“Whatever,” I said, spinning my chair away from the monitor. “I gotta go, Nic.”
“No, what you need to do is click onNo_Milk, tell him you’ve been naughty, and ask him to spank some sense into your ass tonight. Go on, boo. His status says he’s online right now.”
“What?” I said, scrubbing a hand over my face. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t like milk. It makes my stomach hurt.”
“I know,” she said, grinning again. “And it’s the least sexy username on the planet, but it felt like a sign? So I checked out his profile—”
“Oh, hell no,” I cut in, finally catching up. “Some kinky BDSM guy used ‘no milk’ as his username? Dude, that’s not lame, that’s like, code. I don’t know forwhat, but he’s probably into some weird lactation thing—”
“He’s gay, and boys don’t lactate.”
“—or he wants to do painful things to my prostate or some shit,” I said, talking right over her because justno. “I saw some porn like that once, with like, a machine? It wasn’t even hot. I mean, okay, it was a little bit hot, but there’s a ton of shit in porn that looks hot that I wouldn’t want a guy to actually do to me IRL. No way am I letting some old dude tie me up and torture my ass to get multiple loads out of me. You know how sensitive my prostate gets after I come.”
Have I mentioned that we overshared a lot? Speaking of which, hopefully this Scott-hole of hers knew about her nipple thing, otherwise, he’d be out on his ass before Christmas.
I almost grinned at the thought, but then realized that really would make me a bitch since Nichol seemed stuck on this idea of being serious with him. Fine. I hoped he was a kinky nipple freak who bowed to her every wish and had a flexible tongue, happy?
Nichol still wasn’t saying anything, but she was smiling way,waytoo big… and it probably wasn’t because she’d been able to read my mind about giving in on the Scott issue, since even she wasn’t that good. Which meant she was still stuck on this Daddy idea.
“What?” I grumbled. “I’m not doing it, so quit looking at me like that. Especially not with Old Man Milk or whatever his name is.”
“This one isn’t old,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at me.
“Is he hot?” I accidentally asked. Ugh, just a reflex. I definitely didn’t care. “I don’t care,” I said quickly, proving that point. But then, just out of curiosity, “How can he be a Daddy if he isn’t old? Please don’t tell me you want me to hook up with some dude with a different kind of kink. I already told you, no one’s using a prostate milker on me.”
Nichol rolled her eyes. “He seems sweet, actually.”
I smirked. “So… not hot.”
Her chin jutted out stubbornly, and the little ball of fur she’d been nuzzling made a tiny mewling sound. “He’s good looking.”
“That’s not the same as hot,” I pointed out, since it was true. And no, bitches, I wasn’t actually that shallow, but Iwasperfectly within my rights to fuck with her a little since she wouldn’t drop this Cuffd thing.
“Just click on his damn profile, Jordan,” she said, going drill sergeant on me again. “Do it before he goes offline. If there’s one thing you need tonight, it’s definitely a spanking.”
“Bitch,” I said, swiveling my chair around to face the monitor again. “Fine, which one.”
“It’s N-O, underscore, M-I-L-K,” she said. “His thumbnail has a teal background.”
“You sure it’s not periwinkle?” I joked, scanning all the shit in my inbox for the right color and then squinting at the usernames as I tried to tame my fucked-up brain enough to make sense of the swimming letters and find the right one.
Nichol, naturally, waited me out. She was always hella patient when I had to read something, which was sometimes annoying when I wanted an excuse to just skip it, but also kind of a relief, since I never had to dodge the issue or try to cover up my epic shortcomings around her.
“Got it,” I finally said, clicking on what I hoped was the right one. And… hello. It must be. Not old, that was for sure. Hell, he looked younger than me. And hewasgood looking. More wholesome than hot, but just saying, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.
“I think you should answer him.”
“Nah,” I said, my stomach doing a weird flip as I stared at his picture. “Not my type.”
I got another eye roll for that, because shedidknow me, which meant she knew that was a bullshit excuse… which, of course, she immediately called me on.
“Your ‘type’ is ‘down-to-fuck’ and ‘will host,’ Jordan. Come on, his dot’s still green. Message him.”
The guy definitely didn’t look like he was going to lure me into some kinky sex dungeon and chain me up, but I mean, wasn’t it always the ones you didn’t expect that were actually the biggest freaks behind closed doors?
“Why are you so into this guy, Nic?” I asked, clicking through the pics he’d uploaded. There were only three. A face shot with a smile that looked way too fucking nice to be real, a body shot—mostly clothed, unfortunately—that was what I’d call “average,” and another one where he was laughing and holding the world’s ugliest fucking cat while it glared death rays at the camera.
I squinted, leaning closer, then winced. Shit, was the cat missing an ear? I mean, yeah, it looked fully healed, but that shit wasragged. I didn’t even want to guess what had happened to rip it off like that. Also, did the dude honestly think he was going to get laid with pics like that? Ishouldmessage him, as a charitable community service or whatever, just to school him on some self-marketing basics.
