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“Can it get any better than this?”
No, I don’t think it can. Although, it would be nice if his dad knew about us and approved. I’m not doing this for shits and giggles. I don’t just go around fucking guys.
Ben is the exception.
Well, Ford too, I think as I glance over at my best friend who is still holding my hand. He looks real fucking hot, and for the first time in… well, ever, I wonder if I’m gonna end up fucking him too.
The thought doesn’t make me nervous. Actually, it only makes my cock jump between my legs.
Don’t know if I’ve ever had this much sex. Intimacy with Claire was nonexistent toward the end, so to go from nothing to sex multiple times a day is something my cock and mind can get on board with.
Who knew a forty-two-year-old guy could get it up so often?
I turn my gaze to the TV and watch for a few minutes before my phone lights up. Glancing down, I see my mom’s name flash across the screen.
Fuck. My face feels hot and my heart rate increases slightly. And not in the good way, either.
I forgot to message her back. And I know how she gets when she thinks I’m ignoring her.
I remove my hand from Ford’s and grab my phone, staring down at it in silence.
“What’s wrong?” Ford whispers.
I glance over at him and sigh. “My mom.”
His eyes roll. “Oh, fuck her. What does that bitch want now?”
His outburst makes Ben stir and he sits up with a yawn.
“What’s going on?” he asks, rubbing at his tired eyes.
I purse my lips and throw Ford a glare, but he ignores me.
“Cash’s parents are the biggest knobs.”
“Why?” Ben asks, looking worried, and I reach out and massage the back of his neck, making him lean into me a little more. I don’t want him stressed out, especially if it’s because of me.
“It’s just how it is. It’s fine.”
Ford rolls his eyes and snorts. “No, it’s not. They keep bugging him, trying to make him into something he’s not. It’s been this way since we met. They keep trying to parade him around in suits and ties when he’d rather be in his garage in jeans and a t-shirt.”
I sigh and run a hand down my face. “Ford, enough.”
“Nah, nope. I hate them.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Ben eyes me and then asks softly, “What do they want now?”
“Probably for him to attend some fancy, pretentious party…”
Ford isn’t reading the room. Ben doesn’t need to stress about this. It’s a nonissue, it’s not a big deal. But now Ben’s eyes are fraught with worry and he’s chewing on his bottom lip.
“Is it a party?”
“Yeah, my parents’ anniversary party. They go all out.”
“Oh.”
