Page 24 of Whiskey Neat

“How?”

The guys exchange looks until Jerryn speaks up. “It’s really obvious that Salem is exactly your type.”

“Your type on steroids,” Bane adds.

“And he’s a dog with a bone,” Ridley says. “He doesn’t seem easily forgettable.”

“It’s just sex, guys.”

Kit snorts, cutting himself off and focusing on his half-empty beer when I glare at him.

“I think you have to be careful,” Lowen says softly. “He might not go quietly when you’re bored with him.”

“Or…” Kit prompts, bumping Lowen’s arm with his.

“Or…” Lowen continues. “He might be the one to finally tame Indiana Hart.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Come on, guys. I’m forty years old, and I’ve met a lot of pretty twinks in my time. If it hasn’t happened yet, it’s not gonna.”

Ridley turns to Bane and Jerryn. “Double or nothing?”

“Dick,” I grumble, but I’m holding back my own laughter.

If I’m honest, the shit they’re giving me is on point and deserved. It’s been a long running joke that someday, someone is finally gonna bring me to my knees and make me trade in my fuckboi lifestyle. Is that person Salem? Unlikely. He’s just a little fun for a while. I’ve got way too much shit going on to focus on more than physical pursuits.

“Anyway,” I say, “if the room is rocking, don’t bother knocking.”

“Lucky me,” Kit complains. “My room is right next to yours. Guess it’s earplugs tonight.”

Grinning, I lean back in my chair. My cock twitches slightly as thoughts of taking pretty Salem apart dance in my head. What does he sound like when he succumbs to pleasure? Will my name on his lips sound as sweet? Only one way to find out.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll to my contacts. As it rings, I realize the guys are silent, all of them focused on me. I just shake my head.

“Hello, Indy,” Salem answers.

“Hey. You ready to come over?”

“I most certainly am. Do I need to bring supplies or are you stocked up?”

Damn. It’s actually been so long I probably do need to reload. “You can bring some with you.”

“Perfect. Address?”

“I’ll text you. Thirty minutes enough time?”

“Yep. See you soon, Indy,” he says, a soft almost-purr in his voice.

Jesus, this man.

“See you soon.”

I end the call, pushing my chair back to stand. “Well, the twink won’t fuck himself. See ya.”

Their laughter and catcalls follow me out of the restaurant. I’m close enough to walk home in less than five minutes, which gives me enough time to straighten my room up a little and take a quick shower. My dick has been half hard since I called him, and the anticipation of getting my hands on him mixed with the whiskey I drank is a heady combo.

I’m just finishing making the bed when I hear the doorbell. A smile spreads across my face.

Showtime.

---