Page 25 of Sizzling

“She did call you the hot one,” he said.

Why had Thatcher told him that? Yeah, she’d called me hot more than once, and maybe I liked it, but that was it.

“Because I am,” I replied.

Sebastian chuckled. “King’s the hot one, but now that he’s married off and a daddy, I’m gonna have to say I get that title now.”

“Keep dreaming,” I drawled. “When it comes to the Shephard brothers, it’s Thatcher who gets the pussies wet.”

“Sure, the fucked-up ones with daddy issues. They’re into psychos.”

“They all got daddy issues,” I told him, barely glancing up in his direction. “Learn to slap an ass until it’s red and how to call them ugly names, then you might be competition for your big brother.”

He sighed. “There is so much truth to that, that I won’t argue.”

With a smirk, I sent a text to Laurel. She was a strawberry-blonde who served drinks at the strip club we went to in Atlanta regularly. Close enough to red. It wasn’t the dark copper of Briar’s hair, but in the dark, that didn’t really matter. I headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian called out.

“To get my dick sucked.”

“Wait up! You headed to the club?”

“Yeah,” I replied, not stopping.

“Let me check on the new jockey, and I’ll go with you.”

“Hurry,” I shot back as I stopped at my leather jacket I’d left hanging on the hook and took out my pack of Reds before heading to the truck outside.

I’d get my fill of tits and ass while sinking my dick in a couple of mouths and pussies. This Briar Landry shit in my head would be forgotten by the time the sun came up tomorrow.

Lighting up the cigarette I’d stuck between my lips, I waited for Sebastian to talk to the jockey. He needed to speed this shit up. I wasn’t in the mood to get stuck in rush-hour traffic. Leaning against the truck, I crossed my ankles and inhaled deeply. If only this took the edge off like it once had. Now, it was only a habit.

Sebastian tilted his head, and I could see a smile curl his lips. He was fucking flirting. Shaking my head, I finished the cigarette, then tossed it down before covering it with my boot.

Looking back out at Sebastian, I lifted my hands up and yelled, “You coming or not?”

He turned his head and looked over my way, then nodded.

Rolling my eyes, I jerked open the truck door and climbed inside. Sebastian and his Casanova ways were entertaining at times, but right now, I was ready to go. He loved charming a female almost as much as he loved fucking them. They always fell for his clean-cut look, love of books, how he could quote lines from literature, his expensive sports cars, and how he gave them his complete attention. Knowing the bastard was just trying to fuck them.

He said his goodbyes to the jockey and jogged toward the truck. She must not be pretty enough to keep his attention if he still wanted to go to the club. Rolling down the window, I lit up another cigarette as he climbed in the passenger seat.

“Not gonna fuck that one, huh?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No, not that one. She’s not worth pissing Dad off.”

I nodded. Smart. If she was that good with Bloodline that King was impressed, then Sebastian fucking her and tossing her would end up with us losing a jockey. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

“Is she hot enough to get Thatcher’s attention? Because he won’t give a rat’s ass about pissing off your dad.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Not Capri. He’d never go there. She’s not his type.”

Now, he had my attention.

“You know her?”

He shrugged. “Not really. She’s our age, and she grew up in town, but she was homeschooled. Her dad is the minister at the Methodist church. I dated a friend of hers once years ago. Anyway, she’s the religious sort. She does volunteer work, sings at her church in the choir and shit. Real sweet though.”

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