Give Me More (Salacious Players Club #3) (14)

“Remember the first time, Red? Your eighteenth birthday. When I made you come with my hand in your bedroom while your parents were downstairs? Remember that? It was just like this, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she replies, her voice muffled by my hand.

“I had my hand up your skirt, and you soaked my fingers. Remember that, baby?”

“Oh, Hunter, yes,” she cries, and I can tell by the way her thighs hug my hand tightly that she’s at the height of her orgasm.

“That was the best day of my life, Red. The first time I felt you come. That was the day my life began. You know that, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she says with a long hum as I pull my hand away, so she can cry out loudly this time.

Unable to control myself, I slam my mouth against hers, tasting the warmth of her tongue against mine, a familiar friction. This woman has had a hold on me ever since I met her ten years ago.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, I know the reason I let her cry out is because I want him to hear it. Not because I’m showing off but because, in some way, I feel like he should be involved too.

He always is, where she and I are concerned.





Rule #6: When your friends won’t let you leave the trip early, take it as a good sign they actually want you around.





Drake



“I have eight months left on my lease. This is fucking bullshit,” I bellow into my phone. We’re somewhere off the freeway at one of those roadside attraction rest stops, and while I’d like to be enjoying whatever The Thing is, the dismal phone call from my landlord is more important.

“I’m aware but the clause in your lease clearly states that the building owner reserves the right to terminate the contract in the case of massive renovations.” The man on the line has a nasally voice and an uptight attitude and I’d like to sock him in the jaw right about now.

“So, where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

“That’s not our concern, Mr. Nielson. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. You have until the end of the month to vacate the premises.”

With that, the line goes dead, and I resist the urge to toss my phone into the desert.

“Ugh!” I growl as I pace the grease-stained concrete outside, waiting for Isabel and Hunter to come out.

When I glance up and see Isabel emerging with a bright green alien stuffed animal under one arm and a cup of coffee larger than her tiny head in her hand, my dark mood begins to crumble.

“What is that?” I laugh.

“You looked like you could use some cheering up.” She hands me the alien, and I am physically unable to keep the scowl on my face, letting my expression morph into a smile just for her.

“Thank you,” I reply. “So, what was The Thing?”

She shrugs. “I don’t actually know. Might have been a dinosaur bone? Or an alien? They weren’t exactly clear in their description.”

I laugh, looking down at the green alien plush. “Sorry I missed it.”

“Everything okay?”

“No. I’m being evicted,” I mutter angrily.

“What? Why? Are you struggling—"

“No,” I snap, cutting her off. “I make every payment on time, but these assholes decided they want to turn my apartment building into a parking garage.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah. So, I have until the end of the month to get out.”

“Can they do that?” she asks, her hand over her chest. Oh, sweet, naive little Isabel. So pure she can’t even wrap her head around how dickheads work. I love that about her.

“Apparently.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Probably going to have to catch a flight home from Austin. I need to find a new place to live.”

Now, I could be imagining things, or just seeing what I want to see, but I swear there’s devastation in her expression.

“No! You can’t do that.”

And here I thought I was the annoying third wheel. Surely, she’d enjoy a nice road trip with her husband alone.

“I have to. I need to find an apartment and move out of my old one in the next three weeks.”

When her hand lands on my arm, squeezing my bicep in a comforting grasp, I have to will my heart not to beat its way out of my chest. Every touch with Isabel after last night feels different. I can still remember what it felt like to hold her in my arms, her legs squeezed around my waist and her ass in my hands. I dreamt I was tying her up again; this time, she was naked and I was naked and I kept winding and winding and winding rope around her until her body became our bodies and I was tying them together.

In my dream, I was inside her, no longer pretending with layers of clothes between us, but I was buried deep in the same way we were simulating last night. When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t move for over thirty minutes because the raging hard-on in my boxers taunted me with my own shame. I would never, ever, lay a hand on my best friend’s girl like that, and tugging on my cock with the memory of her still fresh in my mind doesn’t feel any better.

Now, there’s a new tension between us, and I can’t stand it.

Isabel has always been as much my friend as Hunter is. I love her…like a sister—nope. I can’t even say that in my head without it feeling weird. Because even though I would never touch her like that, it doesn’t change the fact that my body clearly wants to. So saying she’s like a sister to me is the hardest nope of nopes.