Page 7 of Grease Monkey
The tingling in my balls comes hard and fast as I glance down, and instead of the straight bottle-dyed blonde, it’s natural with loose, wild coils. Brittany pops off my dick, licking and kissing and playing with the tip, breaking the illusion of it being someone I have no business fantasizing about.
“Swallow me down,” I say, using the hand still in her hair to lead her forward before I fuck up hard into her mouth, my hips thrusting roughly with every pump.
“That’s it. All the way. Take all. Of. Me,” I grit out, my eyes darting to the back door as the sounds of Brittany slurping and choking are lost to the thundering of blood rushing around my ears at the thought of Ana…
I come with a guttural roar, spilling rope after rope of cum as I remain locked with the wide sea-green eyes of my neighbor through the backdoor window.
Brittany nips my thigh and pushes hard, making me drop my hold on her head. My eyes dart back to the door and disappointment seeps into my chest when I find it empty. She’s gone. No longer watching me.
“What the fuck, asshole?” Brittany seethes. “You know I don’t like to swallow.”
Oops.
I turn and grab her some tissues. “Sorry. I got caught up with how perfect your mouth was.”
That and the thought that she was someone else.
“Really?” she almost squeals, loving the lie, and I shrug noncommittally. She wipes the edges of her mouth and drops the used tissue on the workbench. “Well, it’s okay then, I guess. Just don’t do it again.”
Chapter Three
Morgana
“It’s okay, you don’t need to admit that I’m your dream guy.”
Teddy’s words are on a loop in my mind for the rest of my short walk home. If only he knew that my smiles are becoming harder to fight. My eyerolls less dramatic. Because even though I know he’s only playing, only winding me up when he says the things he does, I really wish he wasn’t. He treats me the way my brother did when we were younger. But unlike Skip—because eww, he’s my brother—Teddy’s teasing brings waves of nerves and excitement and butterflies that crash and roil and mix in my stomach to nauseating levels, that at the end of each encounter, I’m an overthinking, blundering mess, replaying every sentence spoken from his lips. Especially when he calls me by that juvenile nickname.
Ana Banana.
No one calls me anything but Morgana. Nobody would dare risk the reprimanding scorn of my mother. Except for Shay. She calls me Morgs, and I think she only does it because my mother hates it. Or maybe it’s because my mother hates my best friend. I should really demand Teddy stop calling me something so childish. I’m almost eighteen, damn it, all set to attend one of the world’s most prestigious universities, but I melt every time that smooth-as-country music voice sings that name.
My forehead leans against the cool panels of the front door, the three-inch piece of wood the only thing separating me and Teddy and hisgirlfriend.
“Morgana, you’re home!” Mom calls, coming from the kitchen. “I missed you, baby. What do you think?”
Her hands encase my upper arms, and she rotates her face from left to right. Her new teeth are so white they are almost blinding, and they don’t look natural at all, regardless of what the brochure said.
“They are lovely, Mom.” I smile, hoping it looks more convincing than it feels.
She turns to the mirror hanging on the wall and examines her beaming reflection. “They are, aren’t they? I could pay to get your teeth done for your birthday. Fix that overbite you have?”
I face the mirror and gnash my teeth together, barely noticing the slight misalignment of my front teeth.
“It’s okay, Mom,” I say, grabbing my tote bag and heading for my bedroom. “You’ll need that money for Dad’s campaign.”
“Oh, you’re right. Well, how about whitening, then?” she calls after me.
I sigh. Just what every girl wants for her eighteenth birthday, chemicals to whiten her already white teeth.
With a tight-lipped smile, I glance over my shoulder. “Sure.”
“Great! I’m going to book in with Dr. Christian now. His waiting list is long, but that’s alright. I’m sure he can bump us to the top. Nothing but the best for my daughter.”
Woopie. Can’t wait.
Closing my bedroom door, I toss my bag to the corner, the books inside clunking against the wall and sliding to the floor. Stripping out of my uniform, I tug on yoga pants and a sports bra, covering it with an oversized zip-up sweatshirt that once belonged to Skip, the worn logo of his favorite baseball team long faded from overwear. Standing in the middle of my room, I chew on my lip, staring at my bedroom window. I want to go over, look out, and see if Teddy is still withher. Check if she’s still got her perfectly shaped body pressed against his and if his hands are holding on to her like she was him.
“Morgana?” I jump at the sound of Mom’s voice muffled through the door. My hand flies to my chest, covering my erratically beating heart as she speaks again. “Morgana? Can I come in?”
