The Anti-Hero (The Goode Brothers, #1)(102)
She laughs as she takes the packet and drops it on the desk.
The decision to keep Sadie around as manager of the club was the best decision I’ve made. She’s clearly dedicated to making it the best it can be.
“Check this out,” she says with a proud smile, pulling something from her back pocket. “Look who’s officially enrolled.”
My jaw drops as I stare at the college ID with her photo on the front.
“Oh my god, Sadie!” I say, snatching it out of her hands and pulling her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
With a bashful shrug, she takes the ID from my fingers and stares down at it with a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks. Hopefully, with a business degree, I can really make this place even better.”
“I have no doubt you’re going to do amazing things,” I reply, feeling so proud and excited for her. After only meeting her a few months ago, it’s amazing how right it feels having her here with me. She cares about this club and this industry.
Unlike Brett, who only really looked at the figures at the end of the day, Sadie shares a vision with me of what this place could be and how valuable it would be for a lot of people.
“Your boyfriend is here,” she says, nodding toward the security camera. On the screen, Adam is strutting across the floor of the club, looking fine as hell in that black long-sleeve button-down and tight black slacks.
A moment later, there’s a knock at the door of the office, and I bite back my smile as I open it.
“Can I help you, sir?” I ask, teasing him as I peek my head out.
He leans in, stealing a kiss like he couldn’t go another minute without it. As he pulls away, he flashes me the camera.
“We have work to do,” he says.
“Well, let’s give the people what they want,” I reply.
I wave back at Sadie, who shoots Adam a quick wave before we slip out of the office. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he calls after her before the door closes.
My hand links with his as we walk together toward the Blue Room at the back of the club. While I’m unlocking the door with my master key, Adam crowds me from behind, pulling my hair to the side to kiss along the constellation tattoo on my neck. Goose bumps prickle every inch of my skin and my blood starts to warm up from his tender touch.
Continuing to film our videos has actually been great for the club too. After our account reached nearly two million followers and we had more fame than we anticipated, we had to decide if this was what we really wanted to do. It feels like we’re too far to turn back now and I still worry that this has ruined any chance of Adam achieving his dreams. Especially after the internet proudly proclaimed him the Porn Star Preacher.
He’s promised me he’s not worried about his future—that being the Porn Star Preacher doesn’t bother him. He wants to carve his own path instead of walking down one already paved by someone else. And he seems to really think that even being a quote, unquote “porn star” hasn’t entirely ruined his chances of standing at the pulpit. If he does, I can’t wait to see the congregation that flocks to listen.
He’s setting up the camera on the tripod while I get undressed. We’ve upgraded from our phone cameras to one of those adventure-style cameras that can attach to practically anything. It has made the filming of our videos much more fun. We’ve attached it to the dash of his car while he enjoyed
some road head. We even filmed underwater in a hot tub once.
That was fun.
Once he’s done, he walks over to me, pulling me close as his hand caresses my jaw and neck. Then he leans down and presses his lips to mine.
“I love you, Peaches,” he whispers, and I let those words warm me from the inside out.
As I let my fingers drift over the fabric of his shirt and all the way down to his belt, I gaze up at him with adoration. “I love you too, Church Boy.”
Then with a thin smile, I add, “But we’re going to have to edit that out.”
He laughs. “Yeah, our viewers don’t want to hear that.”
“What do they want to hear?” I ask.
“What do you want to hear?”
With a tilt of my head, gazing up through my lashes, I softly whisper, “You know what I want to hear.”
Like an instinct, his hand moves from the tender spot on my shoulder to the base of my throat, squeezing hard and angling my face up toward his. “You want me to tell you what a dirty little fuck toy you are?”
“Yes, please,” I reply as my toes start to curl and my thighs clench.
Then Adam winks and pecks me quickly on the mouth before shoving me to my knees.
“Get on your knees and beg me to fuck you.”
Gazing up at him from the floor, I love him from this angle. So dominant and confident and nothing like the man who morphed and transformed in front of my very eyes over the span of three months.
Even as I beg him to fuck me like the dirty slut I am, I know that none of this would be possible for him without the trust between us. Adam could never be this free or liberated with anyone else, and that makes me want to be his fuck toy
for the rest of our lives. I know because I feel the same way. I trust that with Adam, this is our fantasy, and he is willing to be as kinky and dirty with me as long as I know he also wants to keep me safe, loved, and protected for the rest of my life.
Both.