I'm done, period.
"So…" He leans against the wall and shoots me a look. Spill it.
"It was amazing." There's something about Iris. Not just the way her body responds to mine. Or her lush thighs against my cheeks. Or her soft tits.
Fuck, I'm getting distracted.
Dean taps his toe against the floor. "That's it? It was amazing?"
"Yeah."
"You like her or something?"
"I'm twenty-four."
"And?"
"Don't you think we're getting old for this shit?"
"Are you hearing this, Leigh?" He turns to the front desk. Shoots Leighton an isn't this the worst thing ever look.
"I don't know. Who's Leigh?" She folds her arms.
"It's cute," Dean insists.
"What if I call you D?" she asks.
"Don't. He'll like it," I say.
He's already smiling. "That's how you think of me, as D?"
"As a dick, yeah." She shakes her head, sending her short hair in every direction. It's a purple-grey color now. It's nearly the same cut as Iris's, but it looks different on her.
Don't get me wrong. Leighton is a babe and she dresses to kill. But I don't see her as a potential fuck. I know her too well.
"You're both perverts." She brushes her hair behind her ear.
"And that's a bad thing?" Dean feigns offense.
"Don't you have an appointment?" she asks.
"He's late." Dean turns to me. "What was she like?"
"Responsive."
"That's it?" Dean shakes his head. "You're going soft on me."
Leighton laughs. "Had that problem before?"
"Have you?" He shoots her an accusatory look.
"Yeah. All women have. And most men too. Your fucking dicks are prima donnas." She folds her arms. "With how much you drink…"
He flips her off.
She laughs. "Hmm. Seems personal, D. Something you want to confess?"
"I know my limits," he says.