Chace notices. “What?”
I frown, dead serious. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
“My cock’s haunted.”
The blonde freezes. Sam almost spits vodka across the table. “What thefuckdid you just say?”
“My cock. It’s haunted.” I gesture at my jeans like I’m holding a press conference for the dearly departed. “Get up a sec, sweetheart.” She slides off, giggling nervously. I slip my hand inside, testing. Everything’stechnicallyfine. Piercings intact. Structure sound.
But the energy?
Dead.
Not even respectfully dead—tragically, operatically dead.Like it’s clutching pearls in the afterlife and won’t return my calls.
“Maybe your jeans are too tight?” Sam offers.
“These aren’t even my tight-tight jeans,” I grumble.
“Haunted?” Chace wheezes, tears forming.
“Haunted,” I confirm, deadly serious. “Ever since that night at the church. Since I gotblessed.”
Sam coughs hard. “Your cock’s not haunted, bro—it’s just broken.”
“Nope. Just checked. Functionality’s fine. You wanna see?”
Chace loses it. His laugh shakes the whole booth. “Bro, no one wants a sequel toThe Exorcist: Below the Belt.”
“I’m telling you,” I say, pointing like I’m cross-examining, “something’s wrong. It’s been months. Me. Trey Baker.Untouched.Even this absolute angel here isn’t doing anything for me. Maybe she blessed me too hard. Fuck, what has she done to me?”
“Blessed too hard?” Chace doubles over, tears in his eyes. “Scar tissue, man. Or maybe you’re finally catching feelings.”
“Feelings?” I snort. “She blessed me so hard my cock’s got a halo.”
“Have you been… you know… jerking it recently?”
“Of course, bro.”
“Then it’s not broken…”
“That’s what I’m saying… it’s haunted. I need her to blow on it or something.”
Sam snorts into his drink. “Yeah, Baker, sounds like church girl really did a number on you.”
“I need to get it fixed.” I start pacing, energy buzzing in my veins. “I need to go back, get my cock blessed, reverse the curse or something.”
Chace’s phone is out before I finish the sentence.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“Booking a flight,” he says, thumbs flying, voice shaking with laughter. “Portland, right? Church girl can get on her knees and bless you again.”
I stop cold. The noise of the club fades to static. My mouth opens before my brain catches up. “Actually…” my voice drops. “I got on my knees for her.”
Silence. Even the blonde looks confused. “Not like that, you absolute fucking degenerates,” I bark, throwing my hands up. “I mean—she’s good. She’s… pure. Innocent.”
