Page 149 of S is for SEX

I nodded my head.

“Can’t believe you didn’t join in. What’d that little whore do to piss ya off?” he asked.

“Nothin’ really,” I shrugged, “Just sick of her. She’s yours now.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly and tossed his head toward the kitchen, “Giving her to me are ya?”

I gazed past him and into the kitchen. Sloan and Cassie were on the island making out. It seemed although Cassie didn’t enjoy eating another woman out, she was no stranger to kissing one on the lips.

“Yeah, but it looks like you might have a fight on your hands,” I chuckled as I pointed past him and toward the women.

He glanced over his shoulder, sighed loudly, and began to shout.

“God damn it, I told you to suck the cum out of her pussy. You weren’t supposed to spit it in her mouth ‘till I got back in here. You need some training, don’t ya?” he growled as he stomped toward the kitchen.

In my opinion, there wasn’t any amount of training in the world that would fix Cassie. For whatever reason, she had become unattractive to me, rendering her useless. As Corn Dog scolded the women for proceeding without him, once again my mind shifted to thoughts of Kat.

“You guys want to hang out at the pool?” I asked as I stood.

Sloan pulled her tongue from Cassie’s mouth and turned to face me.

“Can we skinny dip?” she asked excitedly.

“You can do whatever you want. I need to run somewhere for about an hour or so,” I shrugged, “You alright with that, Dog?”

“Okay by me, brother, we’ll be here when you get back,” he responded.

Instead of walking through the kitchen and causing myself to feel more disgusted than I already felt, I opened the front door and walked down the sidewalk toward the garage. I needed to listen to some music and get a little riding time in to clear my head.

Who’s kidding who?

I wanted to check on Kat.

It had nothing to do with feelings or emotion, I simply needed to check on her and make sure she was alright.

Because it was the right thing to do.

As I pulled my bike into the street, I turned up the volume. Almost immediately, Beck’s Loser finished playing. After a half-second lull, Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it On began to blare throughout the neighborhood.

I grinned, twisted the throttle, and pointed the bike toward Winfield.

Let’s get it On.

Hell, who am I to argue with fate?

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