She was already standing too close for my comfort. I couldn’t stand her. Everyone knew she slept with anything that moved. And she panted after my cock like a bitch in heat. Craig deserved better.
It was a shame she was so good looking.
Tonight her red hair was pulled back away from her face. Her makeup was minimal, her tan perfect. She wore a tight fitting dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her nipples through the material.
My dick twitched. Just for a moment. I was a man after all. And I remembered all too well what her body looked like naked. Marla Denham was fine; there was no denying it.
But she was a slag. And worse than that, she was my friend’s wife.
And I would never be going down that particular road again.
“I’d better go find Craig.” I pulled away from her and walked towards the back of the house.
This was a bad idea.
If I hadn’t been so angry about Morgan standing me up…
Morgan.
What was that about? I had thought I read her right. That she was interested in what I was offering.
Oh well, her loss. There were other tits in the sea.
I would forget about her. Like I had done with most every other woman I had experienced a drunken encounter with.
No big deal.
“Lucas, how are you?” A girl with platinum blond hair and wearing only a skimpy bathing suit saddled up to my side, giving me a hug, which I returned half-heartedly.
“I’m good. How are you—sorry I don’t remember your name.”
The girl’s smile dropped instantly. “I’m Amy. From the party at Nick’s? Remember?”
Nick Dodd had a huge party to celebrate the end of the season in June. I had gotten pretty sloppy. I remember throwing up in a potted plant. I did not, however, remember the girl beside me.
“Sure. Of course.” I could add liar behind drunk and cad in the list of adjectives used to describe me.
She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and pushed her boobs out. I could see almost everything she had to offer. There wasn’t a lot covering her skin. “I could never forget you,” she giggled.
Clearly I had fucked her.
Glad it was memorable for one of us.
First Marla, now this chick. I was no better than the worst of the slags. I was beginning to have a case of serious regret.
“I’ve got to go find the lads—”
“I’ll come with you,” she replied eagerly, linking her arm with mine and pressing into my side.
This was why I hated coming to Craig’s house. Too many goal diggers. The girls who waited around for a footballer to notice her. They were clingy. And desperate. Some guys got off on that, but I wasn’t one of them. It was a complete turn off.
I walked with Amy out to the patio. The back garden was heaving. It looked as if Craig had invited half the city.
Craig’s house was huge and sat on a massive plot of land that led down to the river. The house itself was completely over the top. Marla had decorated it in the tacky style of someone who came from nothing but now had more money than they knew what to do with.
I found Craig at the barbeque flipping steaks. Alan and Shane were drinking beer, laid out on loungers nearby. The rest of the guys on the team were hanging around, drinking and eating food from the long buffet table that had been put out.
“Why don’t you go get a drink,” I told Amy, giving her a gentle shove in the direction of the outdoor bar.
