by Shandi Boyes
“Yep.” I turn to face the set of eyes I feel burning a hole in my temples. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Maybe we can catch up another time?”
Hearing the words I didn’t express to save face, Stephanie huffs before storming off in the direction of the washroom. Reluctant to leave Noah’s side, it takes Shell a few seconds to follow after her. She looks as pissed about Stephanie’s dramatics as Noah is about mine.
I’m pissed Lola is more concerned about Noah’s bed companions than mine, but that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with her. Noah deserves to have someone like Emily in his life. If that means I have to miss out on a little action for one night, then that's what I’ll do for my friend.
Furthermore, Noah may hate me for the cockblock, but I doubt it would be worse than how much I’d hate myself if I let Lola’s lack of interest persuaded me to take Stephanie home. Stephanie is a nice girl, but she’s neither stubborn nor opinionated, so she’s not the right girl for me.
An hour later, sprawled on my bed, chugging down yet another beer, my phone dings with a text message.
Lola: Thank you.
In my drunken haze, I reply.
Me: You owe me.
Lola: I know...
I stare down at my cell, unsure if I should reply or not. I want to leave her alone like she clearly wants, but I’m dying to know why she hasn’t reached out to me the past two weeks.
Fuck it—I’m already in the shit, so what’s the worst that could happen?
Me: What did I do?
I swear, the moon circles the earth ten times before she replies.
Lola: It wasn’t you.
I groan.
Me: Please don't give me that bullshit excuse. It's not you; it's me.
Lola: Lol, I wasn’t! I meant it wasn’t you who made me this way.
Her reply has my suspicion piqued about the baggage she’s carrying. Doesn’t scare me away, though. Not in the slightest.
Me: Then why did you cut ties with me?
I wait patiently for her to reply. It’s a long-ass thirty seconds.
Lola: I want to be your friend, Jacob, but you want more.
My fingers fly over the screen of my phone.
Me: I'd rather be your friend than not have you in my life at all.
I glare at my phone, praying for it to ding. Lola takes it one step further by calling me instead.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” she questions, not waiting for me to issue a greeting. “I can’t give you anything more than my friendship.”
“It’s better than not having you in my life at all.”
Nothing but honesty rings in my tone. I like Lola. She has spunk and charisma, and I enjoy spending time with her, even when we're not doing anything sexual.
“Then let’s be friends.”
With my drunk head hearing her giggled statement differently than she intended, I growl down the line, “Is this a friends with benefits deal?”
Her laughter tightens the front of my pants. “Maybe...”
That’s good enough for me... for now.
Chapter Thirteen
Lola
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
I swing my hips harder, working my disastrous getup like I’m a model on the catwalk. My attempts to act seductive only make Jacob laugh even harder.
“Shut up.” I slap his chest, praying it will shut his mouth. His laugh... my god. Enough to moisten the panties of a saint. I love his hearty chuckle. It’s one of his best assets...amongst many other wonderful things.
Six weeks ago, when I told Jacob I didn't want Noah hooking up with a bar skank, it was a ploy to cover my jealousy. Seeing him flirt with another girl directly in front of me irritated the shit out of me. What he does in his free time doesn't bother me, but I'd prefer him being discreet. Not that I'd ever tell him that. The fact he made me jealous already has me at a disadvantage, so I'd never up the ante for him.
Our "friendship" has been going great the past six weeks. Only three times have we overstepped the line we drew in the sand. It's not my fault I succumbed to the chemistry bristling between us. I’ve been in a sexual rut, and since it’s Jacob’s fault, it’s only fair he fixes the problem.
A majority of my days are spent at Mavs. When I'm not there, I'm with Jacob. Being friends with him is the equivalent of strapping a big neon sign to my chest, warning guys to back the fuck up. If Jacob is around, they refuse to approach me. Our harmless flirting may have tiptoed over the rules we negotiated weeks ago, but we’re adults who understand the “friends with benefits” situation we have going. We’re not hurting anyone, so why does it matter if those around us don’t understand our arrangement?
Jacob watches me round the hood of his car and slip into the passenger seat before asking, “Seriously—what the fuck are you wearing?”
“I thought this might help me pass.” I shrug. “No harm in trying, right?”
This morning, I have my fourth driving test. Although I’m confident in the skills Jacob has taught me the past two months, despite what people say, I know my last three fails were because the female driving instructors didn’t appreciate my miniskirts and midriff tops as much as the male instructors did. Today, I decided to mix things up. By dressing conservatively, I’m hoping they’ll judge my driving skills instead of my so-called “slutty” reputation.
Grinning, Jacob climbs into the driver’s seat of his car. As he latches his belt, his eyes stray to me once more. He laughs again, even louder this time.
“Alright, now you’re just being an asshole.” I fold my arms under my chest, pretending to be mad. I’m not, but his laugh is making me want to do naughty things I swore we wouldn’t do again.
"I'm sorry, Lola." Breathy chuckles punctuate his words. "But you just extinguished any wet dreams I might have had about you this week."
My mouth pops open as my heart beats double-time. One, he just admitted I star in his dreams. And two, he insinuated he doesn’t find me attractive.
Ouch, take that ego!
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I keep my breaths at a pussy cat purr while climbing over the console to straddle his lap. “Do you have something against naughty librarians who spank bad boys in the book stacks?”
Air hisses from his mouth when my endeavor to wrap my legs around his chunky hips causes the split in my skirt to ride up high. Add that scandalous bit of skin to the unbuttoning of my blouse to give him a sneak peek of the lace bra hiding beneath, and we've got a reaction no amount of laughing could deny. He's heavy underneath me, the pulse in his cock enough to detonate every one of my hot buttons.
“Jacob...”
His lips steal the rest of my plea. With my hair fisted in his big manly hand, he tilts my head back before slipping his tongue between my parted lips. He devours me with long, sensual licks and teasing bites while I respond to the tingles dancing in my core by grinding down on him. It’s 10 AM on a Saturday, yet we’re acting as if we’re parked anywhere but in my parents’ driveway.
I’m seconds from whipping his cock out of his pants when a car honk interrupts us. Considering our location, that means it can only be one of two people interrupting us.
With wide eyes and swollen lips, I peer past Jacob’s shoulder. As suspected, my dad’s rusty blue truck is parked behind us. Even from a distance, I can see his snarl.
Eek! Busted!
When Jacob’s eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, the pulse in his neck thrums like the one feeding his cock. “We better get going.” His usually smooth voice is extra scratchy. “Don’t want you to be late for your test.”
After pouting like a child, I plop back into the passenger seat. Although I’m on the verge of climax, I should probably pick a better location than the driveway of my parents’ house in the middle of the day.
Sorry, Dad!
I should also pick a different companion to get down and dirty with. My relationship with Jacob is supposed to be platonic, yet here I am, on the verge of
orgasm after doing nothing more than the grind up every thirteen-year-old boy expects during seven minutes in heaven. I need to resurrect the barriers before one of us gets hurt. And for the first time ever, I'm afraid that person may be me.
Chapter Fourteen
Jacob
With Lola spending a majority of our trip to the DMV in silence, I reflect back on how our morning started. I shouldn’t have laughed when she strutted toward me looking as if she’d just finished filing my tax return, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve become accustomed to seeing her in teeny shorts and tank tops that struggle to contain her generous rack. Today she’s donning a black knee-length skirt, a white floral blouse, and a red knitted cardigan I swear I saw in my grandma’s closet last winter. If her outfit wasn’t bad enough, her wild locks have been wrangled into a low ponytail, and her makeup is basically non-existent.
It’s lucky she can rock the granny look, but I was happy pretending she couldn’t if it risked bringing out the hellion I’ve grown to love the past two months. My skate across thin ice paid off. Lola hated my tease, so much so, she retaliated in a way only she could. She proved without a doubt she’s the sexpot deserving of the title “Cock Tease.”
It’s a pity her dad interrupted us. I didn’t think I’d leave his driveway still breathing. I probably wouldn’t have if Lola did take up my campaign.
When I pull into an empty spot at the back of the lot, Lola’s eyes finally lock with mine. They’re clouded with regret, and she has a deep groove between her brows. I try to pretend I don’t know what’s she’s sorry about. “What’s up? Nervous?” When she shakes her head, I honk her nose before clambering out of my car. “Good. Cause you have nothing to worry about.”
My assurance has a double meaning. Every time we overstep the boundaries we discussed six weeks ago, she apologizes for leading me on. Every time she apologizes, I reply with the same thing: “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”
I won’t have her apologizing for making out with me. I love hanging out with her, even when we’re following the rules. Besides, the handful of times we’ve gotten carried away, I instigated them, so there’s no way she owes me an apology. If anything, I should be expressing regret for not being able to keep my hands to myself when she’s in my vicinity.
When Lola’s confused eyes meet mine, I give her a frisky wink. “Come on, let’s get this done, then you can terrify more people than just me when you get behind the wheel.”
Giggling, she throws open her door and steps onto the sidewalk. I learned early on that she isn’t a fan of guys opening her door, ordering her food, or telling her what to do. Stick to those three little rules, you'll get along with her like a house on fire. Ignore them...enjoy your last days on earth.
After guiding her through the glass door at our local DMV, Lola goes to the counter to check in, while I head for the plastic chairs lining the foyer. Even in the hideous outfit she’s wearing, she attracts numerous pairs of male eyes. I put up my blinkers, acting like the jealousy bug isn’t stinging me. I should take up acting because my ruse is outstanding. It probably helps that Lola only has eyes for me as she makes her way across the room to join me in the waiting area.
Just as she’s about to sit next to me, her name is called. A disgruntled moan rolls up her chest when her eyes lock on the person calling her name. This time around, she got a male instructor.
“You’ll be fine.” My words are barely heard through my chuckle.
After unclenching her fists, she struts to the male instructor with her hips swinging and her bosoms bouncing, working her disastrous getup as if it’s the latest fashion craze. I’ll give it to her, she’s got the assets to pull it off.
For the first half an hour of Lola's test, I scroll my Facebook feed. Once that becomes brain-draining, I flip through the outdated magazines in the lobby. I'm through my fifth car magazine when my cell vibrates in my pocket. When I yank it out, I notice it's a call from Hank.
As I press my phone to my ear, I walk outside. “Hey, Hank.”
“How’s Jake the Giant this morning?”
With a huff, I roll my eyes. Hank was as original with my fighting name as he was with his business. As much as I loathe the name he picked, I’m now known as “Jake the Giant” in the fighting circuit.
It’s lucky my stats are impressive enough no one ribs me about the childish name he gave me. I’ve remained undefeated the last ten rounds, which means I’m the twelfth-ranked fighter in my division. With a better ranking comes a better purse, but the caliber of my opponents has always increased. I don’t mind. I like a challenge, hence my relationship with Lola.
I push my phone closer to my ear when Hank discloses, “There’s been a change to your fight tonight. Rampant is out. They want you to fight The Constrictor.”
“Who is The Constrictor?” I haven’t heard of him in our local fight scene.
“He’s from the West Coast, undefeated, and has been the past year.”
“A year?”
Alarm resonates in my tone. I’ve only been fighting in the minors the last couple of months, so why are they matching me with a professional who’s been undefeated for a year?
“You can win this, Jake, you just need to remember what you’ve been taught.”
Hank is a great coach, but my intuition is warning me to be cautious. “Alright. It’s too late to change anything, so we may as well run with it.”
“You’ve got this, Jacob.”
Hank disconnects our call, not giving me a chance to reply. He’s done the same thing numerous times the past six months.
While shoving my cell back into my pocket, I stride toward the waiting room. I’m just about to break through the double glass doors when Lola throws herself into my arms. “I did it!” Her screech pierces my eardrums. “I passed!”
Chapter Fifteen
Lola
When Jacob’s excitement gets the better of him, he spins me around and around and around. My stomach automatically puts up a protest to his twirls.
"Please stop, or I'll puke."
His spins halt as quickly as they started. Through scrunched brows, he sets me back on my feet before his eyes roam my face. He looks genuinely concerned, like he too is seconds from barfing.
“You alright?”
Smiling a grin as mischievous as his handsome face, he nods, snatches my newly printed license from my hand, then hotfoots it toward the parking lot. I’m on his heels in under a second, but his long strides mean I have to sprint to catch up with him
I didn’t think things through when I decided to dress like my mother. I forgot my horrendous lack of fashion would be displayed on my license for the next four years. My picture is hideous. The lady who snapped it didn’t wait for me to be ready, and when I begged her to take another one, the old cow refused. To say I don’t want my license circulated through social media would be an understatement. I’ll die if it gets out.
I appear seconds from having my worst nightmare come true when I witness Jacob snapping a picture of my license with his phone.
“If you post that, I’ll hurt you real bad.”
He props his hip on the driver's side door of his car before his fingers fly over the screen of his phone, not the least bit intimidated by my threat. When I try to snatch his phone out of his hand, he yanks it out of my reach. Considering he’s a giant, none of my springy jumps gets me close to his outstretched arm.
An arrogant smirk crosses Jacob’s face when I give up with a huff. “What are you willing to give me for it?”
I smash my hand against his lips when he makes gaga kissy faces. His laugh at my denial of a kiss makes a brilliant idea pop in my head. Stepping closer to him, I crowd him between his car and me before dropping my hand to his crotch. His eyes widen when I grip his package in a hold soft enough he won’t sustain permanent damage, but firm enough to reveal I’m not joking.
“Delete it.” I add a squeeze between words.
Sweat beads on his temples as his eyes dro
p to mine. “Gentle.”
“You should have thought about that before trying to embarrass me on social media.”
“I wasn’t going to post it. I was just gonna...” Sweat glides down his pale cheeks when I expose his lie with a tight squeeze. “Lol—”
“Delete it.”
Nodding, he abandons the post he was halfway through uploading to Instagram.
"Now, the photo in your album."
It’s amazing how quickly men follow the rules when their junk is on the line.
“There. Done. See?” He swivels his phone around to show me. It’s open on his album, and although there’s a handful of photos of me on display, they’re ones I approve of, so I don’t make him delete them.
“Good.”
I snatch my license back with my other hand before releasing his crotch. He exhales a big breath as his hand darts down to check that everything is in its rightful spot. While he gives himself an in-depth feel up, I saunter to the passenger side of his car. Victory is heating my blood, euphoric that little old me took down someone as big as Jacob.
Confident his cock is still in working order, the cheeky glint Jacob’s eyes forever holds returns stronger than ever. “If you wanna grope me, just ask. I’ll never turn you down.”
A smile curves my lips high. With how horny I am, I might take him up on his offer.
Twenty minutes later, with his tease still in the forefront of my mind, I swivel to face Jacob. “Do you want to go out tonight?” I usually work Saturday nights, but my constant nagging about a lack of social life finally paid off. Maggie reluctantly gave me the night off, stipulating it's a one-time-only deal. “We can celebrate me finally getting my license.”
The jest in my tone switches to disappointment when Jacob murmurs, “I can’t. I... ah...I have plans.”
