17. Eddie

Chapter seventeen

Eddie

T he sun snuck in from between the curtains and danced over my eyes until I tried to open them. I rolled over with a groan. Morning. I was not a morning person. Brock's pillows and blankets were so soft, nearly spongey, and warm, especially with him lying beside me, smelling so warm, like musky leather and sweet like him. I leaned over and saw the alarm was about to go off, and I heard the coffee pot ding that it was finished brewing downstairs. God, love his timer on that. I nudged his shoulder. "Come on, babe. The day is starting."

"Mmm…" Brock grabbed my waist and pulled me to him. "You don't really want to get up, do you?"

Well fuck. With his warm arms around me, I sure as hell wasn't getting up. When the clock blasted its warning into the room, Brock rolled over and smacked the thing. How the hell didn't he break it? Then he chuckled and wrapped me back up. "I like snuggling with you."

"Me too."

"We can spare one more minute."

"Not more?" I asked because I really wanted more. I could spend the whole morning here in this comfy bed with this sexy man.

"Nope. Gotta open the store."

"You need more employees," I huffed.

"To open the store?"

I tucked my nose into the crook of his neck. "Yeah."

"Hun, I don't have any employees. When Jackie opens the store, he does it out of the kindness of his heart. How much kindness do you think he has?" The bed shook with Brock's laughter.

"Whatever. Get up then." I smacked his chest and tried to pull away from him.

"Not yet." He rolled over until he was half on top of me, pinning me down, but it wasn't like I was actually struggling to get up. But before things could get hot and heavy between us, Brock got out of bed and went downstairs. He came back with coffee and then tugged me into the shower.

After exchanging quick blowjobs under the hot water, we got dressed and headed downstairs. It was turning out to be a good morning.

"How much time do I have?" I asked, eyeing my computer set up in his dining room. I had a little more code to check and launch, and then I'd be ready to spring my trap. I kind of wanted to get it done.

"You're good." Brock waved a hand at me. "We have plenty of time. We have an hour and a half before Percy gets there with the buns."

"You sure?"

Brock waved again. "You didn't take nearly as long to get up this morning as you normally do."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Mornings suck." But I had been up before the clock today. Maybe that was a good sign. I pulled out a chair and brought the new computer to life.

After a double-check, I inserted the last of the code. The trap was ready. Now I had to launch it. I let my fingers fly over the keys as I pulled up the back door for Queen Games I'd installed before leaving. I wanted to be able to do this quickly and easily. After a few seconds, I connected my code to the main system. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed, still staring at the code.

Brock came up behind me and kissed the top of my head. "Are you done?" I nodded. "Trap is set?" Another nod. "What now?"

"Now we wait."

"Well, I think I can distract you while we wait."

"It could be days."

Brock's low, throaty laugh tingled in my balls. "I'll take that challenge."

I huffed. "We need to go open the store."

Brock made a growly sound deep in his throat. "You're right. But after we get the buns inside, I'm going to distract you in my office before I open the store."

"Counting on it."

Brock hadn't made an empty promise. We met Percy, who was really sweet and kind of awkward, and then we stacked the buns on the shelves beneath the counter where customers could see them through the glass. Then Brock fed me pieces of a cinnamon roll, licking his fingers suggestively until I couldn't take it anymore. "I think you mentioned an important task before we open." I gestured to his office door.

He put the bun down and grabbed my wrist, practically dragging me in. He shoved my ass against the desk. "Put your hands here." He placed them where he wanted them. "Do not move. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what I said." His command made my dick hard—well, harder than it already was, though I didn't know how that was possible.

"My hands are here." I gripped the edge of the desk. "I won't move them until you say."

"If you do, I'll punish you." The gleam in his eye dared me to move. Part of me wanted to disobey to see what he'd do, but another part was a little scared. A third part was so fucking excited, I was afraid I'd come in my pants.

"I understand."

"Good." His grin was a little evil, but I didn't mind. I liked it when he was wicked, and this new turn had my motor running hot. Who knew?

Brock turned, shut and locked the door. When he faced me again, he looked downright predatory. He stalked me across the short distance and kissed me hard. His tongue dueled mine like a panther wrestling his kill. The thought had me giggling.

"What's so funny, computer boy?"

I almost burst out in laughter at his silly name. Instead, I held back and shook my head. "Nothing."

"Mmm…we'll see…" I didn't know what he was talking about, but instead of explaining, he unbuckled and unzipped my jeans before grabbing them at the waist and shuffling them to get them off. I wiggled my ass around to help him without letting go of the desk. Finally, he had my pants and underwear around the tops of my thighs. "Tomorrow, you should go commando."

"Oh, you think?"

"Don't be snarky, baby." Before I could say anything back, he dropped to his knees and swiped that tongue over the crown of my super hard cock. Then, I had nothing else to say.

I gripped the edge of the desk a little harder as he took me into his mouth. The silky wet heat had my thighs shaking after only a few bobs of his head. "Fuck. This is gonna be fast. Brock!"

He took me to the back of his throat and swallowed. I never felt anything so good. Not just because he was deep-throating me but because it was him. Brock. Strong. Sure. Confident. He was such a badass with his leather jacket, biker boots, and motorcycle. But he was choosing to help me. On the inside, he was a giant marshmallow who loved books. And I wanted all of him.

He slowly pulled off my cock and looked up at me with those sexy bedroom eyes and a sly grin. "Fuck my mouth, babe. I can take it. Come on."

When he sucked me into his mouth again, I took him at his word—I pumped my hips. Slow at first, but the speed built as the pleasure increased. It didn't take long before I was pushing into his mouth, but I wanted to grab his head and couldn't. My hands were still firmly planted where he told me to keep them. Why the fuck was that so hot? Brock slid his hands under my thighs and lifted, and I couldn't keep thrusting. He had me hanging half off the desk with my dick in his mouth, and he was sucking me like a Hoover.

I shouted and came hard. I couldn't hold back if I'd wanted to, which I most certainly didn't.

For a moment, I was completely disoriented with stars behind my eyes and the world spinning. "Brock!"

"I've got you." He picked me up and held me tight. He sat back on his ass right there on the floor and cradled me in his lap. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah." He was the one giving the blow job, but I felt wiped out. "Tired."

"Thirsty? I can get you some water."

"In a minute."

"Okay." He rubbed my arms and shoulders and nuzzled the side of my head behind my ear. "You're starting to smell more like me. I miss that tangy scent you had."

"Mm…my shampoo, probably. I haven't been using it."

"No?" he asked.

"No. Been using yours."

He laughed, and I could feel it in my entire body. I put my head on his shoulder, using his body as a big chair or a bean bag or something. I sighed. Content. "That was a hell-of-an orgasm."

"It was."

After a long day of not really doing a lot besides watching Brock talk to the people who came in and out of the store, we finally went home. Home . When had I started thinking of Brock's place as mine? I shouldn't, but it felt more like home than my cruddy, lonely apartment in the city. My place was sleek, modern, and cold. Brock's had so many memories for him. Family photos on the walls. Trinkets and tchotchkes around the place on shelves and tables. Mix-matched rugs strewn across the floors. It was warm, a little old-fashioned, and homey. And perfect.

We went inside and while Brock went upstairs to freshen up, I circled into the dining room, where I had the new laptop set up. I wanted to check and see if we'd caught anyone trying anything dirty, like breaking into the company site or accessing my private files. I stood in front of the equipment and tapped the keyboard to open my dashboard. Sure enough, there was a ping to an IP Address of someone poking around where they didn't belong. This was going to be good. Finally. I had some proof.

They didn't stay in very long, though. They downloaded a couple of dummy files I'd set up and then poof. They were gone. No matter, I had the evidence now. Recorded and undeniable. I pulled my chair out and sat down to get comfortable. Tracing the IP Address would take longer. But before I could get into it, a loud pounding at the door interrupted me. "Fuck," I growled under my breath. I didn't want to entertain locals. I wanted to get this done.

I looked up as if I could see Brock on the second floor, hoping I could will him down to open the door. But it didn't work, and the pounding started again. "Asshole." I was talking about the door-pounder, not Brock.

I shoved my chair back, stomped to the front of the house, and flung open the door.

Kurt stood there. I widened my eyes in surprise. Then widened them farther when he raised his arm from his side and pointed a handgun in my face. "Take a step back and put your annoying little hands on your head." He was bigger than me. Wider chest, taller. And he used that to intimidate me often.

I did as he said, my brain freezing up and not knowing what else to do. "H-How the hell did you even know I was here?"

"I didn't. Not really. I followed the trail. And surprise, here you are."

"I should have known, it's that forensics accounting bullshit." He had a background in accounting and had spent some time working in the field before meeting my stupid brother. That's how he had money to invest. Or so he said. "Or did your private eye help you? Wait. Does Greg know anything about this?" I scowled at Kurt, wishing my death stare alone would make his fucking head explode.

Kurt mumbled something, but that was the moment Brock finally came down the stairs, steps heavy on the treads. "Hey. What's going on?"

Kurt didn't move. "I'll blow your little plaything's brains out if you take another step closer. Put your hands on your head and move slowly, sideways, so I can see you."

Brock cursed under his breath but did what he was told.

"So…the forensics, right?" I asked again, trying to buy us time to figure out what to do.

"What?" Brock asked. "What are you talking about? Why are you here?"

Kurt snorted, ignoring Brock. "I tag everything. I knew when you took out the money, and I knew exactly when Mr. Thrasher here suddenly had an influx of cash. That was more than enough to make me suspicious. But then it started going back out again, nearly as fast, only in pieces. Figured I'd come to check it out myself. But before I managed to get here, something else happened." Kurt stepped closer until the muzzle of the gun was nearly touching my nose. He was trying to scare me, but he was also off his rocker, as they say, and I wasn't sure he wouldn't actually pull the trigger. I needed to get that thing out of my face. Brock was making rumbly noises low in his throat, making me worried he might do something stupid trying to protect me, so I needed to keep him calm too.

I crossed my arms over my chest and continued to scowl viciously. "Let me guess, something to make you put your cards on the table?" That IP Address belonged to him. I didn't even have to finish the trace to be certain. He was making it obvious by standing here in Brock's foyer.

"You're not capable of running this company." His words pissed me off, but at least he moved the gun back. He was agitated and waving it more, though. And that sure as hell wasn't good. "I admit you're a brilliant developer and gamer. But this isn't a fucking game. This is my life, you little prick."

Brock moved his hands off his head and in front of him as if patting down the air. "Settle down. I'm sure we can talk about this."

Kurt pointed the gun at Brock, making my heart stop for a beat before it started pounding too hard in my chest, making it hard to swallow. "I don't think we can. I think Ed knows enough now. Yeah, you get it. And you're going to willingly step down, aren't you? I need you to let me—"

Oh, fuck to the no . I wasn't having that. "Run my company into the ground? Suck every last penny out of it? And what about Greg?"

"What about him? He's complicit." Kurt smirked. As if anything he did reflected on Greg. I was pretty fucking sure that Greg didn't know he was here waving a gun in my face. He probably didn't know anything about any of this.

"I doubt that. I doubt that very much. Where is he? Does he know you're here?" It occurred to me that he could be back in Sacramento, tied up or knocked out. Or worse. "What did you do to him?"

Kurt shrugged. "Nothing. He's at home waiting for me. No, he doesn't know I'm here. Doesn't know about you . And he won't. But since you're not cooperating, you'll have a little accident and never come back. So we can live happily ever-without you-after."

"Okay. That's fine." That was anything but fine, but I needed him to think about this, and I needed time to figure out how to get Brock out of this mess. "But that doesn't give you the company. I made changes. You'll never have any more than you already do. Plus, if my death is mysterious in any way, you lose that." Some of that was a bluff, but not all of it. I'd put things in place to ensure my interests were protected before coming back out here.

"You can't do that." Kurt snorted. "It's illegal. What's mine is mine. I started this company." As if he knew everything. He might have been some hot-shot accountant who knew about software development, computers and security. But he didn't know everything. And probably not that much about law. Neither did I, but I was smart enough to find experts and dig into what I needed to know. I at least had some people on my side, Brock, my lawyer, and my doctor. He didn't. He couldn't. He'd have to kill anyone who knew what he was doing once he killed me. He would be alone in his big bucket of lies.

Brock grew more agitated. I'm sure he didn't like the idea of Kurt talking about killing me. "Hey, hey. Relax, we can work it out." I wasn't sure if he was trying to pull the attention off me or simply de-escalate the situation, but I didn't like the angry scowl staring at him from Kurt's ugly face.

"The fuck we can. Shut the fuck up, you hick." Kurt practically spit as his voice got louder. "You're too dumb to know what this is about."

I wasn't having any of that, either. "Hey. Don't talk to him—"

Kurt lunged closer, pointing the gun at Brock. "How about I take him out now?"

Brock swallowed hard but didn't take his eyes off the weapon now flailing around. "I know what you're doing is wrong. I know that when you work hard, good things come, and you take that as a blessing. You don't grab for more. That never works out. You should go about this a different way. It's not too late." I loved what Brock was saying, but he didn't know Kurt. The asshole who put down every idea I had, even the one for Splash Zone, which made us all, including him, millions. The asshole who waited until everyone left the meeting to tell me that, yeah, I might be smart, but I was too geeky and would spend the rest of my life alone because no one could love a freak like me. The one who convinced Greg that I suffered from paranoid delusions and that it was getting worse. Suddenly, I didn't feel paranoid at all.

Kurt growled in response to Brock's soft words. "Shut the fuck up." He flipped the gun back and forth, pointing it at each of us in turn. "Let's go. Both of you."

"Go where?" I didn't want to go anywhere with the douche. Not that it mattered what I wanted at this point.

"Doesn't matter. We're getting in my car." He directed us outside and to the non-descript sedan, which was probably a rental. "Mr. Thrasher here can drive." He tossed the keys at Brock who caught them. Kurt had the muzzle of the gun pressed into my shoulder. "We're getting in back. Open the door, Ed."

I fucking hated when he called me Ed. I hated everything about him and wished I'd known enough to warn Greg sooner before he could worm his way between us. It was way past too late for that now. We awkwardly climbed in the back, and Kurt had to switch hands to shut the door. But that gun continued to press into my side.

So much for my trap. Kurt had known enough to see it snap. He might have even avoided getting caught in it. But for sure, he wouldn't try again until I was gone and so was the trap. Plus, Kurt didn't have to break in now. He changed his plans from stealing my shit to eliminating me altogether. I didn't know how his long-term plan was going to work. I was his fucking cash cow, and without me, his company would be nothing. Maybe that's what this was about. Kurt was nothing without me, and he couldn't stand that. Well, the whole fucking situation more than pissed me off. In fact, I was furious, and I was not going to let it happen. If I could figure out what to do while I had a gun poking against me, then we had a chance. I was way smarter than Kurt. But I was rapidly running out of time.