Page 315 of Vicious Saint
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I snatch the opened can out of his hand and take a sip.
Fuck it. Lazy can win one last time.
“Can I have some?” Theory asks, and at first I think it’s me, but when I look over I find her hand out for Leviathan.
Oh, girl, come on. We were doing so good.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Saint snaps at his sister. “Asking to smoke pot?”
“It’s not like I won’t eventually do it anyway.” Theory shrugs. “Now leave me alone and go back to feeling up Hendrix like you were under the table.”
“Hey!” I toss a pillow at her.
“Sorry, girl.” Theory winces. “But nobody moansthatloud over pizza.”
And here I am thinking I was being hella smooth.
This makes her high, idiot brother snort a laugh.
Asshole.
“You know what, Theory? I think being in a controlled setting is the perfect time for you to experiment.” No longer giving a shit about Leviathan’s feelings, I reach over the bed and snatch the blunt from him mid toke.
“The fuck, Hendrix?!” He chokes hard enough for Archer to risk asking if he’s okay. But not hard enough to actually make Archer move from his perch at the far corner of the bed.
I give Leviathan a quick, apologetic smile before turning my back on the traitor with the magic fingers, and hold out the blunt for Theory to take.
“Jimi,” Saint warns, and I hold up the hand fisting the can I didn’t ask for.
“Your days of babying your little sister are over, Letterman.” I smile mischievously at Theory. “Because now she’s got a badass big sister.”
It must be a sign of the times, because Saint refrains from diving across the bed when Theory brings the blunt to her lips, giggling to try and hide her nerves.
“You’ll be going over my knee for this one.” Saint mumbles the threat in my ear, and a deep shudder runs through me so fast I have to drown the excitement with a gulp of nasty seltzer.
Because, well, what kind of girl doesn’t like a good spanking?
I’m gonna shoot fast and say not a lot of ’em, Montgomery.
Pretty sure you used to be one of ’em.
Fucking whatever.
Ignoring the hormone induced crazy, I instruct Theory in detail on how to handle the blunt, since the last thing I need is her coughing up a lung and giving Saint a reason to get scary pissed, not sexy pissed.
“Take in just a little at first, okay? Don’t inhale for too long.”
Theory nods, doing exactly as I say as the rest of us watch. Two with uncertainty, one with agitation, and then there’s me, a basket case of nerves and arousal.
As I suspected, the second the smoke hits Theory’s lungs, it’s pushed out through a loud cough, making Saint jump out of his seat to race to her side.
“Oh my God, Letterman. Stop being dramatic.” I slap him away from Theory as he looks her over. “Her lungs aren’t gonna fucking break from a little Mary Jane.”
Theory reassures him with a thumbs up, while still choking.
Guess it works, though, because Saint takes a few steps back.
“Try again, girl,” I instruct when her breathing settles. “It’ll be a bit easier, promise. Just keep the pull light.”
