Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills 6)

And a lot of penis, but I was too much of a lady to say that out loud.

I wasn’t too much of one not to make a mental note of it, though.

Still panting, he pushed himself up to sitting, with one arm braced on the floor to support him. I’d like to point out—not to him—that his towel remained open, but at least his leg was supporting his cock and balls now.

“Why the hell did you scream?”

Who could think about whatever he was talking about with what he had going on right now in front of them?

Then I remembered my foot. Looking down at it, I groaned. “God damn it.”

Seein

g it, he scowled at me. “That’s your issue? A blue foot?”

“And what would you have done in my socks? Walked on it? Hopped on one leg to the trash can, dripping paint on plastic sheeting that’d get tracked everywhere else?”

“I wouldn’t have made that mistake in the first place. You need to look where you’re going.”

“Remind me how you fell again?”

Unfortunately, with that reminder, he looked down at his own blue appendage. Well, technically, one blue one and one pretty pink one with a darker pinked head that was waving at me.

Being too much of a lady to wink back at him, I made a point of looking up at the ceiling while he covered himself up.

“I only stood in the paint because I thought someone was attacking you when you screamed,” he clipped, and when I looked back down at him, he was easing his way onto his feet, doing his best to stop his paint-covered foot from slipping on the plastic. “Now, how am I going to get this cleaned without making a mess everywhere?”

Sticking my foot out, I asked, “See the problem yet?”

Tipping his head back, he glared up at the ceiling. It seemed that between us, this tended to be our reaction of choice. Interesting.

Then, not saying a word, he limped out of the room, only putting pressure on his toes to keep his balance instead of placing his whole foot on the ground.

I’d just leaned down to pull my sock off, figuring that it would probably slip more on the plastic than my foot would, when there was a manly squeak and thud in the hallway.

From where they were sitting in their corners, Prince let out a mewling noise, and Doyle grumped.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I already knew to watch it on the corners. He was the one who was so sure having paint on your foot wasn’t that big of a deal.”

That was a tiny lie, sure, but in my defense, I was kind of rattled still from the whole falling penis log that I’d witnessed.

Once you saw the dick of the guy you liked, was there any going back?

Eight hours later…

I was in the middle of a great dream, one where I was safe, warm, and comfortable.

And then the ground moved, and I heard a deep, “Ah, fuck it,” before a weight rolled on top of me, and I opened my eyes to scream…

Right in Logan’s face.

Chapter Eleven

Logan

I couldn’t sleep.

Bexley was waiting for a new washer and dryer to be delivered, so both of us were dropping our laundry off with our parents. Yeah, that was the level of adult we were at.