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“What’s this?”
“What?” I ask innocently. “Did you think the party started here?”
She gasps, her face falling for a beat before she recovers.
I have no idea why she’s so hurt. I’ve barely touched her in months. I thought she’d moved on to one of the rugby team players. From what I heard, she got caught banging him in the locker room by their coach not so long ago. But the second we were paired up for that damn assignment, it was like no time had passed between the last time I had her on her knees for me.
My cock aches at the thought of her throat, only it’s not her face, not her light eyes that stare up at me as she gags on my length.
Pressing the length of her body to mine, I see the moment she registers how hard I am against her stomach.
“Hmm…” she hums, her lips brushing across my cheek. “Seems to me that your pre-party was just a tease.” She slips her hand between our bodies and grasps me through my trousers. “Want me to take the edge off?”
My lips part to respond while my body wars with itself. My head screams no, already knowing that she’s not the one I want, while my painfully hard cock begs for it. It’s been weeks since it’s seen any action other than my own fucking hand.
The guys might joke about my lack of company recently, but they’re only speaking the truth. It seems to have become my norm since Emmie unknowingly strolled into my life.
I thought it was just a phase, that I’d find someone else after a while who would grab my interest and get my dick hard. But it hasn’t happened.
Hell, it’s only got worse. And that contract sure doesn’t fucking help. Although it’s just another reason why I can’t go after what I really want.
I need to think with my head, get the job done and move on, instead of thinking with my lonely dick.
“Cirillo, about fucking time, man,” Alex barks, thankfully saving me from making a decision I’d probably regret.
“It was our fault,” Stella says, joining us with Seb on one side and Calli on the other.
“Probably?” Alex asks with a laugh. “Drinks?” he offers.
“Why else are we here?” Stella asks, glancing around the room before her eyes lock on Sloane. “It’s certainly not for the outstanding company.”
Sloane scoffs, although she isn’t so offended that she releases her grip on me.
“Are you going to let her get away with talking to me like that?”
My brows almost hit my hairline.
“I ain’t saying shit to Stella. You’re more than capable of fighting your own battles.”
She’s about to slink off to sulk when someone else joins us in the kitchen, her eyes immediately locking on mine before they drop to Sloane’s.
Emmie might think that she keeps her expression neutral at seeing us together. But I see deeper than most, I’m sure. I see the slight widening of her eyes, the way her pupils darken in anger and the way her lips purse. If I could see down to her hips, I’m sure I’d find her fingers curled into tiny fists as she imagines slamming them into Sloane’s perfectly straight nose.
Her appearance means that when Sloane releases me, I wrap my fingers around her hip and pin her in place.
Dropping my lips to her ear, I say, “I didn’t think you liked losing.”
She shudders, and I know without looking that her expression tells everyone just how badly she wants me.
Am I an arsehole?
Hell, yeah. But I can’t help it.
Getting under Emmie’s skin has become something of an obsession.
