Page 36 of The Tenth Circle
If I didn’t already book Five for a blowjob, I’d be putting this gridiron motherfucker in a semi-permanent time out.
For the sake of maintaining the advantage I keep things simple and nod.
Hendrix reaches for the same hand I used on her seconds ago, guiding it back to her neck, then down her collarbone, all the way to the cleavage pooling at her bra.
A solid offensive play that has me salivating like a dog on the inside, and I don’t even bother adjusting my growing hard-on as she glides us over the fabric.
“That’s too bad…” She sighs, coaxing my fingers to squeeze her chest.
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
Hendrix stands on her toes, bright greens steady as a beating drum as she whispers, “’Cause I already found someone who does.”
A wink follows that statement, along with a satisfied grin.
Hendrix took the lead and she fucking knows it.
With one final glance at the bulge shaping my pants she breezes past me…calling out a “hey” to who I assume is Archer.
It takes a few moments of adjusting my pants before turning around, and when I do I find her waving.
But not at Archer.
It’s the stand-in cock she’s been riding for months.
Stevenson Westbrook…known by all asSweet Stevenson.
Tall guy. Skinny. Chivalrous. With a generic version of my fantastic head of hair. Bigger golden retriever than Beaumont.
Their whole relationship is laughable—the only thing Hendrix Montgomery prefers sweet is her vengeance.
I know because I’m always on the receiving end of it.
Stevenson casts a nervous glance at me from the entrance to the tunnel, right before Hendrix throws her arms around him for a kiss.
As always, exaggerating the PDA solely for my benefit.
Archer glances right after, standing next to them mouthing please for me to let it go and take the L.
I’m not one to take anything other than what I want—which in this case is Hendrix’s pussy in my mouth—but it’s almost time for munchies and my appointment with Five.
Archer sighs in relief when I pull my phone out of my Letterman, checking the time. Eight-fifty. Which means I’ve got a solid ten before Five shows up at my door, and I really want some fucking pizza.
I tuck the phone back in my pocket, ready to take off. But right before I turn to go, I notice Hendrix sporting a wicked grin at me over Stevenson’s shoulder.
I connect with her gaze, dragging in a breath, amused by how clueless my charm always makes her.
Jimi, Jimi, Jimi.
You really shouldn’t have done that.
I was happy to walk away and allow her to bask in a little self-gratification—because when you’re in battle with a mad king, his mercy is intended only to prolong the war.
Unlike our girl Hendrix, Archer is a pro at reading the room. Which is why he’s already on high alert following my line of sight.
To be fair, it’s not the first time I’ve watched her all over her little boyfriend, or the first time she’s taken things further than I’d normally allow with another chick.
Hendrix has been fighting the same war we started months ago on the elevator—this is just her version of friendly fire.
