Playboy Prince

Liam: It's that or a hotel room.

Briar: Talk about a space covered in jizz.

Liam: Fuck, Bri, I travel three months a year for work.

Briar: I know.

Liam: You're killing me.

Briar: Because you're so turned on right now?

Liam: That's it. The thought of creepy dudes' cum makes me rock hard.

Briar: You like the nasty space. It's a rich boy rebellion.

Fuck, she's right. The thought of bringing Briar to some dive in midtown, reserving a private room for the two of us, eating her out on the stage—

I'm going to be hard if I keep thinking about it.

Too hard for this fucking occasion.

Briar: He's probably already talking about his new sugar baby because the last one kicked him to the curb. Now, go back to your party, and only text me if it's an emergency.

Liam: An emergency need to come?

Briar: If you're in a space where such things are possible… then maybe. After I'm done with this task you dumped on me.

Liam: You like Preston.

Briar: I do.

Liam: He'll turn into a pumpkin soon. Offer to walk him out at nine. Trust me. You'll be home by ten.

Briar: Home, naked, fucking myself on the couch.

Liam: Baby.

Briar: Sorry. Thinking out loud. Until then.

She's pure evil.

She really is.

Someone makes that whip sound. One I haven't heard since high school.

Huh?

I look up.

And there's Jimmy, repeating the sound, adding a whip gesture.

"Never seen you pussy-whipped before," he says.

What the fuck do I even say to that? It's too stupid to dignify with a response.

"Yeah, I guess I'm a pathetic asshole who likes talking to my girlfriend," I say.

"Fiancée?" Simon offers.

"That one," I say.

Simon shoots me an incredulous look. Then he… smiles.

No.

He's not smiling.

That's not possible.

Simon smiles at victory. At destruction. At pain.

Not at… whatever the fuck this is.

"Were you really texting Briar?" he asks.

"Yeah…" What's his point?

"You just left," he says.

"I had something to tell her," I say.

Simon chuckles. "You're that inseparable."

"Rather hang with her than you assholes," I say.

"We won't fuck you," Simon says.

"But that doesn't mean you have to go home empty. Know what I'm saying?" Jimmy winks.

"Wouldn't I go home empty if I came tonight?" I ask.

Jimmy catches none of my irritation. He raises his hand for a high-five.

Right. Up-top. I high-five him back.

He passes out champagne flutes. Announces a toast to making sure Harrison's suit needs dry cleaning tomorrow.

It's muddled, yeah, but it's almost clever for him.

We drink. He returns to bragging about strip clubs. And, oh, Bri was right, his new sugar baby, who works as a dancer, who gets so hot at work when he shows up at her club she fucks him in the backroom.

For a second, I cringe at the mental image. Then it shifts, and it's Briar in some sexy scrap of black mesh, grinding against my lap, begging me to fuck her.

Bam, I'm ready to go.

A dingy strip club isn't her scene. But a nice place, with private rooms, an exclusive club even—

Can I convince her to go?

No, can I do better?

Liam: One more thing.

Briar: Oh my god, Liam! It's been five minutes.

Liam: It's a hard-on emergency.

Briar: Really?

Liam: It's really hard to keep a straight face on around Jimmy.

Briar: Now you know how I feel all the time.

Liam: No laugh?

Briar: It was good.

Liam: Clever for me?

Briar: It was.

Liam: Does it get you off? The thought of a lap dance in a private room?

Briar: Maybe.

Liam: Taking off your sheer mesh as you grind against my hard-on. My hands on your tits. You watching everything in the mirrors. Me, promising you whatever the fuck you want if you release me from the agony of how badly I want you?

Briar: When you say it like that.

Liam: Is it hot to you? The thought of me wanting you so badly I'll pay you for it?

Briar: There's something about the capitalist power exchange.

Liam: You know I get hard when you use big words.

Briar: I do.

Liam: I want to try it.

Briar: You don't say.

Liam: But I'd rather try something you've been dreaming about. Something you've always wanted to do that you've never shared with anyone.

Briar: Tonight?

Liam: If you've got the energy.

Briar: I'm already wiped.

Liam: Then soon.

Briar: Can we do yours first?

Liam: We did mine last time.

Briar: Most of my fantasies of you involve duct taping your mouth so you can't talk.

Liam: Could be an interesting start.

Briar: They don't end the way you hope.

Liam: I'm open minded.

Briar: I'll think about it.

Liam: You really dream about hurting me?

Briar: Not dream, exactly, but it's entered my mind.

Liam: Nothing sexy?

Briar: With you?

Liam: With anyone. I'll pretend I'm Chris Pine. I don't care.

Briar: I can't believe you're using that against me.

Liam: I'm inspired by your patriotism.

Briar: See, this is where the fantasies of duct tape come up.

Liam: And handcuffs, so I can't text?

Briar: Absolutely.

Liam: Would be easier to sit on my face. And it would shut me up.

Briar: Win-win.

How can she make me laugh at the same time she makes me hard?