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“No.” She combs her red fingertips through her long black hair, and goddammit, Blair’s not a cock-tease. She’s cock torture. “I wanted tofuckthem, but you told them I had Herpes Simplex Eighty-One, and they were so dumb as rocks they believed you.”
I start laughing.
Fuck, that was funny.
And yeah, some of those guys had a granite slab between their ears. But still, they weremyteam, and yeah, I said it. I spread the rumors about Blair. I made sure none of them fucked her, and like hell, if I’ll ever tell her the real reason why.
It makes me ask, “How’s Reese?”
“Don’t know. You were the one fucking her.”
“She was your roommate for two years.”
“And you were in herpussyfor two years, but it seems you’re still too small to leave a big impression.”
God, I’m not twenty-nine; I’m twenty-one all over again.
Blair does this to me every time.
Because damn, how I want to shove my tongue in her smart mouth. I want to shut those damn red lips up, sucking the air from her lungs and blitzing her mind untilallshe knows is how big I really am. I’ll do it right before I shoveher to her knees and silence her sass with my hard cock fucking her throat.
The silky maid’s lingerie in my grasp tempts me.
Do I want to tie her wrists with it? Do I want to stuff it in her relentless mouth? Or do I want to watch her wear it? Watch her as she cleans up the mess she made of my heart.
Still, it was our mess, Blair’s and mine. No one knew but us. I didn’t cheat on Reese. I’m not that kind of man. I just couldn’t deny my attraction to Blair, how it grew, and how I fought it like hell.
So did she.
That night, we confessed our attraction, our secrets, and our guilt, too, but we never did anything about it. Blair was a true friend, and I was a faithful boyfriend. That’s why it was weird how Reese just ghosted us at the end of our senior year, and we never knew why.
“When was the last time you saw her?” I ask, noting how Blair hasn’t moved.
It’s like this is a standoff, and she won’t lose. We’re back to fighting, and I don’t hate it.
“A week before graduation.” She asks, “What about you?”
“Same.”
“You graduated?”
“Yeah, I got my diploma.”
“They’re still awarding football players coloring books?”
“Yeah,” I joke back, “with crimson crayons. We went to the same university. You’re only insulting yourself.”
“No, youplayedfor Alabama while Istudiedthere.” She finally takes five steps toward me, and my pulse reacts. It remembers her. Everything about me rises around her. “I put my nose in pages while you put your nose in asscracks.And now,” she smirks, “you’re an expert on men’s balls, and I’m an expert on smart books.”
I nod, willing my eyes not to admire her incredible tits for the thousandth time. Funny, my dick notices them though.
“If you’re such an expert onsmartbooks,” I ask her, “why are you working in asexshop?”
It flashes across her eyes. I knew I’d score with that ego punch.
I just hurt her.
So why doesn’t the win feel good?
