“You should tell her. She won’t care, either.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his hands fidgeting after he passed me back the joint.
“What for?”
“For always being there for me. You’ve never let me down,” he said, his voice uneven and his eyes showing me how much this shit was affecting him.
“Well, for the record, if anyone gives you any fucking grief over this, they’ll have me to deal with. So you like to suck cock. Who the fuck gives a shit?”
He stared at me in shock for a minute and then he grinned and shook his head. “Fuck, Kick . . .”
“It’s true, dude, and I’m okay with that, but don’t ever fucking ask me to suck your dick, ‘cause it’s never gonna fucking happen. I’m all for pussy.”
“I wish I’d told you sooner.”
I nodded. “Yeah, me too, ‘cause I’ve been wondering. You got any fucking idea how hard it is to think about your best friend being gay without thinking about cock? Thank fuck cock will never have to enter my mind again.” He laughed and I muttered, “Not funny, man. This is serious shit right here.”
“So you don’t want to come to a gay club and help me find a man when we turn eighteen?”
I slid back against the wall and closed my eyes. “Fuck, you know I can never say no to you. You and fucking Evie . . . always talking me into doing shit I don’t want to do.”
My eyes were shut, sleepy, but I heard his laugh.
Thank god we’d finally had that conversation.
I really didn’t want to have to think about cock anymore.
***
That night, I knocked on Evie’s front door and reached my arms up to grip onto the doorframe, stretching the tension out of my back. It’d been a long fucking day and she was all I’d been thinking about for hours.
She answered the door and my dick instantly jerked. I stepped forward, my arm circling her waist and sliding down to grip her ass. “That outfit is dangerous, baby,” I growled into her ear. She had on the skimpiest denim shorts that were really just a scrap of material rather than a pair of shorts, and a tiny, fitted red singlet that stretched across tits that were straining to escape it.
Moving into my space, she put her arms around me, and said, “I’m hoping so.”
I raised my brows and smirked. “Oh, really?”
She smiled. “Really.”
“A man might need to be fed if he’s expected to exert some energy,” I said, still smirking.
“Might he?” She played with me and I fucking liked it.
“Well, you could try not feeding me, but I doubt you’ll get much out of me. My woman drained most of my energy last night.”
A grin decorated her gorgeous face, and I loved that I’d put it there. “Okay, it’s a good thing I cooked extra. I was hoping you’d come over,” she said, grabbing my hand and walking towards the kitchen.
I let her lead me, my eyes never leaving her ass. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you going out in those shorts. They hardly cover your ass, and I don’t need to be dealing with motherfuckers checking you out, ‘cause that shit could lead to me ending up in jail.”
She turned and rolled her eyes at me. “No one will be checking me out except for you.”
I yanked her hand so that she was propelled backwards into my arms. She stumbled but I caught her. When I had her eyes, I said, “Where the fuck do you get the idea that no one would be checking you out, ‘cause last I looked, you’re a fuckin’ beautiful woman?”
Her face softened for a moment and she said, “Thank you,” but I wasn’t buying her belief in my words.
“You’ve got no idea, have you?”
“What? That you think I’m beautiful?” She seemed genuinely confused at my question.
“No, that every fuckin’ man finds you beautiful.”
Her mind hesitated to let her heart believe me; I saw it in her eyes. “Kick . . .” Her voice trailed off and she tried to move out of my hold, but I didn’t let her. No fucking way was she getting out of hearing this.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been watching assholes eye fuck you for years. Those curves of yours were any man’s fuckin’ dream, and while I’m not a fan of this skin and bones thing you’ve got going on at the moment, you’re still any man’s dream.”
Her mouth fell open and she stared at me with wide eyes. “You liked my curves?” The uncertainty in her voice fucking killed me.
“Fuck yes.”
A smile slowly spread across her face, and I knew she’d heard me, and hoped she would start working on bringing the curves back. When she stood on her toes to give me the kind of kiss a man can only hope for at the end of a hard day, I knew I was in for a good fucking night.
When she ended the kiss, I slapped her on the ass, and said, “How about some food, woman?”
She grinned at me, grabbed my hand and led me to the kitchen.
A moment later, I stood in front of a banquet of food. “You made all this?” I asked, surveying all the dishes.
She placed plates on the counter for us. “Yeah, I know how much you love my Thai food so I spent the afternoon making it for you.”
I crossed my arms and leant my hip against the counter. “And what if I hadn’t shown? That’s a fuckload of food, baby.”
She gave me her sexy grin. “Oh, I was pretty sure you’d show.”