Flip (Next Level Book 2)

“You may now kiss the bride.”

I juggle my bouquet, and Ara’s, so I can clap with the rest of the guests. Tears fill my eyes, and I’d love to blame it on sun glare, but what would be the point? Glitch, escorts his new bride down the makeshift aisle in my backyard and I follow behind, hooking my arm with Trey, the best man.

He flashes me a smile that makes my heart skitter around and I work hard to keep my gaze forward until we make it inside the house where I slip my arm out of his. “This is a happy day.”

“Definitely. I haven’t seen Glitch smile this much in…”

“Ever,” I finish for him. I’ve never seen my brother this happy in his entire life. My heart squeezes with both joy and envy. I want happiness like this too.

As we each grab a flute of champagne, I reset my emotions. The back patio doors are wide open, making my house feel like its guts are spilling into the backyard.

“Pictures!” the photographer, Carson, announces. “I need the bridal party over by the archway.”

“Aw, come on, man.” Glitch wraps his arms around Ara. “Put your camera down for a minute and enjoy yourself.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

“It better,” Glitch says, nipping Ara’s fat bottom lip. “I’ve got plans for us and don’t want to wait anymore.”

Ara smacks his arm. “Pictures are important!”

“So is making you purr, Kitty.”

Oh for the love of all things unholy. My ears will never unhear that.

I clap my hands and start hauling ass to the arch covered in my deep purple flowers, if only to get out there before my eyes bleed next. I do not want to see my brother groping my new sister-in-law, fuck you very much. “Picture time!”

At least the wedding party and guest list is small. And the photographer, who’s a friend of Glitch and Trey’s, seems super nice. “Where do you want us to stand, Carson?”

Beetle joins me, yanking on his bowtie. “This thing is too tight. I hate tuxedos.”

“You look good though, little man. Sharp.”

Instead of bitching about wanting to change into a t-shirt and shorts like I expect, Beetle rolls his shoulders back and seems to grow confidence right before my eyes.

I fight the urge to glance at Trey. He’s good for my son.

I think he’s good for me too.

I don’t know how to feel about it.

“Stand next to your mom,” Carson orders. “Trey, get in close.”

Why is he taking pics of just us? “Wait, what about Glitch and Ara?”

“They snuck off already.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“It’s okay, I want to get some shots of you guys and I’ll take care of the rest when they come back.” Carson starts snapping pics and each time he puts us in a new pose, my heart clanks louder against my sternum.

Carson tips his chin at my son. “Go grab your bike.”

“It’s packed away,” I say with a frown. And what’s he want Beetle’s bike for? It’s not like he can ride in the backyard at the moment.

“It’s in the shed, I’ll have to grab it.” Trey heads over to the small building that holds most of my storage and all my garden tools. “We had to play Tetris in here with all the Halloween decorations to make the yard stuff fit.”

“You like Halloween, huh?” Carson snaps another random picture.

“It’s the only holiday I actually love.” Spooky season should last all year round if you ask me. “Why do you want Brendan on his bike?”

“Glitch said he’s good at trick shots. Figured I can capture some of it for you while I’m here. It’ll look fire with him in a tux. Hey!” Carson yells at Trey. “Grab his skateboard, too, if you can.”

“He’ll get all dirty!” I don’t know why I’m arguing. I want these pics, to be honest, but I also feel lost right now and out of control in my own house.

“We’re all going to be ruining our clothes as soon as the newlyweds show back up, Erin.” Trey carries over my son’s BMX bike that used to belong to Glitch, as well as his freestyle skateboard. “Or did you forget?”

How can I possibly forget Ara wants a paint battle in the front yard where we’re all going to wreck the dress and shoot each other with paint-filled water guns Glitch rigged up?

This is, by far, the whackiest wedding ever.

“Okay, my dude, let’s take this stuff out front and make some magic happen.” Carson lures Beetle off and I’m stuck standing under the arch with no clue what to do.

The caterers are handling everything—including breaking down the seats and aisle and moving in the dining tables and centerpieces. The yard is bustling around me, my house is filled with strangers enjoying appetizers and cocktails, and my son is riding his bike in a tux.

It’s a fucking circus and I’m not even the ringleader at this point.

“You look stunning.” Trey knocks me out of my frazzled thoughts by kissing me.

I feel like everyone’s staring at us. I feel guilty and I can’t figure out why. I catch myself trying to duck away.

“We don’t have to hide anymore, Erin.”

All because my brother knows about us doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be cautious. My son doesn’t have a clue that we’re…. together.

Trey ran his hand down my thigh under the table yesterday while the three of us ate lunch and I nearly leapt out of my seat. He must have sensed it too, because he squeezed my leg twice, as if telling me to calm down and behave myself. He didn’t let go of me, even after Beetle ran into the living room to play video games for a little while.

And now he’s kissed me in front of everyone.

I hate feeling confused about it.

“Smoke’s going to start funneling out of your ears, little mama.” He boops the tip of my nose and walks off, his hands in his pockets as he makes his way back into the house.

God, his ass is fine.

Trey’s tall, built, and swaggers without showing off. His confidence is almost calming.

I don’t know why I keep letting myself second-guess things with him. I need to stop.

I need to chill.

I need to…

“Hey, Mom! Check out what Carson caught me doing!”

Jesus Christ, how long have I been standing here stuck in my head?! I blink a few times, resetting myself—again—and smile at Brendan. “Let me see!”

Carson pulls up the photos on his camera screen and starts clicking through them. “He’s a natural.”

“Wow.” I can’t believe these pics are even real. “These are amazing.” Brendan’s in his element and reminds me so much of Glitch when he was that age.

“Done already?” Trey comes back to join us, and I swear his timing is too perfect. What was he doing, watching me from inside my living room? He takes the camera and starts clicking through the shots. “Amazing.”

“Of course, it is. I’m the best of the best.” Carson snags his camera away. “And don’t touch my baby. She doesn’t like being manhandled by anyone but me.”

The two of them laugh and Trey’s eyes fall on me. “I know all about that.”

•••

I have to admit, that paint gun battle was a blast. I’m covered in head-to-toe washable colors and feel like a bag of Skittles left out in the rain, which is way more exhilarating that I would have guessed.

The stairs creak like always and I hold on to the banister with one hand, lifting my dress with the other, as I head to my room to change. Trey’s in front of me, giving me an exquisite view of his ass. That tux must have been tailored to fit his six-foot-four frame, and it does not disappoint. I’m a little sorry it’s covered in paint now.

“I’ll use the guest bathroom,” he says.

“No.” I slide past him when we reach the top of the steps. “I want you to be in mine.”

His jaw clenches even as his eyes soften. “Okay.”

People are laughing downstairs and out in the backyard. It makes me freeze because I’m stuck between excitement and something else. I don’t want to get caught, but at the same time, I love the idea.

I just don’t want it to be by my son.

“Better get moving,” he growls in my ear. Trey’s baritone is soft but demanding. My nipples instantly harden. “How about a push?” He bumps my ass with his groin, and a shiver of delight zips through me.

We make our way into my bedroom, and I shut and lock the door behind us. My heart’s racing a mile a minute, my hands are clammy. Paint is smeared across my door from me shutting it. Great. “This is why I can’t have nice things.”

“It’ll wash off,” he says, already pulling off his bowtie.

I watch him undress. The desire to beg him to bang me against my dresser is strong.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” He slips out of his shirt, and I gawk at his abs. No man should look this good. It’s too humbling for us mere mortals. “Erin.” He places his hands on my hips and the memory of what we did in the hotel bathroom yesterday morning shoots through me, making my pussy ache. “Do I have to carry you into the shower…” Trey nips my earlobe. “Or make you crawl there?”

Oh. My. God.

Threats like that shouldn’t make me so hot. But they do. They really, really do.

I somehow find two functional brain cells to rub together and put one foot in front of the other, eventually making my way into the bathroom.

I feel good when he treats me like this because I don’t have to think, I just do what I’m told. And the way he looks at me, the way he touches me… I turn into a Goddess on the inside and out.

Until I catch my reflection in a mirror like I am now.

Holy moly, the bags under my eyes should require their own luggage tags. And my mascara is smeared from crying and from laughing too hard. There’s paint in my braided hair and my boobs are spilling out of my top because the dress weighs more now that its saturated.

I look awful.

Desperate to fix myself, I reach around to unzip my dress and can’t snag the stupid zipper. The more I try, the harder it gets. Damnit! Just as I eye up the drawer that holds a sewing kit and debate using the scissors to cut myself out of this damn thing, Trey’s hand lands on my waist.

He cocks an eyebrow at me through the mirror I’m still standing in front of. “Did I tell you to take this dress off yet?”

Now isn’t the time for his bullshit sexy talk.

“I’m about two seconds away from cutting myself out of this thing, Trey. If you don’t help me unzip it, so help me God…”

He makes no move to help.

And I’m not bluffing.

Spinning on my heels, I march over and grab the scissors from my drawer. He pulls me backwards, sits on the bed, and turns me over his knees and takes my scissors away. I hold still, thinking he’s going to spank me, almost desperate for it.

Instead, cool air hits my back as he unzips my dress. “Now get up and face the wall, Erin.”

I almost don’t want to. But whenever I follow his commands my head shuts off, and it feels good.

“Lift your arms,” he says softly, but firmly.

I do and the dress pools down around my ankles, slipping effortlessly off my body to display the oh-so-not-sexy-or-comfortable shapewear I’m wearing underneath it. My face heats and I want to crawl under a rock and die.

“What is this?”

“What’s it look like?” I snap back at him.

Trey rises from the edge of my bed and makes his way to me in three strides. He lifts my chin with his finger. “Do you like wearing it?”

His question catches me off guard. “I like looking sexy,” I admit. “This helps me achieve that.”

But it kind of hurts and is uncomfortable since I’m not used to it and it’s probably a size too small at this point.

“That’s not what I asked you, Erin.” He slips his finger under my shoulder strap, toying with it while his other hand spans across my ribcage. I can’t even feel him touch my side because the fabric is too thick and tight. “Do you like wearing this or not?”

“No,” I confess. “But—”

“Shut that pretty fucking mouth.” He moves in front of me, holding the scissors between us, and runs the sharp tips down between my breasts. I’m breathing fast, which makes my hefty chest rise and fall.

I’m not afraid of Trey. I’m afraid of how much I’m going to like what he might do next.

He tugs the crotch of my shapewear and cuts it. The straps instantly stop digging into my shoulders, giving me a little relief. I’m about to say something when I suddenly feel him pull the front of the shapewear down, stretching it taut as he cuts it up the middle.

“You think squeezing and reshaping will make you look better?” His tone is sharp.

It makes me hotter.

“I think it smooths out the lumps which is nice.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment. My heart’s in my throat. This is thrilling and humiliating and relieving all at the same time. I can’t tell if I want to cry or kiss him.

“You wear shit like this only if you want to, not because you think you have to. Understand me?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes.”

Goosebumps ripple down my arms and legs when he touches my belly with the back of his hand. I hate that I’m not fit anymore. I hate that I have a scar from my C-section and a bunch of stretch marks. I hate a lot of things about myself, but when Trey talks like this, it gives me a distraction. A skewed view. He touches me like I’m a sculpture behind a big red rope he’s not allowed to cross and does anyway.

“Now,” he says, nuzzling my neck as he pulls the tattered clothing off me. “Get in that shower so I can make you twice as wet.”

•••

“I’m going to give you one minute to get dressed in an outfit you love to wear. You will not put on underwear. You will not put on shoes. And you’re going to meet me in the hallway before your minute is up. If you don’t, I’m coming back in here and you won’t like what I’ll do.” He nips my bottom lip. “But I will.”

My eyes roll back and lashes flutter.

I honestly can’t tell if that’s a threat or a promise.

And I have no idea what’s gotten into him.

But when Trey leaves and shuts the door, I swear I start counting in my head and rip into my closet like my house is about to crash down around my ears. Something I love to wear. Something I love to wear…

I don’t have anything! Every pair of jeans, shorts, and all my dresses don’t hit right.

I’m running out of time.

I can’t believe I’m this giddy to obey. I can’t believe he’s being so bossy! I can’t believe I’m panicking about screwing this game up, because what’s the worst thing he could do, come back in here and blow my back out? Oh darn.

But Beetle’s downstairs with Glitch and Ara and I have a lot more guests in my house that I need to remember are going to be here for a while. There’s a time and place for the game of “Almost getting caught.” Right now isn’t it.

I jerk the hangers around and finally find something that might test Trey’s tolerance. With a devious grin, I slip into the blue sundress and pull my hair into a low ponytail.

Trey telling me to wear something I love and calling me out on that shapewear under my dress makes me feel some kind of way. Shame doesn’t hold a candle to my confidence right now. Because this is an outfit I absolutely love to wear.

Is it fancy? No. But it’s still cute and my boobs look pretty damn great. I dash to the door, and hear Trey’s low, rumbling, soft voice counting down on the other side. “Six… five… four…”

I jerk the doorknob and swing it open.

Trey stops counting and stands straighter, pushing away from the railing. His gaze drags up and down my body, a smile spreading across his handsome face. He even bites his bottom lip, before saying, “Oh, we like that.”

Yes. We. Do.

Trey always looks at me like I’m the sexiest thing in the room. It makes me feel hot instead of frumpy. Sashaying past him, I grab a hunk of his shirt to pull him with. “Let’s get downstairs before someone notices we’re missing.”

He catches my wrist before I make it very far. “You’ve disobeyed me.”

The hell I have. I throw my hands up. “Not funny, Trey.”

“Am I laughing?”

Yes, he is with his eyes. They’re light and filled with humor and lust. Trey starts pulling my sundress up, and my breath catches when he grazes his knuckles across my panties. Arching his brow, he growls, “I said no panties.”

“We’re having a wedding down there!”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s the second coming of Jesus down there. I said no panties.”

Did I know he’d have this reaction to my little disobedience? Sort of. I didn’t expect it to make me feel this hot but hey, my ass isn’t going to spank itself.

He slides his hand down, taking my underwear with him.

Using his shoulders to balance myself, I step out of the blue panties, my cheeks flaming with excitement.

He brings them to his nose and inhales, deeply.

I watch him do it and I get so wet, I’m certain it’s dripping down my legs. “I can’t go down there like this.”

“You can and you will.” He slaps my ass, making me yelp, and leads me to the steps. “Naughty little slut.”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment and elation. I don’t like being called a slut.

I love it.

Walking down the steps, I give him a spectacular view of my ass and bite back a squeal when I hear him groan behind me. I can’t believe how empowered I feel in a stupid sundress and no underwear. It’s naughty and risky and exciting and dirty. Here’s hoping I don’t leave a big, noticeable wet spot on my chair at the reception, but even if I do, I think Trey would have some way to make me feel proud about it.

My bare feet hit the bottom floor and I look up to see him still staring at me from the top of the stairs. Gripping the banister as if trying to hold back from something—like hooking this dress over my ears and taking me every which way I beg him to—he licks his lips and shakes his head. “Damn.”

With a fuck-ton of confidence, I flash him a grin. “You coming?”

I don’t hang around to hear his answer.

He’ll be coming alright.

Later tonight, I’ll make sure we both do.