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She looked at my fists. “Your fists are small. Really small. That’s not that impressive.”
I grinned.
That was true.
“I remember facing him, my thigh in between his thigh, chest to chest. His cock was resting against the inner length of one thigh, the base of him along with his balls resting against me more than halfway down my thigh, and the tip of his cock was nearly touching my…errm…lady bits.” I whispered, feeling my face flush at the remembrance of that moment.
I was telling the truth when I told her that I couldn’t remember much. I couldn’t. Bits and pieces were flashing through my mind, but I remembered enough that I could tell her that his cock was large, the sex was great, and that the man was rough.
Oh, and the man’s identity, but I wasn’t going to divulge that information.
There were some things that you didn’t tell your best friend, and one of those things was that you slept with the man that she was constantly telling you to ‘fuck out of your system.’
Apparently with the hate that Zee and I felt for each other, we had crazy chemistry. At least, that was what Turner said. She was constantly telling me to ‘fuck him and get it over with already.”
Anger and hatred equated love to her.
The more Zee and I fought, the more adamant that Turner became that we were likely meant for each other.
Little did she know that she was right.
Zee and I did have some crazy chemistry.
Unfortunately, she got one thing wrong. There was no way to get Ezekiel McGrew out of my system.
“Okay, what else?” she pushed.
By the time I was finished explaining the night—or what I could remember of it—my face was flushed, and I couldn’t help turning my gaze in the direction of the man responsible for all of those dirty deeds.
“Wow.” Turner fanned her face with a stack of napkins that she’d grabbed. The stack was two inches thick, and there was no way in hell that we’d ever get through them all, yet she always insisted on getting a lot ‘just in case.’ “I feel like I need to put out an ad listing his many attributes just so we can find him for you again. A dick like that deserves a second go around.”
I swallowed hard and glanced away just as Zee turned his gaze in my direction.
“Douchebag is looking at you,” Turner murmured.
I didn’t have to ask who ‘douchebag’ was. I knew who douchebag was. I also knew who ‘pissant’ and ‘dickweed’ as well as ‘fluffernutter’ and ‘Mr. Pooper’ was.
Turner definitely had a way with words. She also called people names like a ten-year-old child.
I just loved her so much.
Turner and I had been friends since we’d arrived in town at the same time.
Honestly, it was a fluke, really. At first, both of us had been looking at the same apartment about five minutes apart.
One apartment manager had been showing me the apartment, while the apartment owner had been showing her the apartment.
I’d been in the bathroom, thinking that the master bath was a piece of shit, when she’d come in saying the same thing about the guest bath.
I’d laughed as I’d come out of the bathroom to see her sneering at the view, and we’d hit it off. From then on, we’d been best friends.
We now lived next to each other, the back of her rental house butted up to the back of my rental house, and spent more than a few nights a week hanging out and being more like sisters than best friends.
Her parents loved me just like mine loved her.
We’d also spent quite a few nights and days commiserating about ‘douchebag.’
So yes, I knew exactly who she was talking about when she said it.
“I hope he chokes on that French fry,” she muttered.
I looked at her with raised brows. “Threats of violence?”
She shrugged. “It’s not just him. I hope that the other cop chokes on one, too.”
I choked on my own French fry, and then gasped for breath, inhaling a portion of it. Moments after that I was coughing up a storm and drawing the attention of not just Zee, but also Castiel as well.
“Stop it,” Turner hissed. “You’re making them both look at us now.”
I tried. Really, I did. But it took me a few long minutes to get myself back under control.
“Jesus,” I wiped my watering eyes. “I almost died.”
Turner gave me a glare. “You are so full of shit.”
I took a drink of my Coke and set the glass back down only to wipe my eyes again because tears were still falling.
“You’re an embarrassment,” she said with a straight face.
That was when we both started to crack up, and the tears this time weren’t from nearly choking.
“He’s still watching you, though,” she said once she got herself under control. “Are you going to finish your chicken?”
