Page 6 of Shameless Game

“Are you sure you don’t deserve to be punished?” He licks his lips. “I’ve heard enticing, naughty things.”

“About me?”

“Yes,” he smirks, and I’m half-flattered, half-offended, and a hundred percent preferring a hemorrhoid to this guy right now because I can suddenly see it in his eyes. I know the difference between safe lust and dangerous lechery.

“I’m sure,” I answer. “Go court a different cunt for your cop-n-cock game.”

“I don’t take no for an answer,” he threatens, looming closer, and despite the dumbass shit you hear, that’s a deadly red flag on your coffin. Check the stats.

“Then take it as a complete sentence because it is.” I stab him with my glare. “No.”

But he hovers at the bar, eyeing me, his sexy reeking into sleazy, and the owner, Ms. Faye, doesn’t usually let guys in like this.

Jace senses it, too, when he returns. “Hey man,” he lowers his voice, threatening my icky admirer, “leave her alone and leave here now, or I’ll feed your face pavement until you swallow your teeth.”

The guy measures Jace up, recognizing an ass-whooping when he sees one. So he skulks away, and Jace follows, telling the security at the door to red-line him. He won’t be allowed back in, but that’s my cue.

This night sucks, and there’s smut for me to write. At least on my pages with Beau, a.k.a. Willuf the Wilder or Valen the Vulgarian, will my kitty purr again.

In the club’s front lobby, Jace waits with me. He insists on escorting me to my car, and that’s fine. All is fine; I lie to myself as the attendant hands us our phones. They’re not allowed in the club.

When I check my screen, I see all the missed notifications and messages from sweet romance readers, and a text appears, too.

It rips the breath from my lungs.

Even though it says UNKNOWN, my heart knows it’s Beau. It always has. Because all it does is make me so happy and so hurt, I’m pissed as hell.

UNKNOWN

It’s Willuf

And I need a wild favor

CHAPTER TWO

Yep, we’re back in college, back to frenemies who want to fuck again.

BEAU

The June heat in Charleston, South Carolina, makes anyone sweat. My white cotton T-shirt is already soaked.

Damn, don’t let my deodorant fail me, too.

Because it’s not the brutal Southern humidity or the burning sun that’s drenching my pits.

No, it’s the steps I’m taking up the side porch to the exclusive adult shop to see the woman I can’t throw out of my mind.

And trust me, I’ve tried.

The truth is she’s been there for years.

Then, I made it worse.

Now I know my college fantasies about Blair Monroe were a thumbnail tease to the night of the most erotic, real-life, passionate porn we created months ago.

It doesn’t help that we made a video of it. And yes, I watch it. Nightly, I moan to it. Hell, I feared I ruined my phone when I got my happy juice on it.

Five times so far.

---