“Speak for yourself! I give it to the ladies so hard they slide off my dick high as fuck,” Austin boasts, his thumbs darting over the buttons and joystick.
I look between him and Sean, and then back to Trent. “Between all of you, Austin must have the smallest dick. He protests too much.” I roll my eyes for good measure.
There’s a brief moment of awkward silence and for a second I’m worried they won’t think it’s funny or okay for me to join in the smack talk. That is, until Sean slams his fist on the table and explodes into a fit of laughter. Trent’s eyes water, he’s laughing so hard. Austin just curses, his undivided attention back on the game.
“Oh, my God! I’m dying.” Sean holds his hand up for me to meet his high five and I stand up, joining them at the table to slap his palm. “This chick is badass.”
“That, I already knew.” Trent grins, his eyes all too knowing with his stare.
My stomach twists with an unfamiliar feeling and I decide to ask a few questions since we’ve got miles to burn. “So, you guys don’t partake? In the Iz entertainment?”
“No judgment on Iz, but I don’t like feeling fucked up. Not all the time like he is,” Sean says.
“I’ve got my looks to maintain,” Austin pipes in from behind.
“Of course. What with that being yourlargestasset.” Not looking back at him I roll my eyes and shake my head with a smile.
“And longest,” Austin mutters.
We try to contain our snickers.
“What about you, Trent?” I say. “What’s your drug of choice?” I don’t know what I expect, but part of me hopes he sticks to the light stuff. There’s something about him, a presence that captivates the second he walks into a room, and I can’t help but decide that’d be lost if he became addicted to drugs. My hope begins to fade when he doesn’t answer right away, his gaze trained on the table where he traces imaginary shapes with his long fingers, and for the first time since we met he looks almost ... nervous.
Sean grins and responds for him. “Pussy.”
Trent’s gaze snaps to meet his friend.
“Pardon?” I ask with a little laugh.
Trent stares at Sean, a silent threat in his eyes, but for what I don’t know. “I prefer a more delicate sweetness between my lips,” he finally answers, then drops his gaze to mine, winks, and sticks out his tongue. He rolls it around before shutting his mouth with a pompous smile. “Plus, with this bad boy, it’s like I was made for it.”
It’s arrogant and he’s just playing around, but a rush of need pools between my thighs at the thought of his mouth there.
No. Just no. I shake my head and get up to retrieve my guitar and notebook. I need to write, force myself to focus on why I’m here, where I’m going. The banter around me fades and within a few minutes I’m fully down the rabbit hole, writing, the words coming like a freight train. I don’t think, just scribble them out as fast as they fly. Creativity sparks. Collides. And I’m left with the most troubling of arrangements.
Because every damn sentence reminds me of Trent’s outrageous tongue.
I slam the notebook shut. That was counterproductive. And this is going to be a long ride.Long.Damn it!
I did it again.
