Page 35 of Absolutely Pucked
“Yeah. I know I’m being weird, and I swear I’ll make the report.”
Ford nodded, then flopped on his side and stretched his hand toward the nightstand, snagging my phone with his long fingers. He tossed it on my lap beside Nugget and then stared at me expectantly. “Now’s better than never.”
I took a breath, picked up the phone, then froze. I’d put it on silent, so I hadn’t heard any of the texts that came through. One from Delia and two from what I was going to assume was Daniel’s other burner.
The first, from her, was a photo of my car on a tow truck. And of her hand flipping it off. I didn’t recognize the background, but it was all flat land, like she wassomewhere in the Midwest. Did that mean she’d been here? Or that she knew where I was?
Fuck.
Delia: Missing something? LOL.
Unknown: I know what she did.
Unknown: Leave it alone and I’ll free up a little extra cash.
My hands were shaking as I set the phone down and offered the mug back to Ford. He stared at me, his expression almost like he wanted to bolt, but eventually, he took the mug. “Thanks.” My voice was thready and small. “I was going to drop it.”
“Bro, not to be a dick, but if you’re going to stay here, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
I let out a trembling breath. The words didn’t want to come. It felt like choking on shards of glass when I tried to force them out. “My car wasn’t stolen. My ex took it.”
Ford sat up straight, looking like he was about to start fighting the idea of her like it was a physical thing. “Excuse the fuck out of me? That bitch ishere?”
I winced and shook my head. “No.” I wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not. “She sent a tow truck.” I pulled up the photo again without looking too hard at it and flashed the screen at him.
“Jesus fucking Christ on a cheese cracker. Is she for real?”
I bit my lip and nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Part of me wants to say you asked for this, considering you literally stole her from your brother, but?—”
“Yeah. No. I get it. Karma.” Easing Nugget off my lap and ignoring her annoyed mrow, I swung my legs off the side of the bed and attempted to stand on weak knees. “I should, um…I should shower. So I don’t smell like a parking lot for the interview.”
Ford stood with me, and when I listed sideways, he managed to catch me and haul me upright. “First of all, you showered last night. Remember?”
I laughed softly. “Oh, right.”
“Second of all, you need to use my shower today because I don’t want to have to clean up blood from the floor if you keel over and split your head open. Mine has a nice bench.”
“Why does yours—oh.” Right. His leg.
He grinned and patted the side of his limb. “Perks of amputation. Or something. The parking passes are nice too.” He winked as he eased back a small hop and looked me up and down. Luckily, there was no chance of a boner now. Not after everything we’d just said. “Do me a favor and breathe, okay? Get under some hot water and unclench those muscles while I make you breakfast.”
“You really don’t need to do that for me,” I started, but his glare shut me up.
“I’m trying to be nice here, and the least you can do is make it easy on me,” he said tersely. “When is the last time you had an actual meal?”
I didn’t want to answer that, so I didn’t. I just glanced away, and he let out a bone-deep sigh.
“Yeah, I figured as much. You probably have scurvyor some shit. Go get clean…er. Cleaner,” he said. “Meet me in the kitchen after, and no fucking arguing,” he added when I opened my mouth to protest.
God, it was going to be hard to live like this. It would be next to impossible to accept all the things he wanted me to accept. But I was already on a path to hell, so what was a little selfishness to add to my sins?
The shower felt amazing, and so did being able to sit down. It was better than Ford’s little guest shower, which barely fit one single human body. This was a walk-in with a bamboo bench and everything on low shelves for easy reach.
His shampoo and soaps all smelled expensive—very floral and earthy and just so…him. They brought back another memory of that night up in the room at the club, and this time, I couldn’t help but wrap my hand around my dick and squeeze as it thickened.
Being with him had been so different from any sex I’d ever had. My experiments with my bisexuality rose and fell on a few fingers in my ass and a single blowjob where I gagged so hard I nearly lost my lunch all over the dude’s thighs. Being buried deep inside Ford with his tongue in my mouth and fingers digging into my skin—there was nothing like it.
