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“I couldn’t believe when Michael told me the two of you weren’t speaking, but no one would tell me why,” she pouted.
“It was our issue and although I didn’t think it at the time, deep down I knew we’d get over it and move on. Roman made sure of it.”
She sighed.
We had a hierarchy in the group, but it changed and evolved depending on the situation. When it came to age, Roman was the oldest and while he was smallest in stature, he made up for it in ego. It helped to have a father who was a billionaire. He and Sean were stepbrothers. His mom married Roman’s dad when they were six and eight respectively. Mr. Hawthorne treated the boys equally, but Sean sabotaged himself and never felt worthy.
Michael, Bishop, and I were the athletes in the group. We were in charge of fun. When we needed to lighten the mood, or entertain the ladies, Keith was the man. Women liked funny guys.
If nothing else, we were loyal to each other, but we disciplined our own. When Bishop told me he didn’t want me pursuing his sister, he made clear his reason why, and I had to accept it.
“You know who Bishop wanted you to end up with?”
She looked back at me.
“Roman,” we both said in unison.
“Because of the financial stability,” she added. “Makes sense. I love Roman, his dominant personality is fun every once in a while, but could be exhausting twenty-four seven.” She rolled over to face me.
“You prefer my more nurturing dominant side?” I ran my hand down her side and squeezed her hip. Then I slapped it.
“Ouch.” She pushed my hand away and rubbed her ass. “You, I can handle.”
“I bet Keith would have something to say about who you end up with.” I went back to rubbing her ass. I loved being able to touch her when I wanted and how I wanted. “He’s had a crush on you since day one.”
“Keith is adorable, but he’s possessive.” She rubbed her nose. “If we ended up together, we’d never hang out with you guys.”
“That’s because he knows if given the chance, we’d all take a shot to steal you away from him.” See, loyal up to a point.
Ciara sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. I spread her legs and ran my hand down her thigh and over her pussy. The skin was clean shaven and smooth.
“Not Michael.” She leaned back and her legs fell to the side. She wasn’t the least bit self-conscious or shy around me. “He and Carla have been together forever.” Michael was the only one of us who had married. Carla went to a rival school, but they had been dating since middle school, stopped dating in high school, and Carla followed us to Texas A&M and they reconnected. They married a week before Michael got drafted into the NFL.
“True, but still, if given the choice between Carla and you . . .” I petted the sides of her pussy with the tip of my finger. The last of the sun clung to the sky and I had one night to experience all Ciara had to offer. My goal was to keep the desire up to keep from falling into the pool of grief. It would come soon enough, but before it did, I was going to taste every inch of her.
“He adores her.” Her voice went up an octave.
“She’s not you.” I tapped on her clit. I crawled between her legs and rested my head on her thigh.
“This whole time, he’s been pining away for me too?”
“Yeah, but he also likes that you kind of worship him a bit.” I kissed the inside of her thigh. “He’s staying with her because he doesn’t want you to see him fail at something.” I pulled the lips apart to watch her pussy open to me.
Her throat hitched. I looked up, and the pout remained on her lips. I’d upset her.
Someone knocked on the door.
Ciara pushed me away. It hurt. She pulled her T-shirt down and hopped off the bed. “Cover that thing up.” My rock-hard cock tented the blanket over my lap. I grabbed a pillow and sat up.
Ciara opened the door.
“Room service.” An older gentleman in a black uniform wheeled in a cart covered with Ciara’s feast. He handed her the bill. She handed it to me. “Would you like me to set it up?” the waiter asked.
“No. We got it.” I signed the bill and handed it back. He tipped his imaginary hat and backed out of the room, taking in the scene. He probably knew who we were but was too polite to say anything. Ciara plopped on the edge of the bed and pulled the cart toward her. I joined her. She pulled the plate cover off the food.
“Wow.” Her eyes grew wide. “This looks so good.”
She found my burger and pushed it to my side of the table. She ordered a beer for me and apple juice for herself. She took a sip and then dipped a chicken tender in ranch dressing and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back.
