“That’s a fucked-up thing to say.”
Pick a conspiracy, any conspiracy—the JFK assassination, Area 51 . . .
“The truth usually is.”
The guy code restricts how much you can mock a friend’s significant other. There’s an imaginary line. And if Matthew’s reaction is any indication? I just crossed it.
He lands an angry punch to my right leg. In the spot above my knee—the charley-horse region—that makes pain echo up and down my femur.
“Ow! God damn it!”
I shift my weight to my other leg to keep from falling over, but I step on Warren’s hand and set off a not-so-quiet domino effect.
“Hey! Those are my fingers, asshole!”
“Dude, stop pushing!”
“Shut the hell up, I can’t hear!”
“You’re ruining it!”
“Stop fucking punching me!”
You know what’s going to happen next, don’t you? Yep—the doors open. And the five of us tumble into the room in a heap—like a pileup after a fumble.
Of course.
There’s a collective gasp at our intrusion—the kind of sound a sunbather would make after getting doused with a bucket of ice water. Meanwhile, the man-pile does its best to untangle.
“Ompf . . .”
“Ow . . .”
“Get your knee off my balls!”
“Get your balls off my knee!”
I’m the first to recover. I hop to my feet and flash the girls a dashing smile. “Hello, ladies.” I hold up my hands, palms out. “Sorry for the interruption. Carry on, pretend like we’re not even here.”
But the lust spell has been broken. With a meaningful look, Delores peels her banana, then takes a big, chomping bite out of it.
I flinch.
My sister huffs, “You’re back early.”
Erin continues analyzing the remote control of the must-have vibrator. Kate is the only one who doesn’t seem upset by our arrival. She leans back in her chair and stares at me dreamily, her dark eyes big and shiny. Then she sighs. “Hi, baby.”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
The rest of the guys are now standing, and Jack approaches dominatrix chick, who’s busy packing up her naughty paraphernalia.
His come-on is a cross between James Bond and Rico Suave. “O’Shay. Jack O’Shay. If you’re in need of an assistant or a model to demonstrate correct technique . . . I would be honored to fill that role. I’m available until tomorrow evening.” He holds out his card and whispers, “Call me . . . cell phone’s on the back.”
She looks him up and down appreciatively, fingering the card with one red nail. “I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
But Matthew, like me, isn’t ready for the party to end just yet. “Wait, you don’t have to leave now.”
Dee-Dee stands and holds up a magazine. “I have a catalog, Matthew. Let’s look it over together in our room—you can make a Christmas list.”
His eyes follow her as she walks out, then he scampers after her like a puppy chasing a bone.
Erin announces that she’s taking a nap, and my sister and Steven disappear without a word to each other, or anyone else. My eyes never leave Kate. It’s only been a few hours . . . but still . . . I missed her.
“You look relaxed,” I comment. “Did you have a good afternoon?”
Kate stands and grazes her palms over my chest and across my shoulders, feeling me up. “It was nice. But I know how to make it even better.” She wraps her arms around my neck and slides her tongue around my ear. It’s soft at first—teasing. Then she plunges inside with the perfect amount of pressure to make my knees want to buckle.
Every guy has a spot. A highly sensitive place that, when stimulated, goes right to his dick. For some, it’s the neck or the stomach. For some freaks it’s the toes. But for me? It’s my ears. Kate knows this.
Sucking lightly on my earlobe, her hands skim down my sides around to the back, before settling on my ass with a firm squeeze. I’m not complaining—this is me here—a little grab-ass or jerk the johnson is never a bad thing. But Kate is usually more on the conservative side. Less overt with her sexual advances, particularly when other people are nearby.
I lean my head back to look at her face. Her smile is lazy, and her eyes—did I say they were shiny? They’re not. They’re glassy. There’s a difference.
“Have you been smoking Warren’s crotch stash?”
She bites her lip. Guilty as charged. She holds up two fingers, pinching them together, and closes one eye. “Just this much.” Then she gives me an innocent, adorable look. “Are you mad?”