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Wow. That was deep. I guess.
And she goes, leaving me feeling vaguely offended and annoyed, her heels clacking on the floor, as I frown at my screen. I need prettifying?
Being nerdy may not be the problem, after all. Maybe I’ve become rather… lax about my appearance.
Happens when you don’t have a man in your life to dress for, okay? Why waste time when the only male staring under your skirt is the neighbor’s manic Chihuahua? Why wear lace and shave your legs for the crazy fluffy bastard, huh?
Going to a concert by some unknown indie group from out of town doesn’t feel like reason enough, either. But Ryan is going, so of course Brylee wants to go.
Brylee insists she’s in love. She works with Ryan, at the investment firm where she’s landed her first job as accountant. He likes rock music, and Brylee believes they are soulmates.
Have I mentioned she hates rock music?
But hey, who am I to judge? It’s not like I believe in love, not really. Wouldn’t know what it was if it bit me in the ass. I know lust, and Brylee is clearly a case of bad lust. I hope they hop into bed together soon, so she can get over it.
The reason I can’t get over J & J, I decide as I open a new post in my browser and copy-paste the review I prepared for the last book I read and loved—Cora Brent’s latest—is that they are a fantasy.
And a fantasy they shall remain. Our paths may have crossed briefly, but the chances of them crossing again are zilch. If nothing happened between us while Joel was still going to college with me, how the heck would it ever happen now?
Except for his roommate being in urgent need of a book about bananas, that is. But I doubt he’ll need another one anytime soon.
***
I put up my review, give myself a mental high-five for getting it done at last, and open Facebook to stalk my boys, as per usual. Don’t judge—this is the highlight of my day.
Kinda overshadowed by the fact I actually met and talked to J-One today, but still.
I click Joel’s profile. We’re “friends” online—see, I’m not a complete chicken. I friended him a year ago, and to my surprise he accepted. Of course, he probably accepts all friend requests. He’s always been a popular guy. An athlete, easy-going, handsome, successful with the ladies. Guys want to be like him. Girls crush on him.
On par for any day.
And Jethro… For some reason, he manages to always come out blurry in the photos with Joel. Always in motion, that one.
And OMG, jackpot! There’s a new pic of the two of them, Jethro’s arm thrown over Joel’s shoulders, flipping the camera the bird. It’s some sort of pool party, because they’re both bare-chested, and woo. I’m feeling faint. And hot. Too hot.
I lean closer, bumping my nose on the screen, and consider licking it. Licking them. God if this were real…
I feel myself growing wet. I’m conditioned, after years of wanting them—not that any girl could possibly be immune to that level of hawtness. Not if their blood isn’t made of ice.
Mine certainly isn’t.
My hand steals down between my legs with a mind of its own. Bad, wicked hand. A brush over my soaked panties and I shiver. I imagine it’s Joel or Jethro touching me, moving my panties aside to slide rough fingers into me.
God, I can imagine them, one behind me, his hands cupping my breasts, his breath on the back of my neck, while the other is pleasuring me with his han
d, crushing his mouth to mine, swallowing my moans.
Oh yeah, do me, I want you… I slump back in my chair, biting my lip, letting my fantasy boyfriends take care of me. I know Jethro is the one kissing me, while Joel is sliding his hands over my ass, then down where Jethro is pleasuring me, his fingers joining his friend’s—
And I shudder, coming hard, wishing… Wishing it were real.
***
I’m still struggling to catch my breath, when a message pops up in my chat. It’s Connie, fellow admirer of the Twins, and contester for Jethro’s imaginary affections. According to her, she licked him first.
Well, I licked both first, and the bitch knows that. Licked them from head to toe and shoulder to shoulder, not bypassing any part.
So there.
