Kelsey: When we get back to your place, I want to sit on your face, but I also want your balls in my eyes, and I want to vibrate your butt.
“Yes, and tell him how you like his tongue.”
Kelsey: And I like your tongue and how it . . . uh, how it . . . licks me.
“So sexy,” Lottie says over my shoulder.
“You think so?”
“Uh-huh. Hit send.”
Satisfied, I press the blue arrow and clutch my phone to my chest. “I’m going to sleep with man-balls on my face tonight.”
Lottie clutches my shoulders. “What a lucky girl.”
JP
“What the actual fuck,” Huxley roars as he reads through the article that’s supposed to be posted tomorrow. Somehow, Karla, the magician in our lives, was able to secure a copy of it, and we’ve spent the last ten minutes reading it over and over again.
To say that I feel sick to my stomach is an understatement. When I say this is bad, I really fucking mean it. It’s not a flattering article in any way. Not flattering for me and my drunk ass—it paints me as a philandering nitwit who sends borderline sexual harassment emails when drunk. And it paints Kelsey as a gold digger looking for handouts.
It’s worse than I expected.
I’ve now resorted to rolling up my sleeves, pacing the length of Huxley’s office, and praying to the goddamn pigeons to please fix this. I’ve been a good person in my lifetime. I’ve donated a lot of money, volunteered my time, done some real, life-changing things to afford me some good karma. So, I’m calling on the universe to toss some solid, good-natured karma my way.
Huxley turns on me. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” I shout at him. “I was drunk and desperate. Heartbroken. You don’t know what those two weeks were like in San Francisco. Seeing her go out with someone else when she wouldn’t even look my way—fuck, man, it ate me alive.”
“So, you go and send a crude email to a bunch of women asking if they want to be your date?”
“Well, you fucking told Dave Toney you had a pregnant fiancée. We don’t always make smart decisions,” I shout back.
“Hey,” Breaker says, stepping in between us. “Karla is working with the reporter who wrote the article. It seems like the website can be paid off, so we might not even have to worry about it.”
“Fuck,” Huxley shouts while pulling on his hair. “This is not what I fucking need the night before my wedding.”
“Do you think I need this?” I ask, pointing to my chest. “My goddamn happiness rests on what happens. No matter what, Lottie is going to marry you tomorrow, but Kelsey, she might not even look my way if this gets out.”
“Would serve you right,” Huxley says.
“Hey,” Breaker yells, pulling our attention. With angry eyes, he stares down Huxley and says, “You fucked up big time when it came to that bullshit with Lottie. The company’s reputation was at risk of being demolished, and we stood by your side and helped you. We made sure to go along with everything you needed to make sure no one was harmed. So, don’t turn your back on your brother. He’s right, you have no clue what he’s been going through, not to mention, the fact that he actually allowed someone into his life again after Dad’s passing. You should be asking him how he’s feeling, not making him feel worse.”
Huxley glances at me, and his shoulders deflate as he says, “Fuck, you’re right. Shit, I’m sorry.” He rubs his brow. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not. I’m fucking scared. I can’t lose her, man. I can’t.”
“How about this. It’s getting late, so why don’t you just explain to her what’s going on, be ahead of the curve, and tell her that you’re killing the article? That way, you’re honest with her, and stopping the possible argument that could break things up,” Breaker suggests.
Huxley nods. “That’s probably smart. Being caught off guard is worse than having that conversation with her.”
“You’re probably right. I should take her to my place, sit her down, and have an honest conversation with her.” My phone beeps with a text message. I glance at the screen and see that it’s from Kelsey. “She just texted. Maybe she’s ready to leave.”
I open the text and read it.
Kelsey: Hey, lover. I’m thinking about your big cock right now. Your enormous, thick, girthy, massive, heavy, veiny cock. When we get back to your place, I want to sit on your face, but I also want your balls in my eyes, and I want to vibrate your butt. And I like your tongue and how it . . . uh, how it . . . licks me.