Page 16 of Bourbon Wishes (Wine Country Alphas #3)

Constance

K araoke Night changes Bastian. Or maybe it's what we did at Karaoke Night. I'm not entirely sure which is true. All I know is that the following week is…different.

He's softer in a way he's never been, more patient than I think anyone thought he was capable of being. Even his cousins notice the change. By the end of the week, they're walking on eggshells, so caught off guard by the change that they don't know how to react.

I'm not entirely sure what to do with this new side of him, either. He's always been human to me, but he's even more so now. It's seriously messing with my head. In quiet moments, while the sweat is cooling on our skin or he's just holding me, his soft whisper in the bathroom echoes in my head.

Let me in.

Let me in.

I want to do it. God, do I ever. But I choke on fear every damn time I think about telling him how I really feel about him.

I think I'd rather have one piece of him than none of him at all.

And if I tell him that I've fallen head over heels for him, I'm terrified I'll lose him.

He'll pull away, try to put up walls between us, or change the rules again.

We're in a good place, and I do not want to rock the boat. But…the longer I don't say it, the harder it gets to carry that secret in silence. I love him. Wildly. Desperately.

Sometimes, he looks at me, and I'm convinced he feels the same. This isn't just sex. It isn't about control. It can't be…right?

I'm too afraid to be wrong to ask that question, so I just don't.

I'm a coward.

On Thursday afternoon, he appears in my office doorway like a dark knight, all ruffled hair and scruff. My stomach turns a flip as his green eyes bore into mine.

"We need to talk."

Never in the history of ever has anything good come after that sentence.

"Okay," I say slowly, tapping the button to save the video I'm working on.

Our social media has really started to pick up since I started including pictures and videos of Bastian and his cousins.

The video of Jax and Haven celebrating the arrival of the new printer performed nearly as well as the video of Jax melting down over it.

And the montage of Bastian and Trystan on their little roadtrip outperformed even that one. No one can resist that grumpy scowl.

"My parents know that we've been sleeping together."

"Oh." I blink at him, not sure what I'm supposed to say. Luna and Carter know I'm having sex with their son. Awkward.

"They want you to come to dinner tonight."

"Uh…" I pause, studying his expression. He seems…tense about it. Definitely not thrilled. That's not a good sign. "I get the impression you don't like this plan?"

"Hell no," he growls.

"Oh." I try to pretend that answer doesn't hurt my feelings, but it's a lie. My feelings are definitely hurt. "Then I won't go."

"You have to go."

"I'm not going, Bastian."

"Yes, you are," he growls.

"You just said you didn't want me to go!"

"What the fuck?" His brows furrow as he stomps all the way into my office. "When did I say that?"

"You said you weren't thrilled."

"I'm not."

I scowl at him, contemplating stabbing him with a pen. I bet his cousins would cover for me.

"Jesus." He shoves my office door closed before stalking toward me. I try to push him away, but he's big and bossy and manhandles me despite my protests. I end up on his lap in my chair.

"You are such a jerk," I mutter.

"Yeah, I know. But I'd rather have you pissed at me for something I did than for whatever shit you're thinking right now.

I didn't say I don't want you to go," he murmurs, sinking his hand into my hair to tip my head back the way he always does.

I'm not sure if it's a control thing or a comfort thing for him, but it's like he's only happy if his hand is in my hair, and he's moving me where he wants me.

"I said I'm not thrilled. I had plans for you tonight, and they didn't involve listening to my mom tell you embarrassing stories of the dumb shit I did as a kid. "

"Oh." I pause, processing this. "What kind of dumb shit?"

"There may be photos of me dressed as a magician, pulling all kinds of stuff out of my hat."

I laugh softly. "You were a kid."

"I was twelve."

"I was convinced I was going to marry Nick Jonas when I was twelve." My lips twitch at the memory. "I even had a mock wedding with his poster."

"Yeah, fuck that," he growls. "You aren't marrying some jackass who poses for posters."

I fight a smile. Even when we're talking about someone who doesn't even know I exist, he's jealous. I kind of love it, even though I probably shouldn't. "So…you don't want me to go to dinner with your parents because you don't want me to find out that you're actually human?"

"No, I don't want you subjected to whatever interrogation Ma is sure to have prepared beforehand," he mutters. "She's relentless."

"I love your mom, Bastian."

"I wanted you all to myself tonight."

"Well, too bad." I smile up at him. "You'll just have to defile me later. Luna gets dibs tonight."

His scowl softens as he stares at me. "Fine, but if she starts asking you all sorts of invasive questions, it's your own fault."

"What kind of invasive questions?"

"Knowing Ma? Who the fuck knows?" He seems mildly alarmed at the thought, which makes me laugh. Luna is kind of wild. She has no filter and basically does whatever she wants. I don't think anyone ever tells her no. Honestly, she's awesome.

"I can handle it."

"I hope so," he mutters, still seemingly stressed about it. "I'm going to be pissed if you try to turn in your resignation tomorrow."

I blink up at him. "You really think I'll quit?"

"I think I don't want to risk finding out," he says. "We need you around here. In case you haven't noticed, you're one of the two people who actually accomplish anything most days of the week."

"Ridley accomplishes a lot," I protest.

"He's the other one of the two."

"You weren't counting yourself?" I arch a brow. "Bastian Grayson knows humility? Miracles will never cease."

"Bastian Grayson hasn't gotten a fucking thing done since a certain social media manager started," he says, tipping my head back further. "He spends ninety percent of his day sitting in his office, thinking up ways to get said social media manager alone and naked."

"Weird." I peek around. "We've been alone for at least five minutes, and I'm still fully clothed."

"You think I haven't noticed?" He arches a brow, one hand slipping beneath my shirt. "Believe me, baby. I've been considering how I want to fuck you since I walked through the door."

"Oh, really?" I wriggle on his lap before slipping to my knees. My hands land on his thighs, my eyes meeting his. "Maybe I'll be the one doing the fucking this time."

"Fuck," he growls, his eyes flashing my favorite needy emerald green. His hands clench around the arms of my chair, his chest shuddering. "I love the sight of you on your knees, Constance."

"I'm aware," I say dryly, already working at his zipper. "You keep me there as often as possible." That's not a lie. I have rug burn at this point. It's not like I'm complaining, though. I love being on my knees with his dick down my throat, watching him slowly unravel for me.

He's already unraveling as I delve inside his boxers to pull his erection out. He yanks at his tie to loosen it; his eyes locked on the sight of his cock in my hands. I wrap them around his hard length, squeezing and stroking, toying with him until an impatient, needy growl rumbles in his throat.

When I lean forward, licking the broad head of his cock, his hands sink into my hair, a groan vibrating from his lips.

"Christ, baby. You suck me so fucking well," he rasps.

I hum in response, flicking my tongue against the slit.

Precum already beads there, the tangy flavor bursting on my tongue.

I swear, I'm addicted to the way he tastes.

Or maybe it's the way he comes unglued in my mouth.

He's not in control when he's down my throat.

He's wild and desperate, practically begging.

Nothing is sexier than this man begging.

"Fuck," he groans loud and low when I suck him deep, taking him all the way to the back of my throat.

His hands tighten in my hair, pulling it back so he can watch the way his cock disappears in my mouth as I bob on him, licking and sucking.

"You're beautiful every fucking day of the week, but when you're on your knees with my dick down your throat, you're a goddess, Constance. "

I whimper around him, fighting to take more. My lips are stretched to capacity around him, but I swallow anyway, taking just a little bit more. His hips buck against my face, a curse falling from his lips.

I peek up at him, silently giving him permission to let go.

He doesn't need a second invitation. He wraps my hair around his fist, using it to hold me in place as he fucks my face, forcing his cock as far down my throat as he can until I choke around him. He holds me down on him for a second and then pulls back, allowing me to breathe.

I slip one hand in my pants.

"That's right," he growls. "Play with that pretty pussy while I fuck your face, baby. Make yourself come for me."

I plunge my hand into my panties, my fingers circling my swollen clit as he bucks his hips again, thrusting in and out of my mouth. I'm already racing toward the edge, trying to get him off before I get there, but we both know that won't happen.

"You're so wet I can hear you," he says, his gaze flickering between the hand between my legs and his dick in my mouth. "You love having my dick down your throat, don't you?"

I bob my head in a frantic nod.

"Dirty girl," he groans, tugging me back down on his cock until I choke around him again.

The nails of my free hand score his thigh as I unravel, shattering into pieces. He grunts, bobbing me on his cock faster. My head swims, pure ecstasy rushing through my veins.

"Christ, I'm going to come," he grunts, sliding out of my mouth.