to spend time with them, unless it involves being stark naked and fucking like bunnies.
Not that I’ve recently had the pleasure—or even the will—to get my dick wet. Since shit hit the fan in the worst way imaginable last semester, my sex drive took a nasty-ass spill and hasn’t made a reappearance yet. If Viagra is the little blue tablet a guy takes to get his Johnson working, then a dash of murder is the bitter pill you swallow to kill off the libido for good.
But my sex life—or the lack thereof—is not my number one priority. It is the foul-mouthed Southie who unknowingly gave me the slip.
I’m still dodging around every obstacle in my way, just so I can catch up with Stone, when I realize that she’s not heading to the ethics class like her schedule dictates, but rather strolling toward the parking lot on the far side of campus as if she had all the time in the world.
The fuck?!
Is she blowing off her classes already? On the first week back to school, no less? I thought Stone had more sense than that. Or am I missing something? Maybe Easton’s guy slipped us a bogus schedule. Is the girl I had been enthralled by just a figment of the imagination of some douche looking to make a quick buck out of us? I haven’t even talked to Stone yet, and she’s already managed to piss me the hell off by crushing my expectations of the driven girl I imagined her to be.
I’m still fuming by the time I reach the parking lot. I’m only a few feet away when she opens the door to a beat-up blue truck, which looks older than dirt and twice as mean. It’s more like a metal death-box rather than means of acceptable transportation. To each his own, I suppose. However, her poor choice in vehicles is not even the worst thing in my line of sight at the moment.
Stone must be trying to find something hidden in that death trap of hers. And she’s having a hell of a time reaching whatever it is because the vexing girl begins to bend half her body into the front seat of the truck. She does it in such a way that her checkered skirt rises enough for me to see a little bit of the underlining of her smooth, tanned ass cheeks. Not to mention the clear view of the large, stellar phoenix tattoo inked on the outside of her upper thigh.
Stone is a short little thing, so when she jumps up a bit to give herself a better vantage point to grab whatever the fuck she’s insistent on getting, her skirt continues to inch a little bit higher—enough for a sliver of the sexy, black-laced panties to play peek-a-boo with every pair of male eyes, who are fortunate enough to be in the front row seat to an otherwise private show.
Fuck my life.
To add insult to injury, my cock thinks that now is an ideal time to stir awake, notifying me it’s fed up with its hibernation. Fucker wants to play and has fixed its sight on those pretty, black panties of hers, wanting to wipe its mushroom head on it.
‘Settle the fuck down. That ass isn’t for you,’ I reprimand my dick.
‘And why the fuck not? I mean, it’s right there, begging for us to make an introduction!’
I roll my eyes, shifting my half-mast self to a more comfortable position inside my jeans. Even though Easton’s course of action for befriending Stone was to get her in the sack as The Society ordered, I don’t think that will bode well for me. A girl like Stone must have some maniac, armed-to-the-teeth boyfriend who wouldn’t think twice in slashing my throat if I even thought about screwing his girl. At least that’s what I would do in his shoes if the roles were reversed. When my cock twitches again, I tell it as much, to keep the fucker in check.
‘Because an ass that fine usually has an owner, dickwad.’
‘How come you kissed her last Sunday night if she was already taken? You weren’t so worried about her having a man then, now were ya, buddy? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you got some lip action, huh? I’m not dead, you know? Just needed some time off to get my shit together. You know how it is. So, thank you for making it worth my while to finally make an appearance.