Page 39 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

He had nightmares about that. One time he had just gotten home from basketball practice, was minding his own business, and just when he’d gone into his bedroom he heard his baby sister moan. And he had been stupid enough to go check where that sound had been coming from. Turned out his smart, gorgeous, nerdy little sister had been riding his best friend’s cock while eating out her best friend. Safe to say he’d left the house faster than he ever had in his life. Nobody wanted to find out his sister’s sexuality that way.

Fucking gross.

Not as gross as finding out the best fuck you’ve ever had in your entire life is your antagonist’s daughter.

Huffing, Angelo strode toward his spacious black walk-in closet, heading directly for the drawer where he knew his underwear would be neatly folded and perfectly organized. He grabbed a pair, snatched a towel, and made his way to the bathroom, his mind still tangled with the events of the day.

The tension from his earlier conversation with Allison replayed in his head, mingling with thoughts of the challenges ahead. He turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade down, hoping it would wash away the remnants of the day’s frustrations and uncertainties.

How the heck did I end up in this mess? I drink once, and someone ends up pregnant.

Entering his expansive shower—large enough to comfortably accommodate about five people, though he’d never have that many—he tried to unwind. As he stood beneath the stream, he couldn’t help but reflect on Allison’s determination and the unexpected spark between them. It was a distraction he hadn’t anticipated, yet it lingered, making him question his own mind.

With a sigh, Angelo tried to clear his thoughts, focusing instead on the soothing sound of the water. He attempted to quiet his mind, to hit the off switch, to stop thinking about her. But when his hand traveled south, he knew it was a losing game.

Am I really about to jerk off in the shower like some high school boy?

He wrapped his fist around his cock and the first image in his mind was sandy blonde waves and jade green eyes.

Yes. Yes, I am.

One hand went on the shower wall for support, the other squeezing his aching member harder. A grunt left his lips as he held his cock roughly and pictured the woman occupying his every thought on her knees.

His hand moved slowly, teasingly, as his head slumped forward against the shower wall. The contrast between the cool tiles pressing against his forehead and the scalding water cascading down his back was almost too much to bear.

Almost.

He saw green eyes looking up at him, a hot mouth enveloping him. Tears gathered in her eyes as she took him deeper.

Angelo squeezed his dick harder, his fist stilling as he started moving his hips instead. He fucked his own hand as he would fuck Allison’s face; roughly and mercilessly.

He increased his pace, his movements growing wilder, his breathing erratic, punctuated by grunts and groans of pure pleasure.

The image in his mind turned clearer and clearer, until Angelo could smell her scent, hear her voice.

The pleasure was building now, an intense fire spreading from his lower belly, sending waves of heat coursing through his veins, until he was burning, utterly consumed by the flames.

His muscles tensed, every nerve ending alive with searing sensation as the fiery ecstasy engulfed him completely. He threw his head back, eyes shut tight as his seed painted the shower wall, before being washed away.

All evidence of his desire went down the drain, as Angelo chuckled at his own actions. He had just masturbated to the thought of Allison Lockwood.

I’m so fucked.

Eleven

ALLISON

Several hours after her OB-GYN appointment, Allison sat at a cozy window table inThe Pink Paradiseonce more.

Nerves bubbled up inside her as she imagined everything that could go wrong with this little reunion. Amira would be furious, and there Allison would be, standing like a deer caught in headlights, bracing for the inevitable storm. She could almost hear Amira howling at her, and honestly, she couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, Allison would probably unleash a full symphony of rage too.

I’ll sit there, sniffling and blubbering like a sad puppy, because, well, that’s just me.

And when she finally storms off, I’ll be left in the ruins of my shattered dreams—hopes for a rekindled friendship scattered like confetti.

It’s like watching a rom-com where you’re the punchline in every joke!

Allison huffed a small laugh at her own thoughts. She was being ridiculous, letting her panic rear its ugly, distorted head again. It had been a companion of hers for years—ever since childhood, really—back when she couldn’t even recognize the signs. There were times in her life when she struggled to distinguish her own thoughts from the relentless chatter of anxiety.

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