Page 51 of The Good Boys Club

“Guy’s fae. He can’t lie, even if he wanted to.”

“Well, fuck,” he said. I could see the cogs turning in his mind. “He obviously has shit taste in kissing partners then because you’re not a crap kisser.”

“How do you know, Mash?” I said, my voice elevating by an extra octave with each word. “You’ve never kissed me. For all you know, I could be the Eight and a Half Kingdoms’ worst kisser.”

He was shaking his head. Resolute. “Nuh-uh. I know my boy and he’s a good kisser. Not some freaky toothsome quag dweller.”

“Toothsome?”

He shrugged. “Toothsome, toothful, toothy . . . whatever I don’t know the proper word, I’ve never heard of the fuckers. Fish with human teeth? That sounds terrifying as fuck, mate.”

“I hadn’t heard of them either. Then I looked them up on my phone and I knew I had to break it off.”

Even in the dim light of the evening, Mash’s smile was obvious. “First off, I wanna say, does this wankbasket know what kissing one of those things is like? And secondly, nah, you’re not like that. Okay, he’s fae, but he’s fucking lying.”

“He can’t lie,” I whined again.

Mash smoothed down the lapels of his suit jacket. “No further arguments will be accepted, thank yew.” He flipped imaginary locks over his shoulder. “He’s a liar and a chode, and you’re a great kisser.”

“You don’t know that.” I elbowed him.

“Fine, kiss me then, and I’ll know for sure.” He elbowed me back. Harder.

My heart threw itself against my windpipe. “Fuck off, I’m not—no!” But I wanted to. I really,reallywanted to.

“Go on, kiss me.”

Shit, was he being serious? The smirk on his face told me he wasn’t.

“Mash, no.”

“Kiss me.”

“Mash.”

“Do it.”

“Mash?”

“Kiss me, Bangers. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss—”

Before I’d thought it through, I grabbed his face and smashed our mouths together.

Mash stiffened, his eyes grew twice their size, and he made an adorable surprised squeak. And we simply stared at each other . . . both of us holding our breaths . . . our lips still connected but not moving.

I let him go and sat back on the dusty surface.

Mash said nothing. His gaze bounced between my lips and my eyes. His chest heaved.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” I began. “You just . . . I didn’t know what else to say to shut you—”

But then he was on me. His hands either side of my face. His mouth on mine again. Only this time he was moving it. Lips sliding against lips, hands snaking into my hair.

Mash moaned, and my cock responded. I couldn’t push him away, couldn’t stop this even if I wanted to. I never wanted to.

He inched his huge body over mine, his kiss relentless. His tongue slipped into my mouth, brushed against my own, and I surrendered every ounce of control to the moment, until he was lying on top of me, our feet still sticking off the end of the rocks.

I needed him to slow down, so that I could savour it, remember every detail. Who knew if this would ever happen again? His stubble scratched my chin, but I wouldn’t stop. His hips squashed mine into the ground, but I wouldn’t stop. I would never stop. I’d simply let myself waste away under Mash’s skilful caress.

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