The Suit (The Bro Series Book 3)

by Xavier Neal

  He doesn’t comment as he sets the area of the table that is clean for our meal.

  I snap the lid shut on the box of crafting materials and set my stare on him. “We may be able to whittle visitation down without having to do it in court if we can get Jesse to agree on the change.”

  Considering the extra pain in the ass he’s become since Pax entered our lives, it’s not likely, but I’m obligated to at least try. An expensive, lengthy custody court case is the last thing we need.

  His jaw noticeably begins to move back and forth.

  “Dan’s a good attorney, Pax.” My boyfriend dramatically rolls his eyes prompting me to snap, “He is!”

  He sarcastically tilts his head. “Mediocre.”

  “Pax-”

  “And that’s me being generous.”

  “He works hard!”

  “He does not deliver to you the amount of time or results you should easily be seeing.”

  “You’re being judgmental. You’re acting like I’m his only client!”

  “Perhaps he’s overworked and that’s why his performance is mediocre, but let me be clear. Mediocre is not good. And good is not the best. You should be having the best attorney possible in this situation. It’s what you deserve. It’s what Hattie fucking deserves.”

  “I can’t exactly afford ‘the best’, Pax! I don’t have that kind of money! I’m not Jesse! Mommy and Daddy don’t shovel handfuls of cash at me to help pay for my problems to just go away.”

  Which they insisted he do to try to get me to have an abortion.

  Having a biracial granddaughter does not fit into their prestigious country club lifestyle. They never spend time with her. They send birthday and Christmas gifts and consider the attorney they keep on retainer that allows Jesse to have some custody enough participation on their part. I’ve only met them once, which was when the DNA results were announced.

  Pax folds his arms across his chest. “You’re right. They don’t. However, your new step father has offered to pay for a better attorney. Your boyfriend has offered to pay for a better attorney. All you have to do is-”

  “No!” I viciously snap. “I have this handled! I don’t need the men in my life barging in to save me from a situation. My mother and my grandmother taught me to take care of my business by myself, so I am.”

  Frustration flashes through his, yet he concedes, “Fine. But I just want it on record that I think this is ridiculous, and that you’re making a huge mistake by not taking the help offered when we all have the same fucking goal.”

  Suddenly, a tiny voice squeaks, “Are you fighting?”

  I swiftly turn around to see Hattie’s worried expression.

  Pax beats me to the answer, “Just a disagreement.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Fighting has a meaner connotation. Fighting is usually more aggressive and has violent overtones,” he explains like we’re in front of a jury rather than my almost seven year old. “A disagreement is two people verbally trying to express their different feelings or opinions about something.”

  Hattie climbs into her seat at the table. “Oh, like when I tell Alyssa M. that my dad’s ravioli is better than mac and cheese, and she says that nothing is better than mac and cheese?”

  Did she…?

  Did she just…?

  Did she just refer to Pax as her dad?!

  Please tell me there is no possible way that Jesse has learned to cook and care for her so that this statement would stun us for a completely different reason…

  I swallow the shock and reply, “Exactly.”

  “You make the best ravioli in the whole wide world!” Hattie gushes. “I could eat it every day!”

  “Mamma started teaching me to make pasta when I was your age.”

  “No-huh!”

  “Yup. I would spend Sundays in the kitchen making this huge mess.”

  “Good to know some things don’t change.”

  Pax tosses me a smirk and a look filled with dirty promises of my favorite type of discipline.

  “Can she teach me to make pasta?” Hattie eagerly asks.

  “Maybe. You can definitely ask her when you meet her.”

  “Soon?”

  “I’m gonna invite her to your first Mathlete competition, so very soon.” Pax winks. “Why don’t you tell Mom what you told me about Math practice while I finish setting everything up for dinner?”

  She doesn’t wait for me to sit down before words are flying out of her mouth. Hattie brags about how easy some of the questions are, and how excited she is to be involved in an after school activity. When the school year started, she was nervous to ask me permission to join while I was nervous at the cost. However, Pax stepped in like he is known for to comfort us both. He held Hattie’s hand as she asked me with pure joy in her eyes and held mine as he confessed he already wrote the check, insisting he wanted to pay for her like she was his daughter, because to him she is. That’s why the look of shock when she said Dad was deeper on my face than his. Something tells me he’s been secretly longing to hear that word almost as much as I have. Is it wrong to be somewhat glad she finally said it in reference to him? Should I be shutting that down? Explaining to her that the asshole who forgets to feed, clean, and pay attention to her is her technical father according to some paperwork while Pax is her future step father? Shouldn’t I be teaching her that a father, like a mother, is the person who provides and cares for you? By that definition, it’s Pax.

  And I couldn’t be happier about it…

  Chapter 12

  No matter how old we get I hope we always celebrate our birthdays like this. Maybe with a little less booze in the future but not much. Getting wasted, fucking the women we love as hard and loud as possible, and then passing out is incredible. It’s one of the only traditions of The Row I’m glad we hold onto. Back then it was getting drunk, fucking women who were willing and waiting, and then talking about how awesome the shit was over breakfast the next morning. Now that I think about it, I hope we do the latter. I’m fucking starving. We missed dinner due to Jesse being outrageously late to pick up Hattie. We munched on the scraps of homemade pizza they had left behind and tried to fill up on chips and dip. The guys welcomed Ryann with open arms as expected.

  As they should.

  She’s not going anywhere.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  So they have no choice but to love her like I do.

  Ryann wiggles her ass against my dick bringing it to full attention.

  Okay, not exactly like I do.

  I’d kill them.

  My teeth drag themselves lazily up the side of her neck.

  She moans her greeting, “Morning, Suit.”

  “Buongiorno, Buttercup.” Her body presses back against mine allowing my hand better access to tug her nipple. A soft whimper prompts me to pull harder. “You fucking love it when I’m rough with you.” My hand abandons the action to give the area a sharp slap.

  Ryann’s entire body shakes in excitement.

  “You like when I show you that you’re not fucking fragile.” I give her tit another good swat. She starts to curl away, and I trap her leg between mine to keep her pinned in place. “That you’re strong.” My fingers return to tugging at her nipple. “That you bend,” I twist a little harder, eliciting a squeak, “but don’t break.” More shudders race throughout her body, and I gently cup her titty. “Do you have any idea how much I love these?”

  Ryann angles her face so our eyes can connect. “Considering the fact you start almost every morning with one in your mouth, I can make an educated guess.”

  I chuckle at her comment before rearranging myself on top of her to do just that. With one nipple trapped between my teeth and the other at the mercy of my fingers, I indulge in my favorite wake up call. Her arms flop behind her over the edge of the couch while her brown eyes repeatedly roll into the back of her head. Little whimpers of pleasure escape, and I find myself wanting to paint her parted
lips with cum.

  After one more suck, I relinquish the hold I have on her body and rise onto my knees. “Squeeze your tits together for me.”

  Thrill thrums through her expression as she does exactly what she was told.

  I reposition my body over hers, legs locking her in place before angling my dick right between the mounds waiting for me. The soft flesh is welcoming but not welcoming enough. Without warning, I pull my cock back and spit right in the middle. Ryann takes the initiative to spread the lubrication around.

  A savage groan is sparked yet quickly sizzles when Meena, Holden’s girlfriend, questions, “Should we wait upstairs?”

  My attention darts to where they’re lingering on the bottom step. Holden has one hand on the banister and the other just inches from his woman’s pussy. Our eyes momentarily meet, and the expression instantly registers.

  This type of shit doesn’t bother any of us.

  We’ve witnessed each other’s exploits.

  Occasionally, participated.

  The possibility for a bit of exhibitionism has my attention dropping back down to Ryann who looks like the idea is already tumbling around her thoughts. “Want an audience?”

  Her head slowly nods.

  I let loose a low growl and return my dick to the territory its about to conquer. “You two can watch.”

  There’s a very audible, feminine gasp from the stairs followed swiftly by a soft moan. Meena’s moan ignites Ryann’s and spurs my movements to increase in speed. She presses her tits tightly together and the added spit allows a smooth glide. Another grumble rumbles through me as my hips hastily rock, chasing the delicious delirium the friction causes. Out of the corner of my eye, I manage to spot Holden’s hand tucked between his girlfriend’s thighs, frantically moving to match my pace. The filthy pressure of being watched shoots straight to my balls, tightening them in anticipation of coming.

  Of someone watching me come.

  Of someone watching us come.

  The thought receives a loud growl. I plant one hand on the back of the couch and the other on Ryann’s shoulder for leverage. Her slender body bounces from the force of each push, yet her secure hold never wavers. A collective symphony of moans and groans fill the living room that swells my cock to the threshold of torture. My eyes greedily watch my cock rub back and forth, racing for Ryann’s parted mouth like its unaware it’ll never reach that finish line. I pump and pump, relishing in the forbidden fun.

  Owning the situation.

  The moment.

  The love of my life in front of my best friend. My fucking brother.

  Her feverish moans add vibrations I can’t handle.

  Pushed over orgasm’s cliff without care or concern for how hard I’m gonna hit the bottom, I bellow at the top of my lungs, “Fuck, I’m coming!”

  Blazing spurts of cum land all over Ryann’s tits.

  Her neck.

  Her chin.

  She lets go of one of her tits and uses her index finger to feed herself the portion that landed near her lips. The sight has my balls kicking like I’m coming again. My body continues to tremble so hard my vision blurs. Similar sounds of someone else getting off surround the room and encourage Ryann to moan a little more.

  All of a sudden, the sound of the front door shutting has everyone’s attention snapping that direction.

  Wyatt cheerfully strolls in with grocery sacks dangling from his hands. He gives the four of us one good look before joking, “You’re all probably hungry now, huh?”

  We lightly laugh at his winking and make motions to clean ourselves up.

  I provide Ryann with a sweet, soft kiss and a whispered, “ti amo” before sliding my suit pants on to get her a towel.

  Once everyone is awake and minimally dressed, we gather at the kitchen table for a Wyatt style breakfast. He makes his usual speech about his hatred for ordinary food as he places ingredients in the center for us all to use. We grunt our irritation at the bullshit we’ve heard him spew since we were freshman while the girl’s entertain his idiotic tantrum.

  Ainsley, Nate’s girlfriend, reaches for a slice of pear, dips it in agave syrup, and rolls it around in the crushed up Cocoa Puffs. The odd combination has Wyatt grinning from ear to ear, which causes Nate to tighten his grip on her.

  “So?!” Wyatt prods after she has a bite.

  Her hum of approval receives a smile from the group. “Amazing…You are so good with food.”

  “He should be,” I grunt. “It’s his fucking job.”

  “My job is more than food, bro. It’s art.”

  “No, Ainsley goes to school for art, Ryann examines and appraises art, you just bitch at everyone who doesn’t want smoked Gouda on their fucking grilled cheese.”

  Wyatt’s offended face sends us all into fits of laughter. He glares and flips off the crowd. We take turns dipping fresh cut fruit into different syrups and crushed toppings. The conversation is light.

  Easy.

  Fun.

  It’s like being at a family gathering with only the members you actually like.

  This feeling…this…family helped me survive when the one I was born with fell apart.

  Was ripped apart.

  I smear honey on the side of Ryann’s neck and lick it off.

  She sweetly swats at me with chocolate fingers, two thick blobs landing right on top of my bicep tattoo. Rather than lick it off, she reaches for a strawberry to assist her. After a solid bite of the fruit, she asks, “What does this one mean?”

  “The rope has four knots-”

  “One for each of us,” Holden interjects.

  “And the compass that they’re wrapped around represents life taking us different directions.”

  She hums thoughtfully as she swipes away the other bit of chocolate. “Like no matter where life takes you, you’ll always be bound together.”

  “We will,” I firmly state.

  “Bros for life,” Nate adds.

  A tender look crosses her eyes, but Meena gags. “I swear, if one of you says ‘bros before hos’, I will throw something at you.”

  Unable to resist, Wyatt charmingly smiles. “But it is bros before hos…”

  She hauls an apple slice his direction.

  “Hey! I wasn’t calling you a ho! I was merely stating bros before-”

  “Lo juro…” Meena warns in Spanish.

  “Say it, so we can all throw shit at you,” Ainsley snickers.

  “Do we need an excuse?” I chuckle before flinging a peanut his direction.

  “Fuck you.”

  We collectively laugh again and toss a few more items at Wyatt who dodges like a champ.

  Interrogations begin to soar around the table leaving no one in the clear. Everyone asks what they weren’t allowed to last night about my relationship with Ryann, what she does for a living, and what the fuck has been keeping me so distant. Thankfully, the inquisition turns to Meena and Holden who have no problem explaining their situation or reminding me of our past with her. Ainsley offers up how her and Nate got together before he opens himself up to questions about his job. The conversation flows as smoothly as the orange juice.

  Towards the end of the breakfast, we somehow manage to wander back down memory lane.

  “Tell me you didn’t just spend all four years wreaking havoc,” Ryann commands, arms wound tightly around my body from the sitting position in my lap. “Tell me, at some point you four did something to leave the school better.”

  “Fixing broken rules is better,” Holden declares.

  Meena immediately swats at him.

  “What! It is!”

  “Breaking the rules so that they have to write new ones isn’t the same as getting them fixed,” Ainsley giggles.

  “That’s just a potato, tomato situation,” Wyatt brushes off from the kitchen counter he’s sitting on.

  “You know that’s not how that phrase goes,” I grunt.

  “The charity walk,” Nate fondly recalls. “We started an annual charity
walk that they still do to this day.”

  His girlfriend quickly questions, “What kind of charity walk?”

  Wyatt enthusiastically informs, “Light the Path in Lingerie.”

  “I’m sorry, did you say this was a charity walk or charity porno?” Ryann playfully challenges.