Page 85 of Daring You

23

Ben

“Mike—”

Astor’s voice immediately changes. Transforms into a pleading, light, melodic tone that I’ve never had the pleasure, or the pain, of hearing before.

I shove my boxers on quick. In my world, a man barrels into the guy who just fucked their girl, and I don’t want my Johnson out when he tries.

My dick’s still wet from being inside her. Actually—from dipping into a place Mike never got to visit.

I can see how he may be pissed off.

“—what are you doing here?” Astor finishes. She stands, the sweater she’s wearing long enough to maintain decency in front of a fully suited ex.

“This place is half mine,” Mike responds, mostly through his nose. He won’t take his eyes off me. My muscles bunch in response.

I’m known for my tackles in football. What Mike doesn’t suspect is that I do them even better without padding.

“I gave you a long weekend with this place to yourself,” Mike continues, “and I came here thinking it was high time to take what’s mine.”

Again, his attention is on me. I resist rolling my eyes, then clocking him in the chin. “Last I checked, women aren’t property anymore, brother.”

“You know what she went through today?” Mike asks me, voice high with coated concern.

“Mike, don’t even start,” Astor says. “Just grab your shit and get out—”

“I also came ‘round to check on you, since you bailed in the middle of a hearing. Shoulda known all it’d take to throw you off your game is a booty call—”

Something about a pretty boy saying booty call grates against my nerves. And, in true pretty boy fashion, he adds, “never read you for a fuckin’ slut, Astor. At least fuck your boss, then you’d get something out of it.”

Okay, buddy.

I punch him hard and fast in the side of his head.

“Ben!”

There’s the Astor I’ve been missing. Growling, pissed off, and ready to jump in and join the fight.

Or pull me out of it.

“Back off,” she says to me. Her cheeks are still flushed from the orgasm I gave her, but I’m fairly sure there’s a few splotches of anger in there now.

“Why? He’s a dickfest who deserves a good whomp—”

“Not now, Ben.”

Astor’s pleading with me, and I don’t know why. She runs to Mike, who’s bent over and moaning, the pussy, and says to him, “You said you’d call when you wanted to come back.”

“This is my place, too,” Mike says while still cowed. “I shouldn’t have to announce myself just in case there’s a guy in here you’re in the middle of fucking.”

“Oh, like you had the decency of doing with me? How many girls have been in here under my nose, huh?”

As soon as Mike straightens, Astor shoves him back.

Aha, so that’s why she told me to retreat. Astor wants the carcass for herself. I stalk into the kitchen, turning the faucet on so hard I nearly break it as I wash my hands.

“At least I don’t fuck friends of the family,” Mike spits. “Jesus, Astor, your brother know about this? How you’re boning his best friend behind his back—”

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