I can’t help but wonder if he’ll taste just as decadent sitting heavy on my tongue.
Chapter 2
Blake
Istand, my feet rooted to the spot.
There’s a hen party taking up space at the tabletop not too far from ours, their rowdy laughter audible over the booming sound of the early noughties’ soundtrack vibrating from the overhead speakers.
All eight of them are dressed in brightly coloured princess costumes – short skirts, low necklines, and sky-high heels. A very different look to the ones I remember from the childhood films my mum tried to get us to watch, before my three brothers and I begged for her to turn it off in favour of an action animation instead.
Hazarding a guess, I’m going to say the short brunette dressed head to toe in pure white is the bride-to-be. While the others—
“Knew we’d picked a good night to hit the bar.” My friend Jamie grins, knocking back the rest of his foamy pint. Apparently, it’s not just me who can’t seem to drag their eyes away from the hen party.
I keep my mouth closed; eyes focused on the bustyblonde dressed up as Cinderella. The one who currently has a blown-up fake cock held between her thighs.
Pretending to scrub at the stubble coating my jawline, I hide my smile in my palm, while my own cock twitches in my jeans.
She certainly looks like a fun person to be around all right.
Cinderella and her friends either don’t seem to care or even notice the attention their gathering, with their drunken giggles and bright flashes of their phones as they dance and snap pictures.
I think every man in this entire bar – Myth, Jamie had called it – has had to adjust their trousers at the sight of the girls shaking their arses and grinding on each other while throwing their heads back with laughter.
“You’re very quiet over there, Millen.” Sam bounces his shoulder against mine. “Anything you want to share with the class?”
I shake my head, dragging my gaze away from Cinderella and her friend – the purple dress wearing princess – are whispering in each other’s ears.
“I’d tap that,” Sam continues with a shit eating smirk. “Cinders would look good wearing that get up while she rode my cock—”
He shuts up, midsentence, when the two girls pass us by, arms linked, legs a little wobbly, ducking into the ladies’ toilets beyond.
While the rest of my boys laugh and jibe, ribbing each other with the ease of years of friendship, I swallow back another yeasty mouthful of beer.
“You gonna throw your hat in the ring, mate?” Jamie asks, tipping his head silently to the giggling princesses, who are passing back and forth an expensive looking bottle ofchampagne, if the gold leaf label has anything to say about it.
It’s been six long months since I last slept with somebody; something the ache in my balls isn’t going to let me forget any time soon.
My day job has been a hard slog recently too, the stress building, burrowing itself deep into my bones. Working with hormonal teenagers is nevereasy, but there’s been something in the air recently – the fact exam season is just around the corner, I would bet – making it feel ten times harder. Getting my boys to listen on and off the school football pitch recently, has been nothing short of a disaster.
Which is exactly why I agreed to come out tonight.
Especially seeing as how all three of my brothers are loved up and partnered off now. Even Hudson, for crying out loud, and none of us thought that would ever happen.
So, maybe throwing my hat in the ring and seeing if I can blow off some steam tonight with a pretty girl, isn’t that bad of an idea.
Even better if it’s Cinderella.
I pop my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, but by the excited sounding whistle escaping Sam’s lips, I think my face is giving away how I really feel. “If the shoe fits, I suppose.”
The boys grin while I drain the rest of my glass, throwing my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna get another. Anyone want anything?”
“I’ll come with you.” Sam slings his arm around my shoulders, while the other boys shake their heads.
The bar is crowded with patrons; tired looking bar staff running themselves ragged trying to serve everybody in a timely manner.
“Won’t be a minute!”
