Page 2 of Kitty Season
Idiot.
This is so bloody embarrassing, I blush some more, wanting the cushion beneath me to grow a mouth, open up and swallow me whole. But my embarrassment isn’t reflected in Quinn’s expression, and her words carry no shame. “Don’t leave.” She silences my planned protest by dragging her index finger overmy jawline. Then has me literally drooling by repeating the same on Troye’s. “Stay. Kiss me, Brady. Kiss us.”
Us?
Wordlessly, Quinn rises from her smirking beau’s lap, and shuffles back till her feet touch the ground. With little grunts that have no right to be so cute, she repositions her body, climbs our legs like tree trunks, and settles straddling my left thigh, and Troye’s right. She’d have to feel how hard I am, how the friction her knee rubbing against me is driving me crazy. “I feel how much you want me. And I know you want Troye. And I want you both, so …” There’s a pause, one filled with enough heat to pop corn, and while I am inclined to eat, popcorn is not what I’m hungry for. “If you won’t do it for yourself, Brady, do it for me. The girl of your dreams.”
Right. That.
On a night I’d rather forget, I went to one of Troye’s stupid frat parties, broke my long held sobriety with a keg of beer and word vomited my pathetic feelings all over Quinn. “You’re the girl of my dreams. The most beautifulest chick I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot ‘cause I’ve lived in two different countries which means a lot of chicks. I’d do anything for you, Quinny. Anything.”
At the time, all Quinn wanted was for me to chew a mint and swear to never repeat those words. I’d hoped she’d forgotten them. Guess not.
Both of them watch me, Quinn playing with the hem of my shirt, Troye flicking that damn septum piercing with his tongue. After staring at it for way too long, I realize they’re waiting on me to say something. “Oh, shit. I … I don’t know if?—”
“It’s okay, Skippy,” Troye says, smugly cutting me off with the nickname I hate, then saying something I hate even more. “A soul as pure as yours couldn’t keep up with us anyway.”
“Pure? Screw you, Becker.” The words have barely left my lips when he lunges, forcing himself between Quinn and I and crashing his mouth into mine. His kiss is nasty and raw, teeth clashing, tongues probing. It’s so wrong and I want to enjoy it but there’s hands in my hair, on my thigh, around my throat. Whose are where I don’t know, and I can honestly say I don’t care. I’ve denied myself for so long, and am far too weak to turn it away.
“My boys,” Quinn moans, slipping closer, her lips attaching to my neck and sucking. Fingers I now feel are hers, the ones gripping my thigh, relax and shift upward till they cup my swollen dick through my jeans, and squeeze. It feels so fucking good, I shamelessly push into it, a rough, dirty moan escaping me on each thrust.
“Brady,” she sighs, sending a fresh shot of lust rocketing through me. “Brady, Brady, Brady.”
“Skip, Dude!” That’s Troye, and that’s not a moan. That’s violence. My eyes shoot open and oh my mother fucking God. “What the fuck, bro? You’re practically dry humping the cushion.”
What the fuck indeed.
Beside me, Quinn has her own pillow, unlike the crotch cover-er I’ve just violated, hers is over her mouth, doing a shit job of covering her smile. Troye is cushion-less, looks less amused, and more or less like he’s about to punch my head in. “Jesus Skip. I know you’re hard up, but if watching Petterson and his little Mrs. getting fresh has you moaning and humping the upholstery, things are worse than I suspected.”
“Stretching!” Is my plausible excuse. “I was stretching my groin for the game tonight.”
There is no game tonight. There’s also no hope of Quinn ever ditching Lover Boy for me.
Infinite silence descends. Like, it could not be more uncomfortable. Dropping out of college and schlepping home with my tail between my legs is likely my next move. If I don’t die of shame, or by Troye’s fists, before I get the hell out of this house.
Thankfully the scene playing out in the snow takes the focus off me.
“Oh my God they’re coming inside. Shut up! I can see the rock from here!” Quinn is up and off the couch the second the front door of Noah’s new place swings open, her five-ten frame swamping Lotte’s five nothing. “Oh my God, you’re getting married!” Noah’s face is still visible, and never have I seen him happier. I should be up there congratulating them too, but I can’t seem to feel anything below my neck.
Making his lingering presence known is Lover Boy beside me. “Skippy, if you wanted to see me score off the ice as well as on, you should have just asked. I could have sent you some home movies, too.”
“Piss off, Becker. Quinn’s interest in you is shocking enough, why would I be. Also, I don’t think she would like you sharing any of your little movies.” Hopefully my overly dramatic air quotes conceal the residual mortification on my face.
“Who said Quinn would be involved?”
“The fuck!” I spin to face him and find his shit-eating smirk has reached Cheshire Cat proportions. This is the closest I’ve been to him off the ice and my blood is bubbling, skin prickled with contempt. I fucking hate this guy.Oh, he has a chin dimple.“You better not be cheating on her, Troye.”
“Calm down, Gladys.” Gladys, what the? “I’m not completely stupid. One, Quinn is amazing. I would never fuck around on her. And two, technically we’re not a couple.” Greasy locks fall into his eyes, as he tilts his head to steal a glance over my shoulder. Once he’s gauged the level of attention we’re receiving,he slides closer and places his huge hand on my thigh. It’s warm—no, hot—searing into my skin, despite the layer of denim, and so high, I can’t help but wonder if you could still consider it thigh. “I was suggesting I share some solo sessions. I want you to hear me whisper your name as I coat my stomach.”
My body trembles with want. “Oh,” I say. “Oh. Umm.”
What a comeback.
After shooting me a wink I feel in my bones, his very real hand gives a squeeze before he uses it to push off and up from the sofa. I just sit there, ridiculously hard and staring into space like a stunned mullet, while he casually saunters towards the happy couple congratulating them like he didn’t just blow up my world.
Five.
Five.
