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No. Nothing about what just happened was even remotely funny.
Totally unexpected? Yes. Ridiculously hot? Hell, yes.
So hot I want to do it again.
I instantly reject the idea. Less than thirty minutes ago, I walked in on him getting a blowjob in our living room and what do I do? I let him fuck me. What self-respecting woman does that? And I didn’t just let him—I begged him to.
Please fuck me, Patrick…
The memory heats my cheeks, the warm flush streaking lower to pool, hot and heavy between my thighs. Incredibly, I’m not ashamed of what the way I behaved. What I let him do to me. I’m ashamed that I’m not ashamed, if that makes any kind of sense.
I decide to listen to rational me. I’m not chasing after Patrick Gilroy. If he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.
I think about a shower. I need one. I smell like Patrick. And sex. Instead of heading for the bathroom, I decide to go to bed. I’m about to crawl between the sheets when I hear my cell chime from the living room, signaling a text. Retrieving it from my purse, I carry it back to my room. It’s a text from Trevor.
Trevor: CALL ME.
I’d rather jump naked into the harbor.
The texts keep rolling in, one after another.
Trevor: CALL ME.
Trevor: CALL ME.
Trevor: CALL ME.
Trevor: CALL ME.
Trevor: CALL ME.
James says hi.
It’s what he said me as I was leaving the restaurant.
James says hi.
I tap out a response.
Me: Tell James I said fuck off.
That goes 2x for you.
I get a response almost immediately.
Trevor: Yur going to be sorry you said that.
Whatever. Not wanting to deal with it, I set my phone to silent and resolve to call my provider in the morning and have Trevor’s number blocked from my contact list. If that doesn’t work, I’ll change my number.
I set my phone plug my phone into its charger before tossing it onto my nightstand. Laying down, I slip beneath the blankets and settle in, listening to the dull roar of Friday night college revelry going on down stairs. On a typical Friday night, I’d be down there, shooting pool with Tess and Patrick, taking bets on which co-ed would crack first and follow Conner into the ladies’ room.
No doubt Patrick is down there and if he is with Conner, there’s no telling what they’re doing. Or who they were doing it to. I push the thought out of my head. Who Patrick fucks is none of my business. I think about the scene I walked in on, Lisa the cocktail waitress on her knees in front of him. Patrick’s jeans open and jerked down around his hips. Her mouth on his cock. The way he looked at me when he saw he standing there. Like he wished it was me. Me on my knees in from of him. My mouth he was fucking.
Like he hated me for it.
I wake up way earlier than I want to. Reaching for my phone, I see it’s barely 7AM on a Saturday. Also, I have a waiting text message. Thankfully, it’s not from Trevor.
Tess: So…