Page 65 of The Stud

It was actually thelasttime I got laid.

I haven’t touched the tiniest bit of arse since then.

I could practically qualify for sainthood at this point.

“Shameskie.” His grin grows cartoonishly villainous. “The amount of snapper I slid into was almost too much for one man to handle.” An amused grunt precedes a small shrug. “La parola chiave è quasi.”

I’m sure the “keyword there is almost”is a fucking lie.

An exaggeration.

One that sounds even more arrogant in Italian.

Perk of playing with dudes from all around the world?

You can basically become multilingual if you pay enough attention.

“I know one hot little dragon I’llalwayshave room for,” Layvon toothily announces, “no matter who else has been on my dick.”

This?

Thisis who she lets fuck her?

I may know my way around the bangs anything with a pulse barn, but I’m better thanthis.

By miles and miles and bloody miles.

“Layvon,” the production assistant that brought me the beanbags politely calls to him, “we need you in makeup.”

“Naturalmente,” he cockily coos in tandem with spinning on his heels. “Which way?”

“You can just follow me,” states the woman whose name I can’t recall.

Layvon nods, begins to follow, yet stops a few feet away to halt Arden in her stroll back to me.

Twice.

That’s fuckingtwicehe’s blocked me.

I’d crosscheck him in the fucking teeth if we weren’t about to shoot a goddamn commercial.

I wonder if it’s too late to change partners.

I’m not sure my acting skills are up to code.

The fact they’re too far away for me to hear them is infuriating; however, it’s not nearly as infuriating as the flirting I can’t seem to look away from.

Why is she smiling so bloody big?

Why is she toying with her hair?

And is she giggling?!

Why the fuck is she giggling?!

She can’t really be into that Italian Stallion never be, can she?

The production assistant insists they keep moving, prompting Arden to deliver a playful tap his to his arm prior to her finishing her trek over to me.

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