I Pucking Love You (The Copper Valley Thrusters #5) - Pippa Grant Page 0,1
doesn’t hurt my game.
Ergo, on a normal night, when my junk works, staying with the bunnies is what I should do.
“Why don’t mathematicians ever throw keggers?” Sparkle Hair purrs in my ear.
“Because you shouldn’t drink and derive,” I reply.
“Touch my pussy, you sexy beast.” She rips my pants open, which is hot as hell, except for the part where Mr. Lazy Ass Disappointment in my jockeys has completely disconnected from reality.
Two chicks.
Two smart chicks who like math jokes and know what to do with their hands and I need a urologist, because there is zero movement happening south of the border, which—
“Oh.”
“Hm.”
Yeah.
Which they’re both noticing.
Right now.
Sparkle Tits pulls my boxer briefs back, peers inside, and then both women scurry off me while I try to find words to convince them that what they’re seeing isn’t what they’re seeing and that I’m into this.
“We don’t take advantage of guys,” Super Tits finishes.
“We can take no.”
“We really can. No harm, no foul.”
“When you came up here with me, I thought—”
“I mean, that’s half of what you guys come to our bar for, right?”
“But if you’re not into it, we get it.”
“Totally.”
“Completely.”
“Two women at once is intimidating sometimes.”
“Do you want one of us to leave? Or are you…?”
“No!” Shit. I drop my head in my hands. The weight of reality about the state of my lack of woody is making my head hurt, and I almost wish one of my teammates would come looking for me. “You didn’t—I’m not—I want—”
I want my damn dick to work again like it used to.
“Too many hits to the head,” I mutter.
“Oh, poor boo.” Super Tits appears on the floor in front of me, looking up so I can’t avoid her gaze without looking like a total asshole, and no, having a woman kneeling in front of me is still doing nothing in the crotch area. “Did it start after your concussion? That’s not uncommon.”
“No! That was—No. No, it didn’t start after the concussion.” Jesus. Am I really discussing this with these two?
And the concussion was eighteen months ago. Not yesterday.
I need a wingman.
I need a wingman more than I need my dick to roar to life.
Possibly an exaggeration, except for the part where I don’t know exactly what would happen to my dick if he did roar to life, since it’s been…
Let’s call it a while and leave it at that, okay?
“So you could get it up right after your injury?” she presses.
“I was fine.”
“Can you masturbate?”
I can’t keep track of which one of them is talking and firing off all the questions, but that last one has me glaring at Sparkle Hair.
Because no.
No, actually, I can’t fucking masturbate.
“Oh.”
“Hm.”
“Wow.”
“That’s…”
“Maybe one of us could rub it for you?”
“Yes! Either one. You pick. Bodies respond differently to self-touch than they do to being touched by a different person.”
“I’d suck on you for a while if you thought that would help.”
“Me too. For sure.”
“Do your teammates know?”
I shove up off the bed and stuff myself back in my pants before all three of us start inspecting my limp, pathetic, broken weenie again. “No, they don’t know. And I don’t—I don’t need help. Thank you. Just—just forget this ever happened, okay?”
They share a look, then both nod emphatically. “Yes!”
“Of course.”
“I wasn’t here.”
“Neither was I.”
“We don’t know a thing.”
“Never met you.”
“Nope. Never at all. Though if you want to talk to someone, the doctors where I’m doing my internship are all excellent.”
“Oh my gosh, they really are. Dr. Jelani helped me work through my anxiety over taking tests, and now I’m on track to graduate with my microbiology degree next spring.”
They won’t stop talking.
It’s like being in a room with my sisters, which is impressive, because I have four sisters, yet there are only two very, very smart bunnies here.
“I think we’re overwhelming him, Cassadee,” Super Tits whispers.
“He’s had a rough night,” Cassadee whispers back.
“Clearly,” they say together.
“We fucking won,” I grumble.
“Oh, honey, I know you did.” Sparkle Hair—Cassadee, apparently—whips her phone out of her back pocket. “Listen, I’m going to send you my number, and Athena’s number, and the number for Dr. Jelani. If you ever want to talk, we’re here for you, okay?”
Athena—Super Tits—nods again. “There’s no shame in working through your problems.”
“Especially if it ensures this doesn’t interfere with your game.”
“We seriously love watching you play.”
“Do you know how many people could’ve stepped into Ares Berger’s skates when he got injured two years ago?”