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The way he asks this so candidly makes my face heat.
“Jesus, Tatum,” I murmur, and then he smiles widely at me.
“What? No one heard, and listen, I am concerned. Is your hole okay? It’s gotta take a beating.”
It has but I don’t tell him this. Instead, I just lean over and poke him. “It’s fine. It closes like a Venus fly trap. Now mind your own business.”
He chuckles lowly and then shakes his head. “You lucky duck.”
I am lucky, but I also know that I’m a bit of a shit too. Honestly, I should tell them, should disclose that I’m fucking them both, but I’m not ready for it to be over. And I have a feeling that it would end as soon as one of them found out about the other.
Does that make me selfish?
Yeah, it does, but I never said I was a saint.
I’m a slut and a selfish one at that.
“You are,” Tatum agrees, and I close my eyes.
“I said that out loud?”
“It’s an issue, but one I love so very much.”
I face forward as class begins, the two of us frantically typing up our notes and then exiting class an hour and a half later. As we walk out, Tatum nudges my arm with his.
“Come on, let’s grab dinner and then you can go get your ass pounded.”
I roll my eyes and sock him lightly in the arm. To be honest, seeing Cash and Ford earlier at the shop was atrocious.
I mean, watching the two of them together is hot enough—all dirty and oily and working with tools I can’t even name. Most days, when I’m sitting at my desk, filing documents, I feel like I’m going to combust. Combine that with the healthy dose of guilt I feel every time I see my dad, and I feel worse.
Horny and sad.
A lame combination.
“Okay, yeah, I could use a little sustenance before tonight.”
Tatum grins at me and pulls me toward the college cafeteria where people gather to eat and socialize. I’ve never been one to do any of that. I’m far too quiet.
“You do need a lot of carbs for all that cardio you’re doing.”
I silently agree. It is exhausting, but in the best way.
“So what’s it gonna be?” he asks as he peruses the options. I go for what’s cheapest and what won’t leave me too full. A bowl of pasta and a bottle of water. Tatum, on the other hand, has loaded up his tray with an egregious amount of food. A burrito, a bowl of spaghetti, and some kind of yellow soup. Makes my stomach churn just looking at the combination, but Tatum always was a garbage disposal. How he stays so thin is beyond me. Maybe it’s all the energy he has. He just burns it all off in his sleep.
“That soup is nasty.”
“It does look a bit like baby diarrhea, so I am definitely intrigued.”
A snort escapes me. “I swear to god. You’re disgusting.”
“I know. But all the people love me for it. The things I’m willing to do.”
Oh, I know, but I don’t want to hear it. My poor ears have already heard too much. Not that Tatum doesn’t listen to me blather on about the predicament I’ve found myself in, but then again, I don’t go into detail.
No, I keep all those details for when I’m alone in bed. So I can relive them over and over again.
And I do. They are on repeat.
