“If you want a hookup, there are apps for that, but I’ll be damned if you get catfished here, and Damon won’t let it happen, either. Besides, the last time I played wing woman for you, I ended up drunk and deserted in some techie’s living room as you screamed through the walls, faking orgasms. So, that’s a hard pass.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? Men like that.”
“Not if it’s fake, and you shouldn’t be encouraging men who aren’t getting the job done. It’s an injustice to women. Especially like that, Jesus. You sounded ridiculous.”
“Shut up,” she says, slurping back a good amount of my margarita just as Damon emerges from the ocean. He’s looking absolutely gorgeous in light blue swimming trunks, his mocha skin glittering with cascading water and late-day sun as he saunters through the sand. I drink him in fully because there are beautiful men, and then there’s Damon, in a class of his own.
Completely aware of it, his Spidey-dick senses kick in as heads begin to turn. Looking like a man capable of satisfying every nearby mermaid, he subtly shifts his radar toward a woman in a barely-there bikini. She looks up at him biting her lip, and in return, he flashes her his signature megawatt grin, hooking her instantly. I can practically see the hearts in her eyes as they trail him while he glides by, swagger in full effect.
“What makes you the expert on orgasms anyway?” Holly prods, her back to the spectacle Damon’s making.
Within earshot now, Damon quirks a brow. Devising a quick plan, he moves to shield himself behind the thick curtains of our cabana. I take my margarita back from Holly and sip it to hide my grin.
“I know real, and I know fake. A man who can work it right can also tell the difference, so you should tone down the enthusiasm and make him earn it.” Damon lifts his chin in an urge to keep me going as I make the split decision to bait her. “If you want to stop faking it, why not hook up with Damon?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? God, no.”
Damon scowls at her back as she draws some polish from her bag while frowning at a chipped nail.
“Why not? You two have had a vibe going for years that’s well over the border of flirtatious.” Damon crosses his arms over his sculpted chest, apparently thoroughly enjoying our conversation. Sadly, Holly’s not the only one I’m attempting to lure in.
“Damon vibes with everyone,” she protests. “I’m not special. Besides, it would screw us up.”
I weigh Damon’s reaction as he stands waiting and interpret mild irritation.
“So, you’ve thought about it?”
She glares at me and quickly glances behind her, missing Damon, who’s now concealed behind the curtain.
“I mean recently,” I add, covering myself.
“You didn’t pick up on that in the hundred or more conversations I’ve had with you over the years?”
Just as Damon comes back into view, he stills, lifting his eyes to mine, his expression turning to shock.
That’s right, bestie, it’s time you know the truth.
“I’ve had more real orgasms solo calling his name than with any other man,” she admits.
Whoops, she’s going to fucking kill me.
Seeing this convo going into far more dangerous territory than anticipated, Damon fully perks up, his grin unmistakable as I try to shut it down.
“Tell me about the last guy.”
Damon’s eyes drill into me as I frantically wave him away from the cabana while Holly begins to touch up her polish. He jerks his chin in determination to get answers, eyes challenging as I narrow mine, and he narrows his right back.
Beautiful bastard.
Damon and I continue our wordless argument as Holly cluelessly runs polish along her flawed nail. I lift my sunglasses to telepathically wage war.
Get out, Damon. You’re crossing a line!
I give no fucks.
She’ll never forgive me!
He lifts his chin in prompt. Ask her something else.
This has already gone too far!
A jerk of his chin. Ask her!
“I love him so damned much,” Holly offers as my chest seizes. “He’s the only man other than our dads that I truly respect in this world, and that’s so hard to come by. He’s also the only man I’m brutally honest with—about everything but my feelings for him. Even if he was game, I can’t gamble our lifelong friendship for an easy O.”
“That’s if he’s even capable,” I taunt as his honey eyes flare.
“True. God, what if he can’t carry his weight? What if I risk us for nothing because he’s horrible in bed?”