Saint: How many cans of whipped cream did you go through? Had to have been a lot to pull off the Friday Night Lights bikini.
Diva: You mean bikinis…with an S. All four of them were wearing matching suits.
Saint: The cherry nipples were the…
Diva: Cherry on the sundae?
Saint: Yo! Lover boy! Where are you?
Diva: He probably can’t hear his phone while he’s wearing a pair of thighs aroundhis ears.
Saint: Nice!
Adrill pounds through my skull when I roll over. A bright light tries to break through my closed eyelids, but I block the intrusion by throwing my arm over my head. An obnoxiousding ding dingis accompanied by a constantbuzz buzzthat sounds like a symphony of flies as they hit the crescendo of their performance. I throw my hand out to shut off what must be my alarm, but meet hot flesh instead. The skin is smooth and though it hurts, I rack my brain for whom or what this could be. Images flash behind my eyes.
Laughter. Clothes thrown here and there. Brown and blonde hair.Whipped cream?The images don’t make sense and I think it must be a movie.
A groan sounds when I squeeze what I now know to be a body. My guess is that it’s a bare, plump ass and now the flashes of clothes and hair come together in one big picture. Prying my arm away, I open one eye and look around the room. Sleep clouds my vision but I can make out not one, not two, but three naked women littering my bed.
The torturous sounds begin again, making it clear that someone is at my front door. It’s probably the same person who is calling my phone.
I push up on my elbows and my stomach roils. If my theory is correct, alcohol and whipped cream don’t mix so well and they’re fighting their way up my gullet. Working my way out from under the bodies, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand. My hand grips onto the sheets when my world begins to spin.
The blonde woman rolls over, tugging the satin sheets over her body, searching for the warmth that my body was providing her with. The other two don’t even flinch and don’t wake from their deep, inebriated sleep.
My feet slap against the stairs as I descend them,gripping onto the rail so I don’t tumble down like an avalanche ready to take out anyone in its way. I know my cat, Mr. Nickels is around here somewhere and I don’t want to crush him.
With a yawn, I scratch my head and take in the scene. Clothes, empty bottles, the whipped cream cans…they’re scattered around my living room and with all the other evidence, I’d say we had a damn good time last night.
The ringing goes on and on and my annoyance finally reaches its breaking point.
“I’m coming! Fuck,” I yell out to whomever stands on the other side of the door.
I flip the locks and yank it open, shielding my eyes from the glaring sun as it filters in.
“Jesus Christ, Loving. Put on some fucking clothes.” I’m pushed out of the way as a large body moves past me.
“Bash? What’re you doing here?” I slam the door shut and immediately regret it when it reverberates and rattles my teeth.
Sebastian “Bash” Monahan is one of the top offensive tackles and my teammate…and watchdog. I’m not proud to say that my antics have earned me the constant presence of a veteran teammate, but being young, handsome and talented is difficult to contain. Everyone wants a piece of me. Especially the women. And who am I to deny them such pleasure. My generosity is what has earned me the nickname theLove Man,and I try my best to live up to that.
“What the fuck areyoudoing here?” He spins in a circle, taking in the remnants of my night.
“Uh, this is my house. Where else would I be?” Ishrug my shoulders then prop my hands on my very naked waist.
“At practice!” He shouts and my head slumps between my shoulders.
“Shiiit.” I’m hit with the realization that Bash standing in my living room means it’s late in the afternoon and that I’ve missed practice.
I’ve not missed one practice since they began, but combined with my tardiness to mandatory meetings and showing up slightly hungover to film review where I fell asleep, my ass is most definitely grass.
“You really messed up this time, Loving. Get some clothes on and splash water on your face. I’ll make coffee. Be ready to roll in twenty minutes.” Bash walks towards the open kitchen, kicking clothes and cans out of the way and shaking his head in disgust.
“Nic?” A small voice calls out my name and Bash and I both turn around to see a petite woman wearing the same attire as I am –nothing– standing at the bottom of the stairs.
I smirk, proud of myself for picking such a delectable creature for last night’s activities. Perky breasts, most likely fake but nonetheless perfect, small waist and curvy hips framed with long blonde hair and plump lips.
Good job, Love Man.
