Lord Have Mercy (Southern Gentleman 2)

“Batman?” I asked in confusion.

“Batman,” she cupped one breast. “And Robin.” She cupped the other.

I snorted and turned, unable to take any more. “Hurry up, Ms. Presley. We have places to be.”

She snickered. “Yes, sir.”

Why did her saying that go directly to my dick?Chapter 6You satisfy me in ways that usually require batteries.

-Camryn’s secret thoughts

Camryn

Freshly showered, dressed in clothes I should’ve taken to the Goodwill but didn’t, I walked into the football game with my nipples tingling.

Why were my nipples tingling?

Because twenty minutes before, Flint had rubbed his hands all over the tops of my breasts, and need had poured through me at lightning speed.

I wasn’t sure he realized what exactly he was doing to me, but I sure as hell didn’t complain.

“Hi, Ms. Presley!” I heard called.

I looked up to find a cheerleader, Meg, who was in my class last year, waving at me spastically. “Hello, Megumi.”

She grinned and kept bouncing her way down the track, talking to people along the way.

I slid and slinked my way through the crowd, very aware that Flint was only a few steps away from me the entire time that I moved.

He’d been following me since I’d left his gym.

I felt like I was being stalked.

He’d followed me out of the gym, and I thought that I’d lost him, but at some point, he’d not only picked up his dog—while I’d been at Subway grabbing a wrap—but he’d found me in the parking lot as well. I’d gotten out of my car and walked to the gate along with a few other parents and students, and at some point, he’d gotten behind me and hadn’t left me since.

I was tempted to turn around and glare at him, but I didn’t want him to think that I cared.

But then Carver stepped in front of me, his hands raised as if to stop my forward momentum, and grinned.

I frowned.

Carver was cute and all, but the more I got to know him, the less that I liked him.

I’d seen him talking to Nivea the day before, and I couldn’t seem to figure out how the hell Carver didn’t see through Nivea’s lies.

And now he was standing there as if he hadn’t heard Nivea talking trash about me. I hadn’t missed how he hadn’t defended me, either.

Not that it truly bothered me. He was cute and all, but that attraction that I found I had to him was nothing compared to the attraction that I felt with Flint.

I stepped back and immediately hit something hard.

Flint.

Carver’s smile fell off his face, and he stared at me, and then Flint. His eyes went wide.

“Hello, Carver,” Flint said, his hand going around my belly.

I felt my entire body clench—both with need and with shock.

His hand was hot and hard on my belly, and I wanted nothing more than to put my hand over his and guide our hands down to between my legs where a very insistent throbbing had started.

Hell, to show how far gone I was, I hadn’t even shied away from him when I felt his K-9 officer, Dooley, settle at our sides. He was so close that his ear was touching my thigh.

My heart was pounding, but not in fear.

In need.

“Uhh, Flint.” Carver smiled, his eyes hard. “How’s it going?”

I blinked in surprise.

I’d never seen Carver look pissed before, but I would have to say that at this instant, I thought he just might be.

Curious.

I honestly never thought I’d see the day. He was so soft-spoken and jovial.

I really didn’t think he gave a shit about me, either.

I mean, if he had, when I’d heard him in the teacher’s lounge earlier talking with Nivea, surely he would’ve said something if he’d cared.

Yet, based on the look on his face, he wasn’t happy about Flint’s closeness to me.

Then again, I wasn’t happy either.

I wasn’t happy because I liked his closeness, and I knew that it was fake.

I didn’t like how I liked it, and it felt good, and I wanted more.

Fuck me.

“It’s going good. How are you doing? Enjoying the game?” Flint asked almost absentmindedly.

His attention had turned elsewhere.

Where, you ask?

He’d focused entirely on me, skimming his mouth up and down my neck.

I didn’t stiffen in his arms like I should have, either. I fucking melted.

My knees went weak, and the feel of Flint’s lips pressing against my racing pulse was nothing that I had ever felt before.

I was twenty-nine years old, had four steady boyfriends, slept with three of them, and had never once felt anything like what I was feeling right then.

If I could bottle this feeling up and sell it, it’d be a better high than cocaine…at least, I thought it could be. I wasn’t too sure, to be honest. I couldn’t really compare it because I’d never done cocaine before.

I shivered and felt my eyes turn to slits, my breathing started to quicken, and suddenly I didn’t care if this was fake.