Page 65 of PortCity Killers

??T W E N T Y O N E??

“Give it to me,” Bryce held out his hand to me.

When I didn’t immediately set my phone in his palm, he didn’t even bother to look up, but fucking counted. I got to four before I slapped it down with a disgusted grunt all while he continued scrolling through his own. He pocketed the device without looking at me, sending a lazy smile my way when he was finally done.

“You know your brother, and you know yourself. You will keep looking at that damn phone the entire time waiting for a notification that isn’t going to come by sheer force of will. You need to be here,” he gripped the back of my neck, “In the game. Present.”

He was right, of course, but it didn’t mean I had to like it, and I certainly didn’t want to think about the four new bad girl spanks I’d earned for not giving him the damn thing the moment he held his hand out.

My only saving grace was the fact that Vosco had yet to grace us with his presence, so I was spared the humiliation of having to deal with whatever smart ass comment he would likely have made.

“Are you sure he said nine?” I asked again, for the hundredth time, I’m sure.

My knee bounced under the table; my hands were sweating, and all Bryce did was lean back in the booth next to me cool as a goddamn cucumber. I knew, logically, that Bryce could be fucking pissing his pants scared, and it wouldn’t matter.

Those ice blue eyes and that chiseled jaw wouldn’t betray an ounce of feeling, no matter what the situation was, but I couldn’t help but be a little irritated at his composure. Obviously, my body thought it was necessary to expel all the anxiety for the both of us.

“I’m sure.”

Bryce scooted himself closer to me, leaning into the side of me that was bouncing around like a jumping bean in a bag. When he laid an arm around the back of me, my body stilled, pleasure zinging down straight through to my clit.

Bryce and I had a very rigid, very distinct code of conduct when we interacted in the outside world: do not engage. Ever. No interactions that couldn't be explained away, no eye contact for too long, and certainly no touching.

Those rules seemed to all crumble away the moment that Vosco found out about who I was to Bryce, and I was still reeling from the experience of having him do things like fucking cuddle me to him in public.

Every brush of his hands felt hotter; every grace of his lips against my skin like a livewire running through me. I hadn’t realized how much I needed the public claiming until he had grabbed my hand this morning, walking us from his apartment down to his regular stomping ground at the docks.

Having Bryce Nox hold the door open for me, my smaller hand in his, sweating or not, had butterflies racing through my veins. He’d swept his hand out for me to sit first, closing me into the booth like he was the only thing standing between me and the rest of the world.

Him claiming me in such a normal fucking way, everyday action–dear Lord, sweet baby Jesus–I was about ten steps from combusting.

The little shit knew it too. His sly smiles and the way his big hand fell to my bare thigh, just this close to indecently. I gritted my teeth against the warmth of his paw, the rough drag of his calloused fingers as he slid his thumb up and down my soft flesh.

“Do you have any idea how fucking cute it is to watch you squirm for me like this?” he asked, his voice rough and husky, “I’ve been waiting a long fucking time to be able to parade you down the street—to let everyone know you’re mine.” His lips brushed over my ear to whisper against my skin, down my neck, “To show them exactly who they have to deal with if they even dared to touch my pretty little baby. You know what they call your daddy?”

I nodded, near whimpering at his closeness. I tried not to turn into a puddle on the floor. I knew exactly what they called him, and his reputation was one that haunted the lesser men working the docs here in town.

Bryce was not a man whom you wanted to cross. He might not talk about his job, and I might not be the smartest cookie in class, but I could damn well put two and two together to make four.

“You know why?”

I shook my head, my eyes locked on his lips. He smirked, quirking them to the side as his tongue darted out for just a second. I caught a flash of metal before he bit down on my ear lobe, sending shivers up my spine. I wanted to throw myself onto his lap and bite down on that fucking lip.

“They call me that because it’s daddy’s job to show people what happens when they touch his things.” He played with a curl that had escaped my bun, “And that’s what you are, aren’t you? Daddy’s?”

I nodded so hard I thought I would lose my head. When he smiled, it was blinding, a radiating light that shone from under his skin and bathed me in its warmth.

He laid a gentle kiss to my forehead, “Good girl. You remember that, okay?”

I said fuck it and shifted myself, hiding my head in the crook of his neck, half draped over him. He laughed but didn’t push me off or make me feel dumb about it. He just pushed the table so I could comfortably sit in his lap, while he ran his hand up and down my back.

If this wasn’t a fucking claiming, I didn’t know what was, but I relished in the feeling of being Bryce the Butcher’s property.

By the time Vosco came in, I was a melted puddle of goo and probably resembled half the sticky unknown substances on the floor. I also knew exactly what Bryce had done. Not that I minded in the least, his tactics for distraction were very much appreciated, by both my body and the little pitter patter that had started in my heart. So much so that I really didn’t give a shit when Vosco stood beside the both of us with a raised brow.

He looked tense, his shoulders back, the sharp stubble of his jaw grown out a little rougher than it had been last time I’d seen him.

“If you’re quite done,” he sighed, settling himself into the booth in front of us. It forced me to have to move if I wanted to see him, and I didn’t think it would be very professional if I just kept my back to him, “I’d like to get this meeting started.”

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