Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Then we’re standing in the street waiting on a cab.
Then we’re squished in the back seat of a cab. All four of us. Side-by-side.
I’m in the middle with Elliot, who’s half on my lap. Tim is squished on the other side of Elliot like an afterthought, and Danny is on my other side. With my arms over the back of the seat on either side, the slight bulge of my crotch is on full display, which Elliot has taken advantage of, his hand resting on my inner thigh like it’s waiting in line.
Danny’s eyes are glued to it, every fiber of his being acutely aware of the occupancy of my thighs.
I give him a smirk. “Jealous?”
Danny rolls his eyes and looks away.
It’s obvious the sexual frustration is mounting. He’s going to burst any second. “I do have two thighs, you know. Wanna put your hand on the other?”
“What are you?” asks Danny rather snippily. “A wishbone?”
“You tell me. I’ve got a bone in my pants, and I’ve been told I’m good at making wishes come true.”
That doesn’t earn another response from Danny, who just glares out the window at the street racing by.
Yep, he wants me, and now he’s thinking about it.
“When we get to my place,” says Elliot, who is clearly riding a high, “you guys won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve got it all. Booze. Cocktail mixers. Some uppers, if anyone needs them. Everything you want.”
“Ball-gag?” asks Tim.
Elliot wrinkles his face. “Um, no.”
Tim shrugs. “Then not everything I want.”
With a fierce rolling of his eyes, Elliot ignores him and faces me. “I don’t know why you insisted on bringing the weirdo along.”
“Weird is relative,” mutters Tim.
“Hey, hey,” I cut in, giving Elliot and Danny a rub of the shoulder with my arms over the back of the seat. “Anything goes with us. Weird. Lame. Fucked-up. Hardcore. No one gets talked down to tonight.” I glance at Tim. “Unless he’s into it. Wanna wear a leash and have us tug you around, Timmy-Doggy?”
Now it’s Tim who wrinkles his face. “I’m not into puppy play.” Then he hesitates. “At least I think I’m not. Can we try it another night?”
I can’t help but notice Danny’s silence. I nudge him—which is oddly difficult to do, being squished up against his side. “You’re awfully quiet, friend. Are you up for whatever’s gonna go down at Eric’s place when we get there?”
“It’s Elliot,” Not-Eric corrects me, listening apparently.
Danny glances at the possessive hand still gripping my thigh. Then he lifts two defiant eyes to me. “I am up for whatever you’re into tonight, friend.”
He returned the sass I put into that word. He knows what I’m doing. Why is he being so stubborn? “Y’know, we could just call it a night, you and I. Go hang out at my place, pop some popcorn, and—”
“Ugh, fucking lame,” cuts in Elliot. “On a night like this? We gotta live it up!”
Danny gives me a look. “Hear that? Your idea is lame. I guess we’re going to Elliot’s to … live it up.”
“See? Listen to your friend Danny,” says Elliot, his grip tightening on my thigh as he rubs it. “Isn’t ‘live it up’ your middle name, Romeo? Or is it Montague? You’re such an anti-romantic, I love that you have a name like Romeo.”
An anti-romantic? “Huh? What do you mean an—?”
“You’ve got that much right,” says Danny, cutting me off. “If there’s anything I’ve learned tonight, it’s that Romeo is always up for a good time. An ‘anti-romantic’, as you put it.”
Is this part of the game? I shrug. “Who needs romance? Romeo & Juliet is the most misunderstood play of all time. It isn’t about true love, not even close. It’s about horny, entitled teenagers defying their families and running off together.”
Elliot laughs loudly at that. Too loudly. Right into my ear. “You are so funny! I can’t get enough of you! ‘Horny, entitled teenagers’! Hah!”
His hand rubs my thigh with more vigor. I notice. My dick notices.
Danny notices.
“Just being serious,” I go on. “Everyone’s standard for romantic expression is a lie.”
“Ugh, and he’s smart, too,” sings Elliot.
“It’s true,” says Tim in a tiny voice. “My idea of romance is him letting me rub his feet in a movie theater. That type of dynamic is a kind of love. At least for me it is. I knew Romeo wasn’t into it, but he pretended to be so that I didn’t feel weird about my … interests.”
Elliot rolls his eyes, then starts rubbing my thigh and eyeing me, like he might not be able to wait until we’ve arrived at his place to have a taste.
And Danny just now makes the connection. “Wait a sec. You’re that guy?”
“Who?” asks Elliot, annoyed.
Danny peers across both of us at Tim. Tim lifts his eyebrows with surprise and says, “Oh, you mean me? Rome told you about me?”