Chapter 338: Briget Likes to Be Heard

Someone had booked a table in my father’s name, and I was sore enough to wish the family could try sending flowers like ordinary people.

I didn’t drag myself straight from the medic to the club. We checked the booking through Tasmin, sent the photograph to Tollan and arranged the evening for after two days of rest, with no promise that my bruises would respect the reservation.

Horass remained alive under supervised medical care, cooperating with the agreement he’d made after I freed him. Steve remained in custody and apparently considered that a personal insult, which improved my mood more than the medic’s advice to stop testing sore muscles every ten minutes.

Old Mate found several ways to complain about the koala obsession during those days. His favourite involved claiming he needed witness protection despite Horass having no idea he existed, which made it very difficult to rest quietly.

[System: I’m thinking a disguise, mate, perhaps a possum with a respectable job and no history of being discussed by rocket-carrying bloody trees.]

You’d ruin the disguise the moment somebody mentioned a drinks menu, and nobody would believe the respectable job.

By the time we reached the club, I could move comfortably if I stayed slow and didn’t pretend recovery was a test of character. Bridget kept a hand near me through the entrance without fussing over every movement, and I loved her for making care feel like company instead of a public warning.

I checked the public exit from our booth and confirmed the reserved table sat outside the staff route. Once that was done, I put the plan aside and let the evening happen, because Horass had already taken enough of my attention without getting to own the part of the night when he was nowhere near me.

Tasmin had the room running smoothly, with the repaired access routes checked and the stage programme moving on time. Her pink hair caught the lights as she crossed between tables, and she gave me the brief satisfied nod of a partner whose business had survived long enough to enjoy a good night.

Vela had added a new turn to the aquatic routine, using the recovered rig to sweep her pearl-bright hair through the light. She sent a teasing smile towards our booth, and I applauded before she could accuse me of only appreciating the cheaper parts of the show.

Bridget watched me watching the act and asked whether I intended to write a formal review. I told her I’d learned that the best comments were short enough for Vela to interrupt, which earned a laugh and one stolen chip from my plate.

"That’s the third one, love, and I’m beginning to suspect our relationship has an unspoken food tax."

"It was never unspoken," she replied. "You simply kept hoping I meant someone else’s food."

Lukas joined us for a while, still respecting the limits on his ribs but looking far less exhausted than he had at the deepbell rescue. A message from Bea and Miri made him smile into his phone, and I waited until he noticed me before saying anything.

"You look very pleased with your transport arrangements, mate, and I hope the customer service remains excellent."

He told me to mind my own romantic life, which was fair criticism delivered by a man who’d chosen a very poor evening to look smug. I let him have the last word because I was learning restraint and because laughing too hard still hurt.

[System: Good on him, champ, because those ladies know where they’re going and he’s finally found a route worth following. Try not to turn it into a bloody committee meeting.]

I called Lyra and Cherry before the main act, sharing the safe parts of the room through Bridget’s phone and giving them the honest medical update they’d asked for. We agreed a return visit once I was fit to travel comfortably, keeping it a real plan instead of a promise made to end the conversation.

Lyra wanted the final business figures when the accounts were settled. Cherry wanted me home with all my scales attached, and I told her I was working towards the ambitious target of being less damaged than my luggage.

For a while, I let the club be exactly what I’d wanted when I first saw it. Music, food, shameless jokes and somewhere warm enough that people didn’t need to spend every minute proving they could survive the city outside.

Bridget asked whether the apartment still felt like a place I meant to stay. I told her the bag beside the bed, her work corner and the missing half of my favourite cushion had made it feel more like home than anything I could have bought alone.

"I like knowing you’ll be there, and I want you knowing I’ll come back instead of waiting for the next excuse to leave."

She kissed me softly and told me that answer had earned me the last chip. I considered pointing out that I’d paid for the whole plate, then decided personal growth sometimes involved accepting a victory under questionable terms.

The smell of her hits me before I even decide to do anything stupid, and that’s usually how my night starts going sideways.

I lead Bridget outside my club, wings catching the weird glow from the water above us, looking way too pretty and she’s talking about something, I don’t even know what, because my brain checked out the second her scent rolled over me. Sweet. Floral. The kind of smell that makes the snake part of my brain sit up and go mine.

My tail moves before I even tell it to.

It slides out slow, curling around her waist soft at first, just testing, just seeing if she pulls away. She doesn’t. She just goes quiet, blue eyes flicking down at the dark red coil wrapping around her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Come with me," I whisper, and my voice comes out all shaky, hissing on the edges like I can’t quite hold myself together.

She blinks up at me. "Uhm... okay."

Smoothest thing I’ve ever said in my life and it still sounded like a dying fax machine. Whatever. It worked.

I lead her around the side of the club, into the shadow where the neon doesn’t quite reach, where the crowd noise turns into a low hum behind us. My tail stays locked around her waist the whole way, not letting her go, not letting her think too hard about what’s happening.

She shivers, fingers curling into my coil’s.

I’m not listening to words right now, I’m listening to her breathing hitch.

My tail slides lower, finds the hem of her skirt, slips underneath. I press the tip flat against her through the fabric, feeling the heat already building there, feeling her whole body jolt.

"Mmh—" she bites down on the sound, eyes going wide. "What if someone hears?"

I pull back just enough to look at her, fangs catching the low light when I grin.

"Fuck it," I hiss, voice trembling with how bad I want this. "I want you and I will have you."

She doesn’t argue. She just grabs my scale’s tighter, nails digging in a little, and that’s all the green light I need.

I lick down over the top of her shirt, tasting fabric and skin through it, then duck my head underneath. It’s dark under there, warm, her skin soft against my tongue as I find the curve of her tits and start licking slow circles under the swell of each one. She gasps, back arching into the wall.

My tail keeps working between her legs, sliding under her skirt properly now, finding her clit through the thin fabric of her underwear and circling it nice and slow. She’s already soaked, I can feel it soaking through onto my scales, warm and slick.

"Oh— oh god," she whimpers, hand flying up to cover her own mouth, shoulders shaking.

I keep going, tongue flicking over her nipple while my tail works lower, teasing right along the edge of her panties.

She’s trembling full-body now, thighs pressing together around my tail like she’s trying to keep herself quiet and failing completely.

I slide the tip just under the fabric, feeling her bare now, wet and hot and twitching under my touch.

"Fuck, you’re wet," I hiss against her skin, voice shaking worse than before.

"Matt, please-haah" she gasps, hips rolling forward on their own, chasing the pressure.

I pull back just enough to look at her properly. People are walking past out on the main strip, close enough that if she makes one loud noise they’ll hear everything. The thought alone sends a jolt straight through me.

"Naughty girl," I whisper, tail circling slow, deliberate, barely giving her enough to work with. "People can nearly hear you. And you’re getting wetter and wetter."

She lets out this tiny broken moan, hips bucking against my tail like she can’t help it, hand still clamped over her mouth.

I move up, lick along the edge of one of her wings, feeling it flutter and twitch against my tongue. She shudders hard, legs nearly buckling.

"Matt," she breathes, barely a whisper, "I’m going to fall."

"I got you," I say, and I mean it, my tail tightening slightly around her hip to hold her steady even as the tip keeps circling her entrance, teasing, not pushing in yet.

She’s right there on the edge, rocking her hips in these desperate little circles, chasing more.

I give it to her.

My tail slides inside her slow, feeling her clench down around it instantly, hot and tight and so wet it’s honestly a little unfair how good this feels.

I start moving, shallow at first, letting her adjust, tongue still working her wing and her tits at the same time because apparently I’ve got three things going at once now and somehow my brain is handling it fine.

"Oh my—aaah- oh god, Matt!" she gasps, voice cracking, hand slipping off her mouth for just a second before she claps it back down.

I pick up the pace, tail curling just right inside her, hitting that spot that makes her whole body jolt every single time. She’s grinding down against me now, all pretence of staying quiet completely gone, just these desperate little whimpers slipping out between her fingers.

That’s it," I hiss, voice shaking with how into this I am. "Let me feel you."

Her thighs start trembling, that telltale shake building up through her whole body, and I know she’s close. I keep the rhythm steady, tail working deep and sure, tongue flicking over her nipple one more time right as she tips over the edge.

She comes apart against me, body shuddering, a muffled cry pressed into her own palm, her pussy clenching hard around my tail over and over.

I don’t give her long to recover.

I pull my tail free, slick and dripping, and spin her around so she’s facing the wall, hands pressed flat against the rough concrete.

My tail wraps around her waist again, holding her steady, keeping her upright because her legs are still shaking from that orgasm.

My cocks slip free, both of them, heavy and already throbbing, and I line up behind her. She glances back over her shoulder, eyes glassy, lips parted.

"Both?" she breathes.

"Both," I confirm, voice still shaking. "That okay?"

She nods, fast, desperate. "Yes- fuck, please."

That’s all I need.

I push in slow, feeling her stretch around both of my cocks at once, tight and wet and perfect, and she lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a sob, forehead pressing against the wall.

"Fuck, Bridget," I groan, voice trembling against the back of her neck as I start to move.

I keep my tail locked around her hips, holding her in place while I thrust, slow at first, giving her time to adjust to the stretch, feeling her body shiver with every push. Her moans get louder, less careful, and I don’t even care anymore who hears because honestly the risk of getting caught is doing something for me too.

"You feel so good," I hiss, picking up the pace, both cocks working her at once, her tight little pussy clenching around me like she doesn’t want to let go.

"Matt—ah! Matt, I—ah ah ah ah" she gasps, hands scrabbling against the wall for anything to hold onto.

"I got you," I say again, tail squeezing tighter around her waist, holding her steady while I fuck her harder, deeper, chasing that building pressure low in my gut.

She’s a mess now, wings fluttering, hair coming loose from its half-up ponytail, moans spilling out freely into the dark water above us and the noise of the market just around the corner. Someone could walk by any second. Someone probably will.

I don’t stop.

I keep thrusting, feeling her walls flutter and clench tighter around me, her whole body shaking with another orgasm building fast on the heels of the first.

My tail gives her clit one more slow circle and that’s all it takes, she comes again, crying out loud enough that I’m positive someone heard that, body convulsing around both my cocks so hard it nearly drags me over the edge with her.

"Fuck— Bridget-" I groan, hips stuttering, and I pull out just in time to spill over her lower back and the curve of her ass instead, chest heaving, tail still wrapped protectively around her waist.

For a second neither of us says anything. The water current drifts past above the club lights, and somewhere out on the main strip people are still walking by like nothing just happened against the side wall.

Bridget turns around slowly, legs still a little wobbly, cheeks flushed pink, wings drooping slightly like she’s completely wrung out.

After our quiet time, we returned to the booth before the reserved guest was due. Tasmin had kept the table in clear view of the room, with patrol contact ready and nobody treating the name on the booking as proof that my father had actually sent it.

The visitor arrived alone, asked for Matthew Vane and placed a sealed envelope on the table without ordering a drink. He claimed to represent Raymond, but offered nothing I could verify before I opened the papers.

Inside sat an offer to take a controlling share of the club, written as though my recent problems proved I needed someone else to own my choices. Beneath it lay a recent photograph of the Twawi casino, with a figure standing across from the entrance Lyra and Cherry used.

I sent the image to Lyra without waiting, kept my eyes on the visitor and asked how the photograph had reached him. He looked at the empty space beside my plate and said my father preferred discussing family business in person, just as Lyra’s reply arrived to say someone matching the figure had entered the casino.