Knot So Lucky (Destination Love, #1)(48)
“Absolutely.” I grin. “The little wifey is up for anything.”
Like a gang bang.
My phone vibrates again as they start talking about capitalizing on the media attention. But I’m not listening, again, because I’m too busy reading my texts.
Nate: Hope that workout’s working out.
That girl I married: Dolla dolla bills y’all.
TJ: You didn’t tell us she could suck the meat clear off the bone.
That’s it. I’m done. My face shoots up, the excuse to bail on the tip of my tongue. But I’m circumvented as the screen suddenly shifts to a play board, and the coach throws out his plan.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take this next hour to go over some plays and get your thoughts on how to best utilize TJ.”
Shit.
What I want to say is the best way to utilize TJ is to let him finger fuck Eleanor from behind, keeping her bent over as she sucks me off. But I can’t fucking say that, so I opt for, “Absolutely. Let’s talk about the man with the hands.”
twenty-two
“What’s in your boobs?”
eleanor
“Keep your eyes closed,” TJ scolds.
I wiggle, standing with my back to his front.
“Even if I open them, I wouldn’t be able to see with your big-ass hand in the way.”
I hear Nate laugh behind me as I’m shuffled forward a few more steps. We got to the Neon Museum right at sunset, but they didn’t want me to see everything until the lights come on.
Nate said all the old casino signs lit up was the closest thing to what the lights in the stadium feel like. And who’s turning an experience like that down? Not this girl.
Holding tight to TJ’s wrist, I sway back and forth, getting impatient.
“What’s that sound?” Nate tosses out. “It’s like clinking…”
I laugh because I know exactly what it is—tiny liquor bottles. Like the kind you get on an airplane. A few of the girls at the Rhino hooked me up as we left.
“Okay, are you ready?” TJ whispers.
I nod, bouncing in place.
“I was born ready. Show me already.”
The guys count down together as I squeal.
“Three, two, one—”
TJ’s hands drop from my eyes as ultra-vibrant, neon light explodes around me.
“Holy shit.”
I take a step forward, my gaze drifting from one old, discarded sign to another as my mouth refuses to close.
“This is incredible. You guys did not lie.”
I don’t know when the objective pivoted, but somewhere back between lap dances and makeup conversations, I was bummed that Crew wasn’t here. We’ve literally had the time of our lives today, and he missed all of it.
And even though I’ll never admit this out loud, he’s pretty cool to hang out with. I spin around to TJ and Nate, frowning.
“I can’t believe he’s missing out on this—”
But what I was saying stops short as a smile creeps over my face. Because standing behind the guys is everyone’s favorite QB and the object of my torture.
“Hey, Wild Card.”
TJ’s and Nate’s heads snap around, and they immediately become celebratory, slapping hands in greeting and laughing.
Crew walks toward me, staring down before he frowns and leans forward a little more, peering down my shirt.
“What’s in your boobs?”
I laugh, reaching down the front of my shirt and pulling out the mini Jack Daniel’s bottles.
“Contraband,” I answer. “The girls at the club and I exchanged services…”
Crew smirks. “Don’t skimp on the details, I beg of you.”
TJ and Nate come up on each of my sides, so I hand them the bottles and reach into my back pocket for the other two as I keep explaining.
“I gave them the ingredients of this cream I use that works miracles on razor burn and bumps. I mean, they’re in next to nothing, but since their bottoms have to stay on, rashes happen. So, I hooked them up with a fix…and in return, these—”
I clink the two bottles in my hand like I’m cheersing them before handing one to Crew.
TJ looks at Nate and grins. “This was not the story I was hoping for…”
Nate nods, twisting the cap on his booze as he cocks his head.
“Elle, can you retell it, but this time describe how you were all touching each other’s boobs.”
I laugh, but it’s Crew’s eyes that catch mine. He opens his bottle, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip before he looks around the group of us and back to me, a question brimming in those eyes…one I really want him to ask.
“You know, the last time we did this”—he wiggles his bottle—“the four of us got into some trouble.”
The rim of my bottle skims my lips as I look at each of them, their eyes on me, waiting for what I’m about to say. For permission. I mean…it’s called Sin City for a reason, right?
“We did get into trouble…and here’s to getting into some more.”
I shoot my shot, literally and figuratively. Because if you don’t, you never know what the universe could have planned. And right now, I’m hoping that bitch wants me to get plays run on my pussy until I scream, Touchdown Niners.