Page 36 of Famous Last Words
I shake my head again, slowly this time, because he seems to have a hard time following.
“Dude.” Dallas tilts his head to the side. “Draper gave you his personal blessing to come out and get shitfaced with us, and you’re in bed—” his gaze dips to the room service menu lying on my stomach, “—about to order cold pizza and questionable chicken tendies?”
I blink at him.
“We’re three for three.”
I blink again.
His eyes move to my phone on the bed next to me, eyebrows raising. “Oh, I get it. You’re gonna stay in and have hot, kinky phone sex with your girl, huh?” He smirks knowingly. “You dirty dog.”
I ignore him, focusing instead on the highlights of the Detroit-Boston game playing on the muted television.
“You’re so fucking lame,” he teases. “There’s an unopened box of Kleenex in the bathroom cabinet.”
A few seconds later, the door slams shut and he’s gone, and I release a heavy sigh, staring up at the ceiling because the truth is, I’m not really watching the game on TV at all. My mind is too fucking racked over a certainfakegirlfriend who’s taken up permanent rent-free residency in my brain. Man, I’m so fucked.
It’s been four days, and I thought the distance would help me get over the moment we shared in my hotel room, but instead, the distance has only gone and made everything worse. Because not only have Inotbeen able to stop thinking about our almost kiss, but my dick has had a mind of its own, and on more than a few occasions I’ve been forced to jerk off as visions of FranfuckingKeller play in my mind.
I’m blaming the fact that it’s been a while since the big guy’s had any action, but I guess that doesn’t explain the downright perverted scenarios of her that play through my mind at the most inconvenient times. I’m desperate; that’s all I can put it down to. Desperate, and Fran Keller’s my only option at this point in time.
Sure, technically, I could go out with the guys tonight and pick up some bunny, bring her back here and fuck her senseless, but I can’t, because I’m in a stupidfake fucking relationshipwith the woman I’m trying not to think about while I jerk off in the shower like a fucking loser.
I keep replaying that moment in my mind over and over again. The almost kiss.
Fran had been a smart ass and putThe Mighty Duckson the TV. We watched for a while, and I pointed out the inaccuracies which made her throw a pillow at me. As we quickly lost interest in the film, it continued to play in the background while we started talking.
But the more wine Fran consumed, the sassier she became. And the sassier she became, the more her confidence grew. And it was something else. Who knew Fran Keller, the girl who used to walk around Belmont Prep like she had a stick permanently wedged up her ass, the girl who used to look down on everyone, the girl who tried to start a neighborhood watch program in the dorms that unsurprisingly never took off… who knewthatgirl could be so damn freaky?
“Favorite color?”
I rolled my eyes. Yes, we were really playing twenty questions.
When Fran asked if I wanted to play, I specifically said no. But it’s like she has this creepy ability to make you do things you don’t want to do because, suddenly, without even realizing, I was already up to question fucking five.
“You know, if I’m going to be forced against my will to play this stupid ass game, can we at least make it interesting?” I arched a brow.
“What do you propose?” Fran asked, taking a sip from her wine.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Something a little more thrilling thanfavorite colors.”
She seemed to ponder that for a moment, tapping her nails against the glass in her hand, and then she took me by complete surprise. “Okay then. Favorite sexual position?”
Stunned. That was the only way to describe what I felt in the wake of her question. Fucking stunned. My mouth opening and closing like a goddamn fish. Did she actually just ask me that?
“I’ll go first,” Fran said after a moment, since I was clearly too shocked to speak. She took another sip of her wine before blurting it out like nobody’s business. “I like it from behind. Like, the whole works. Pull my hair, spank me, wrap your hand around my throat and fucking choke me…” She trailed off, eyes closed, the hint of a wistful smile playing on her lips.
Again, I just stared at her, mouth hanging open because… who the fuck was this woman sitting in front of me and what the hell did she do with Fran Keller?
I swallowed hard, shifting awkwardly when I felt my dick twitch. “Um, is that what you, um, did with, um, Tadd?”
She laughed out loud, actually snorted. “God, no. Tadd’s… conservative. I don’t even think he likes sex. He’s a missionary kind of guy at best. I remember one time, I begged him to call me his dirty little slut because it gets me off,” she said, shrugging like it was no big deal, “and he looked at me like I was certifiable.”
I silently threatened my dick if it wouldn’t stop reacting, but goddamn.
“What about you?” Fran asked all casual like, as if she wasn’t sitting right there, telling me she liked to be fucking choked.
I cleared my suddenly dry throat, searching for my voice. “I, um?—”
