26. Troy
twenty-six
troy
Meaner than Satan
“E veryone, your attention, please!” Dean waves his phone from one of the steps on the grand staircase, dramatically clearing his throat like he’s about to make an emotional toast. It should also be stated that he’s wearing pajamas with my face printed on them. He handed each of us our own customized pair as well. “Our boy Troy is making news, not just for his athletic prowess, but for his other talents as well.”
Our friends, gathered in Dev and Piper’s opulent living room, turn toward him with drinks in hand. I pause mid-conversation with Hudson, catching the glint in Dean’s eyes, knowing before I even ask him that he’s been up to no good. “What the hell did you do?”
“Oh, I did very little, my friend.” Dean chuckles, descending the steps and gathering both mine and Sarina’s friend circles around him—the Six Schlongs Hen Party and the Clam Jam. “Most of it was you. Well, you and your owl friend. All I did was add some guitar riffs over it! One thing led to another, and now Hootie and the Snorefish is viral on TikTok! In fact, the sound is being used as background music for all sorts of content!”
“Oh, God,” I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Are you going to show them the half-naked dance you did in turnout gear, babe?” Mala asks excitedly, to which Bella mumbles, “I’m not watching that.”
“No one should,” Rani adds, looking horrified.
“Hey! The fire department’s fundraiser needed spicing up, and I’ll have you know, my abs raised more money than the chief’s chili cook-off.” Dean grins smugly.
“You sure the audience wasn’t paying for you to stop?” Darian deadpans.
“Aww, you jealous, baby bro? I get it, not everyone’s body can be a literal public service. Anyway, look at this!” Dean turns his phone toward us, showing us an old woman doing Tai Chi to the sound of me snoring and the owl hooting. “This lady used your snoring as the soundtrack for her morning workout, which now has one-point-two million views!”
Our friends all laugh, a few even pat me on the back as if I’ve achieved something great. Meanwhile, I wonder how I can get something stronger than the spiked cider Piper handed me.
“There’s more!” Dean scrolls excitedly. “Here’s one of a team of synchronized swimmers using it for their routine. And someone started a trend of recording people sleeping to the sound of your snoring.”
Pulling up the video on his phone, Garrett wheezes with laughter. “Dude, these comments are fucking hilarious. Someone said, ‘The sounds I make when I’m getting pegged.’”
“Or my personal favorite,” Piper chimes in, looking at the video on Dev’s phone. “‘Is the owl okay? Blink twice if you need to be rescued, Hedwig.’”
Nisha snorts, clearly joining the bandwagon and watching a video, too. “Someone said, ‘That owl’s going to be paying for a lifetime of therapy.’”
“You guys are all assholes,” I mutter, but my eyes keep drifting to Sarina. She’s standing next to Piper and Nisha, leaning over Dean’s phone, and the sight of her biting back her laughter does things to me.
I catch her eyes and give her my best stern look, but it only makes her laugh harder, the sound of it making me want to whisk her away and claim her mouth. The way her floor-length red dress hugs all her luscious curves and that never-ending slit hits at the top of her thigh has me plotting to make her pay for ever recording me . . . in the best possible way.
We’ve been playing this game all night—locking eyes across the room, finding subtle ways of touching each other, and taking every chance to be in one another’s space. Like when I pressed up behind her at the appetizer table, pretending to reach for something while letting my breath ghost over the back of her neck, feeling her shiver against me.
And while our friends are aware something is going on between us, they’re keeping their teasing contained to our individual friend circles. I definitely caught Rani and Piper raising their brows at Sarina after I muttered into her ear earlier—telling her to keep those high heels on tonight while I fucked her—while the guys have tortured me with innuendos. But neither group has openly acknowledged it, like they’re letting us maintain the pretense of being “just friends.” Maybe it’s because they know any public teasing would cause my skittish girl to retreat, or maybe it’s because they’re enjoying watching the two of us try to keep our hands off each other.
Either way, it’s fine by me—though I won’t deny I’d much prefer being able to kiss her no matter who is watching.
“Or look at this one.” Dean brings my attention back to him. “Someone said, ‘When she falls asleep two minutes after you go down on her.’”
I run a hand down my face. “Do people know that’s me?”
“No, of course not! You think I’m an idiot?” Dean slips his phone back into the pocket of his ridiculous pajamas.
“Do you honestly want any of us to answer that?” Hudson drawls.
“You’re just upset because you can barely figure out how to use your phone, let alone TikTok. Don’t worry, boomer, no need to waste your old brain cells on this.”
“I’m five years older than you, asshole. And no matter how old I am, at least I can still get it up without staring at Troy’s altar first.”
“That’s because you’re on a double dose of Viagra!”
“So you agree that you have to stare at Troy’s altar.”
“Getting a glimpse of his perfectly chiseled face is not considered staring, doofus,” Dean retorts while I pinch my nose again, letting out another audible groan and making everyone chuckle. “And that’s neither here nor there. Because, as my wife’s loud moans will tell you, she’s satisfied every time I?—”
“Dean, I swear to God,” Mala cuts in, blushing so hard she could represent one of the colors of the season, “if you don’t shut up right now, the only moan you’ll hear is the one that comes out of your mouth when I knee you in the balls.”
With that, she storms off, making the rest of us laugh as we watch Dean rush after her with a, “Sprinkles, babe, wait! Don’t be mad!”
“I swear, the things that come out of his mouth . . .” Bella shakes her head bewilderedly as Garrett scoots in behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Thank God, I married the twin with a brain-to-mouth filter.”
“But speaking of things that come out of mouths . . .” Piper grins at me. “That was some snoring there, Thunderlungs.”
I lift my hands. “I don’t usually snore, I swear.”
“Hmm.” Piper taps her lip dramatically like she’s thinking. “If only there was someone in this room who could confirm that for us.” She looks pointedly at Sarina, who glares daggers back at her friend.
“Has anyone seen Snatch?” Nisha asks, looking around for the demon cat, and shifting the focus off Sarina and me—something I’m sure Sarina is all too appreciative of.
My gaze travels across the room, noting Vajayjay curled up on the back of an enormous sofa in the center of the room and Beaver sitting on the large picture window overlooking the backyard. They’re both dressed as elves, wearing green- and white-striped costumes, though Vajayjay is also wearing a very blinged-out collar. I’d seen Snatch earlier in the evening, wearing a matching outfit. It was hard to miss her, given she was practically stalking my every move, watching me like the psychopath she is.
All three cats were shifted to Dev and Piper’s home for the holidays while Haircuts and Heartthrobs is closed. And though there’s no sign of Snatch, I can’t help but wonder why Nisha exchanges a concerned glance with Piper and Sarina.
Hudson’s wife Kavi seems to be wondering the same thing. “I’m sure she’ll turn up. She’s probably exploring the house.”
“Unfortunately, the only place she loves exploring, despite how many times I’ve tried to keep her from it, is my rabbit shed,” Piper responds with a frown. “Worse, she’s hellbent on murdering them.”
“She wouldn’t do that.” Sarina gives Piper a chiding look, as if the mere thought of her cat being a deviant is preposterous. “She’s just curious, not a killer.”
“I beg to differ,” I state, finding the end of Sarina’s glare. “Pretty sure your cat has tried to maim and murder me multiple times at this point.”
She wraps her arms around her chest. “Believe me, if that was the case, she would have succeeded.”
My lips twitch, and I know she can read me well enough to know that the first chance I get, she’ll be punished for that sass.
Putting her water glass down, Piper heads toward the backyard to look for Snatch when Dev stops her. “You stay inside, I’ll go look for her.”
“I’ll look inside the house,” Sarina says, already moving toward Dev’s study. “Piper, you relax. You’ve been on your feet the entire evening.”
“I’ll help search, too,” I add, ignoring how Darian and Hudson exchange knowing glances. “The sooner we find her, the sooner we can prevent a Christmas massacre.”
I follow Sarina down the hallway to Dev’s study and again ignore the voice of Dean behind me. “Dude, pretty sure she can cover that area of the house herself.”
Instead, my eyes trail down the back of Sarina’s dress, noting how dangerously low it dips. How, with every step she takes, her slit flashes me that same smooth expanse of her thigh, making my fingers itch to touch her.
“She’s not here.” Sarina’s voice pulls me from my blatant perusal of her ass as she bends to check under Dev’s desk. She straightens to catch my hungry gaze on her before her eyes dart to the curved staircase at the other end of the room. “Maybe we should check upstairs.”
I follow her up the narrow staircase, my hands grasping her hips to ensure she doesn’t trip on her long dress. We find ourselves in what looks like a reading room of some sort, beautifully decorated with baseball memorabilia and I make a mental note to come back here later.
In the next room, we find Snatch sitting on the window seat overlooking Dev and Piper’s garden. She examines the two of us before she goes back to looking at whatever caught her interest outside.
“There you are!” Sarina says to her as if she completely expects the cat to understand. Turning her phone around in her hand, she starts to click on a number. “I should tell Dev not to look for her in the rabbit shed?—”
But before she can press any buttons, I tug the phone from her hand and place it on the window seat, gathering her in my arms. My voice lowers as I drag my hand down her stomach and my nose over the shell of her ear, loving the way she melts into me. “Maybe in a couple of minutes.”
Her breath catches as I back her against the wall. “Not sure we’ve ever done anything in just a couple of minutes.”
I trace the slit of her dress with my finger while I lift her other hand up above her head, pinning it there. “That’s true. I like taking my time with you.”
“Troy . . .” My name slips from her lips in a breathy whisper, and if I wasn’t rock-hard already, I’m fucking iron inside my pants now. “Someone could come looking for us.”
“Then I suggest we make our time count.” I trail kisses down her neck, pressing into her and letting her feel what she does to me. “But fuck if I don’t want to take my time peeling this dress off you slowly, finding out if you’re wearing anything underneath.”
Her lips graze my beard before she finds my ear. “I’m not.”
My nostrils flare at her admission, but before I can say another word, her free hand clasps around my tie and she pulls me in for a searing kiss.
Her lips mold to mine as her hips jerk forward. My tongue drags along the seam of her lips, begging for entry, and Sarina eagerly lets me in. And as soon as my tongue tangles with hers, we both let out a contented moan—everything we’ve had to hold back poured into one sound.
“Do you have any idea how crazy you’ve driven me all night?” I murmur against her lips, my fingers inching closer to her center. They glide along her bare seam once, then twice, before I circle her entrance, making her shudder. “Goddamn, baby. You’re always so wet for me.”
Through the thin material of her dress, I can feel her hardened nipples against my chest. After teasing her sex for a few more seconds, I guide my fingers out and bring them to her mouth. I rub her essence over her bottom lip before leaning in to press my mouth to hers.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” I rasp into our kiss, making Sarina moan. “I love the taste of your pussy.”
From her perch, Snatch lets out a warning meow, but I ignore her. Because for once, I’m not going to let the hellraiser intervene.
Sarina’s hand drops to work my belt and zipper before I help her drag my pants and boxer briefs down just enough, making my eager cock spring out. Dropping the hand I was holding above her head, I tug her dress to the side, exposing her to me before lifting her up against the wall.
Sarina’s legs wrap around my torso as her fingers thread through my hair. Even in this heated moment between us, her whispered words betray her concern. “What if this puts too much pressure on your arm?”
Over the course of our time together, she’s been incredibly cognizant of my recovery, monitoring our positions and never letting me support my weight on my healing arm. She’s always finding ways to take control so I don’t strain myself. It’s both endearing and maddening—endearing because she cares enough to stay aware, even when we’re in the throes of passion, and maddening because I want to give her everything, holding nothing back.
While I’ve never particularly craved the missionary position, it’s different with her—just like everything is when it comes to her. I want that intimacy and connection. The opportunity to stare into her molten eyes while I’m seated deep inside her. To watch every micro-expression flit across her face while we move together, sharing the same air, the same heartbeat.
“I’m good, sweetheart.” I lay another kiss on her lips before sliding my length through her wetness and making her mewl. “Now, how about you be a good girl and put my cock inside you?”
She encircles my shaft with her small hand and guides my tip to her entrance. My eyes start to roll back, my body already preparing for the euphoria it knows will follow.
She’s about to do just what I’ve asked when I stop her. “Condom? I have one in my wallet.”
A teasing smile ghosts over her lips. “I have another alien one in my purse. I even have one that will make him look like Darth Vader. That might be fun to use.”
“I think I’ll pass on Darth Vader having any part in this,” I deadpan.
She chuckles, but soon her smile is replaced by something else. Something that flashes inside her eyes—not just anticipation and desire, but something deeper. Trust. Vulnerability. The kind that’s hard fought from a woman who’s built walls higher than skyscrapers around her heart.
“What if we don't use one from now on? I’m on the pill.”
The weight of her suggestion sits between us, knowing neither one of us would take the decision easily. But the fact that she wants this, that she’s willing to trust me this way . . . it says a lot more than her words have.
We’ve been doing this for weeks, playing at keeping things casual when we both know they’re anything but. But while I’ve accepted that truth, she’s playing a game of chicken with herself.
“You sure?” I search her eyes, finding nothing but certainty there. At her nod, I capture her mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing her groan.
A few seconds later, I detangle our lips, looking down between us to watch as I enter her bare. For a moment all I can do is stop and breathe, feeling the tension coil at the base of my spine. Because the feeling of us like this—with no barriers between us—is unlike anything else. Like complete surrender and absolute torture.
“Oh, God.” Sarina takes a sharp breath as her pussy stretches around me. “You feel so good, Troy.”
She spreads her thighs as far as she can, trying to adjust to me, and I’m momentarily lost to the image and sensation. It’s almost too much already—the heat of her enveloping me and this raw connection between us.
I start to thrust against her, knowing we don’t have much time. “This is going to be hard and fast, baby. You okay with that?”
“Do your worst.”
Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, I let my body find a rhythm, pumping into her with long, deliberate strokes. Before long, I’m nailing her to the wall like she’s a goddamn painting. She might as well be with how beautiful she looks—her hair a tousled mess against the wall, her dress scrunched up around her hips, and her lips swollen from my kiss.
I continue to piston into her while biting and sucking her skin. “You’ve made me an addict for this pussy, you know that? There’s no rehab for what you do to me.”
She whines, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as her head moves from left to right. And just when I release one side of her, trailing a hand between us to find her clit, I hear a loud hiss from my left.
Before I can even react, Snatch leaps off the perch and latches onto my back, her tiny dagger-like claws digging into my skin. I freeze, my brows pulling together in disbelief. In less than five seconds, she jumps to my shoulder and starts punching my ear like it’s her personal speed bag.
“Son of a—” I jerk forward, pressing Sarina harder against the wall while I try to turn my head to ensure the bestial feline who has made it her mission to kill me doesn’t scratch up my face.
“Snatch!” Sarina hisses urgently, shoving the cat off my shoulder. “Get off of him!”
Thankfully, Snatch lands on the ground, pulling back her lips to expose her sharp canines, piercing me with a look that says this isn’t over.
She means it, too. As she saunters toward the door, her tail swishing behind her like she’s already won, she jumps onto a nearby shelf. And before Sarina or I can stop her, detangling from each other—the moment between us now gone—her deranged feline deliberately swats at a glass decanter.
“No—” Sarina screams, but it’s too late as the crash of glass hitting the floor cuts her off.
By some miracle, the decanter doesn’t shatter, but it’s clear there’s a crack right down its middle. For a moment we stare at it in shock, realizing Snatch has left the room, and Sarina’s wild eyes turn to me. She brings her hands over her mouth as her shoulders begin to shake. Before I know it, she’s doubled over in laughter, and I’m standing in front of her with my semi hard dick still out.
“How is this funny?” I ask her, but as usual with this girl, my stern voice only makes her laugh harder. “Your cat is probably planning my murder at this very moment, but somehow, this is funny to you?”
“I know, but . . .” She holds her stomach, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “You should have seen your face when she jumped on you. You looked like you were going to have a heart attack.”
“Because I was !” I yell, but again that only makes the woman I’m desperately in love with cackle louder. I swear, I can’t tell which one of us is crazier—her for thinking that her sociopathic cat is funny, or me for wanting to spend the rest of my life with her.
“I hate your cat,” I say, fighting off my own smile. It’s hard not to want to laugh at the situation, even if I feel like my fucking sanity and life were just tested. “I mean it. She’s literally meaner than Satan.”
Sarina giggles again, her hand lifting to rub where the beast dribble-punched my ear, while I tuck myself back into my pants, knowing we won’t be finishing what we started at this point.
“You know,” Sarina starts, her eyes still glimmering, “it’s like animals have a silent pact to cockblock you. My cat . . . the raccoon.”
“So you agree your cat has been framing me!”
“I’m not sure about framing you, but she’s definitely not a fan. Maybe she feels threatened by you somehow. She doesn’t act like this with anyone else.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I drawl, making her giggle again. And at this point, I’ll honestly accept being beheaded by this damn cat if it makes her laugh.
Sarina’s laughter subsides and she pulls herself together, gesturing to the decanter. “We should probably clean this up and head downstairs . . .”
“Fine.” I tug her toward me before she can get too far, murmuring against her lips, “But we’re finishing what we started later. Without your asshole cat nearby.”
She brushes her lips against mine. “Deal.”
After cleaning up the decanter, agreeing to tell Dev about it when we’re downstairs, we head for the exit. My hand rests on her lower back as we reach the door, when Sarina jumps back into my chest with a yelp.
Standing in the hallway are all our friends, wearing shit-eating grins and matching pajama pants with my face plastered on them. Dean, of course, is front and center, waggling his brows.
“So . . .” Piper drawls, looking right at me, “have any luck finding Sarina’s pussy?”
“Piper!” Sarina slaps her hands over her face, mortified. “I seriously hate you.”
Piper feigns innocence. “What? I was talking about the cat!” She turns to me, covering her mouth and whispers, “No, I wasn’t.”
“To be fair,” Rani grins, “we did hear a lot of . . . searching going on.”
“Pretty sure the entire neighborhood did,” Hudson adds drily.
“The Robertsons from next door just texted to ask if we were hosting an orgy,” Dev says, holding up his phone.
I roll my eyes. “Jackass. Your closest neighbors are two miles away.”
“Honestly, I hate all of you guys,” Sarina asserts, her cheeks red from both embarrassment and grinning. “And just so it’s clear, I should be the only one wearing those pajama pants.”
Holy shit . . .
Did she just . . .?
Did this woman—who’s insisted we be casual, hidden, and undefined—just claim me publicly? And from the looks on our friends’ faces, I’m not the only one who caught the significance of her admission.
“See?” Dean says, spreading his arms out. “And you guys said getting these pajamas made was creepy. I call this shit ‘manifestation’!”