The Anti-hero (The Goode Brothers)

“Everything looks good,” I say as I hand the expense report back to Sadie. “It’s so nice to have things actually add up.”

She laughs as she takes the packet and drops it on the desk. The decision to keep Sadie around as manager of the club was the best decision I’ve made. She’s clearly dedicated to making it the best it can be.

“Check this out,” she says with a proud smile, pulling something from her back pocket. “Look who’s officially enrolled.”

My jaw drops as I stare at the college ID with her photo on the front.

“Oh my god, Sadie!” I say, snatching it out of her hands and pulling her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

With a bashful shrug, she takes the ID from my fingers and stares down at it with a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks. Hopefully, with a business degree, I can really make this place even better.”

“I have no doubt you’re going to do amazing things,” I reply, feeling so proud and excited for her. After only meeting her a few months ago, it’s amazing how right it feels having her here with me. She cares about this club and this industry. Unlike Brett, who only really looked at the figures at the end of the day, Sadie shares a vision with me of what this place could be and how valuable it would be for a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend is here,” she says, nodding toward the security camera. On the screen, Adam is strutting across the floor of the club, looking fine as hell in that black long-sleeve button-down and tight black slacks.

A moment later, there’s a knock at the door of the office, and I bite back my smile as I open it.

“Can I help you, sir?” I ask, teasing him as I peek my head out.

He leans in, stealing a kiss like he couldn’t go another minute without it. As he pulls away, he flashes me the camera.

“We have work to do,” he says.

“Well, let’s give the people what they want,” I reply.

I wave back at Sadie, who shoots Adam a quick wave before we slip out of the office. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he calls after her before the door closes.

My hand links with his as we walk together toward the Blue Room at the back of the club. While I’m unlocking the door with my master key, Adam crowds me from behind, pulling my hair to the side to kiss along the constellation tattoo on my neck. Goose bumps prickle every inch of my skin and my blood starts to warm up from his tender touch.

Continuing to film our videos has actually been great for the club too. After our account reached nearly two million followers and we had more fame than we anticipated, we had to decide if this was what we really wanted to do. It feels like we’re too far to turn back now and I still worry that this has ruined any chance of Adam achieving his dreams. Especially after the internet proudly proclaimed him the Porn Star Preacher.

He’s promised me he’s not worried about his future—that being the Porn Star Preacher doesn’t bother him. He wants to carve his own path instead of walking down one already paved by someone else. And he seems to really think that even being a quote, unquote “porn star” hasn’t entirely ruined his chances of standing at the pulpit. If he does, I can’t wait to see the congregation that flocks to listen.

He’s setting up the camera on the tripod while I get undressed. We’ve upgraded from our phone cameras to one of those adventure-style cameras that can attach to practically anything. It has made the filming of our videos much more fun. We’ve attached it to the dash of his car while he enjoyed some road head. We even filmed underwater in a hot tub once. That was fun.

Once he’s done, he walks over to me, pulling me close as his hand caresses my jaw and neck. Then he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

“I love you, Peaches,” he whispers, and I let those words warm me from the inside out.

As I let my fingers drift over the fabric of his shirt and all the way down to his belt, I gaze up at him with adoration. “I love you too, Church Boy.”

Then with a thin smile, I add, “But we’re going to have to edit that out.”

He laughs. “Yeah, our viewers don’t want to hear that.”

“What do they want to hear?” I ask.

“What do you want to hear?”

With a tilt of my head, gazing up through my lashes, I softly whisper, “You know what I want to hear.”

Like an instinct, his hand moves from the tender spot on my shoulder to the base of my throat, squeezing hard and angling my face up toward his. “You want me to tell you what a dirty little fuck toy you are?”

“Yes, please,” I reply as my toes start to curl and my thighs clench.

Then Adam winks and pecks me quickly on the mouth before shoving me to my knees.

“Get on your knees and beg me to fuck you.”

Gazing up at him from the floor, I love him from this angle. So dominant and confident and nothing like the man who morphed and transformed in front of my very eyes over the span of three months.

Even as I beg him to fuck me like the dirty slut I am, I know that none of this would be possible for him without the trust between us. Adam could never be this free or liberated with anyone else, and that makes me want to be his fuck toy for the rest of our lives. I know because I feel the same way. I trust that with Adam, this is our fantasy, and he is willing to be as kinky and dirty with me as long as I know he also wants to keep me safe, loved, and protected for the rest of my life.

Both.

His hand grips the back of my head at the scalp as he drags my face closer to his crotch. “Take it out then, slut. If you want it so bad.”

My fingers eagerly tear open his belt and pull down his zipper. My mouth practically waters at the sight of his throbbing cock, hard and ready for me. Thick veins travel along the length and a bead of precum waits for me at the tip.

I don’t ask for permission before I lap at the slit, tasting his arousal on my tongue. With a hum, I smile up at him as he pulls my face back toward his cock.

“Open,” he commands, and I do. Parting my lips and letting my tongue hang out of my mouth, I wait for him to glide the shaft along the surface. It’s heavy in my mouth as he bides his time, easing it in and out. I hold out for as long as I can, my eyes starting to water every time he grazes the back of my throat. Finally, on a rougher plunge, I gag and cough, letting out a choking sound as he does it again and again.

My hand grips his thigh the way he wants me to, knowing that if it becomes too much, I can just give him a tight squeeze and he’ll stop.

“Look at how much you love my cock down your throat, Peaches. I think you love it so much I should just come right here.”

Unable to speak, I try to make some semblance of a hum that sounds like no. He’s teasing me. He must be because if he comes down my throat right now and deprives me of what I really want, I’ll be disappointed.

Thankfully, he pulls himself free of my mouth just as I feel the head of his cock swell and tighten, but he stops himself before he blows.

“Get on the bed, Peaches,” he barks in a rough command, clearly struggling with the close call. I scamper up on the bed. Crawling halfway to the head of the bed, I’m stopped by a rough arm sliding under my hips and dragging me back. I let out a squeal and a whimper, my fingers clutching the sheets, just as I feel his cock at my core, pressing into the already wet heat.

After easing his way in to ensure he doesn’t hurt me, he pounds himself home. A satisfied and desperate moan escapes my lips at the familiar fullness he provides.

“If you want this cock so much, why are you trying to crawl away from me, Peaches?”

No sooner are his words out than his hand lands with a resounding smack across my ass cheek. I let out a shriek.

“Not trying to crawl away now, are you?” he asks in a sexy, dark tone. God, I love him like this.

My dirty, beautiful, sexy freak of a preacher boyfriend. The sweeter he is in the daytime, the dirtier he is when the lights go out, and I can’t get enough. I am the only one who gets to see this side of him.

Okay, me and two million FanVids subscribers. But the point is that it’s all still for me.

He smacks my ass even harder on the other side, pounding hard as my mind starts to muddle, distracted by the pleasure. Whatever spot he hits when he fucks me like this is almost literally blinding. It’s pleasure and pain, and I want so much more of that hurt. Every time he fucks me like this, I feel like I might explode with sensations.

His hand reaches down to find my throat, wrapping his fingers around it as he hoists my head backward. With my ass in the air, he has me in the perfect position to gain leverage and slam into me even harder.

I feel like I’m dying the most heavenly death. Then when I don’t think I can take another second, everything inside me explodes. I let out a scream as my body seizes and my limbs tremble. I want this sensation to last forever—pulsing, pulsing, pulsing.

And he relentlessly shoves himself inside me throughout the whole thing. As my body starts to recover, he continues his thrusts. That hand around my throat pulls me upright, so he can wrap his arms around my torso. Forcing my face to turn toward him, he kisses me like he’s bringing me back to life.

“Your cunt is so wet for me, Peaches. I could fuck you all night. You’ve got another one in there for me, don’t you?”

The red light of the camera blinks in my periphery. “I think I do,” I reply with a wasted smile.

“I bet you do.” Still moving slowly inside me, he gives me a quick kiss on my cheek and whispers, “I love you.”

I laugh as I turn back toward him. “I love you too.”

Our eyes meet for a moment, and it’s so powerful. Two souls connecting through one look, and it’s how I know this love is real and he is my forever. I can look into his eyes and never want to look away.

After a quick wink, he shoves my head back down toward the mattress and grabs hold of my hips, pounding harder, and I think for a moment, he might actually want to fuck all night long. With a smile, I realize I wouldn’t mind that so much.

And in the corner of the room is a camera, catching every single moment.