Reese
As I left Martin Hall after my calculus exam, headed for some desperately needed caffeine, my phone vibrated.
Laird: Hope your test went well. I’m sure you nailed it. Drumline party tonight. 9pm. Mandatory.
I hesitated, not entirely sure how to respond. The first half had been personal, but the second half sounded all business. It also didn’t escape my attention that he didn’t ask me to go with him to the party.
Well, you’re the one who wanted to keep it quiet around the drumline. It probably wasn’t fair of me to get mad at the guy for respecting my wishes. But still…
I weighed my options, finally deciding to answer in kind.
Me: I think I did pretty good, thnx. Good luck on yours later! See you tonight.
My thumb pressed send before I could overthink it further.
It’s just a text. Just a text. Just a text. I chanted to myself as I crossed the quad. With the guy I’m probably sleeping with tomorrow. My feet quickened their pace, as if I could out walk my nervousness over our first official—albeit secret—date.
Laird: Looking forward to it.
Laird: But not as much as Saturday.
I smiled, one of those goofy, dorky smiles dumb girls get when hot guys flirted with them. This was bad. Like, butterflies and rainbows and big puffy hearts bad. I refused to turn into a goopy, brainless mess around him. He could hang with the cymbal girls if he wanted that.
My phone buzzed again a few minutes later as I skirted around the fountain of the shark, thought to bring good luck if you rubbed his dorsal fin. I gave it a quick pat as I walked by, because, hey, it couldn’t hurt.
Smith: Drumline party tonight. Have you heard? Want me to pick you up?
Me: I just got a text. And, yes, that’d be great.
Smith: What are sidekicks for?
Me: For insider information, duh. Hint hint. Have you heard anything about this party? Anything I should be prepared for?
There was a long pause and I entered the student center, joining the line in the food court for a soda. By the time I reached the front, the smell of the oversized cinnamon rolls had completely seduced me and I added one to my order on a whim.
It shouldn’t take him this long to answer. Something was definitely up.
Me: Robin?
Smith: Yeah, I’ve heard rumor of something. I just don’t think it’ll affect you.
Me: Spill.
Another pause. Dear holy avenging archangels with lightning bolts and personal agendas. How bad could it be?
Smith: I heard there’s going to be a literal dick measuring contest. So, I think you’re safe for this one.
I almost choked on a bite of pastry, the white icing on my finger suddenly reminding me of something much, much dirtier.
The story of how Laird acquired Oscar had my brain spinning. I had to be prepared. I needed a way to top his prank, to hold my own with the guys.
I did a couple of quick Google searches on my phone, crossing my fingers we weren’t too deep into the Bible Belt for what I had in mind.
Bingo! Only twelve minutes from campus. And I only had one more class today.
Me: You’re right. I should be fine. Thanks for the heads up though.
Smith: I see what you did there.
Me: I expected no less, Robin. There’s a reason you’re my sidekick.
Smith: You know it. I’ll see you at 8:45.
Me: Wait! You’re not expecting me to be your fluffer, are you?
Smith: Nah, I think I can manage. But as your sidekick, you totally should’ve offered.
Me: …
Smith: I bet you would’ve said yes if it was Laird asking.
Smith: Just saying.
Me: Shut up.
I finished my cinnamon roll, trying really hard not to think about Smith or Laird or their dicks as I licked the cream cheese frosting off my fingers. They weren’t going to ruin my breakfast treat. Nope. Not happening.
Okay. I lied. I thought about Laird. And his cock. Especially when I was licking my fingers.
Smith: I’m down here. You ready?
Me: I need two minutes.
I adjusted the long skirt of the sapphire blue maxi dress, double checking my reflection in the mirror. My hair was in a casual updo, a sort of fauxhawk from where I’d pinned it back in a column of purposefully messy knots. My back was mostly bare, except for a few skinny straps holding the dress in place, and I was trying out those bra cups that adhered right to your skin. Putting them on wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t looking forward to the removal later. Pale gladiator sandals that showed off my bright coral nail polish completed the look.
For a moment, I second guessed everything, wondering if I should change into jeans and a tank top like last time.
But, no, I could do this.
Me: Okay, I’m coming now.
Smith: That’s what she said.
Me: Are you going to be like this all night?
Smith: Absolutely.
I rolled my eyes as I waited for the elevator. Greaaaaat.
When I walked out of the dorm, Smith was waiting by the open passenger door of his truck, ever the gentleman. Except then he wolf-whistled as he caught my hand and spun me around so he could view me from all directions, effectively ruining the illusion.
“Do I look okay?” I winced a little at how anxious I sounded. “Is this too much? Does it look ridiculous?”
I held my breath as he ran a critical eye over me again.
He reached out and rubbed a spot by the corner of my mouth. “A little smear with your makeup, but it’s fixed now. You’re gorgeous. Are you looking to make Laird crazy or piss off Marco by making Laird crazy?”
My lips parted in a mischievous smile I couldn’t smother fast enough. “Oh, I’m definitely hoping for a reaction tonight. I’m just not sure what it’ll be yet.”
He squinted at me and tipped his head slightly. “You’re plotting something.” His tone made it clear it was a statement, not a question.
I plastered an innocent expression on my face, and he pointed at me, waving his finger around.
“Nope. Not buying that. Not even for a second. You gonna let your sidekick in on it, or am I supposed to be surprised too?”
“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise if you knew it was coming, now would it?” I winked, then sobered. “Just be ready to help me escape if it all goes to hell.”
“I got your back, Batman. Let’s go start some trouble. You know Willa and Amber aren’t gonna appreciate the level of hotness you’re bringing to this party tonight.”
“Yeah, they’ll live.” I rolled my eyes. “And they’re welcome to Marco. In fact, I would love nothing more than for one—or both—of them to distract him all night long.”
Smith had a weird look on his face as we got in the car and he cranked the engine.
“What? Is there something else about tonight you’re not telling me?” I demanded.
“Nope. I’m just as curious as you are as to how it’s all going to go down. I feel like we need one of those—what are they called? Safe words? And if one of us says it to the other, we’re gone.”
I thought for a moment. “Scrotum Breath.”
He choked as he turned left. “Seriously, Reese?”
“It’s not like it’s a phrase that would just come up in conversation. Plus, if I needed to leave early, I’m sure it’d be because of him.” I shrugged.
We were almost there. It was just off campus.
“Fine. Whatever. If one of us says Scrotum Breath, we jet, no questions asked.”
Two minutes later we walked inside, the volume on the wireless speakers cranked almost uncomfortably loud. Everyone was already in various stages of getting their drink on, and it looked like a cymbal player was already hooking up with a bass drummer in the corner, wasting no time at all.
The first hour was fine. I nursed a cup of NAD juice that was pushed into my hand and made a point to stay on the other side of the room from Marco. Charlie, Cade, and I got into a heated debate about the best brand of drumsticks to buy. I was a fan of Vic Firth, Cade liked ProMark and Zildjian, and Charlie was adamant that AHEAD’s synthetic drumsticks were going to eventually gain a majority market share over the traditional wood style.
When I found my way to the kitchen for a cup of Goldfish crackers to help absorb some of the alcohol, Laird cornered me, reaching around for some snacks of his own while effectively caging me against the counter in the process.
“I’ve never seen you in a dress,” he murmured against my ear, his stubble brushing the sensitive skin on my neck and sending a shudder through me.
“You would have,” I returned smoothly, “if you’d been at your townhouse the other weekend when I showed up.”
He pulled his head back, but not his arms. “Fair enough.” His gaze dropped down my body before starting a slow journey back up, his attention lingering on my boobs. “I saw you earlier from the back and almost didn’t recognize you. You’re not wearing a bra, are you? In that dress? I’m not gonna lie, it’s making me crazy. On one hand, I love the idea that your tits are right there, just under this one little layer of fabric. On the other, I don’t want anyone else but me enjoying the view.”
“You think I wore this for you?” I pinched his forearm, sending him a subtle signal he needed to back up to keep this from looking too suspicious in front of everyone else. He begrudgingly put twelve inches of linoleum between us, disappointment clear in his eyes. “Maybe I just got tired of wearing pants?”
“You don’t ever have to wear pants around me if you don’t want to.” His voice was just loud enough for me to hear him, but there was no way to miss the heat in his green eyes.
“Does that mean you want me to wear a dress tomorrow too?”
“I don’t care what you wear as long as it includes those lace panties from the other night. I have plans for them.”
I turned as pink as the punch in my cup.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He swore under his breath. “I can’t fucking wait to see what you do tomorrow, Reese. Can’t fucking wait.” With one last searing look, he grabbed a beer from the cooler on the floor and headed over to Bubba and some of the bass drummers.
I retraced my steps past a group of cymbal players grinding on each other to find Smith again when Marco let out one of those piercing whistles that I thought only PE coaches in tiny shorts knew how to make. I was still cringing when I walked the last dozen steps to stand with Smith and Justin. Justin ended up being an alternate for a field spot—meaning, if someone couldn’t perform for any reason, he’d step in. I think he was secretly hoping someone would get drunk and break an ankle or something. He’d been fetching drinks like he was majoring in bartending instead of chemistry.
“All snares, listen up!” Marco motioned for the music to be cut. “It’s time for—hey! I’m talking!”
Despite the eardrum piercing whistle, the suddenly quiet sound system, and his repeated demands, people ignored him, continuing their conversations.
Laird stepped in and slapped his hand on a wooden console table and paused. Heads swiveled and talk dissipated when they realized who it was.
In his normal voice, he said, “Good evening! We had a great first game last week.” He smiled as hoots and cheers filled the room. I wondered briefly who lived in the apartment under this one—if they’d left for the night or been paid off to ignore the noise we were making.
“Now, I know y’all have all been waiting for this moment. Time to stand tall and be measured against your fellow drummers. Who should we have do the honors tonight?” Laird glanced around the room. Willa and Amber had their arms in the air, both waving frantically to get his attention.
“Marco?” Laird threw him a bone. “You want to pick?”
Amber, who had been flirting shamelessly with Topher earlier, fluttered her fake eyelashes at Marco. He shot her a scathing look and turned to Willa, the sweetest smile I’d ever seen from him curving his lips. “Well, traditionally, the most beautiful woman on the whole drumline is picked. So, I’m thinking the obvious choice here is Willa, right, Laird?”
Clever. He was snubbing Amber and baiting Laird, all in one fell swoop, and the smirk he wore said he was well aware of it.
Laird didn’t even pause. “I gotta let Marco win at something tonight, so Willa it is!”
Snickers came from one corner of the room where beer pong was set up, and Marco glared at them until they fell silent.
“All right, snares, front and center!” Laird set his drink down and rubbed his palms together, like he was looking forward to the contest. He probably thought he had it in the bag. Which, to be fair, he might. Laird by far had the biggest dick I’d seen with my own two eyes.
Smith handed me his cup. “Mind holding that?”
I took his drink as he navigated to the middle of the room, following behind him so I had a good view.
All the snare players were arranged in a haphazard line except for me. No one seemed to notice or care that I wasn’t included in the group, but I let it slide.
Willa, a shit-eating grin stretched across her face, tossed her platinum blond hair over her shoulder and sidled up to Bubba, making a production about feeling his junk. She puckered her face like she was concentrating hard as she ran her hand up and down the zipper of his jeans before moving over to Van and repeating the motion. As she groped each one, she arranged them in order, sometimes pausing to check her placement with a repeat performance.
She was almost done.
Topher, despite being one of the tallest guys on the snare line, apparently had the smallest drumstick in his briefs. Poor guy.
Maybe he’s a grower, not a show-er, because he doesn’t seem all that concerned.
At the other end of the totem pole was Marco.
Laird, who’d been laughing and joking the whole time, was next. As Willa approached, his eyes flew to mine, wide with panic, as if he just now realized I was going to have to watch her stroke him as part of this whole event. As Willa slid into position beside him, he shuffled back half a step, one eyebrow cocked as he kept his gaze on me.
He’s asking permission. It took me a second to interpret his actions, but as soon as I did, I gave him a wink to let him know it was okay.
It wasn’t okay. Not in the least. Jealousy boiled, hot and angry, in my gut as I curled my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to hold still, to not launch myself at her like a psycho and rip her arm away from his pants where she was lingering way too fucking long. The only thing keeping me still was the fact that Laird’s focus never wavered from me. He held my gaze the entire time as if trying to reassure me the only way he could that I was the only one he was thinking about in that moment.
But when she shifted her grip lower, to cup his balls, I was a fraction of a second away from detonating.
No, she fucking didn’t…
Laird coughed, taking a step back and twisting away as he covered his mouth.
I stopped breathing, waiting to see she if went for him again.
Go on, bitch, I dare you.
But instead of grabbing his crotch, she caught his elbow and slid him into place—in front of Marco at the head of the line.
I exhaled in a relieved whoosh, forcing my jaw to unclench. Laird’s eyes were soft with apology, and I gave him a wobbly smile to let him know I understood.
The only person left to be measured was Smith.
Willa ran her hand down his groin, pausing as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped partway open, then squeezed again. She glanced from his crotch to the blush high on his caramel cheeks back to his crotch, then she mimed fanning herself before putting him squarely ahead of Laird.
Smith met my surprised gaze with a bashful grin, slouching next to Laird. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to sink into the floor or go for nonchalance.
Willa turned to the rest of us. “And the cockiest snare this year—”
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward, interrupting her little speech.
“I think you forgot about me.”
Willa scrunched her nose. “You?”
“I’m a snare player too, right? No special treatment? Shouldn’t you check the size of my balls? Just to be fair?”
She glanced back at Marco and Laird. Marco was nodding like a rabid bobblehead, leaning closer in his eagerness. Laird had a suspicious gleam in his green eyes when he met my gaze for a quick second before I focused on Willa again.
Practically salivating, Marco stepped out of line to stand next to Willa, clearly not wanting to miss a second of some live girl-on-girl action. “Reese is right for once. You need to rub her down too, Willa. Do it slow.” He licked his lips. “Real slow.”
Spreading my legs slightly, I held my breath as Willa approached me. She reached forward gingerly, almost as if she was worried I had cooties and was contagious.
“For fuck’s sake, Willa, it’s not like you’ve never touched a vag before.” I caught her wrist in my hand, pulling her forward and placing her palm boldly at the apex of my thighs. “You’ve got one of your own, and if you haven’t gone exploring down there by now, let me tell you, you’re seriously missing out.”
Marco groaned and several of the other guys made similar noises.
This was almost too easy.
I rubbed her hand down my inner left thigh, watching her expression closely. There was no way she could miss it.
Her fingers closed around me through the soft jersey of my maxi dress, stroking the length of the gigantic dildo I’d tucked into a pair of Spanx before I left my dorm room.
Willa’s mouth fell open, her eyes first widening in shock, then narrowing in confusion as her fingers retraced their path. “What the…” she whispered.
“How do I compare?” I used my most innocent voice.
She gaped at me, and I dragged her palm along the silicone length one last time, pressing firmly.
“You… you win.” She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned. “Reese has the biggest dick out of any of you.”
The people closest to me stepped back like I was on fire and they had no intention of helping to put out the flames, confusion twisting their faces.
Marco snarled and half-pushed her out of the way, shoving his hand between my thighs and cupping me crudely.
And then the blood left his face as his fingers met the firm length he didn’t expect to find there.
“What the fuck?” After yanking his arm back, Marco stooped down, caught the hem of my dress, and bunched it in his meaty fist until I was exposed from the waist down.
The head of my newly acquired gigantic black cock stuck out beneath the bottom hem of my mid-thigh shapewear.
In the back of my mind, I registered that a crowd had pushed close to us when he’d raised my dress, everyone eager for a free show. Hoots of laughter filled the room, some of them pointing. Their expressions ran the gamut from mirth, awe, and respect from the guys to disgust and confusion from the girls.
Except for Willa, who just looked relieved that it was a sex toy and not a real dick.
“Still want to give me that private lesson, Marco?” I blinked at him.
And then he was stumbling backward, bulldozed out of the way by Laird as he tore the dress from Marco’s hand, covering me up, then tucking me behind him and shielding me from Marco’s view with his broad back.
“You don’t touch her. Ever.” Laird seethed as he barked out each word, the fierceness of his glower enough to melt the polar ice caps. “You don’t touch any woman like that.” He turned to extend the warning to the rest of the snare line, glaring at each in turn. “Like you have the right to just reach between her legs without permission. I don’t care if she has the sweetest pussy known to man or the biggest, blackest dick to grace this planet—you ask. You get consent. Always.”
If my dick were real, I’d have just gotten the most epic erection of my life. Raised a fucking obelisk. Laird Bronson had never been sexier than in this moment, a gladiator among mere mortals, laying down the law.
Laird turned a full circle, staring down every male in the room. “Do I make myself crystal fucking clear about how this drumline works?” He didn’t raise his voice as he said it.
He whispered.
And his warning was all the more chilling because of it.
But afterward, when Marco caught my eye and I saw the rigidness of his stance and the dark hatred pinching his mouth, I regretted my decision. Despite my momentary victory, I had a feeling I’d be paying for this little prank of mine tenfold. A shiver of foreboding skated down my spine.
I found Smith in the crowd—Amber damn near accosting him after discovering the size of his dick—looked him in the eye, and said the two words I’d been hoping would be unnecessary tonight. “Scrotum Breath.”