Chapter 10
Braylen
What’s Moby Dicks dad's name?
Papa Boner.
I’m running late.
The one time I wanted to be on time, traffic became my nemesis. I hope that my date is still waiting for me.
My driver pulls up to the sidewalk outside the DNF bookstore, and thankfully, she’s still there, but two identical men are standing with her.
Does she know them?
My driver exits the car, making his way around to my door and opening it for me. Does this look too flashy?
Should I have opened my own door?
Cherry looks radiant in the satin dress that clings to her curves and the silver high heels that make her legs look like they go on for days. Her rainbow locks are curled, framing her sweetheart-shaped face.
She’s an angel.
My angel.
Stepping out of my car, I glance over at the other two hoping that they get the hint to fuck off now her date has arrived.
My phone pings with the telltale notification that I’ve arrived, hers mirroring mine.
“Fuck seriously, another one,” she groans, tilting her head back to look up at the sky.
All I can focus on is the slender curve of her neck, the mere idea of burying my head into it as I bury my cock to the hilt between her sweet folds.
Then her words register.
Another one ?
“Hi,” I mutter, stepping towards her. “I’m Braylen.”
“Cherry.”
“We’re Jacob and Macon. Are you here for a date with Cherry, too?” One of the clones steps forward, shaking my hand.
“Too?”
The fuck do they mean too?
“I think I was sent multiple dates instead of one. I thought the app had glitched, and it was just a mistake, but now I realize I was wrong.” She fishes her phone from her clutch and shows me the notifications for the details for this date.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, resisting the urge to shout out more expletives.
How does something like this fuck up so badly?
The one time I thought I finally got given a date that would be good, great even. Now I’m standing here with the Tweedle Dum and Dee while we all look at the girl before us like she’s dessert.
Maybe I can convince them to go home. To let me have her to myself tonight.
Her phone pings again, and the sound of pounding feet crashing against the sidewalk turns our attention to the newcomer.
Another one seriously?
Blonde hair bounces as the new guy runs towards us, panting; his face is red from his efforts. He’s also wearing jeans like a true psychopath.
Who the hell goes running in jeans?
“Oh my god,” he pants, bending over and resting his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.
“I assume you are my final date?” Cherry asks with laughter in her voice.
That gets his attention. “Final?”
“Yup. I'm lucky. I got four dates instead of one.” She chirps, rolling her eyes.
I want to fuck that sassiness out of her.
The Tweedles exchange glances, doing some creepy twin shit as they move their eyebrows to communicate.
“Fuck. I ran all the way here. My car wouldn’t start, and I didn’t want you to think I was standing you up,” the blonde one says, his eyes roaming over Cherry in appreciation.
“Well, thank you, but I feel like our date has gotten a bit overcrowded.”
“You think?” Tweedle Dum snaps.
“I’m sorry. I have no idea how this happened,” she apologizes. “I should never have listened to Jade. I could have stayed home with Marco and the destroyer for the rest of my life, and I would have been happy.”
“The destroyer?” Tweedle Dee chokes on his saliva.
“Marco?” the psychopath asks. Seriously, who runs in jeans? I still can’t get over it.
“Ignore me; I’m just having a breakdown. Of course, the first date I go on after Ronan turns into a disaster before it even starts. If god ever started giving out fucking signs, this is one.”
We all glance at one another, our eyes naturally diverting back to Cherry, who seems to be freaking out about her dating life.
The psychopath reaches out, clasping her upper arm in his hand. He pulls her into his chest, and I can’t help but hate him; he’s touching her, and I want nothing more than to be the one doing it.
She curls into him like she belongs there, and I know I need to fix this; my app that caused this, after all.
“Why don’t we all go out together?” I voice my thoughts, which seems to be enough to pull Cherry out of her panic. “Um…”
“I’m down,” the psychopath says.
“Are you ok with that?” Tweedle Dee says, Jacob, I think he said his name was. His whole attention is on my angel, his eyes fixated on her bright green ones.
“Yeah, are you?” she asks us all, roaming her eyes hungrily over us, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I don’t mind sharing sweetness,” Tweedle Dum replies, stepping towards her and pulling her lip from her teeth with his thumb, “Sometimes more is better. Overpowering, intoxicating, addictive.”
“Jesus,” Cherry breathlessly says, her thighs rubbing together, seeking friction.
I should not be turned on at the sight before me.
My schlong stands at attention like a good little soldier in my pants. Adjusting myself discreetly, I see the others doing the same out of the corner of my eye.
Maybe I should call her Siren instead. That’s the only explanation for how enraptured we all are with her.