AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The what?” Luna asks, laughing like she’s sure she misheard.
I laugh too, because I said exactly what she thinks I did.
This idea, even though Chance explained it at length and we talked about possible topics, is crazy. I’m a student, not some hotshot psychologist. But Chance swears that’s what’ll make the guys listen to me. In some ways, I am them—same general age, working hard at school, planning for my future—all things Chance says his guys are going through too.
“Right? I’ll have to come up with a different name—maybe the Womansplainer? You know like mansplaining, but womansplaining.” Not liking that either, I wave my hands through the air, wiping that option away. “But Chance wants to hire me to do classes at his club.”
Luna shakes her head, rattling her thoughts loose. “Chance... wants you... in his boys-only club... to talk about sex?” she says in broken bits as she puts it together.
“Well, gender, relationships... and yeah, lots of sex,” I admit as she stares at me disbelievingly. “That’s why I wanted to do a sprint. I need to work on the outline for my first class.”
“I’m stuck on him not only letting you, but wanting you, in his dicks-required club. To talk to the guys, of course, because we’ve already established that he wants you here, there, and everywhere.” She smiles evilly, and for a moment I can see her ballsy alter-ego in her expression. “This is a major improvement for him, Samantha. I don’t know if you understand how much of an uptight, good soldier he usually is. He’s got rules for his rules. I’m surprised he didn’t have you sign a retroactive NDA once you knew who he was.”
She thinks she’s right, I can see it in her eyes. But she doesn’t know Chance the way I do. “Except he’s not like that. At least, not with me.”
She nods, but it feels a bit patronizing. “Of course, sure. Uh, what are you going to do for your first session?” she asks, trying to step it back because I sound a bit annoyed at her assessment of Chance. Not that I have any reason to be, but I’m offended on his behalf.
“I’m going in bold and obscene. I think they’ll respond to a strong, informative, be better in bed in one hour deal. And if I’m promising orgasms, who’s gonna tell me to shut up and get out?”
Luna laughs so hard she falls over into the coffee table and uses it to stay semi-upright. “Uh, probably Chance and Evan, but I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. To be clear, you mean conversational orgasms, not actual ones, right?” When I twist my lips sarcastically, she switches gears. “Does Chance know your topicdu jouris going to be ‘Be a Great Fucker, Not a Fuck Up’ yet?”
I blink at her brilliance. Holding up one finger, I scribble that down on my tablet screen as a possible title. Once I’ve got that and a few other ideas noted, I shrug. “He knows my specialties and what I’m bringing to the table. He can be okay with it, or I can bounce.”
I’m not going to hold back from giving the guys what they need, even if it’s a kick in the ass. Literally. And Chance didn’t give me any restrictions or guidelines, just said to help them be good men. That’s his mission in five words, basically, and I can support that. As long as I can tell them how to lick a clit as part of that education.
Luna seems unsure, and I eat a couple of handfuls of popcorn as I wait for her to get her thoughts together. “Be careful, Samantha. That’s all. Chance puts on a good front—confident, strong, proud. But I’ve seen him with Carter and the rest of the brothers. It’s not always pretty. He was the first one to walk away from Charles, which took some big brass ones, but he paid a price. For a while, I think he was looked at as a traitor to the family.”
That is new information to me.
I’ve heard about Luna’s in-laws, Charles and Miranda, and all of Carter’s siblings, including Chance. But they’re all scattered around town, doing their own things. Cameron is the only one following in Daddy Harrington’s footsteps at the family business now. Carter’s doing private estate management for the same woman Luna manages the art collection for. Cole seems to dip in and out randomly, and the going theories are that he’s a spy, an escort, or both. But that’s a joke, not serious suspicion. Kyle is the black sheep of the family, doing whatever he wants, which seems to be flipping his middle finger at anything his father holds dear. And Kayla is her mother’s right-hand woman.
“Good soldier family man is the traitor?” I echo, confused as hell because nothing about Chance is worthy of that title.
“Not now,” Luna rushes to clarify, “but in the early days, when he was struggling over his idealistic dream of making the world a better place? Yeah, that’s not really Charles’s love language. And the club, however unusual it might be to us, is Chance’s baby. Just... don’t mess it up for him, ’kay?”
She makes it sound like I’m going in with blow-up dolls as balloon décor for an informational session on making a woman scream in ecstasy with first-hand demonstrations. Which I’m not doing... the blow-up dolls or the demos. Well, not first-hand ones at least, but a frame-by-frame dissection of skill in a pre-selected video is still an option. I think.
“I won’t,” I promise, holding out my pinkie finger. She wraps hers around mine, and we lift and lower them three times, silently vowing to hold the pinkie promise in the utmost esteem. “You ready to get to work?” I ask her, and she nods absently. I’ve already lost her to Alphena and whatever ideas she’s cooking up in that mind of hers.
“Hey, Alexa, set an alarm for forty-five minutes.”
“Alarm set for three-oh-two p.m.”
“Let’s go, girl. On your mark, get set, git it!” I tell Luna as Alexa starts our timer. Luna gave me a lot to think about, but first, I have to do an outline for this class. If I get up there and stutter and stammer with no real gameplan, they are going to eat me alive. And not in a good cunnilingus sort of way, but rather, an uncomfortable, awkward session of Q-and-As that’ll put my practice therapy rounds to shame.
I can hear them now...
“What’s your O-face look like?”
“How can I get a girl to deepthroat me without puking all over my dick?”
“If she’s really tight, can she break my penis?”
Plus basically every awful definition from Urban Dictionary that has to do with sex. Donkey show? Dirty Sanchez? Superman?
And I do not want that. So I get to work, side by side, with Luna drawing her superhero alter-ego on her tablet and me typing on my laptop to create a class that’ll be informative, helpful, and not involve me saying filthy things to a room full of guys who’d rather fuck with me than fuck me but would be happy to go either way.
CHAPTER15
