Do you see that guy sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands? The one with his shirt off and a towel around his waist?
He’s confused. He’s never been turned down before.
I know what you’re thinking, or at least I have a general assumption of what you’re thinking. Everyone is turned down at some point in their life.
I can honestly say no, I haven’t been. From an early age, I’ve never had to work at getting some. Given my clout in the gnarly world of freestyle motocross, all I’ve had to do is glance in a girl’s direction and she was on my dick.
Again, I know what you’re thinking. Cocky much?
Yeah, probably.
So that’s why I’m completely thrown by Scarlet turning me down. Maybe she truly isn’t interested in sleeping with me, but then again, I see the way she watches me. There’s interest there.
Who was she talking about me kissing? I don’t recall kissing anyone the other night, but then again, there was someone in my room that night, wasn’t there?
Tiller walks in, holding his hip and limping on his fucked-up knee. “Dude, what’s your deal?”
My head snaps up when the door closes behind him. Originally, when the room was booked a month ago, we had separate rooms. Scarlet didn’t want to share a room with me, stupid, right? Here I am with Tiller because if he and Roan were in a room, one would die.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I mumble, flopping back on the bed dramatically. “Did I take a girl in my room with me the other night?”
“Yeah.” He stops in front of me, pretends he’s going to dump the bucket of ice in his hand on my head and then steps back raising an eyebrow at me. “Mad because I fucked her first?”
My eyes widen and I sit straight up. “Who?”
“Scarlet.” He laughs, setting the ice bucket on the nightstand. He falls back on the bed, then groans, having hurt his hip at some point tonight and rolls onto his left side to face me. “I fucked her that first night.”
Take notice in his face, the gleam in his eyes, the relaxed posture. “You did not.”
He shrugs, reaches for the bucket, and dumps the entire thing on his swollen knee. “I did.”
Tiller doesn’t lie. At least he usually doesn’t. But do I believe him?
Actually, I do. Maybe that’s why she’s turning me down. Doesn’t want me to think she’s a slut by sleeping with all of us. Though she certainly wouldn’t be the first girl to make the rounds with all of us. Something about her tells me she’s not exactly like that.
DESPITE BEING TIRED, I can’t sleep. Probably because Tiller is up all night long with the stomach flu, or if you ask me, some kind of weird you-shouldn’t-have-fucked-a-girl-in-the-catacombs payback.
I told him that was a bad idea but naturally, when has Tiller ever listened to me?
Never.
I’m also pissed Scarlet had sex with him and not me. Still doesn’t stop me from wanting her, but now I want to know why she chose him over me.
That’s exactly how I end up in her room that morning with a chicken bone in hand and coffee, for me of course. If I were going to bring her coffee, she needed to give me something in return.
I might not have thought it through because guess who’s sleeping in nothing but a tank top with no bra? Scarlet Rose.
I can see her nipple rings and want to draw each one into my mouth and suck on the hardened pebbles.
Fuck me. No really, I want her to.
While I contemplate all the ways I can have sex with her in this bed before we have to leave, and fight the urge to act on it, I watch her sleep like some kind of creep. I hadn’t realized how naturally beautiful she is. Milky white skin, wild curls, adorable little button nose and full cheeks with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks. She’s definitely beautiful and in a natural, pure way.
Despite the nipple rings, she doesn’t appear to have any tattoos and I kind of find that hot. She’s unmarked by anyone.
Aside from Tiller. Goddamn it. Did he really have sex with her? I try to recall their interactions yesterday. She’s mean to him. But then again, most women who sleep with Tiller are never nice to him afterward. Apparently he makes them bleed. Whatever the fuck that means. Probably something to do with the fact that he’s a virgin stealer?
Scarlet wasn’t a virgin. No fucking way.
It takes her about ten minutes to realize I’m in her room, sitting on her bed, touching her cheek with a chicken bone. “How’d you get in here?”
Smiling, I set the chicken bone on her chest and take a drink of my coffee. “Sweet talked front desk. No one can resist me, besides you,” I lay back against the headboard. “Which still doesn’t make much sense to me.”
It takes her another moment to realize I set a chicken bone on her chest but when she does, the look on her face has me fearing she’s going to shove it somewhere I won’t appreciate. “Ya fuckin’ dick. I had nightmares about that place all night.”
“Well, if you would have taken me up on my offer, you wouldn’t have been sleeping and hence, no nightmares. So really, it’s all your fault. Not mine.”
She ignores me completely, sitting up and attempting to comb her hair that’s wildly sprung out in odd directions. It’s crazy, I’ve never seen someone with this much hair and never wanted it tangled in my fist so badly.
Jesus Christ. I’m one-tracked lately.
She throws the chicken bone at my head. “I’m hungry, are you?”
I raise a hopeful eyebrow. “For pussy.”
She says nothing. Too far?
Now she’s raising a hopeful eyebrow. “How can I convince you to get me coffee while I shower?”
I wink, taking a drink of my own. “Let me take a shower with you, and I’ll feed you breakfast,” I answer without a thought.
Her forehead wrinkles. “You made me go to those stupid catacombs.”
“So?”
“You owe me.”
“How so? I didn’t make you go. Tiller called you a pussy and you came. Which, by the way, why’d you have sex with him and not me?”
She giggles, her cheeks warming, bright-blue eyes gleaming. “And you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Come.”
If I wasn’t hard already, I am now with the way she says the word come.
Look at her face. She’s fuckin’ with me.
It’s quicker than I’m sure she’s expecting, but I have her on her back, me hovering over her and her tiny wrists bound in mine above her head. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“No, not really, but it’s strangely gratifying. And I never slept with Tiller. He’s lying to you.”
“I knew it.” I lean in. She stops breathing. It takes every ounce of control I have not to grind my erection into her center. She wants it. She wants her mouth on mine and my cock inside her. I’m sure of it. Look at her reactions to me. It’s all there. The way her heart beats louder, the way she halts her breath in an attempt to control the internal reactions. The way her cheeks have that delicate pink to them and she fucking pulls in her bottom lip.
All reactions of want, and it’s becoming clear to me I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer.
She releases a breath, her voice tiny like her when she says, “Don’t we have to leave for the event soon?”
“Probably. There’s an autograph session at eleven we have to be at. . . but first. . . .” I smile and roll off her. “There’s a problem with Tiller.”
Scarlet sits up dramatically; it’s the funniest shit I’ve ever seen because she looks like a mummy doing it. “I swear to God, if you tell me he’s lost again, I’m going to lose my shit. And why are you laughing at me?”
“You looked like a mummy rising from the dead.”
I can’t understand why she doesn’t find that funny. You remember that coffee I had?
I’m now wearing it.
I GO BACK to my room to change while Scarlet showers and gets dressed.
Tiller’s on the bathroom floor now, looking like death. I kick his thigh. “You son of a bitch, you didn’t fuck her.”
He laughs, or tries to, but he curls into himself, moaning in pain and never answers me.
Scarlet comes into our room an hour later where I’m sitting on the bed, strolling through my Twitter feed and looking at the highlights from the motocross race in Southwick.
“Where’s Tiller?” she demands, Roan coming in behind her. He looks about as tired as I am.
“Dead. I killed him for lying to me.” I nod to the bathroom, not looking up at her. “I stashed the body in there.”
She barges in the bathroom and he’s on the floor, his arms over his head. At least he has in underwear on. Earlier he didn’t.
“Montezuma revenge,” he mumbles when she asks him what’s wrong.
“That’s Mexico dumbass,” Roan points out from beside me. “We’re in Paris.”
I crane my neck to look around the corner. Dude’s in bad shape. Not only is he pale as a goddamn ghost and sweating, but his hip is also bright red.
Scarlet nudges him with her foot, and he curls into himself. “We have to leave in an hour.”
Standing up, I toss my phone aside and lean into the doorframe. He’s moaning on the floor, mumbling something I can’t make out.
Scarlet kicks him again. “Get it together. Don’t be a bitch. That’s what you get. They told you to stay with the tour, and now you’ve pissed the gods off.”
We all told him it was a bad idea, but Tiller listens to nobody but himself. I don’t feel bad for him one bit. Fucking liar.