Page 61 of Not So Goode

“Shit––I think we just blew a motherfucking tire.” He thumped his head backward. “Goddamn it, I wassofucking close.”

“So close. I could probably…” I went back down, put my mouth on him.

A voice shouted from somewhere near the front. “Myles! Crow! Major problem.”

He caressed my face. “Gonna have to pick this up later.”

I felt…disappointed. Achy. “This sucks.”

He hissed, gently pulling away from me. “You got no fuckin’ clue, babe. Gonna hurt all fuckin’ day.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken so long.”

He cupped my cheek. “Nope, don’t take this on yourself. It’s just shit luck. I’ll be fine.” He lay still, closed his eyes. Focused. He somehow ran through some sort of mental gymnastics, and I watched as his cock slowly subsided.

“Crow!” I heard the voice yell again.

“Coming!” he shouted. “Or not,” he muttered. “Gimme five fuckin’ seconds, dammit.”

I handed him his jeans and underwear, and he wriggled into them. Tugged the blanket up over me, covering me, and then yanked the curtain aside and slid out, fastening his fly and tugging on his cut over his naked torso as he moved barefoot and messy haired and beautiful toward the front of the bus.

“The fuck is the problem?” I heard him snarl, audibly pissed off.

Poor man. He’d beensoclose. I still tasted him.

I was lying there, thinking of him. Of how he’d tasted and felt. How much I’d loved his reactions, his snarled, desperate, blissed-out words. The feel of…ofcontrol.

A body flopped into the bunk, and I smelled Lexie—perfume and old alcohol, and…sex. “Hi.”

I twisted to see my sister, her hair absolutely wild. Eye makeup smeared—it looked like she’d been crying. But her eyes were bright and happy—wild with crazed joy, if anything.

“Hi,” I responded.

She snatched the blanket up and peeked underneath. “You fucked him!”

I yanked it back. “I did not!” I grinned, then. “Well, sort of. Almost.”

She frowned. “Almost? How do youalmostfuck?”

“It’s complicated.” I bit my lip, stifling a huge grin. “His beard stubble? Scratchy and soft against my thighs, just like you said it would be. I’m still a little tender, actually.”

She squealed, wriggled close, excitement so extreme and bubbly she couldn’t contain it. “He went down on you?”

I couldn’t help my own excitement from bubbling over into girly squeals of hilarity and excitement. “Three times!”

She was wearing an old black faded Johnny Cash T-shirt with the sleeves cut off—huge on her, and obviously Myles’s, and obviously was not wearing a scrap of anything else under it. “Tell me everything. Every. Single. Detail.”

8

Crow

Goddamn torture, is what it was. Absolute agony. Damned cock would not go down, not all the way. I’ve heard of blue balls before, and I’ve felt the tense ache of needing to get my rocks off in a bad way, but this? This was pure hell. My poor balls fuckin’throbbed, and not in a sexy way. In an “every move was raw brutal agony because they’re so hypersensitive and tender” sort of way. My cock stayed semirigid in my jeans, and no matter how I focused on other shit, I just could fucking not make it go all the way down.

Even thoughts of Sister Maria didn’t help.

Mainly because Charlie’s image was superimposed over everything I looked at.

The bus had blown a front tire, which was bad news especially since we were stuck on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere, probably several hours from Denver. We could have hobbled along if it had been a back tire, but a front tire was bad, bad news. It meant hours of delay as we waited for a maintenance team to arrive and repair it, because a giant RV like that required specialized tools and training to repair.