Page 7

six

Rory

Things may be normal between Cole and me now, but apparently, I can hardly look at Harlow without my cheeks flushing. But I guess almost giving your best friend’s brother a blow job less than a week ago will do that to a girl.

She hasn’t called me out on it, but she’s eyed me several times.

Lucia, though? Oh, she knows something is up. She’s laughing under her breath whenever I stumble over a word or get caught up in a daydream. I’m so fucking obvious it’s painful.

“Rory. Hello?” Harlow says, cutting me out of my daydream about fucking daydreaming. “You good, babe?”

“Yep!” I say with a bit too much enthusiasm. Lucia snickers again, and I lightly kick her under the table. “All good here. What do we have left to plan for Ella’s bachelorette party?”

“We need to finalize our itinerary,” Lucia replies. “Our flight is at ten on Black Friday. It should take roughly six hours, so with the time change, we’ll arrive around one.”

“And since we don’t fly back to New York until Monday morning,” Harlow adds, “we have two and a half days to fill.”

“Well, we already have tickets for Garth Brooks on Friday night,” I say. “I’m not sure Ella would forgive us if we miss that.”

“I vote we do Chippendales,” Lucia exclaims, slapping her hand on the table and almost knocking over our drinks.

Harlow looks at Lucia in exasperation. “Ella won’t want to do that, and the only dick I want to see is my boyfriend’s.”

“I bet Rory would enjoy it. A bunch of hot men dancing with their junk in our faces? Yes, please.”

“Fuck no,” I laugh. “I like sex and men as much as the next girl, but I don’t want dicks in my face unless I’m the one getting on my knees.”

Heat flares in my cheeks again as I recall that moment. I can’t forget it, no matter how hard I try.

“It sucks to be single when all your friends are in relationships,” Lucia sighs. “I’ll have to go back to Vegas and see sweaty men another time.”

“You are not the only single one,” I chide. “I’m as single as Pringle.”

“Which just means you and I will need to mingle.”

Harlow laughs across the table. “I take it your Tinder date last night didn’t pan out?”

“Ew, no. His profile said he was 6‘2″, but he couldn’t have been more than 5′11″. Of course, I don’t care about that, but the man had the fucking audacity to get annoyed with me for being taller than him in my heels.”

“How do you possibly always find the worst dates?” I ask.

“Because,” Lucia grumbles, “all the good men in NYC are in relationships with Harlow and Ella.”

“My brother’s a good guy,” Harlow adds.

“Lane, too,” I say.

“Fair.” Lucia takes a sip of her wine before continuing. “I love Lane. He’s funny and kind, but he’s not my type. I want someone who challenges me. Lane’s a golden retriever. Cole, too, honestly, and that’s most of the reason I’m not interested in him.”

Lucia smirks at me as I blush yet again, knowing exactly what she’s getting at. I never told Lucia, but I guess I was right—she figured it out.

But even if I can’t do anything about my crush on Cole, it’s still relieving to hear she’s not interested in him.

“Bringing the topic back to Vegas,” Harlow says now, unknowingly saving me from my discomfort. “A bar crawl on Saturday would probably be fun. I’m sure Ella would love that.”

“Sunday could also be a recovery day,” I add. “Hang out at the pool as we try to work off the hangovers before we fly back.”

“Great,” Lucia says. “We have some ideas. But where do we go for meals? When do we hit the casinos? Do we see any other shows? We need to hash out the details.”

“Girl, breathe,” I laugh. “This is supposed to be a fun trip. We don’t have to plan out every second of every day.”

Harlow nods in agreement. “We have an idea for each day. Let’s play the rest by ear. Ella can help us decide what to do since it’s her bachelorette party anyway.”

Lucia groans. “You guys are killing the planner in me.”

“Gotta just go with the flow sometimes, Torres,” I say, tilting my wine glass toward her.

“Maybe you should heed your own advice, Fisher.” Lucia smirks at me again, and Harlow snickers from her spot next to her.

Fucking hell.

Harlow knows, too, doesn’t she?

Harlow knows I’m obsessed with her brother.

But hopefully, she doesn’t know all of my thoughts.

That I almost dropped to my knees because I’d been fantasizing about having his cock in my mouth for three years.

That I want him to push me up against the wall and fuck me roughly while the pictures hanging shake and fall.

That I desperately want to know if that nice guy persona also extends into the bedroom. The quiet ones can be the filthiest.

No, I’ll keep on keeping those to myself.

“Well,” I say awkwardly. “I think we have some good ideas for Vegas. Who’s up for some dessert before we head out?”

When I get back to my apartment, I slip off my boots and shimmy out of my jacket, ready to relax for the rest of the night.

My mind is still swirling with thoughts of Cole.

As if on instinct, I find my way back to my table, art supplies still scattered about. I’ve started a few pictures since I started up again yesterday, but the image of Cole keeps pulling me back in.

He’s basically perfect—his portrait can’t be anything less than that.

As the pencil on the paper forms another curly strand falling from the top of his head to his shoulder, my phone vibrates next to me.

I brush the graphite dust from my hands and grab my phone, finding a text from my favorite person.

Cole

How was dinner, Aurora?

I laugh lightly as I pull up his contact to call, preferring to hear his voice rather than just text.

When I hear Cole pick up, I speak before he can. “My name’s not Aurora, you know.”

I hear him laugh heartily from the other end. “I’ll find a better nickname for you then.”

“As long as it’s not something cringy like Sugar Boo Boo, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Well, fuck,” he says, the smile on his face evident in his voice. “There goes that golden nickname.”

I walk into my living room now and fall back onto my couch, sinking into the soft upholstery. “Keep trying, Pierce. You gotta do better than that.”

Cole chuckles, and the sound sets off butterflies. This man affects me in a way no one ever has. “So, how was dinner, then?”

“It was good,” I say, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. “But apparently, I have no idea how to act around your sister.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I kept stumbling over my words and shit. She kept giving me looks. I was awkward as fuck.”

“You wishing you didn’t stop in the showers, huh?” I can hear his smug smirk through the phone.

“Cole!” I shout. “Don’t act all flirty with me.”

“God, it’s so fun to fuck with you,” he laughs.

If he’s going to fuck with me, I’d highly prefer he do it with his cock inside me instead. Call it intuition or whatever you want, but I get the feeling that Cole knows exactly how to take care of a woman in the bedroom.

“Don’t fuck with me unless you’re going to make me come, Pierce.”

Cole chokes on the other end, coughing as I start laughing my ass off.

To anybody else, our friendship would seem weird, but we both love to trip the other up by saying inappropriate things. Cole gets me sometimes, but I usually win the unofficial battle.

“Fucking hell, Rory,” he says. “Next thing I know, you’re going to ask me what I’m wearing.”

“I don’t even need to ask, Cole. You’re always in joggers and a hoodie in the evenings.”

“Ooh, maybe you don’t know everything about me. That’s what I wear around other people. Not when I’m alone in my own apartment.”

“Don’t tell me you’re running around commando.”

Seriously.

Please don’t tell me that.

The thought of Cole naked on the other end of the phone might actually kill me.

“Not commando,” he laughs. “But I tend to run hot, so I’m just in sweats right now.”

“Are they gray?” I blurt out.

Goddamn, I wish I had a muzzle for myself sometimes.

Cole’s voice turns deeper, huskier. “And if I told you they are gray? What would you think?”

I think that I wish I was there so I could see for myself.

But I lie instead.

“I’d think it wouldn’t make a difference for you. Tiny dicks don’t show, even in gray sweatpants.”

“Oh, Rory,” he says, chuckling to himself. “I can promise you it’s not tiny.”

Oh, I know it’s not.

I did accidentally make him hard, after all.

And the way his dick strained against his tight baseball pants told me all I needed to know—Cole Pierce wields a fucking weapon between his legs.

Now thoughts of my friend’s dick have me so damn turned on.

“I’m actually gonna-” Cole says clumsily.

“I think I’m going to-” I say at the exact same time. We both laugh before I add, “You go first, Cole.”

“I’m gonna go,” he replies. “I’m going to jump in the shower.”

“Me too,” I say awkwardly. “Have a good night, Cole.”

“Good night, Rory.”

Once the call ends, I toss my phone on the other side of my sofa and sprint into my bathroom.

I do need a shower to rinse the day away, but the main thing I want right now is the vibrator I have inside of it.

I’ll clean myself off as I filter through all my dirty, dirty thoughts.

The vibrations work for me, but even the pleasure that rips through me when I peak isn’t enough.

It never is.

Cole Pierce is the only one who can satisfy my needs.