Chapter Eighteen #2
Lennon turns towards him so it gets a little harder to hear her but I’m pretty sure she says, “Oh, come on big man. How can you be scared of little ol’ me?”
Lennon is referring to the substantial difference in their sizes. Aiden Graham is one of the biggest players on the team, at roughly six foot six and well over two hundred pounds. He’s like a big teddy bear, quiet and even keeled.
Lennon on the other hand can’t be more than five three, a petite blonde that packs a mean punch. She’s on the sassy side, some might even call her abrasive but I’ve always just found her antics entertaining. Her and Stella are pretty close friends and I can see why. They both have that same spunk.
“Are they dating?” Millie whispers. She’s standing so close to my side that I could reach out and graze my fingertips along her thigh if I wanted to, and boy do I want to. But I refrain, remembering that a friend just doesn’t randomly reach out and touch their friends like that.
“No, they’re not.”
“Really?” Millie asks in disbelief. “That’s some serious sexual tension going on.”
I laugh because she isn’t wrong. I watch as Lennon throws her hands on her hip in exasperation, probably at the fact that Aiden still hasn’t technically agreed to play.
While Aiden stands there with his arms crossed across his chest, looking down at Lennon with a frown on his face. “They just don’t see it yet,” I answer.
Luka, who’s standing just to the side of the table, mumbles under his breath, “They aren’t the only ones.” I see Lily elbow him out of the corner of my eye. “Ow, what was that for?”
“If I agree to play will you take that scary look off your face? I don’t like how your eye’s twitching,” Aiden asks, seriously.
“My eye’s not twitching.”
“The fuck it isn’t.” Suddenly he reaches up and points to her face. “See! Right there!”
Lennon bats his hand away, “Fine, whatever,” she huffs then smiles, “This better?”
“Your eye’s still—”
“I can’t control it!”
“Yes, you can.” Aiden’s imposing figure towers over Lennon.
“No, I can’t!”
Beau steps up to the table to break up the impending fight. “As much as we’re enjoying this little show, I think it might be better if another team goes.
Aiden and Lennon both stop bickering and whip their heads over to Beau, simultaneously asking, “Why?” When Beau’s eyes widen in disbelief Lennon says, “We’re fine.
We want to play.” Effectively ending the argument when Aiden doesn’t protest as she drags his big ass to the end of the table and puts the ball in his hand. “You go first.”
“What the hell just happened?” Millie asks in awe.
I smirk, my eyes catching hers for a brief moment before I look away because her gaze is causing warmth to spread through my chest. I like her eyes on me entirely too much, “That’s what we call pussy whipped.”
“That’s a real thing?”
I chuckle at just how damn sweet and naive she sounds. Two traits that I didn’t realize I liked so much. “Yes, Daredevil. It’s a very real thing.”
“Have you ever been pussy whipped?”
She asks me like she’s asking what I had for dinner or if I like ice in my water. I sputter, completely unprepared for the reaction my body has at the word pussy gracing her pretty pink lips.
It’s like my brain is short circuiting, unable to comprehend anything past that word passing her lips. I see her lips moving but all I can think about is what her pussy looks like, what it would taste like. Or how it would feel wrapped around my hard—
“Rowan?”
My tongue feels slow and thick when I respond, “I’m sorry what?”
“Pussy whipped. Have you ever been pussy whipped?”
I think my cock grows a solid four inches just from that word dropping from her mouth so many times. I think I could go in my pants if she says it one more time. Which is not a normal reaction to have about a friend. I swallow hard and will my dick to fucking behave. “No. Can’t say I have.”
“Hmm,” she answers, like she’s contemplating whether I’m telling the truth or not which bothers me more than it should.
“I haven’t," I answer, defensively.
I see the corner of her mouth turn up in the slightest smile before she simply shrugs her shoulders and says, “If you say so.”
I start to argue then remember it shouldn’t matter if she believes me or not. I don’t have to explain myself to her. She’s just a friend.
Keep telling yourself that buddy.
Shut up.
Great, now I’m fucking talking to myself.
I clear my throat and ask, “You ready to play?”
Lennon and Aiden are standing on the other side of the table watching Millie and my little back and forth. I don’t like the knowing glint to Lennon’s eyes, nor the cocky ass smirk on Aiden’s face. It’s time to shut both of them up, and it’s not like they have any room to talk.
“Ready as ever,” she answers with a cute little pop of her hip.
I don’t even want to talk about how hard I get when Millie St. James keeps her elbows perfectly tucked, pulls her arm back and sends the ball across the table with a precision that only comes with years of beer pong practice.
And I definitely don’t want to talk about how much I wanted to pull her into my chest and crash my lips into hers when she lands the damn ball in a cup on her first try. Like a damn pro.
Fuck, I’m in trouble.