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But I wouldn’t make any decision based on my personal feelings. That would be immature.
I picked up the offer letter and carefully folded it, tucking it back into the envelope. “Thank you, Adam. This is very generous. Can I have some time to think about it?”
Adam relaxed and reached out to take my hand briefly. He gave my fingers a squeeze. “Of course. But don’t take too long. We plan to start scouting in the next few weeks.”
“I won’t,” I promised just as our desserts were brought to the table.
“I think we need more wine,” Hannah chirped, and the table broke into laughter, all of us relieved that tense moment had passed.
I had a lot to think about.
But first, it was time to celebrate.
Chapter 2
Jeremy
The naked tits in my face just weren’t doing it for me.
Sure, they were large and pert, and the nipples were the size of saucers, but I wasn’t remotely interested.
I was leaning back on my couch, my shirt unbuttoned, my belt on the floor. The woman in my lap squirmed impatiently against my flaccid cock, her red taloned nails scraping my scalp as she pushed her fingers through my hair. Her friend was dancing around my living room in only her panties, vodka spilling from the glass she was holding.
“Hey, don’t spill that on the wood floors,” I called out, annoyed.
“Oops, sorry,” she simpered, dribbling vodka between her massive boobs and rubbing her nipples between her fingers while she bit her bottom lip.
It was just another night in the life of Jeremy Wyatt.
I had spent most of my Saturday at the office cleaning out case files. It was bitch work, but it was better than sitting alone in my apartment. I finished up around six and headed to Sweet Lila’s, the only decent bar in Southport. It was there that I met—was her name Ginger?—and her friend...Kylie? Hell if I could remember. It wasn’t their names I was interested in.
We had a few drinks and I had invited both of the pretty young things back to my place. The evening had progressed in typical fashion. Kimmy, or whatever her name was, had immediately stripped down to her underwear and—was it Gail?—had stuck her tongue down my throat. Sometimes they’d kiss me, sometimes they’d kiss each other. They sucked on each other’s tits, while I played with my junk, trying to get a hard-on. Normally this would have been enough for a monster case of wood, but tonight it wasn’t working.
My mind wasn’t on sex with random hot women. And that bugged the hell out of me.
Was her name Gemma?—went to unzip my pants and I tried to blank my mind and appreciate the feel of her fingers around my cock.
“You’re so big,” she squealed, and I wondered how many times she’d used that line before.
The woman I thought might be named Khloe joined us on the couch and started kissing her friend again, their tongues slobbering all over each other while—was it Georgia?— attempted to jack me off.
“Come on, baby,” Gia purred, pulling on my pants, trying to get them down over my hips.
Maybe Katie lifted my hands and pressed my palms to her boobs. “Touch me, I like it,” she moaned a little too loudly to be genuine. I hadn’t really done anything yet to warrant that kind of response.
My phone buzzed and I dropped my hands and grabbed it from the side table. It was a message from Rob.
Great ceremony. Too bad you couldn’t make it.
It was accompanied by a picture of Lena accepting a rolled-up piece of paper from a man with a really bad comb-over. Rob had zoomed in so that Lena was in close up. She had worn her dark hair long—I had always preferred it when she wore it that way—and the expression on her face made my chest tight.
Fucking hell.
Keira, or Kimber, or whatever her name was, was trying to get my attention by touching herself, her fingers disappearing between her legs. “Mmm,” she moaned loudly, pretending to come as she fingered herself.
Yeah, this wasn’t working.
I gently pushed maybe Gretchen off my lap and stood up, fastening my pants.
“What are you doing?” they both asked in unison. Their identical looks of indignation were almost amusing.
“I think it’s time you two leave,” I said, buttoning up my shirt and smoothing my hair.
“But I thought we were having fun,” I’ll call her G—complained.
“Sure, we were, but now it’s time for you to go,” I repeated, walking to the door and opening it.
Both girls started to grumble, and I was pretty sure one of them called me a dickhead. They weren’t wrong. I was a dickhead.
When they were finally dressed, G turned to her friend. “Come on Kailey. Fuck this guy.”
Ah, so her name was Kailey. Not that it mattered much at this point.
