Page 17 of Tempt Her

“When I was fifteen, man.” I started rolling. “She was my first kiss. But she doesn’t recognize me, so chill.”

“Howwasshe?” Luke taunted, only pissing Ford off more.

“Fucking hot as hell,” I answered. “She made me come in my shorts and didn’t rat me out. She never told anyone.”

Slamming down the gas pedal, Ford muttered, “We’re so fucked.”

“We’re painting her fancy house for some fancy party,” Luke said. “Relax, dude. That’s all it is.”

“It’s notherhouse,” Ford seethed. “It’shishouse, and she’s Mrs. Gentry Evans, just like she said. You hear me? That’s what you call her, or the trusty ol’, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Don’t give that piece-of-shit husband of hers one reason to be jealous, or we’ll get new assholes the size of Texas.”

“Sounds fun,” Luke teased again, and I kept laughing.

“Keep it up”—Ford fought the smile behind his beard—“and I’ll show youfunwhen we get home.”

Luke’s tone dropped. “Promise?”

Still, I could tell—something’s bothering Ford.

Yesterday and this morning with Stacey, he’s acting weird. He goes from professional to a powder keg around her. The sexual tension between them is a fucking propane leak about to explode.

I like how Stacey stood up to him. It twitched my cock because usually, Ford’s in control. He needs to be. He gets off on it, and I let him. He doesn’t do it to be a dick. He does it to survive.

But whatever’s got him ticking like a cum bomb, he’ll tell me eventually. Our bond is a confessional, sharing all fears and sins.

Luke taps my arm with a bottle of Gatorade. I yank my earbuds out while he says, “Cop a squat with me.”

Sitting on five-gallon buckets of cotton-colored paint, we’re quiet, gazing across the foyer at the parlor.

I fucking dig those small black leather sofas in there. They’re sexy.

Wonder if Stacey gets fucked on those?

The second it pops into my horny skull, I shake the thought out.

“What?” Luke catches it.

“Nothing.”

“I’m thinking it too.”

“Don’t.”

He takes two deep gulps of Gatorade, and I watch the fruit punch drip over his plump lips, down his rugged jaw. I grin, and he catches it, grinning back. “She wants us to call herStacey.”

“Go stick your big dick in a spinning fan. That’d be smarter.”

“It’s just a name,Mateo.You’re the one who started that shit anyway.”

“No. She did.”

“Then why didn’t you shut her down?”

I shrug, finishing my drink while not answering him because I know why. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I finally tell him, “Go ask Plato.”

He kicks my boot. “Don’t start that philosophy bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit. We three live by a philosophy too.”

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