Chapter 8

After my shower, I ordered a pizza and flopped onto the couch, half-watching some crappy show on TV. Something with bad lighting and worse acting. Perfect background noise.

Ping!

Brit: I’ll do it.

I blinked.

Do what?

Whatever. I was starving.

RING.

Pizza. Salvation.

I answered the door like it was a lover. Maybe moaned a little.

Two slices in, my phone buzzed again.

RING.

Brit.

I sighed and picked up. “Hey.”

“Why didn’t you answer my text?” Her voice was softer than I expected. Almost ... shy.

“I was eating,” I said, chewing calmly.

She said, “Call me when you’re done?”

I wiped my fingers on a napkin. “Nah, it’s fine. I can talk now.”

Beat.

“So?” I prompted. “You’ll do what?”

“What?”

“Your text, Brit. You said you’ll do it. What are you doing?”

A pause. A breath.

“I’ll...” she cleared her throat, her voice tightening. “I’ll share you.”

I froze mid-chew.

That was not what I expected. Not really. I didn’t say anything.

“Did you hear me?” she asked, a little edge creeping in.

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’ll call Ellie,” she said, her tone low, serious. “I’m sure she’ll say yes. We can fuck her together. Or she’ll fuck you while I watch. Or whatever you want. You’ll love it. She will too.”

I chuckled, cocky. “Nah. I changed my mind. I don’t even like Ellie like that.”

Total lie. Ellie was at least an eleven. I’d bend her over a bookshelf in a heartbeat.

“Okay...” Brit said quietly. A pause. Something about it tugged. Then she said, almost too carefully, “You ... and your new friends, then?”

“What?”

“You can fuck me,” she said—then, breath catching, corrected herself. “I mean ... the three of you. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Silence.

And then—

My cock stood up like it had heard a church bell.

“Whaaaaa?” I muttered, staring at the phone like it had just proposed marriage.

Keep it cool, buddy, I said silently to my throbbing dick—let’s call him Junior for now.

Not out loud, of course. I’m not insane.

It’s just ... Junior and I have a telepathic connection. Totally normal. You probably do it too—if you’ve got one. Don’t lie.

“Hello?” said Junior.

Or was that Brit?

Yeah. Definitely Brit.

“Are you there?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“Go on,” I said, half-distracted, half-horny, fully doomed.

“That’s it,” she said, voice low and unfiltered. “I thought about everything you said, and I ... I mean—it made me so hot. My pussy’s still throbbing.”

Well damn.

She lives!

Who knew Brit had a filthy mouth buried beneath that frosty exterior?

“We don’t have to be together,” she continued, gaining speed. “We can just have sex whenever you want. I’ll let your friends fuck me. I’ll give you blowjobs. Anything you want. Just give me this one chance to make it up to you ... please.”

She said please.

Magic word.

I liked it.

Junior liked it. Junior did a somersault and tried to climb out of my pants.

Suddenly, I was in a very awkward situation. Junior was vibrating with excitement, screaming “SAY YES!” at the top of his nonexistent lungs.

But me? I hesitated.

Did I really want to mess with the amazing thing I had going on with Ken and Kari?