I'll admit, it was a moment of weakness, fucking that tight pussy out in the open, making her come loudly while everyone was out in the office listening.
My cock grows hard, recounting it in my head. Everything Mouse does, every second she's on my dick makes me hunger for more of her.
Damien hands me a tumbler and I pour half of the bourbon down my throat. The alcohol is a different burn from the cigarette, but a welcomed one just the same.
As the bourbon warms my gut, I push away the thoughts of Mouse and her wet pussy. There will be plenty of time for that.
"She wants me to start my own house," I tell Damien.
That's my opening move. The first right thing to say.
Damien goes rigid. His reaction doesn't register on his face, but I've known my brother long enough to know when he's weighing his options, half of them bad.
I take a long hit from the cigarette and it burns like a wick between my fingers.
"And?" he finally asks. "Are you considering it?"
"Maybe."
His jaw flexes. "Don't condescend to me."
I take another hit. Smoke curls in the light.
"What do you want?" he asks, resigned, as he goes to the balcony doors and pulls them open. "Name your price."
If I wasn't so desperate to protect Jessie, I might have considered her idea. I might have left my brother for good and established my own house, been the king of my own keep. It does hold a certain appeal. Damien has always been the proverbial older brother, too stubborn for his own good.
"Co-Head of House."
His attention cuts to me like a whip. "Absolutely not."
My brother has always been insufferably predictable.
"Then I guess we're leaving." I start for the door and make it barely three steps.
"Wait."
I bury a smile.
It feels a little unconscionable, using Jessie as a bargaining chip, but I knew before I walked into this office that Damien wouldn't want to let her go. He's just as desperate as I am to control her, for different reasons, in different ways.
The difference is I'd die for her.
And Damien wants to control the shiny new toy, the one that glimmers in the light.
"Is that it?" he asks.
I turn back to him. "I think we should revisit the idea of bringing on a few witches."
He snorts.
"Now who condescends?" I counter.
"Why?" he asks.
"Because we're going to need magic. We're not going to understand all of the intricacies of having a fae in our house. And I don't know if you noticed or not, but we're shit at protecting what's ours in the daylight."
He knows I'm right.