Chapter Text
I'll use you as a warning sign
That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind
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“Wrigley?”
Wrigley recovered from daydreaming. “Sorry, Pippa, what did you say?”
Him and Pippa got together for coffee at the Starbucks down the road from her work; his gym was not too far. They met every once in a while when they weren’t busy.
He was staring out the window that towered over them, fascinated by the people going about their daily lives. Some of them running through the red walk lights rushing to work, cars honking simultaneously to the crowds conversing.
New York City was the same.
It was as though nothing changed.
And he and Bree picked up where they left off.
They met thrice a week, whether it was his workplace or hers. Don’t get him wrong here when he says that he loves the sex, but when she stopped and talked to him about her week—excluding her husband—it enraptured him.
She was the same Bree from Baird, needing his advice, wanting for someone to listen. He gave her the same energy. He shared his life with her. The only slight difference was there were times…where she was forced to hold back from him. She never used to do that. Bree used to unburden herself so easily to him…
Something changed there. He wondered what…
Pippa sipped her coffee. “I was asking if you had plans for Christmas this year?”
It was the end of November. Thanksgiving ended last week. He did nothing that day.
His parents called.
He didn’t answer.
“Uh, not really,” he mumbled, throwing down half a sandwich he only took one bite out of onto his plate.
“Good, you can join me and Diana.”
Wrigley tipped his head. “You two not visiting your families this year?”
“Diana’s parents are going to Portugal, but my dad is coming.”
“Okay. Maybe. I haven’t seen Raul in a while. But I’ll let you know.”
Pippa tapped her fingers on the table, eyeing him thoroughly.
Ugh. He hates that look.
“Have you spoken to her since the wedding?”
His heart skipped a beat. “Spoken to who?”
Pippa gave him a look—don’t play dumb with me.
“No…” He fibbed. Wrigley picked on his caprese chicken panini. He had no clue why he ordered food from Starbucks. It ends up nasty as fuck. “You?”
“Yeah, a little here and there.”
Wrigley nodded. “She tell you what her plans are?”
Pippa’s sad smile made him want to fly through the motherfucking window. “She said Evan just wants a big dinner with his parents at their new home.”
Shock colored his features; a sense of dread filled his gut. “They bought a home together?”
“Uh, yeah…”
Bree didn’t tell him that. Sure, they try to limit conversations about her life with Evan and it was easier for them to keep him out of their heads while snuggling up together. Well, unless they’re in the act. Then yeah, they’ll mention him…
But should she have told him? Would it change anything that is happening now?
Accepting that this was his life, he continued the terrible topic, “His parents choose the house? Pay for it too?”
“It was a wedding gift. Besides, when’s the last time Evan showed an ounce of independence?”
“Good point.”
A stiff smile graced her lips. “Does he talk to you?”
“Yeah.” Wrigley hesitated at the scrutinizing look she gave him. “We’re going out tonight for drinks.”
There goes that fucking look again.
What was with the pity?
“What?” he asked irritably.
“Don’t torture yourself like that.”
“I’m not torturing myself. I don’t have to see her.”
“But you do see him and he’ll talk about her.”
Wrigley shrugged, collecting the brown sauce on the chicken between the bread and shoving his forefinger into his mouth.
“I guess things will get better…” Pippa softened, then thought of a perfect solution and perked up, “You just need to find someone new!”
He opened his mouth to respond, when his phone chimed.
Finally.
Bree: Yeah, the usual and maybe a BLT?
He asked her if she wanted anything from Starbucks. He loved that she didn’t go into grave detail about her coffee order anymore. When he brought it to her at the third meetup without her asking, she knew he memorized it by heart. Wrigley will never forget the near-tears in her eyes as she took the first sip.
Elated, he typed away a reply.
Pippa tilted her head, studying his raised lips. “Unless you already found someone? Who’s got you smiling that famous Wrigley-goofy-grin?”
Wrigley looked up from his phone to see her fighting back her own grin. “Uh, no one. It was a funny meme.” He arose quickly, wrapping his sandwich in its plate and taking his drink. “I’ll send it to you later. I gotta get going.”
Pippa scoffed, “Why? You didn’t finish your food.”
He was already headed to the register when he called back, “I’m taking it to go and a little extra! I’ll see you later.”
Pippa threw a hand up and slapped the table, succumbing to his flighty behavior. “Okay?!”
“Harder,” Bree keened. Grunting from behind, Wrigley toughened his grip on her hips as he rammed in and out of her. Her cheek flat on her desk, Bree held onto the edge of it with one hand, while the other flailed behind her to grope at Wrigley’s increasingly fast hips. “Just like that…now move your—” Wrigley circled himself within her, twisting to get to that place she was most responsive. “Fuck, yes like that!” Bree mewled, loud and guttural, “Now harder! Fuck me…harder, faster—”
The noises she makes with him should be a sin.
Fuck, the noises they make together could get him a one way ticket to hell, Azkaban or whatever damning place sinners go to suffer. Wrigley wrapped a hand around the side of her throat to pin her more forcefully and took her in earnest. “Bree, you’re so good—”
God, she could imagine his face, utterly ruined by her, his mop of hair sticking to his face; the loss of control he had inside her. The spring in her belly coiled. But she needed him with her. Bree slapped his side, choking through his tight grasp, “Come with me, come with me—”
It was deafening, it was insistent; both of them came, jerking into each other in sharp spasms and wailing moans. The pulsing of his cock, the wrecked sounds of his orgasm had her whining pathetically against the table’s surface as the high washed over them…
Vigorous sex like this wasn’t something Bree was too keen on but with Wrigley…well…
In the past, she had been too vulnerable in the practice—mostly not into something that looked so brutelike. It was different with him, despite the obvious vulnerability, he gave her something she didn’t have in her past relationships…and with Evan:
A connection so deep, he could give her multiple orgasms.
She wasn’t being funny. Or lying for that matter.
Bree could cum at the sound of his voice, at the touch of his hands, at just the simple thrill of being inside her. Bree sighed; she knew what that meant…
The sweltering air in her office began filtering out from the running A/C.
Her eyes moved to the side to the stack of images pressed against her cheek. Bree groaned, “Oh god…”
Wrigley pushed her hair to the side so he could kiss her neck, quaking her body with his rumbling laughter. “What is it?”
Automatically, her fingers went to the back of his head to comb through. “I just fucked up these pictures.”
Wrigley helped her up, enough for her to not be struggling anymore on her tippy toes. She pitched her head back for him to kiss her passionately, his fingers possessively matting her hair. He muttered against the corner of her lips, “Mm, that’s too bad.”
“Thank goodness they’re mockups,” Bree whispered, staring enticingly at his reddened lips.
Wrigley only ever had eyes for her even when something else was displayed in front of him. She explained and showed him the photos while they were eating earlier. He knew how talented she was. When he came to her floor, her assistant wasn’t at the front desk like she said. Bree told him to just come inside her office, only to see her scourging through mockups for a sports magazine she just finalized a contract with. Bree was a freelancer, but she did occasionally get a hold of the top publications in New York.
He knew she would make it big.
“They’re really good.”
“Thanks.”
Wrigley removed himself from her, imprinting a short kiss on her jawline. “Congratulations by the way. I’m proud of you.”
Bree hummed, turning her body to face him. “Is that why you came by earlier than usual? Give me a congratulatory gift?”
“Yeah…” He trailed his hands up her waist, around her back, just to yank her to his chest. Bree bit her lip to repress her moan, feeling the heat of his nakedness through her dress. “Did you like it?”
“Mhm…” Wrigley swiped his tongue up her neck to her ear, sucking an earring into his mouth. “I might just love it…” She rolled her eyes back as he worked her up into a frenzy, kissing and sucking behind her ear. The perfect place to hide away her transgressions. “Wrigley?”
“Hm?” A hand wandered to her breast, squeezing it through the fabric. She was still fully clothed as he was shirtless and pantsless, his clothing thrown on her leather couch where they were making out earlier. “What is it?”
“I’ve never…um,” Bree gulped. “I never had sex like this before.”
Wrigley drew back, a tiny amused. “Okay…?”
“I mean, it’s not always easy for me to feel like this with anyone and to, um…” Bree hung her head to curtain her crimson cheeks, but then jolted the stupid thoughts out her mind. “Never mind. This is so silly. I’m acting like this is new for us. It’s not like we've been at this for months… except for…”
“Bree?” He cut her off before she could continue the ranting phase of her nerves.
“Yeah?”
“I know,” he affirmed. “I know it’s different. Pretty sure you and I figured that out the last time we were doing this.” Bree smiled whimsically. “I never knew what it was like to be with someone who…who drives me this wild...”
Bree relaxed in his arms. “Oh yeah?”
“I don’t just like having sex with you. I love it.” Wrigley pecked her lips and teased, “You turn me on in the best ways.”
“You turn me on in the best ways too.”
“I can tell.” He wiggled his brows at her, making her giggle. His gaze turned serious as he framed her face in his hands and said, “Every time.”
Both of them breathed each other in as they kissed before separating unwillingly but entirely from one another. Wrigley went to put on his briefs and pants.
“So what did you do today?” Bree twisted her panties back to its rightful place, pulled her dress back down and slipped on her heels. “Did you go to work?”
“Yeah, just for a few hours this morning. I’m going back later. I, uh, had lunch with Pippa.”
“Oh.” Bree hid the slight jealousy spiked in her chest. It wasn’t that she thought of them together like that anymore, but him and Pippa always had this great bond that she had similar to one other person…who was hard to look in the eyes sometimes without thinking what she did to mess up her life.
And what would Lucy think of her this time? Having another affair? And behind the back of a man who Lucy cheated with years ago, but…Bree ruined her life over?
It sounds crazy when thought about it even in her own head.
Anyway, It would be nice to have someone she could turn to about her and Wrigley’s… meetups. Her and Wrigley’s bond was, well, it was different altogether. It surpassed anything they shared with anyone. She just couldn’t talk to him…about him… “Thought you were having lunch with me,” she laughed off, maybe, yes, a bit insecurely.
“I did and it was the best god damn lunch I’ve ever had.” He smirked, again, reassuring her. “No, seriously, she and I sometimes have lunch to catch up…”
Turning their backs to each other, Bree observed the mockups on her desk. The photos of men in tights, shoulder pads and helmets were suddenly oh-so fascinating. “Haven’t spoken to her since the wedding.”
Wrigley’s spine snapped straight, pausing for a millisecond in airing out his shirt before slipping his arms through. “Really?” He pulled the shirt over his head, rolling it down. “Because she told me you talk sometimes.”
“Oh.” Damnit. “Right. Might have spoken to her like a week or two ago.” She flicked her fingers out indifferently.
“Bree.” He turned around, not even going to mask his disappointment at her. “Why are you lying to me?”
Bree faced him, her palms flat on the surface of her desk as she leaned back. “She told you.”
Wrigley walked closer. “Maybe. But I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?”
“Am I supposed to? So what?” He raised his shoulders in a careless shrug. “It’d be easier for us to sneak around more often without his parents on the prowl.”
Bree let out an airy laugh. “True. He works a lot…”
Unable to resist, Wrigley messed her hair more by gripping it madly, darkening the bruise he left behind.
As much as she hated to tell him the part she left out in her conversation with Pippa, she had to let him know the whole truth. Especially given their current circumstances. Evan and her talked about their future together after their honeymoon. She didn’t understand Evan’s rush, but she stopped and thought about it: Bree wanted this. Marrying Evan was what she wished for and the desire to build a secure life with him…
“Wrigley?”
He answered in a grunt.
“Evan said he wants to start a family.”
Under her palm, back muscles contracted, and his body uncurled from her. “What did you say?”
“I told him I’d think about it.”
“Are you thinking about it?”
“I…it’s not something I’m a hundred percent against…”
A tingling sensation traveled up and down his cold skin. “You want…you want to start a family with him?”
“You knew this was going to happen—”
“I didn’t think it would happen so fucking soon, Bree!” he snapped, turning away to sneer at the floor.
Bree looked at his back in melancholy.
Then he spun, causing whiplash to them both at his fleeting emotions. “Look, I don’t want us to fight. I…” He shook his head. “I won’t care.”
“Stop saying that.”
“What?” Wrigley was going into frustration mode. “Stop saying what?”
“That you don’t care! I know you care!”
Exasperated, Wrigley excruciatingly raged, “What do you want from me?! Fuck! I beg you not to marry him you said no! I beg you to be with me. You said no! I hurt myself so many times with you and you’re asking me to fucking care again and I can’t!” He finished in controlled pants, harried in appearance. Only able to choke out, “I can’t…”
Bree strided towards him, kissing his face fervently and all-over. Her voice cracked as it begged forgiveness, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
She nibbled at his lower lip as it quivered, “Stop…stop…” Wrigley peeled her off gently. He didn’t need her urgent desire to make him feel better. He knew he never will be. “Look, you build your family with him. You have all his nice riches whatever. I don’t care.” Then plainly said, “I have you and that’s all I need.”
A flush of adrenaline rushed through her. Without a second thought, Bree captured his lips in a savagely, dirty kiss, their tongues unleashing their desires for one another once more.
Rapping at the door reluctantly broke them apart. “Hold on!” Bree yelled. Fixing her hair, she looked to Wrigley as her mirror, who nodded, confirming she looked presentable—in which she patted him down too.
A bouquet of flowers were shoved in her face as soon as she opened the door to her assistant. “Judy.”
“These are for you.” Judy pushed the vase into her hands. “Your husband was here. He wanted to congratulate you on your new contract.” Judy looked to the left of Bree to see Wrigley standing there.
“This is Wrigley. He’s…a…he came to see…”
Judy, her assistant, hadn't exactly met Wrigley in these past few weeks since they were having sex again. Bree chose times where Judy was on lunch or going on errands Bree made up for her to do. Today was difficult to get Judy out the building, but Bree asked her to check on the studio equipment across the hall. She knew it was enough time for Wrigley to sneak in.
This was the first interaction her assistant had with her…lover.
Bree internally recoiled at the title she gave Wrigley.
Wrigley reached out to give Judy a handshake. Judy returned it, but Bree knew better. The haughty way her lips upturned showed how unimpressed she was. “I’m a fitness trainer, I own the fitness center downtown. And I’m an old friend of the talented Bree Davis.”
“Oh!? Did you not change your name Bree? Thought it was Bree Donovan now?”
The confined space between all three tensed.
“Actually, Davis is still my professional name, Judy. You know that,” Bree grumbled, shooting her a look that said ‘chill out.’
Wrigley, trying to save face, went on, “We went to college together and I wanted to see what she had in the latest issue of Sports Illustrated.”
Bree chimed in perkily, “I asked for advice! He knows so much about football. He’d give the best insight. He and I also took a photography class together!”
“Is that right?” Judy looked between them both in that prudent way Bree shied away from. “That’s very interesting. She and her husband met in college. Maybe you all know each other.”
“Oh, yeah…yeah we do.” At this point, there was no saving face. Wrigley scratched at his earlobe with his forefinger. “We all know each other,” he finished, smiling rigidly.
“Then you know how much he loves her.”
Bree sent Judy a deep scowl that Judy easily intercepted.
“Um, I think, uh, those pictures are really great, Bree. As usual, you’re so talented,” Wrigley rushed, stepping over the threshold and leaving her with a reassuring smile. Bree smiled back; grateful but slightly piteous. “It was nice meeting you, Judy.”
Crossing her arms, Judy scoffed at his back as he left and went to the elevators. Her gaze circled back to Bree as soon as Wrigley disappeared. “You two are very loud.”
Bree assumed Judy finished all she could in the studio and sat back outside her door—who knew how long ago.
Bree raised her bouquet. “Did Evan—”
“Your husband didn’t hear anything. He almost would have been here, but I stopped him at the doors before he could even head inside the building.”
“Wait. What were you doing outside?”
“I decided to have a late lunch to avoid all the…noises.” Judy shuddered. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”
Bree cringed. “Sorry.”
“I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to.” Judy’s disgust being directed at Bree almost made Bree drop the vase in her hands. “Look, I’ve been covering for you for weeks, but it’s a little below my pay grade.”
“I’ll give you a raise…?”
“Bree. I'm trying to be a good friend and tell you that this isn’t the place to meet. Your husband will eventually get suspicious if he comes in here at the wrong time or again surprises you like he did today. You got lucky with me.”
“I’ll… figure something out.” Bree gestured to the flowers and gave her a thankful smile. “I have to get to work,” she ended the conversation, closing the door.
Two hours later, she called Wrigley.
“Hey,” he chuckled on the other end. “You’re calling. I just left you a minute ago.”
“It was two hours ago,” Bree pouted, lazing back against her chair, staring at the skyline viewed in her office. “I miss you.”
“Miss you always.”
Her heartbeat palpitated quicker. “We didn't really talk much. What are you doing right now?”
“Paperwork. This investor keeps trying to meet with me about the gym. He wants to buy out the property to build these luxurious condos. Even gave me a fucking brochure to deviate my interest. Asshole.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“Yeah. I’m trying to work it out.” Holding the phone close to his ear with one hand, and in the other Wrigley tapped his fingers on said paperwork. “Bree?”
“Hmm?”
He already knew, but confirmation from her was better. “What’s your plans for Christmas?”
“Uh, Evan wants to have dinner with his parents. Nothing major.”
“Oh.”
“He’s going on a business trip for New Years,” Bree hinted.
“Oh?”
Wiggling her bottom in her chair excitedly, she continued, “He asked if I wanted to go with him but told him Lucy invited me to a party and that I didn’t want to say no to her.”
“A party,” he said, disappointed. “That’s nice.”
“Wrigley,” she pressed lightheartedly. “It was a lie. I want us to spend New Years together.”
It was his turn to perk up. “What are you thinking?”
“Maybe we can get a hotel far from here? Spend the whole week together.”
“He’s gone that long?” His heart soared. “I like the sound of that.”
“Great! I was thinking, we could visit Niagara Falls…? Maybe a romantic boat ride or they have that strip of bars, arcades, museums…Oh! And the ferris wheel!”
Wrigley nearly fell off his chair. “You want to be in public?”
“Well, yeah,” Bree said timidly. “No one knows us there. It’s Canada.”
He knew he shouldn’t feel it, but it was helpless; a confidence jostled him, triggering a grand smile on his face. “Okay. Can’t wait.”
He could hear the beautiful smile on her face too as she spoke, “Oh and you’re gonna have to drive.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Evan called Bree to meet him at a restaurant for dinner tonight—he was working late. Another lavish place she really didn’t want to dine at again. Bree didn’t know how many times she said that she would rather be at home with pizza and a marathon of The Real Housewives of Atlanta than go to a place where Evan could show off his riches to random bystanders.
It was some sort of double date. Bree didn’t ask who and nor did she care.
It was dark out, the night was cold. The streets lit up with its streetlamps and the dimming ambiance of the cafes and restaurants surrounding her. Hair half up and half down, she wore a long overcoat over her short black dress, hugging her arms around herself to keep out the biting cold. People zoomed past her as Bree meandered in front of the restaurant’s entrance, waiting…
“Bree!” Evan waved and skipped the rest of the way to her.
Then something stopped her in her tracks: Wrigley slowed behind Evan.
“What are you doing here?” she asked; puzzled.
“Uh—” He took a few more steps closer as Evan put his arm around a shivering Bree.
Evan spoke delightedly—like this was something to be delighted about. “I invited him.”
“He told me it was a hang out between…” Wrigley pointed to Evan and him.
Bree directed her frown to Evan. “You said this was a double date.”
“And it is,” he emphasized. “I asked Wrigley to come and maybe he can get to know a really good girl.”
Betrayal laid heavily in Bree’s green eyes when her gaze shifted to Wrigley’s again.
Hands up, Wrigley explained quickly, “I swear I knew nothing.”
“Hey, man, this will be good for you.” Evan winked.
Wrigley’s shoulders fell. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew you’d say no. But, hey, look at this, Bree and I will be here for support...” Wrigley slid his eyes to her, but she avoided him like the plague now. Her stiff jaw gave away just how she was feeling—enraged. “That way, you might actually get laid tonight.” Evan then patted Wrigley on the shoulder.
“Let’s…get this over with.” Shaking himself, he strode into the restaurant.
As Wrigley walked ahead, Bree seethed quietly to Evan, “Why are you doing this to him? He doesn’t want this.”
“Bree.” The host took their coats and led them to their table. “Come on, he’s been looking hella sad. We need him to be happy, right?” Evan kissed her on the cheek, finalizing his words.
Bree sulked inwardly. “Right.”
The girl Wrigley was supposed to ‘get laid with tonight’ was already there waiting for them. In the corner, she stood up beside a table with a semi-circular booth, long enough to fit at least five people. Bree immediately slid in on the opposite side, Evan sliding in after her. The other two introduced themselves but had an odd time choosing who was going in first as Kate—Bree overheard her name—gestured for Wrigley to go in but he insisted ladies first—because he had to be a gentleman. Kate pointed out she had already started her glass of Coke Zero in place next to her plate and utensils.
Both their cheeks pinked. Both screamed ‘golden retriever energy.’ Both had brown long hair. Both had goofy smiles…
Both could be siblings, Bree snided to herself pettily.
The sick part of her that liked to push her buttons, whispered: it’s sickenly cute.
Wrigley ended up inside the booth.
They ordered their food and a bottle of wine for the table to share. Evan poured barely half into Bree’s glass then poured more into his, when he spoke up, “So, Kate is a social worker. I know her father, he invested in our company recently.”
“Yes. I help families and people who are in need, offer them counseling.”
Quietly thanking Evan for his glass of wine, Wrigley complimented, “That’s really cool. It must be a fulfilling career.”
Kate smiled. “Yeah, I really like it. It’s nice to have the ability to change lives.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen some things.”
Eyes rolled to the back of Bree’s head—well, fuck, she’s seen some things too.
Don’t hear her bragging about it!
Oh great, now she sounds like a victimizing bitch. Who boasts about coming face to face with trauma?
“Oh for sure. Homelessness, domestic violence, child abuse…the list is endless.”
Wrigley nodded to himself. “That’s a lot.” Bree grabbed her glass and sipped—sparking a boldness in her. Gingerly, she raised her foot for her black heel to drop onto the floor and scooted herself to the seat’s edge.
A sudden pressure brushed against Wrigley’s dick, causing him to spring up in his seat and knock into the table; the glasses and utensils clanked together. Wrigley cursed under his breath. All eyes looked at him funny; Bree hid her giggle behind her wine glass. “Uh, so uh, what are your hobbies?” He clutched the foot—that was brushing fondly against his balls—to stop its movement. Jaw locked, Wrigley gave her a hard, disapproving glare that she just shrugged her shoulders to.
“I play lacrosse.”
Bree snorted, downing the rest of her wine. Now everyone’s eyes were on her. She slowly placed her glass back down, embarrassed.
“I played a little in high school,” he snided at Bree, challengingly. “It’s a difficult sport.”
“Yeah. I played in high school too.” Kate swooned with a hint of flirtatiousness.
A green demon inside her mouth began playing party tricks; Bree mocked aloud, “Aw, well, would you look at that? The lovebirds have something in common…haha…ha…”
An awkward silence took place that Bree greatly ignored. Rather she poured more wine into her glass, filling it to the top. Evan was too fucking light-handed these days.
“So do you have any plans for the holidays?” Wrigley asked Kate.
“Nothing too big.”
“Me neither.”
Evan, of course, had to put his two cents, “We have that Christmas party at the office, you two should come.”
Bree sneered mockingly, “I’m sure Wrigley doesn’t want to hang out with your business colleagues.”
“I’ve met them a few times. They’re cool people,” Wrigley countered. “Quentin is a bit of an asshole, but we deal.”
Kate brightened. “Oh, you know Quentin? Daddy hates him!”
Wrigley chuckled a little, “I can see why.”
Kate laughed her obnoxious laugh—the hell was so funny? “We should go together. It can be another one of our dates.”
“Are we going on more than this one?”
“I hope so,” Kate hinted, coquettishly. “There’s this new bowling place that just opened up. We should go.”
“Wrigley hates bowling,” Bree butted in—he actually liked bowling.
Wrigley screwed up his eyes, sporting an inner glow of mischief. “Mmm. No, I don’t.”
“You told me you did,” she pressed.
Pretending to be clueless on her petty sabotage, Wrigley shook his head thoughtfully. “Nah, I don’t recall.”
Evan looked between them, eyebrows pinched in observation. He noted Bree squeezing the life out of her glass, it almost cracked. Then at Wrigley who looked all too comfortable irritating…his wife. “Bree, can we talk for a minute?”
Bree scoffed at the amused look Wrigley gave her, spatting disdainfully, “I think I’m good. We should order another bottle.” Right on cue, the waiter came and overheard, nodding affirmatively. “Kate, you like wine? Red or white?”
Kate swung her hand out, waving no. “Oh, I don’t drink.”
“Why not?” Bree asked…nosily, muttering ‘red’ to the waiter.
“I’ve been sober for eight years.”
Evan chimed in, “That’s admirable.”
The waiter came back with a bottle that Bree greedily took and opened. “Oh, so you’re an alcoholic,” she insulted, unintentionally, but thoughtlessly either way.
The air silenced, then Kate said soft and mournful, “Was.”
Bree chuckled under her breath, “That sucks. I don't know what I'd do without alcohol.” Bree poured her third class when her husband suspiciously glared at her. Wrigley on the other hand, stared disappointedly.
“My sister died of alcohol poisoning. I just… thought it would be best to stop after that.”
The atmosphere changed. A desolate silence occupied the table.
Bree’s gaze travelled to Kate, observing her bowed head and the woman’s dejected eyes landing on the table. Bree’s heart sunk into a bottomless pit, and to make it worse, she looked at Wrigley. And the understanding, guilt and loss laid heavily on his shoulders. Bree felt the need to cry. “I’m sorry. I, uh, lost a sibling too. An overdose. It was an accident...”
Wrigley caught Bree’s gaze across the table and gave her a resolute smile. Her eyes; apologetic.
“Bree. It’ll only take a minute,” Evan whispered in her ear. “Please.”
Widening her eyes to simmer down the wet tears, she softly sniffled, “Yeah.”
Evan led her to an archway where they could go unheard by Wrigley and Kate, a few customers in their booths surrounding them as waiters frequented the entrance they tried not to block.
Gripping her arm, Evan pulled her closer to the corner. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” Bree gasped. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I acted like that.” Evan eyed her dubiously. Hugging herself due to the exposure she felt under his gaze, Bree stuttered, “I–I just don’t see them as a match.”
“I think they match perfectly and if you stopped interrupting, they’d probably be making out at this point. The chemistry is chemistrying. He likes her. I see it.” Confirming his words with a wave to their table. Wrigley roared with laughter at whatever Kate told him while something inside Bree ruptured, her heart drenched in fear. “Give them a chance. He needs this.”
“Okay.” Evan took her hand and dragged her back to the booth. “I’m sorry,” she said strongly, looking into Wrigley’s unsure eyes. Then emphasized to Kate, “I’m so sorry.”
Kate waved her hand, blowing off her apology like it was nothing. “It’s fine. I can be a bit dull ever since I sobered up.”
“No, not all,” Bree said as she shuffled in the elongated booth until she was in the middle…until she was shoulder to shoulder with Wrigley.
“Kate was just telling me she grew up in LA and went to Berkeley. Impressive. Oh! And we have the same music taste.” Wrigley arched a brow at Evan who tittered as he drank some wine. “Did you hire her or is this a match made in heaven?”
They all laughed. Except Bree. She chugged a few gulps of her wine instead.
“Hey, I know a good match when I see one,” Evan raised his glass in salute. “There’s only very few people who like The Chameleons and what kind of name is that anyway?”
“Aw, come on, man, not true. And shit, it was the 80s, you could name your band anything and people would dig it.”
Feeling the workings of the alcohol kick in, Bree asked Kate, “Uh, so did Wrigley tell you what he does for a living?”
“Oh, actually Evan told me! You train athletes?”
“Right,” Wrigley started. “I own a gym, but, uh, one day I want to go into sport therapy.”
“Oh yeah? What makes you want to do that?”
“Uh, I played football in high school and college and I had some trouble with my knee so I had to stop playing. It was a dream to go pro. And uh, felt like my life flashed before my eyes.” Wrigley rubbed his hands together nervously between his thighs. He raised his shoulders, thinking how life could really pull the rug from under you. “Thought maybe I could help those who suffered the same fate as me, get them back on their feet again.”
“Changing lives like me,” Kate said in kind. “I’m sure you’re an amazing trainer. And one day you will be a great therapist.”
His ears grew red, rubbing his clammy palms on his thighs. Bree enclosed her hand around his, offering him her strength. Wrigley rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, thankful for the small, discrete comfort.
A minute went by. They enjoyed a nice simple conversation that Bree was not paying attention to. The alcohol was creating a friskiness within her that made her needy and shameless…
Bunching up her dress, shimming to the edge of the booth, Bree clasped onto Wrigley’s large hand and pulled it to the apex of her thighs.
With his other hand, Wrigley swiped a hand down his face and covered his mouth to hide his angry pressed lips. Evan and Kate kept talking about god knows what.
One hand on her wine glass, the other pulling his fingers closer as she spread her—
He snatched his hand away.
Her gaze snapped to him; agitated. Wrigley disregarded her, lighting the furnace of red hot anger within her.
This was such a bad idea, a bad decision…
But when has she made good decisions?
“Husband!?” Bree drunkenly barked.
Startled out of his conversation with Kate, Evan answered, albeit reluctantly—she doesn’t call him that…at all. “Wife…?”
“Remember our honeymoon?” Her eyes fixated on Evan, but she could feel Wrigley shift uncomfortably next to her.
“Of course… I remember.”
Bree granted an artificial smile at Kate. “He took me to Milan and then surprised me in Paris.”
“Oh nice. I’ve always wanted to go!”
Kindly, Evan asked, “Oh yeah? Milan or Paris?”
“Paris. Always wanted to see the—”
“Do you remember our long, active nights?” Bree slurred in a provoking manner.
Evan smiled awkwardly. “I, uh, don’t think now is the time to talk about that, hun?”
“Ahem. I’m going to agree with him.” Wrigley widened his mouth to stretch his heavy jaw, dragging his thumb and forefinger across his lips.
Bree kept her gaze locked on Kate, ignoring the two men. “We stayed at the Four Seasons. It was beautiful. The view, magical and so romantic. He fucked me all night, every night, I don’t think anyone can compare—”
“Okay! I think our food is here!” Evan piped up as soon as the waiter came with their plates. He then looked at her like she lost her damn mind.
She has.
Bree shortly glanced at Wrigley who purposely ignored her. The wine getting to her head shouted at her that she should be ashamed for testing him.
Cheeks red, she was feeling humiliated and maybe felt a little bad for her ill-treatment. Wrigley was exuding outrage; his torrid aura swallowing her piercing pride. Now, she was concerned she did hurt him.
Once the food was set in front of her, Bree weighed on her plan that undoubtedly failed.
As she picked up her fork and pierced into her chicken, a hand crept up her thigh. Bree froze, gingerly putting the piece of chicken in her mouth as the hand dug its fingertips into the inner part of her thigh. Her dress was short and simple enough for him to ease his way closer to her center. She finally and unashamedly widened her legs.
Wrigley began to rub his fingers up and down her slit through her panties. Bree was able to flutter her blurred gaze to Wrigley, only to see he was joining in the conversation Evan and Kate were having, laughing with them.
More like at her.
Oh, this was way too easy for him.
It was then that he pushed her panties aside, immediately plunging a finger inside her soaking cunt.
Her teeth chewed her bottom lip, her squeak coming out of her a bit too-high in pitch. “Mm!” All three pairs of eyes snapped to her. Flinging her eyes open, she winded, “Wow… this chicken is…so good.”
Evan chuckled, but went back to conversing, “So, Kate—”
Bree drowned it all out, not caring anymore who took a look at her. The table cloth on the table covered her bottom half, enough for everyone at the table to not see. So, her eyes closed, she dropped her fork, slowly chewed and swallowed the bite in her mouth, and relaxed into his hand, letting him have his way with her.
All too soon he was drilling two fingers into her fast and brutal, then three thrusts later he sharply added a third to stretch her. Bree smacked her hand flat on the table hard, glasses joggled and clanged, forks and knives jumped.
Everyone, including Wrigley, startled—but he didn’t let up on his pace.
“Oh my—uh, shit...sorry, I–I just remembered that–that I forgot …to do …something a–at work.” Bree sweated, shaking her head like she had a bad taste in her mouth. She snatched the napkin off her table and pressed it on her lap to hide the crude action going on down there.
“Bree, are you sure you’re okay?” Evan asked, chewing his food slowly.
At that moment, Wrigley eased fingers in and out of her lazily.
She breathed, or more like wheezed, “Headache… headache. Sorry.”
“I have some Ibuprofen in my purse—” Kate proposed, bending to reach under the table.
“No!” Bree screeched, this time alerting patrons across their table. She calmed herself before gasping, “N–no, I'm okay. Please.”
If Kate glimpsed what was happening down there, chaos would ensue.
Wrigley chuckled under his other hand, his elbow leaning on the table as he rested on it so casually. Bree swore she was not a violent person, but boy, was she feeling violent right now. Her hand was cramped at fisting the napkin in her lap so tightly.
But then her eyes fluttered when his thumb rubbed forceful circles around her clit, fingers moving back to its rough pacing. Her mouth hung open, lolling her sweaty forehead on the back of her hand as she leaned an elbow on the table. Giving in, Bree inconspicuously swayed her hips to his hands speed. The classical music and all the talking hid the squelching noises under the table but Bree could hear it and she wanted to scream. Her ears buzzed, her body succumbing. Sudden and uncontrollable, Bree’s breath hitched and she bit into the fleshy skin under her knuckles. She came, gushing on his hand, compressing his arm with her thighs to try and not get the trickle of juices onto the seat.
Wrigley slowed his movements, eventually having to remove his hand from her grip. Not once wiping his fingers, he used that very hand to discreetly collect some of his chicken’s juice and dove the three fingers he had in her pussy, into his mouth. Bree licked her dry lips…
Her name was being called…from fucking outer space.
Bree blinked to Evan. “What?” She flinched when her voice came out scratchy.
“Bree, if you need something for the headache—”
“No, uh, I promise…I’m fine now.” She offered a sure smile. Face twisted, he shook his head like it was whatever. “I think I had too much wine.”
“Oh, Bree?” Bree slowly found Wrigley’s dilated pupils, he was still sucking up those fingers—popping them out one by one. “Mmm, you’re right. This chicken is divine. So juicy,” he moaned breathlessly.
Bree tried not to smirk. “Must have used a special seasoning.”
“Yeah, I kind of like the extreme tanginess of it.”
Beet-red, Bree wiped her blush with both hands then carded her hair back.
A bit lost, glancing at the same chicken he ordered, Evan questioned, “Tanginess? I don’t taste that…”
It was sweet teriyaki chicken.
“Oh… Oh God…Oh God…” Bree gasped endlessly.
His mouth was against her ear, fingers twisted in her hair. “Say it…”
When the response he got was pants and gasps, Wrigley lifted himself, fastening his grip in her hair and thrusting so roughly into her his desk slid across the floor.
Holding onto the edge for dear life, Bree cried out from deep within her chest, “Fuck, yes! This pussy’s yours…”
“Fucking right it’s mine,” he growled, fucking her deep and relentless, not letting her catch a break.
Bree whined as the sharp smacks of his hips against hers sounded, at the sharp pull of her hair. A hand dipped beneath her to find her swollen clit, rubbing at it furiously. Her body jerked, hips rolling to and away from his cruel fingers as her back arched; lips parted in a gruff scream. He let go of her hair but gave her less than a second to calm when he tightened his hold somewhere else; clawing and spreading her bottom cheeks then fucking her through her climax. A few more thrusts, and she let out a relieving cry at feeling him still and pulse; the hot spill of him coating her walls.
A sudden dizziness surrounded her; Wrigley slid out of her and had her back flat on the surface of his office desk.
He crouched down to kiss her soundly. Bree groaned, “I’m yours.”
He lay his forehead against hers. “You’re mine.”
Bree lifted her chin to kiss him filthily before nudging at his shoulder. Wrigley stumbled backwards on his feet as she hopped down on shaky legs. “Now say what’s mine.”
Chest puffing out in pride, Wrigley smirked. “I’m yours.”
“Damn straight.” Grasping his face in her hands, Bree crashed her lips back onto his, shoving for him to collapse onto his desk chair. Her body gladly mounting his.
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I found love where it wasn't supposed to be
Right in front of me
Talk some sense to me