Well-groomed, posh men like Bran are not my type. At all.
But something about him—
My movements abruptly stop when the gate creaks open and lotus flower steps outside dressed in black shorts and a royal-blue tee that stretches over his broad shoulders, expanded chest muscles, and lean waist.
He’s not in your face, but he definitely has a superior build. He’s toned in a lean way, hard and firm everywhere.
Kolya twitches in my shorts and I groan under my breath.
“Fuck, dude.” I glare down at him. “Make up your mind. Are you easy or hard? Pun intended.”
I get no answer. Naturally. He’s literally a dick.
Lotus flower takes his picture of the day and posts it on Instagram. I’ll peek at it later after he escapes to his prince's mansion. For now, I’d rather get my fill of him. Add new material for my daily jerk-off session and all that.
He marches with sure, slightly forced movements down the road. His gaze flits sideways, probably searching for me, but I’m well hidden behind the trees.
Can’t have their cameras catching me and reporting back to the major douchebag Landon. Not that I’m opposed to pummeling that bitch to the ground and cracking his skull in two, but I’d rather not trigger any complications when I’m trying to get into his brother’s pants.
Or ass.
Anyway, lotus flower keeps searching his surroundings and I remain hidden just to fuck with him.
Yesterday, I jumped to his side as soon as he rounded the corner and he was far away from the mansion’s cameras. He looked at me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, and even though that expression lasted for a fraction of a second, you can bet I added it to my mental catalog full of everything Brandon King.
Today, I’m using a different strategy. Can’t let him get used to my modus operandi and quit showing me those special responses.
I want him to get as close as possible. Until I smell him. Until—
He stops a few yards away on the dirt road and I get a front-row seat of his side profile. Is he sure he’s not interested? Because he dressed up so prettily for me. Though he does wear the same clothes in different colors, there’s something about today’s color. Blue brings out the blue in his mysterious, snobbish eyes.
Though I’d rather he go shirtless so I can get a front-row seat to his body and possibly sink my teeth into it.
Figuratively, of course.
Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s definitely literally.
I’m about to close the distance between us when a convertible Audi stops right in front of him.
A blonde bombshell jumps out of the car, wearing skimpy shorts that reveal the crease of her ass and a sports bra that barely covers her big tits.
Her lips are unnatural as fuck and she’s wearing more makeup than a drag queen.
She lunges at Brandon in a ferocious hug, her entire body gluing to his front. “Babe!! I’m so happy you decided to give this a go again. I promise everything will be better this time. You know how much I love you, handsome.”
He pats her back, but there’s no enthusiasm behind his movement. His expression doesn’t change, not even a little.
Like a robot.
I got a better reaction from him by plucking out his AirPods, blondie.
Not that I care.
I don’t.
And yet my hand twitches, demanding I throw her off the nearest, steepest cliff.
How dare she interrupt our morning ritual that’s been going on for three days?
Two.
She pushes back, smiling like a model, her face soft as she coos at him and kisses the corner of his mouth. Disgusting.
Oh, look at that. Brandon’s favorite word.
“Do we have to go on a run, though?” She pouts like a goddamn toddler. “You know I don’t like that, or waking up early, actually.”
A lot of you knows are thrown around.
Who is this chick?
I probably saw her on his IG that I spent a whole night going through, thank you very much.
Though the only occurrence I remember was two years ago when someone who looked like her, sans the bleached hair, was hanging on his arm.
The reason she caught my attention is because he never posts pictures with girls who aren’t his friends.
Considering I acquainted myself with his female—and male—friends, I knew she was not on the list.
Clara.
I remember the name because I made a note to visit her IG as well, but I didn’t have time since it was already five and I needed to get here.
Who the fuck are you, Clara, and what’s your favorite way to die?
I’m about to step into the scene and ask her just that—or maybe just scare her away. That shit comes naturally to me.