Page 124 of Green Flag
“No, for when you get in the ring.”
His eyes lit up like it really was Christmas, all pain gone.
“Did you want to be my ring girl?”
“I miss being your grid girl, so…”
“Fuck, this is not helping,” he groaned and waved a hand over his crotch. “Okay, you’ve got to go. You’ve got to get out of here. I can’t go out there hard like this.”
“What if I could help?”
“Nothing about your presence is helpful in moments like this and you know it,” he laughed tartly. “Just thinking about you twirling around out there for me… fuck, Everly, please go.”
But I stood against the door, checking it was closed as I put all my weight against it. And unbuttoned my shirt.
“No, no, no,” he cried, waving his hand as if to stop himself from seeing. Too bad his eyes were glued on my cleavage. “Everly Bacque, that is the opposite of helpful.”
“Don’t you want to see what I was prepared to wear to support my boyfriend?”
“Nope,” he said through gritted teeth. “Nope, I do not. I cannot.”
“You can,” I said and stopped his hand from moving and guided it to my black lace bra. “Look at the embroidery,” I demanded. “It’s green. Same colour as your shorts.”
Same colour as Ciclati.
“What a good groupie you are,” he teased, looking me over with hooded eyes and deep breaths.
“Groupie, huh?” I said, head snapping back at the insult as I pushed off the door. “You don’t get to touch the groupie. You don’t gethelpfrom the groupie.”
“You were hardly helping, Everly,” he said and glared down at his cock. I could see the outline of his size through his shorts. “You call making me harder helping?”
“I wasn’t helping yet.”
His eyes narrowed, then lifted to mine. “What did you have in mind?”
They narrowed further as I wetted my bottom lip.
“Everly.”
“I was going to use my mouth,” I confessed. “To get you to come.”
He leaned back against the wall, blinking as I’d stunned him. “Fuck, Everly. Don’t tease. I’m going to go out there with the hardest cock I’ve ever had. That’s not fair.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“You were,” he said, but there were a few creases between his brows as he considered. “Weren’t you?” he asked, less sure.
“You don’t really have much choice,” I mused, looking at my freshly manicured nails. Green. His colour. 68 on my ring finger. “Do you like them?”
I gave him my hand to examine. His skin was rough as he held them close to admire.
He winced. “Okay, yep, my cock officially hurts.”
“Okay,” I said cheerfully and dropped to my knees.
“Everly, you don’t really—”
“We don’t have much choice now, do we?” I asked sweetly and ran my hands down his thick, muscular thighs. “If we were in a relationship, I wouldn’t want the whole of the world to see my boyfriend’s cock and… well, you don’t want a massive target for your opponent to aim for. And when I say massive… it’s practically waving at me.”
