Page 11 of The Rowdy Ones
The only sex I’ve had was with another man and I was on the receiving end. While I learned to enjoy that, I can’t deny the desire tugging at my cock at the thought of being inside a woman.
“I don’t know,” I say lamely. “Probably better stick around here and keep an eye on Dez.”
“That’s what Dad’s for. I’ll tell Tal we’ll meet up tomorrow night. No excuses.” His grin turns devilish. “And some of her friends are male who swing both ways like me, so you’ll have your pick of whatever tickles your dick.”
Memories of the parties I used to have with Evan stir at the cobwebs in my mind. They didn’t always end in trauma. Sometimes we had a blast.
“I’m in.”
Wild smacks me hard on the back. “Fuck yeah, you are.”
As he rambles about how good Talia is with her mouth and how she has zero gag reflex, I try to imagine sleeping with one of her friends. My cock is rock-hard within minutes and I’m thankful my bulky coat hides my erection so Wild doesn’t get any crazy ideas for me and him instead.
Having sex with some random stranger will cheer me the fuck up.
It’s exactly what I need.
Gwen’s scent lingers everywhere. It’s comforting and easy to follow. Whatever floral perfume she uses isn’t like anything that grows in the natural wilderness that I’m familiar with. It’s exotic and unique. If I knew her better, I’d ask the name of it so I could have Uncle Atticus purchase me a bottle of my own.
“So, normally, I pass on the bulk of my caseload to other associates,” Gwen reveals once we’re alone in her office. “But I feel like you’re a special person who needs special attention.”
There’s no condescension in her voice. She really does like me. It has me relaxing even more. I’m glad I made Rowdy and Uncle Atticus leave me at the facility this time.
“Is that why we’re in your office instead of an exam room?” I ask, absently rubbing my palm over the soft leather sofa cushion.
She chuckles, the sound warm and vibrant. “You’re a smart cookie, Destiny. Yes. I feel as though we’ll be more comfortable here. I’m here to assist you, but I’d like to think of us as friends. Is that okay with you?”
It’s nice how she asks for my consent for everything. I’ve spent my entire life being told what to do or where to go. And when the bad people kidnapped us, it got a million times worse.
“I’d like that,” I say with a smile.
“Good.” Her footsteps thud across the carpet and then I hear a cabinet door creak. “I’m going to make some coffee. I have all sorts of beverages. What would you like?” She laughs again. “The way you crinkled your nose at the word coffee tells me you haven’t had good coffee.”
Dad and my brothers drink theirs “black” as they call it. It’s bitter and disgusting.
“What if I don’t like it?” I shift in my seat. “Will you be mad that I wasted it?”
“Heavens no,” she rushes out. “I’ll drink it if you don’t. I just really think you’ll like this new local blend I got. It’s toffee, cherry, and chocolate flavored. To die for.”
I love cherry-flavored candy whenever Wild’s family comes to visit us and chocolate is delicious. Never heard of toffee before, though. With a shrug and a nod, I agree to try it.
“Conversation and coffee just go so well together,” Gwen explains as the coffee starts to brew. “Trust me.”
I inhale the delightful scent. She hasn’t given me any reason not to trust her thus far. In fact, I really, really like her. While coming out here was terrifying and intimidating, it’s also kind of exciting.
“How’s the new phone? I see you got a pretty purple jeweled case for it. Great idea for not mixing it up with someone else’s phone.”
I run my thumb over the back of the phone, feeling each smooth bump. Purple. I wish I could remember what it looked like. “Kind of pointless to have one since I can’t see it.”
The tabletop in front of me clinks as she sets the coffee down for me. I know it’s the coffee because it smells even stronger now.
“I set it directly in front of you about six inches from the edge,” she explains. “The handle is on your right side. Be careful because it’s steaming hot.”
Her directions are nice and I’m easily able to find the mug. It’s hot as promised, but I like feeling it on the palm of my hand after having just been outside in the freezing weather. I bring it close to my face and sniff. Smells pretty good actually. Carefully, I sip from the mug, expecting a blast of bitterness, but am pleasantly surprised when it tastes buttery and rich and sweet.
“Oh,” I murmur. “Wow.”
“Right?” She laughs and then I hear another clink. “I’m in love. Even my son loves it and he hates anything good.”
