The throb escalates. “Yeah? Maybe I should tell you about how I think of you at night when I’m in bed touching myself.”
Jake stumbles and I shout with laughter.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. “I need a cigarette.”
My top lip curls in a sneer. “Fuck your cigarettes, Jake.”
“I’d rather you fuck me,” he mutters beneath his breath.
I can still hear it. Try and be friends again first? Yeah, that’s working out just great.
MAC
The next few months bring a new kind of trouble to our door in the form of Quinn Salisbury, our new band assistant.
Considering trouble is my middle name, I’m all in. It’s a fresh start in my quest to become a member of the Badass Brigade. My brothers may be untrustworthy, lying wankers, but my dream to work in their firm hasn’t diminished.
Though having three of them to deal with has me wondering what you call more than one wanker, in the same way you call more than one duck a gaggle of ducks. Henry, Evie, and I argued about it late one night with a few vodkas under our belts. A festival of wankers was our conclusive verdict. Wankfest for short.
Anyway, the trouble with Quinn started not long after Jared returned from overseas and proclaimed his undying love for my best friend. He bought Evie a house in Bondi—a pretty beachside suburb north of our duplex in Coogee—and she folded like a cheap lawn chair.
Clearly she was wearing her dick goggles because it was a shit house. I teased her about it profusely. “Blinded by the dick,” I crooned in her face to the tune of “Blinded by the Light” by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band. Henry would too. It was especially fun to do it while drunk. Evie would try to slap us but missed as we danced out of reach. She doesn’t know that Henry and I found the song under a secret playlist on her phone. It includes other such gems as “Africa” by Toto and “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey.
Henry and I scream with hilarity each time we find a new song’s been added. Frankly, though, we’re just relieved she’s still around for us to tease after the shooting. It brought us closer together. Not close enough to share the past I have with Jake, but closer nonetheless.
Jake and I reach some weird kind of limbo. It’s slowly becoming clear that we’re trying to go back to something we’ll never have again. Too much has happened. Not to mention the sexual tension. It’s hot enough to blister my skin. Our frustration levels peak. We snap at each other every other day. It doesn’t go unnoticed. But I don’t have time to deal with it. Work is too busy. The band has signed with Jettison Records, and Quinn has begun her employment. It gets off to a smooth start, but her life slides into a decline soon after.
Quinn has a violent stepfather who was recently released from prison. A bitter, angry man, David hated my assistant. His plan was to show her just how much.
We helped her arrange a Domestic Violence Order, but its protection is minimal. It wasn’t safe for her to live alone. Considering Evie had recently moved to the shit house in Bondi, we moved Quinn into her old room.
It’s not until the night before our flight to appear at the Melbourne Music Festival that I discover the level of trouble she’s in.
It starts with me waking at three a.m. to an unusually loud thud. I sit up in bed, pushing hair off my face as I cock an ear, listening intently. A shriek soon follows, along with a banging crash.
I roll to get up and encounter a huge lump of naked man. “Oomph!”
The moonlit room reveals Jake. He’s sprawled like a starfish across every square inch of mattress. The giant tool promised he would get up and leave. I didn’t mention how much I wanted him to stay. Jake’s presence in my bed feels right. His dominance overpowers the room, and his warm heavy body lulls me into a restful sleep. Clearly Jake feels the same. He’s far too comfortable, and far too busy sleeping like the dead, to move. He would be useless in a midnight home invasion.
I shoot him a dirty look as I climb over his body. My naked skin slides deliciously against his, yet he sleeps on, undisturbed.
My satin slip is crumpled on the floor. I put it on. The cream fabric skates over my body until it reaches just below the curve of my backside. When I’m done tugging on the panties that had been flung clear across the room, I pad out the door to investigate the sound.
JAKE
My body ascends slowly to consciousness. Sex with Mac does that to me. It knocks me right the fuck out. I swipe a hand over my face, and my eyes open to tired slits. It’s still dark out. Good. That means it’s safe to sneak back next door without getting caught.
I roll to my side. My plan is to glide my palm down the naked length of Mac’s back until I have a juicy handful of ass to squeeze. It will have to tide me over until our next sexual happenstance. My hand encounters air and falls flat, landing on cool sheets.
Lifting my head, I frown and wrinkle my brow.
Mac is nowhere to be seen, and the blinding glare of the clock shows a little after three a.m. in the morning.
I snap to a sitting position when a female shriek renders the air. Fear sends my heart pounding. Heedless of being caught coming from Mac’s room, I leap to my feet and snag my boxer briefs from the floor. I barely have them on as I fly out the door.
I hear a fight in progress coming from Quinn’s room. I race along the upstairs hallway. Henry, Frog, and Cooper stand just inside her bedroom door.
I push between them, my chest heaving from the rush of adrenaline. I stop and stare, blinking. Quinn has Mac pinned on the floor beneath her while the boys watch on, stupefied.
Mac’s arm is outstretched. She’s grappling for the phone above her head. It lies just out of reach.
“No!” Quinn yells as she claws her way over Mac.
Our band assistant is clad in just her underwear. With her white-blonde hair, tiny stature, and brown eyes big enough to rival Bambi, seeing her in a sexy black bra is quite the jolt.
What’s worse is Mac wearing just her slip and panties. The same pair I ripped off just hours earlier. They’re black and lacy with cream polka dots. They’re also completely visible to every eye in the room.
Her slip rises as Quinn makes a grab for the phone. Mac’s flat, tanned belly is now exposed. The wrestling sees it rise further. Underboob is just a scant inch of fabric away, and I’m transfixed.
“Arrghh!” Mac squeals when Quinn’s elbow catches her in the eye.
“Sorry,” Quinn mumbles. When her hand encircles the phone, she gives a shout of relief. It’s short-lived when Mac rolls her over, pinning her to the floor. That tight ass rises, and my dick gives an almighty jerk.
It’s then that I realise everything I’m seeing, the boys are seeing too. That’s my princess on the floor, and she’s for my eyes only.
“What the hell is going on here?” I bellow.
The girls freeze and both heads turn toward me.
Cooper elbows me in the side. “Shut up, idiot. Naked chicks wrestling.”