Four

Sully

"Okay, Wynnie girl. That's fifty points to you, and one-fifty to me, putting me at eleven hundred. That's game."

Emerald eyes roll to the sky at my triumph.

"You obviously cheated. Probably stacked the deck, even."

"You shuffled the deck and dealt," I chuckle. "Woulda been quite a neat trick to pull that over on ya."

We have been playing rummy for a couple of hours now, making sure Wynne stays in bed and doesn't try to over-do things. Any other time, I probably would have been scratching my eyes out from boredom. With the copper-haired angel in front of me, however, I find myself dreading having to work later.

"When's Zeph getting back? He was supposed to bring me some ibuprofen so I could start weaning off these pain meds," she asks.

"He's supposed to come back here to take over princess-sitting duties for me to head to campus here in a bit. Ya sick o'me already, Red?" I smirk to cover the lie in my destination. As far as she knows, Brock and I are only here for school. Our world doesn't exist to her.

"Never," she snaps back. "I was just wondering if we had time for a dirty three-way before you had to leave."

Her eyes pop wider, surprising even herself with the filth spewing out of her mouth.

"This is why I need to switch to lighter pain meds. Whatever the doctor gave me has completely erased the filter between my brain and my mouth," Wynnie complains, her cheeks blushing so brightly they could double as traffic lights.

"Baby girl, if me and my brother filling all your holes is the kind of thoughts you're keeping inside that beautiful brain o'yours, I say we keep you on the good stuff permanently," I growl out, subtly adjusting myself in the small chair next to her bed, letting the tray table hide that her words have gone straight to my dick.

Her face grows impossibly redder as she slaps a palm over her face.

"Jesus, Sully," she groans. "You know you can't take my drug-addled rambling to heart. Besides, Zeph would have to have a lobotomy before he ever saw me as more than his sidekick."

"I would not bet money on that, love." I gently pry her hand away from her face. "If it weren't for the fact that he's pissing his pants, scared of your Da, he probably would have dirtied you up and wed you down ages ago."

"You're just trying to make me feel better." She crosses her arms across her chest, unaware how they press her already amazing breasts up and into the center of my focus.

"If I was trying to make you feel better, I could think of much more fun ways to use my mouth than telling you pretty lies, Wynnie girl." I half-joke, making sure to give her the holy trinity of my raised eyebrow, lower lip bite, and a wink. It's a trick I've mastered over the years to get girls to drop their guard – and their panties.

"Oh my god!" She screeches, grabbing one of the extra pastel throw pillows that Brock somehow procured at a moment's notice, slapping me in the face with it.

"What? You can tell me you want to have a devil's threesome with Zephyros, but I can't offer to give the little man in your boat a tongue bath?" It feels so good to joke and laugh with her, even as she continues her assault with the pillow, I somehow let down my guard and miss the fact that we were no longer alone in the flat.

A sound at the bedroom door freezes us both in place, Wynne on her knees on the bed, pillow mid swing, me in the chair, arms up in defense.

Zephyr pushes the door open gently, his face going from hopeful anticipation to pure rage as he takes in the scene in front of him.