hug her enough?

  Doesn’t even kiss her fucking goodbye?

  Becoming more and more roiled, I grind my teeth while Ryann begins her interrogation check list.

  “Did you eat breakfast?”

  Hattie’s face scrunches to remember. “I think so?”

  Ryann holds back her huff. “Did you eat dinner?”

  “Dad let me have a slice of his pizza.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut to help stifle the urge to scream.

  It’d be an honor to bury him and let Holden have fun making it look like a serial killer’s latest victim. Those are the type of bros I have. The kind who would do fucked up shit like that for me and not think twice. I’d do it for them. I have done it for them. I’ve flexed my muscles in intimidating ways and made non-idealistic situations much more comfortable. Thankfully, warning spread in the early days we were not to be fucked with, but to those that didn’t get the news, I willingly took a couple bruised ribs and a shallow stab to the hand to get the point across. All that for them. The lengths I’d go to for Hattie and Ryann could earn me a psyche eval.

  Ryann slightly snaps a few shots of Hattie’s pale face, uncombed hair, and stained clothes she wore to camp yesterday.

  I adjust her in my arms and she winces at the brush of an area on her leg. Instantly, I inquire, “What happened?”

  She shrugs.

  Ryann rushes to ask, “Did you get hurt at Dad’s or camp?”

  Like an untrustworthy rehearsed answer, she states, “I fell on the sidewalk.”

  A rage filled roar lies just beneath my surface. “At your Dad’s or at camp?”

  Hattie shrugs again, this time pressing her tiny body against mine for protection.

  And she is so tiny to be six. Ryann says the doctor blames her lack of muscle mass and inconsistent eating schedule for the reason she hasn’t outgrown ketotic hypoglycemia like most children have by her age.

  “Let Mom get a picture of it.”

  She rapidly shakes her head and tries to hide it.

  “If Mom takes a picture, we can ask your camp counselor about it?” I try to persuade.

  She continues to shake her head in denial.

  Ryann prepares to fight, but I fake surrender. “Okay, Hattie Pattie. No picture. But I am gonna lift you up a little higher. You’re starting to slip in my arms.”

  Hattie nods, and I give Ryann an encouraging look to snag the picture without her knowledge.

  This is one of those times it’s better to be safe than sorry. Proof of abuse and his custody is over…

  Ryann fingers briskly begin flying across the keyboard at the same time she says, “Princess, can you please, go change into something clean.”

  Hattie doesn’t move. “Where are we going?”

  I cheerfully answer, “The movies.”

  She scrunches her lips unhappily to the side.

  “What’s wrong?” My concern grows. “I thought you loved the movies, especially the one where we get to eat real food while we watch one.”

  “I do…”

  The somber tone sends my heart to my throat. “But?”

  “All I did was watch movies at Dad’s.”

  “No Minecraft?”

  She shakes her head. “He yelled at me that he needed his computer to do grown up stuff.”

  “Then forget the movies.” I casually shrug trying to keep my anger at bay. “We’ll do something else. We can go on a nature hike. Or ride your bike. Or-”

  “It is not up to you!” Ryann unexpectedly snaps.

  Our eyes dart her direction to find her seething.

  “She is not your daughter! You don’t get to make decisions for her! You don’t get to make plans for her without me. I am her mother! I am the one who gets to pick whether or not we do something different or stay in the house where I can keep an eye on her health and safety!”

  The sudden outburst shoves my heart from my throat to the pit of my stomach. Carefully, I place Hattie onto her feet and recall, “Your mom asked you to go change. You should probably do that.”

  Hattie simply nods, snatches the granola bar from beside her mother’s purse, and scurries off to her room.

  Once we hear the door click shut, I quietly growl, “Explain.”

  Ryann’s flustered face becomes bright red in shame.

  Silence sets itself between us like a referee ready to keep score.

  She digs her heels into the hardwood floor. Folds her arms. Diverts her attention repeatedly around the room. When the steam from her hysterics finally begins to dwindle, Ryann sighs, “That wasn’t about you.”

  My eyes continue to hold hers hostage.

  “Okay, not all about you…Look, Pax, I love that you love Hattie. Believe me. I just…I don’t want you making decisions for her or more without including me in them. It is hard enough having to mold my life around Jesse and his ability to make everything exponentially more difficult. The last thing I want or need is another man in my life making demands that one way or another I’m gonna have to meet.”


  Hating to be compared to the dickhead whose face I almost ripped off with one hand, I swallow my pride and nod. “My mistake.”

  Ryann looks momentarily relieved.

  “However, I don’t think everything should be to your will, either.”