Chapter 8 #2
“It’s gross,” Grinder and I both say at the same time.
Then we look over at each other and, for a brief second, something passes between us.
It’s different than our usual heated glances.
I mean, yes, lust…because, hello…Grinder.
But for a nanosecond, there was complicity.
Friendship. Banter between two people sharing an inside joke.
“You two should just fuck and get it over with.” And here we go again. These guys are like The Real Housewives of Getinmybusiness.
“Shut up!” It comes out of me like a reflex, and at the same time Grinder says something completely different.
“Yes, we definitely should.”
Again, I narrow my eyes as I try to drive down the four-lane road that skirts the university. The only people out are drunk students and early bird truckers. And us, of course, because this is totally normal behavior.
“So how would this work?” I frown at Sledge’s question.
“How would what work?” If he’s talking about finding Parker, his guess is as good as mine. She could literally be anywhere. From the looks of her, she’s not hurting for money, so I suppose we could hang around the tail end of Old Town where all the higher end hotels are but what the hell do I know?
Grinder, however, knows exactly what Sledge is asking and that kind of mind reading is actually scary.
“Well, Spence here is gay, so your sister’s not gonna get his dick hard. Which means I’ll be the lucky bastard getting both.” Is he fucking kidding me?
“Whoa! No one is fucking anyone. This is all highly inappropriate. First of all—” I’m cut off as Grinder’s hand lands on my dick, and since it’s always at half mast when he’s around, this sudden touch tips the scales to the side of hard as fuck.
Why, universe? Why?
“I’m fucking both and…that’s as far I’ve gotten with this plan.” Sledge hums and shakes his head and I just want to kick both their asses out of the car and make them walk back to the compound for being rude.
“I’m not discuss—” Again, I swallow my words as Grinder cups my cock and squeezes.
Maybe I could just let go for one night?
Like Sledge said, get it out of my system so that we can move on from this space between lust and friendship.
And by friendship, I do mean incessant flirting and casual conversations.
It’s not like he hasn’t tried, but the more I hang out with them, the less self-control I have when he’s near me.
My only solution is avoid, avoid, avoid. And until tonight, when I decided to put myself in this position, my plan was working perfectly.
Stupid, stupid, mouth.
Fuck! Now I’m thinking about his mouth. And with his hand on my cock, I’m picturing his mouth on it, his lips surrounding it. His tongue…
“Yeah, he’s totally down with that.” Stupid penis.
“No, I’m not. I’m a guy. Of course you’re getting a reaction when you touch my penis. It’s a biological reaction. Totally normal.”
“Sure, gorgeous. Whatever you need to tell yourself in order to have sweet, sweet dreams about me sucking your—”
“I’m in the car! I’m in the fucking car, Grinder.” Sledge has now reverted to his six year old self with both palms on his ears, his eyes shut as he repeats his new mantra.
“I cannot with you. Both of you. No wonder it takes four grown-ass women in that place to make sure it doesn’t all burn down to the ground.” Although…it almost did three months ago, so maybe I’m hitting a sore spot.
“Too soon, Doc.” Sledge is right…it probably is too soon.
“Turn back to the compound, Spence. You and me are going to find out just how excited you are to see me naked.”
I scoff. How did this conversation get here?
“You’re both drunk and probably higher than a Georgia pine, so no.”
At the next intersection, just before we get to the Hilton in lower Old Town, I make a U-turn, and this time I drive a little faster than earlier.
As much as I love being in the car with Grinder, and as much as I'm trying to ignore his hand still cupping my junk, I need to breathe something other than his intoxicating scent.
“You know, Doc, you should learn to ride a bike. Then you could prospect for us.”
I almost choke on my spit at Sledge’s suggestion. He must be tripping on acid or higher than I originally thought—probably on something harder than weed—because, no. Not happening. Not now, not ever.
“I’ll teach you. You can keep my ass warm with your hard cock.” Oh, good Lord. His hand gives me a final squeeze, then—thank the damn universe—he lets go and turns to Sledge. “I’ll teach Parker, too. I can’t think of anything better than being the meat in a Pah-Kah-Spence sandwich.”
“Fuck all the way off, Grinder. I don’t need to be picturing my sister in any kind of sandwich.” This whole conversation is making me super uncomfortable and also very fucking turned on, which is weird because girlie parts don’t do it for me. They’re just so…not hanging.
“I’m sure y’all can find a way to make a whole bunch of foods sound unappetizing without involving me in it.” I want no part in this crazy shit. None. Lord knows I have enough problems, what with my ex-and-also-dead boyfriend’s cat that’s half deaf and I’m pretty sure blind, too.
That cat is demented and every night before I go to bed, I pray he doesn't end my life with a slash of the claw. I know he wants to.
As I reach the compound, I’m barely in park when Sledge jumps out of the back seat and throws up in the nearest bush.
What is up with these people trying to make my car stink? First Gryffin and his baby poop and now Sledge with his nasty vomiting.
“Why aren’t you turning off the car?” Grinder leans in and his mouth is so fucking close I can taste the liquor lingering on his breath.
“I’m going home. It’s late and I still need to study for my exams.” My power move is dead. I’m supposed to answer with short, decisive answers, but here I am, giving him the story of my life.
“Studying for what?” His tongue peeks out and he licks the edge of my jaw. Why is that hot?
“To be a doctor.” I’m breathless. This is so fucking embarrassing.
“Hmm, then when I call you ‘Doc’ it’ll be for real.” Now his lips are sliding up and down my neck and I’m pretty sure he’s the son of the devil and I’m about to go to Hell and love it.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I close my eyes and imagine all the things he could do to me. The way his hands would explore every inch of me. The way his tongue would taste every piece of me. The way—
“Hurry the fuck up, Grinder. I need help getting to my room.” Saved by the drunk.
“Motherfucker. I’m going to put itching powder in his bed as payback.”
Then he’s gone and all I have left is the ghost of his touch.