Page 26 of Wicked Deceit
“That was suspicious,” Chase mumbles as he pulls the blanket to my chin and settles behind me again. He presses play on his TV show and leans down, resting his head on mine. “She seemed more…Pipery than usual.”
“More than suspicious, we’ll have to monitor her,” I say, as my eyes grow heavy once again, and I know sleep is on the horizon.
“Yup. Now, go to bed, Sunshine.”
And so, I do.
“Ican’tbelieveyou’redoing this,” I mumble in shock from the backseat of Carter’s sleek, blackened Tahoe. We idle in the parking lot of Soul’s, our brightly lit up destination—one of the best tattoo shops in the state—Carter's words, not mine.
My fingers move against the leather of my seat, heated by the warmer underneath. I sigh into it, letting my butt warm, and thank God he didn't have a motorcycle.
When I met Carter, I always imagined him as more of a motorcycle type of guy. You know, that—I illegally race for money on the winding roads of East Point Bluff, and win every time— cliche type of bad boy. Much to my disappointment, he shoved me in the backseat of a SUV, instead of on the back of a sleek and sexy motorcycle. Although, there was a murmured promise that he'd take me on a motorcycle ride some time in the future when I wasn’t so broken. My face is still healing from the trauma of my crash, and I wouldn’t have been able to hang onto Carter’s body anyway.
I shake my head, bringing myself back to the present, trailing my gaze over Seger's deep frown. He grimaces with tight muscles, locking him in place. Staring up at the shop in front of us, his eyes don’t stray from the luminescent bulbs brightening the sidewalk. Lights pour from the tall windows of Soul’s, giving us a peek at the people mingling inside.
Hanging between the passenger and driver’s seats, I refocus my energy on my boys. My eyes bounce from the confident boyfriend leaning back in the driver's seat with his hands resting behind his head. And then to the pale boyfriend who looks like he’s about to vomit his dinner all over the vehicle. He even holds his stomach, turning slightly green. I wrinkle my nose, scoot back an inch, and pat his shoulder. Nothing would console Seger right now, so the best I can do is run my fingers over his bare arm and offer my best.
Carter, my cocky as fuck boyfriend, silently taunts Seger with the wiggle of his brows, like an evil bastard. Moisture pours from the top of Seger’s forehead, dripping down his cheeks and his jaw. His scowl deepens when he discreetly wipes it away with the back of his hand and shakes himself out of his morbid thoughts.
"This is dumb," he mutters to himself.
His wide, frantic eyes look over at Carter, begging for reassurance. My smug as fuck boyfriend smirks at Seger, offering him nothing but a laugh.
“Ready to get a needle or two in your dick?” Carter snarks with a chuckle, leaning back in the driver’s seat without worry.
"Fuck," Seger grunts, pulling his hand to his mouth. He turns a darker shade of green at the mention of needles and dicks, and bends at the waist.
"Even if you yack, you're still getting a fucking needle through your dick, West. Man the fuck up," Carter goads, pounding a hand into Seger back. Seger grunts, giving Carter his best stink eye, and shoves him away. Carter barks out a laugh when his body connects with his door and rocks the vehicle.
You see this? Yeah, this is exactly what my entire Saturday has consisted of—him goading Seger, trying to push him, so he backs out of the dare Carter had laid down. From the moment we woke up and Carter came over, he harassed Seger every second of the day. Even though Seger looks like he's about to shit his pants and run away, I don't think he will back down. He made a damn promise, and he's sticking to it.
“Grumpy,” I chastise, thumping his shoulder with a stern look. "Be nice."
Carter scoffs, throwing a hand in the air. “What’s the fun in bringing him to get a fucking dick piercing if I can’t be a dick? What the fuck do you want me to do? Hold your hand?” He glares over at Seger, narrowing his eyes. ”Besides you’re still popping fucking pain meds like they’re candy, and I’m going in all natural,” he tacks on with a victorious grin.
“I don’t need you to hold my hand, asshole. And thank fuck for the meds or I’d feel every fucking inch of that…that needle. Fuck,” Seger grumbles, running a hand down his moist face. “I need Kaycee to hold my hand.” Turning in his seat, he peers back at me with pleading puppy dog eyes with a trace of fear lingering near the surface.
Seger doesn't want me to know how terrified he really is. He's been psyching himself up for this entire experience, playing it off like it's nothing for the past week.Nah, Angel. I'm fucking good—that's what he'd say to me when I'd ask him if he really wanted to do this. And each time, that was his response. Up until now, I kind of believed him. That is until he started sweating bullets and turning green.
I shiver at the thought of getting my clit pierced. Err—no, thank you. That would be awful. Is that the equivalent of a dick piercing? Would it improve my orgasms? Oh, shit! I bet it would. But also, there’d be pain and—
“Focus,” Carter murmurs, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “What the fuck were you thinking about this time?”
My eyes widen. Yeah, no. I can't admit that. Shit, think fast. Say something! Anything but what's on the tip of your tongue.
“Erm, nothing. I definitely wasn’t thinking about orgasms with a clit piercing."Smooth, real smooth.
I mentally facepalm, cursing my damn tongue and brain for their lack of communication. Why do I always have to spout off what I'm really thinking? Ya know, one day, it'll get me hurt—or, shit—killed.
“Jesus, fuck,” Carter grumbles again, shaking his head. “Of-fucking-course. That’s where your brain went." I purse my lips when he mumbles more to himself, looking out the darkened window with a sigh.
So, I do the mature thing and flip him off, earning another scoff. Focusing on Seger, I answer his previous question with confidence. “Of course, I’ll hold your hand,” I say, leaving a lingering kiss on his cheek.
Melting under my lips, his entire body sags with momentary relief. His chest heaves a sigh, and he blows out a breath. Looking left and right, he bobs his head.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Seger proclaims, opening the car door and letting it swing wide.
The cool night air invades the car, sending shivers down my spine. I rub my hand over my arms and pull my coat closer to my body, wishing Seger would shut the door, but the man freezes with one leg out and the rest of his body in. Shit, I think he's broken. He's barely breathing with tight fists curled in his lap. A vacant look glazes his eyes, and I swear he's having a mini panic attack.
