Page 22 of Last Round

“In the kitchen,” Sean hollers back in a high-pitched tone.

I cautiously survey the kitchen, prepared for an ambush on either front. So far, so good. He appears to be alone, beating what looks like a chicken breast with a mallet.

“What did it ever do to you?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

“Grab the peppers from the fridge and start slicing them,” he orders.

“Trouble in paradise?” I tease as I grab the veggies, stand opposite the kitchen island, and work on my task. Sean gives a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“It’s been tense around here,” he says after a moment of consideration.

“With Molly?” While his role has become more fatherly than brotherly, they still have feuds like any siblings would. Sometimes I think it’s worse because he’s filling two roles in her life, so he gets it two-fold. “Jessica?” His eye twitches. “Both?”

“They’re going to drive me fucking insane.” He slams the hammer on the countertop. Hands splayed in front of him, he looks at me. “At first it was just small, stupid stuff. But this week, it’s been like World War III here.”

“I thought you guys usually stay at Jessica’s apartment?” If I remember correctly, when they first got together, Sean told me how the she-devil claimed there was a smell like mold or something in this house that gave her migraines. I still think it’s all that sage I burned in here, trying to rid the place of her evil presence.

“She has a new neighbor. I guess he always has company over and she’s not getting any sleep.”

“Party animal?”

“Not really. I mean, I thought he was cool enough. The first night he was a little loud, but when I knocked on his door and mentioned the volume, he apologized immediately. Turned it down without complaint and offered me a beer. He and his roommate are gamers, like those ones who actually make money from it. He said they get a little carried away sometimes but would make an effort to keep the noise down.”

“But they don’t?”

Sean pauses, contemplating how to phrase his statement. “Jessica is a really light sleeper.”

And there it is. I’m willing to bet my left nut the guys can barely be heard through the apartment walls, or that at least it’s nothing excessive. She lives in an older house that was converted into a quadruplex. It has one of those awesome claw tubs, free standing radiators, big bay windows, even has this old school gas stove. But it was built two hundred years ago. The soundproofing is basically nonexistent. Knowing how neurotic she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she turns everything off in her house and presses her ear against the drywall.

For whatever damn reason, Sean refuses to see what an awful bitch she is. A paradox I can’t wrap my head around. I’d make a vulgar suggestion that her blow job skills cloud his judgment, but I know for a fact she won’t suck dick.

Yes, I’ve slept with my best friend’s fiancée. In my defense, it was in high school, and long before they were ever together and prior to my dick developing a brain that could distinguish a quality fuck.

Sean knows. He just likes to pretend it never happened—something we can both agree on.

The point is, looks-wise, Jessica Taylor is a blonde fucking bombshell who could rival Megan Fox, and she knows it. That bit of knowledge went to her head in junior high. And let’s just say she’s a taker, not a giver, and will leave you thoroughly unsatisfied. The stuck-up cunt is hot, with an ego bigger than mine. She believes you should simply be honored that she’s allowed you to stick your dick in hergolden pussy.

The real reason she hates me is because I’m probably the first and only guy to tell her that, that trap between her legs isn’t all that she cracks it up to be. Really not my proudest moment.

“With Molly home, it’s been a bit… crowded.”

“You have two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Sounds like enough space to me.”

“One and a half baths,” Sean corrects. “I swear they each spend as long as humanly possible in there just to piss the other off.” I chuckle. Sean throws a towel at me. “Not funny, dude.”

“Perhaps a wee bit,” I say, using my exaggerated accent to lighten his mood.

“No, it’s fucking hell. Then today…” The back door opens. “Let’s drop it,” he whispers.

“They were out of Berry Weiss,” the heavenly voice calls out, and my dick is already half-hard. “I got her Summer Shandy. Hopefully that will please her highness.” Molly walks in, carrying a couple of cases of beer. Andfuck me.She’s got the braided pigtail thing going on again—the look that’s become my least and most favorite hairstyle. And a thin, white cotton dress. The hem rests at the top of her thigh, just barely covering her luscious ass. And I meanbarely.The fucking thing is translucent enough to reveal the black, what I assume, bikini underneath.

I shouldn’t have looked. Figured out a way to blind myself for the day. Because this round just started, and she’s already got me hanging on the ropes. Unless a ref calls it, one strike and I’m done for.

“It’s fine. Just put it in the fridge,” Sean says.

Molly flashes me a wicked smile before sauntering to the refrigerator. She swings the door open and bends over. The hem of what is better classified as an enormous shirt rides up, revealing her heart-shaped ass. I’ve caught several glimpses over the past few weeks, but never a full show. Her bottoms shift enough for me to positively say she waxes.

God damn it, I shouldn’t know this.

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