Still, I can’t bring myself to do it, my cock warring with my mind as I release the breath trapped in my lungs. I yank back my hand, letting the razor slip through my fingers. It hits the water, sinking to the bottom of the Jacuzzi alongside my ego as I take in the confusion in Amber’s eyes. Though I’ve enjoyed a shit-ton of kink in my sexual lifetime—usually not giving a single fuck as to how I do it, where I do it, or the number of spectators observing me and my partner while we’re going at it—I’ve never done something so intimate to a girl, something I feel I can’t do to someone who doesn’t fully belong to me.
This here, folks, is a prime example of dropping the ball midplay. I stand and swipe a towel off the rack, wrapping Amber in it. “I want to, peach. Christ, you have no idea how much I want to, but I can’t.” Silence reigns, each passing second Amber stares at me with confused eyes making me feel like a bigger asshole. “But I don’t know. It’s just not . . . right.”
She touches my jaw, worry slashing her brows. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, something parallel to shame cracking her voice. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be okay with—”
“Nah, beautiful girl,” I interrupt, placing a kiss on her forehead as I help her out of the Jacuzzi, “don’t go apologizing for something I’m struggling with. It’s me, not you. Understand?”
Pensive, she nods, my words barely dousing the uncertainty torching her eyes. Great. I’ve officially reached the you’re a loser level in her mind. Mentally slapping myself upside the head, I watch as an equally confused Brock steps out of the Jacuzzi.
He knots a towel around his waist and drapes his arms over Amber’s shoulders from behind her, an entertained smirk replacing his confusion as a light chuckle pelts past his lips. “All righty, then. I’m curious as all hell, and have no goddamn clue what the fuck just happened with that one, but I’m too tired to ask. Tonight’s your lucky night, Ashcroft. I’ll leave it alone.”
“Good,” I growl through gritted teeth, my muscles strung taut with the need to bury him in a shallow grave. “It’s better if you don’t ask.” I scratch at the stubble coating my jaw, an entertained smirk tweaking my lips as Brock drops his arms from Amber’s shoulders. “Believe me, in the end, your face will thank you for keeping your asshole remarks and questions to yourself.”
“What the hell’s your problem?” Green eyes lit up, he circles Amber and steps in my face, his chest puffed out like a blowfish as he cocks his head to the side. “Because you pussied out on an opportunity any legit dude would give his last breath for, we’re supposed to suffer through your dramatic bullshit?” He sniffs haughtily, his smirk thinning into a hard line. “Yeah, I don’t think so, bro. Save that shit for someone who actually gives a fuck, because this asshole doesn’t. Believe me, your face will thank you for it in the end.”
Red.
All I see is red, visions of drowning him flashing through my mind. I suck in a measured breath, attempting to bring myself down a notch. It doesn’t work, not even close. If anything, it’s cranked me up, his threat spreading its poisonous vines through my mind, each branch further diseasing my thoughts. I clench my fists, my palms itching for his blood as I inch closer, daring him to make a move. I size him up, secure in my capability of destroying him, every lick of me positive I can put him to the ground. He might have me by an inch or so in height, but if it came down to it, the motherfucker wouldn’t last more than a couple of seconds with me—and that’s being generous.
“Why don’t we get ready for bed?” Amber’s suggestion zips from her mouth in a nervous rush, fear lacing her voice as she curls her hands around our biceps, clearly set on saving her dicknugget boyfriend from the worst beating of his life. “It’s been a crazy few hours, we’re all emotionally spent, and we have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow morning. Let’s just chill and call it quits, okay?”
With neither Brock nor I unfastening our glares from each other, silence—dark and menacing—swoops in, its evil wings bringing with it a tension so thick, so goddamn impenetrable, not even a jackhammer could break through it. However, Amber works her magic, her touch pulling us from our showdown as she moves her hands to our cheeks and gives us a playful look of reprimand. “Besides you two being best buds, this whole night was meant to relieve me of my insanity, not add to it. Don’t think I won’t kick both your asses if you ignore that piece of info and decide to go with the classic caveman pissing contest instead.” She presses up on her tiptoes and pops a kiss onto each of our jaws, her smile widening as she wags a disciplinary finger at us. “I might be smaller than you boys, but never underestimate my ability to kick some major ass. When I’m hyped up, I can throw a punch faster than a fiddler’s elbow.”
With twin grins threatening our mouths, Brock and I glance at each other then at Amber, wash, rinse, repeat as we attempt to keep our childlike game of silence going. Try as we might, we crack, our “pissing contest” coming to a relief-filled end as we bust out laughing. Hard.
Amber slips out from in between us and crosses her arms. “What the heck’s so funny? You don’t believe I can kick some ass, do you?” She blows on her knuckles as she lifts her chin in defiance. “Care to find out for yourself, then, Ashcroft? Size—in this case—has nothing to do with shit. It’s speed that counts, how fast you can knock someone off guard before the battle begins. Everyone in the universe knows the first person to throw the punch wins the fight.”