Hott and Handled (The Hott Brothers #3) - Leah Sharelle Page 0,32

and Makena also thought that to be true.

“No orgasm?” Blake croaked out, “Ever?”

“What kind of arsehole were you married to?” Makena shrieked, sounding mad and appalled.

“A real prick to be honest with you. And not exactly no orgasms, I have given myself a couple, but they were uneventful and rather quick,” I admitted, deciding I might as well go the whole hog now.

“More alcohol is needed, please Candice,” Makena shouted over her shoulder to the waitress, “lots, lots more.”

Silently, I agreed. Copious amounts of grog was needed. Thank god Dillion was spending the night at his mate’s place because tonight I am getting pissed.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I shouted. I had to shout because music from the live band was drowning out our conversation. The band sucked. I much preferred my old, antique jukebox at the pizza restaurant, at least with that you could turn down the volume or skip a song. My shouting had nothing to do with the three vodkas, two beers and one yummy Grasshopper.

“Wait, what is a tongue swirl?”

“The tongue swirl is a gift from the gods, Farron,” Blake slurred from her position on the table. Yes, on the table. The newest Mrs Hott was currently lying lengthways on the rectangle table, completely and utterly wasted.

“It’s more than a gift, it is the ultimate sexual bliss. But the guy has to know how to do it properly, or else you are left in orgasm purgatory,” Makena added, pointing her finger right in my face. About four drinks in, Makena decided she was getting too hot and proceeded to get half of her gear off. Well, her shirt, jeans and boots, leaving her only in a tank and a pair of boy short knickers. “And by the way, I am so drunk, so drunk … just so drunk.”

“I got that impression when you took off your jeans, Mack,” I giggled, looking down to the floor at the pile of clothes there. Not all were hers; added to it was Blake’s cowboy hat and checked shirt and my t-shirt. Unlike Blake, who was sitting or rather lying on the table in just a short denim skirt and lacey white bra, I wasn’t quite that adventurous, so I still had on my jeans and a tank top.

“Oh god, I have to get home, I have to work the lunch shift tomorrow,” I groaned, dropping my head to the table with a painful thump.

“I am just happy I’m not breastfeeding Onyxx anymore because I am so drunk.”

“You are also very close to being naked, wife of mine,” a deep voice growled from the door. His voice raised so it could be heard over the music.

“Ahh, it is Hottie 1, the best Hottie of them all,” Makena squealed happily, then as if what Noxx said to her penetrated her alcohol-fogged brain, she narrowed her eyes at him and attempted to look stern, when all she really accomplished was to look stupid.

“I have far more on than Blake, only my arse is showing not my boobs,” she proclaimed, wobbling to her feet to show her husband her bare legs and barely covered butt.

“For fuck’s sake, Makena.” Lenoxx leapt over one table, dodged a half-drunk cowboy to get to his wife, shaking off his shirt as he went.

“Oh, I love it when you get all territorial on me, Noxx. Will you do that tongue swirl thing to me when we get home, cos I really need an orgasm from my god.”

“I have a god too!” Blake hollered, not to be outdone, “You have no idea how great my god is.”

“And they never will, Blake Isobel,” Hendrixx grunted, coming up to the table, his hands on his slim hips, his chin dropped to his chest, but I could see a slight shake of his shoulders. His wife might be half-naked and lying on a table, but Hendrixx was seeing the funny side, unlike his brother.

“Drixx?”

Hendrixx walked over to his wife, gently prying her off her back and into his arms.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I love you.”

“Love you more, cowgirl,” he replied to his wife sweetly. I sat there watching the two brothers tending lovingly to their inebriated wives feeling like a fifth wheel, uncomfortable looking in, like some weirdo voyeur.

Instantly, my mind went to Nixx, he’d texted me this morning asking how I slept, and about Dillion. I answered his questions, asked a few, then ended the session when I realised the time and flew out the door, unintentionally leaving my phone on the kitchen bench. It wasn’t