Sucker Punched (14 page)

“Really?” Macy’s brows lift in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

Well this is fucking uncomfortable, and it’s got nothing to do with the fact that it’s cold as shit out here. “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

“See you tomorrow?”

I nod and open the door to my car, grimacing as it squeaks.

I never cared about having nice things or driving fancy cars. If someone thinks my stuff isn’t “nice enough,” then fuck ’em.

That’s not a person I want to be around.

My piece of shit car never embarrassed me before, but it does now. I care what Macy thinks of me and I have a feeling that as soon as I leave, her mom’s going to give her an earful.

Yeah, well Diane can relax. I know my place.

It’s in the stables with all the horseshit, not in the Duchess’s palace.

“All done.”

I look up from my phone right as Blake rolls out from under my car, nearly swallowing my tongue when I see him lying there, all sweaty and dirty. Why is dirt so hot on him?

It’s not like I find homeless guys sexy. . .

I watch him stand, appreciating the way his black tee hugs him. It clings to his biceps in a way that makes me jealous over swaths of cotton.

His grease-streaked hands lift the hem of his shirt, bringing it up to wipe sweat from his face. It exposes his abs in the process, and my mouth instantly goes dry. I’m so fucking thirsty right now, and water won’t satiate me.

My eyes trace every dip of his six-pack, right down to the “V” of his hips that disappears into his low-slug, well-worn jeans. It may as well be a flashing neon arrow with the way my eyes are drawn to it.

I bite my lip, my fingers itching with a desperate urge to touch him as decidedly
un
friendly thoughts flicker through my mind. Like using sexual favors to repay him for working on my car. Blowjobs are the going rate for mechanics these days, right?

Blake drops his shirt, putting an end to the porn scene playing out in my mind. “That’s what was making that grinding sound.”

Shit, has he been talking about my car this whole time?

I look away quickly, making the mistake of focusing on the weight bench in the corner. Now all I can picture is Blake lying on it, shirtless and sweaty as he lifts the attached barbell, his muscles bulging, his veins popping—

Goddamn it,
stop
.

I swallow and nod, pretending like I’m listening to whatever he’s saying. “Oh.”

Putting his tools away, he says, “I could use a beer. You want one?”

“Yes. Please.” Anything to cool me down a bit. I feel hot now, despite being in Blake’s garage in December.

It’s almost dark as I follow him into the house. Flipping on lights as he moves, he leads us into his living room.

“You can put something on if you want.” He picks up a remote from the coffee table, about to hand it to me when he pauses and says, “No
Real Housewives
and no Kardashians. Unless you want to watch Kim’s sex tape.”

“Just give me the damn remote.”

He hands it over and disappears into the kitchen.

I press the power button. The logo flashes on the screen before the home menu appears, filled with all the TV’s apps. In the top left corner of the screen there’s a picture-in-picture box, paused on whatever he was watching last.

Curious, I select it, and the image turns full-screen. There’s a flash of skin before a pair of hi-def, silicone tits takes up the whole screen.

Holy tig ol’ bitties, Batman.

My head jerks back as my mouth drops open. The camera zooms out and pans down, showing another girl with her face buried between Tits McGee’s thighs, going to town on her pussy like it’s fucking Thanksgiving dinner.

Holy shit. I found Blake’s porn.

A shocked chuckle leaves me, but it stops being funny real fast when Tits McGee starts those loud, breathy, fake as hell high-pitched moans. Accidentally stumbling across Blake’s porn is one thing, but having him walk in while I’m still watching it is something I’d like to avoid.

I fumble with the remote, dropping it in my rush to get it off the TV.

Ohmigod, turn off. Turn off!

I hear Blake’s footsteps on the kitchen floor, heading my way. A second later, he appears with two beers, his eyes widening as they land on the screen.

“I was kidding about the porn, Duchess.”

Fucking fuck, this
cannot
be happening.

I think I’m having a stroke.

Setting the beers on the coffee table, he reaches down to pick up the remote. He presses buttons, trying to silence the woman who’s
clearly
 attempting to win some kind of adult video award for loudest orgasm ever. He scowls when it won’t turn off, and I feel just awful.

This has got to be so embarrassing for him.

“I think the batteries are dead. And I. . .don’t have any extras,” he says slowly, coming to the realization.

He curses under his breath.

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I want to make him feel better, or apologize, but I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been in this situation before, and unfortunately, Hallmark doesn’t make a “sorry I found your porn” card.

Before I know it’s happening, I find myself saying, “It’s okay. We can watch it.”

Blake stops messing with the remote and stares at me like I’ve just suggested something totally insane, which—oh, that’s right—I
have
.

I have no idea where the hell that came from. And I am
so
not about to take it back and risk looking like an even bigger idiot in front of him, so I clear my throat and glance back to the two girls goin’ at it.

It’s less awkward to watch them than it is to look at Blake right now.

“I watch porn all the time. This is nothing.” Aiming for nonchalance, I wave off the scene unfolding on the TV, forcing my expression to remain neutral when one of the girls whips out a giant purple dildo.

Even to me, this sounds like a giant load of crap, which it is. Kinda. Not the porn-watching part.

I actually watch quite a bit of it.

But I definitely don’t watch anything like this. My tastes tend to be more mainstream.

More vanilla.

Blake looks dubious. “You watch girl-on-girl porn.”

“All the time.” I’m cringing internally at my pathetic attempt to play it cool.

I’m about as cool as Urkel right now. I might as well be wearing my old glasses and a pair of suspenders while sheepishly pointing at the train wreck on the screen and asking, “Did I do that?”

Blake shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He disappears back into the kitchen and I sigh as soon as he’s gone, thankful for a brief reprieve.

I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never been friends with a guy as hot as Blake before, let alone been friends with a guy
in general
. I’m so far out of my comfort zone it feels like I’m in a totally different continent.

Why am I so nervous? Blake’s just a guy. Just a ridiculously hot guy. It shouldn’t cause verbal diarrhea to spew from my mouth like this, but it does.

Maybe I should just drive my dumb ass home and call it a night.

I plop down on Blake’s couch and survey the rest of his living room. Anything to keep from watching whatever’s making that wet, suctioning sound on the TV right now.

I didn’t have much time to check it out on Thanksgiving, but his place is surprisingly clean. Growing up with a brother, I know that boys are usually very dirty creatures.

A particularly loud squeal has me glancing back at the TV and thinking maybe Blake’s dirty in a different way.

I bite my lip, picturing him sitting on this couch and touching himself while he watches this. It makes my stomach flutter and my pulse speed up again, only this time it doesn’t feel like the precursor to a panic attack. It actually feels nice.

That is, until Blake comes back into the room. Then the flutter in my stomach turns into a hard ball of anxiety.

Sitting straighter, I watch him pop the caps off our beers with a bottle opener he brought back from the kitchen. He holds one out to me, and I take it.

“Thank you.”

His brows rise a bit. “No problem.”

He sits on the other end of the couch and takes a sip of his beer, seemingly content to sit here and watch porn with me. I cradle the cold bottle with both hands, thankful for something to do with them other than fidget, and try to focus on the porn too.

We’re both adults here. This is fine. It’s totally fine.

Who am I kidding? This is so not fine. I can
feel
Blake watching me.

I take a drink, trying to ignore it, but my skin starts to heat. I’m usually so pale that any amount of blushing is super obvious, but I’m hoping the spray tan I got last week makes it so my discomfort isn’t, you know, staring him in the face.

“Any time you want me to turn it off, Duchess, just say the word.”

Blake’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Bastard’s enjoying this a bit too much, and I’ll be damned if I’m the one who caves first.

“I’m good. But if you want to change the video, I’d be okay with that. Girl-on-girl is great and all, but I need a dick somewhere in the mix and that purple dong just isn’t doing it for me. Where’s the money shot with a dildo? I need a real cock shooting its load at the end, otherwise it just seems kind of. . .unfinished.” I take another sip of my beer and casually cross my legs, amazed that I was actually able to say that with a straight face.

From the corner of my eye, I see Blake shift in his seat. It looks like he’s trying to inconspicuously adjust his jeans.

Is he
hard?

He clears his throat. “Give it a minute.”

I glance over at him, brows drawn tight in confusion, until a deep voice on the TV says, “Got room for one more?”

When I look back, there’s a guy in the doorway, watching the two girls fooling around on the bed. They smile and giggle, thrusting out their breasts while inviting him to join them.

Oh. Goody.

Blake and I sit here in silence as the guy undresses and gets on the bed. Somewhere between that point and when one of the girls starts deep-throating him, the atmosphere changes.

It’s still awkward sitting here watching something so carnal with Blake, but it’s also. . .erotic. The longer I watch these people fuck, the more turned on I get.

I re-cross my legs, feeling slippery inside my panties. The movement exacerbates the throbbing in my clit and sends my pulse skyrocketing.

Feeling a moan bubble up, I bite my lip to keep it in check. I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for this evening. I definitely don’t need to be moaning on his couch right now.

I glance at Blake, suddenly very aware of our proximity. Is he as turned on as I am? He shifts again and I sneak a peek at his crotch, but I can’t really see anything.

“Are you hard right now?”

Oh, good grief, I did
not
just ask him that.

He chokes on the drink he just took, spewing it everywhere.

“Shit.” I set my beer down and scoot over, patting his back as he coughs. “I’m so sorry.”

His eyes water as his face turns an unnatural shade of red. “Goddamn it, woman.”

“I’m sorry! I just—” I sigh, gesturing to the threesome taking place in front of us. “I’m one more thrust away from rubbing one out in your bathroom. I just wanted to know if you were as. . .affected as I am.”
God, can this night
possibly
get any worse?
“Really, I’m sorry.”

I’m just about to tell him I’ll leave and put an end to this disaster of an evening, when he says, “I wouldn’t be so hard if you weren’t making all those noises.”

“What noises?” Damn it, I was trying
so
hard to be quiet.

“You’re practically panting over there. It’s hot as fuck and super distracting.” He glances at me before finishing off his beer. “We agreed to be friends, but you’re making it impossible for me not to want more.”

“Sorry.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. It really should
not
make me happy to hear that.

Turning to face him, I pull my leg up onto the couch, folding it under me. “I have an idea. Tell me something awful about you. Something gross or horrible, it doesn’t matter. Just tell me something that won’t make me attracted to you anymore. Then I’ll tell you something awful about me.”

His eyes narrow on me like he’s not so sure my idea is as brilliant as I think it is. But instead of saying so, he thinks for a second. “I had a buddy a couple years ago who had this girlfriend. She was his high school sweetheart, the love of his life. They were getting married and the night before their wedding, she showed up at my door. Said she didn’t know if she could go through with it. I invited her in, gave her a drink to calm her down, and we got to talking. She admitted that he was the only guy she’d been with, and she was worried about what she was missing out on.”

A sinking feeling settles into my stomach as I realize where this is going. “You didn’t.”

Blake winces. “I did. And I
still
feel like shit about it.”