“You’ve never sent someone a naked selfie?” I’m honestly shocked.
If I looked like him, I’d be sending them out to whoever wanted one. Maybe even people who didn’t.
Kidding.
“Nope. Can’t have pics of my dick floating around the internet. The NFL wouldn’t like that.”
Is it weird that I didn’t actually register until this point that he’s probably something of a celebrity back home? I mean, the NFL is like our Premier League, and footballers back home are famous. Granted, I don’t know many of them. But if there was one who looked like him, I’d definitely know about him.
Sighing, I toss back the shot and hand him back the glass to refill.
While he’s topping my glass up, I reach back, unhook my bra, and pull it off. Thank God no one can see onto my deck. Unless there’s the actual Aquaman out there and he’s gonna pop up out of the water any moment now. Which, in all fairness, I wouldn’t be opposed to Jason Momoa seeing my bare breasts.
I toss my bra at him. He catches it and hangs it over his shoulder, like a bloody trophy.
Okay. So, I’m two shots in, two items down, and he’s still had no shots and got all of his clothes. I need something good here.
Think, Dillon. Think …
There has to be something I haven’t done that he definitely has.
Ooh. I’ve got it! A guy who is as sexually experienced as he is, is sure to have done this.
“Okay.” I clear my dry throat, which I’m pretty sure no longer has any flesh left covering it because the alcohol has burned it all off. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”
He grins. “Well played.” He puts the shot glass to his lips and tosses back the gin. “Fuck!” he growls. “That’s some strong-ass gin!”
“Told ya,” I say as he puts his glass down. “Clothes now. I’ll refill for you.”
He removes the bloody slippers he’s not wearing and not the robe or trunks. Of course, this is my fault for putting more clothes on him.
And it’s also his turn now. I just know I’m gonna lose my panties.
“Okay. Never have I ever faked it.”
Oh! I’m safe! I’ve never faked an orgasm before.
I grin and shake my head.
His brow lifts. “You’ve never faked an orgasm before?”
“Nope.” I give a winning smile.
“Not even with the ex who … needed a map just to find your vagina and a satnav to your clit?”
I wince. “When did I … oh, for fuck’s sake. Was there anything I didn’t say or tell you that night?”
A playful expression slides onto his face. “Maybe. But not much. You did tell me a lot of stuff that night.”
I stare down at the small glass of gin in my hand. “Might not be a good idea for me to keep drinking these. I might just get wasted again and tell you all the things I didn’t get around to telling you the other night.”
“Sounds like a fun time to me.” His tone is dry, so I can’t tell if he’s being for real or sarcastic. But I’ll go with the latter because I can’t imagine listening to drunk me drone on about boring shit is much fun.
“So, okay, it’s my turn. I need to think about this because you’re still fully clothed and I’m not so … oh, got one!”
Every guy has said this without a doubt. West might be a good guy, but he was also a teenager once, and teenage boys will do anything to get laid.
Biting back a grin, I say, “Never have I ever told someone I loved them just to get laid.”
His gorgeous gray eyes narrow on me, and I know I’ve got him.
Shaking his head, he tosses back the drink and thrusts the empty shot glass out at me.
Laughing, I take the glass and refill it from the bottle while he takes off that robe.
“In my defense,” he says, taking the now-full shot glass that I’m holding out to him, “it was one time, and I was sixteen. She was the hottest girl in school, and getting my dick wet was the only thing I thought about back then.”
“Isn’t getting your dick wet the only thing you think about now?” I tease.
He gives me a serious look. “No. I also think a lot about getting your pussy wet.”
Oh. My.
My mouth dries again, and I’m almost tempted to throw this shot back to moisten it.