“Caveman,” Kay mumbles into her hands, keeping her face hidden.
Mason’s lips quirk at the twin sighs Emma and I let out at Kay’s use of the other half of their cutesy pet names. Yup, I totally get UofJ411’s obsession with my friends because when witnessing #Kaysonova in action, there’s no denying that they embody everything that defines #CoupleGoals.
Actually…
I slip my phone out from under my thigh and snap a quick pic of the look of adoration on Mason’s face as he looks down at his girlfriend. Maybe when Kay’s done being embarrassed by us, I’ll be able to convince her this should be one of the things she allows him to post to his own Instagram account. Letting the world see how much he loves her can be a powerful tool, despite her abject disdain for all things social media.
Despite his amusement, Mr. Alpha-Man is not having the distance from his girlfriend anymore. Mason scoops my friend from the lounger, claiming her seat himself and settling in with her on his lap.
Emma retakes her parrot perch on my shoulder, and without an ounce of shame from either of us, we watch as Mason crooks a finger under Kay’s chin before smoothing his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “Now you’ve got me curious what you ladies were talking about with you blushing like this, Skits.”
“Is it too late to get new friends?” Kay asks instead.
For a split second, Mason’s eyes shift to us before he drops them to Kay’s hands, lifting one and kissing the jeweled birthstone bands—the ones that represent those who mean most to her—adorning her fingers. “Yeah, babe, I think it’s safe to say it’s too late.”
Kay growls, and Mason kisses the tip of her nose, chuckling at how adorable he thinks she is. He’s not wrong. At under five feet tall, Kay is more like an angry puppy than anything else.
My gaze once again finds its way back to the person responsible for the current deluge of debauchery.
Shit!
Maybe I should start praying to baby Jesus like Mamá, because if that man doesn’t start looking at me as more than Quinn, his friend, me voy a volver loca.
“Ahhh.” Kay’s gray eyes sparkle with intrigue when she pops out of her Mason love bubble. “That’s whose shade spectrum you were speculating about.”
“Now there’s a tongue twister for you,” I joke in an attempt to take the heat off me.
“Annnddd we’re back to oral sex.” Emma holds a hand up for a high five. “Nice.”
Mason perks up, his muscular torso rippling beneath his Property of U of J Football tee when he shifts so he can see all three of us at once. “Oral sex?” He quirks a brow, intrigue now bleeding into his tone. “Skit, are you telling them about that thing I did with my tongue thi—”
Kay cuts off the rest of Mason’s sentence by smacking a hand across his mouth. “Only you would wanna know if I’d been bragging about your bedroom skills when we should be focusing on how our darling Q is musing about if our sweet, shy CK is a closet dom.”
“You know what it does to me when you roll your eyes, babe.” Mason’s comment only has Kay rolling her eyes a second time before they both, unfortunately, focus on me, and he says, “Well, this just got interesting.”
Sonofabitch.
I down the rest of my margarita in one go, slamming the side of my fist to my forehead at the stinging bolt of pain slicing through my brain when it momentarily freezes. Guess that’s the price I pay for avoidance via frozen tequila.
Annnndddd…it didn’t even work.
Nope.
Three sets of eyes are still trained on me like they’re waiting for me to premiere a new cheer for the U of J’s Red Squad.
“As the only one here not in possession of a vagina—”
“A fact Kay is most certainly grateful for.”
“I’m going to need you to break this down for me,” Mason continues, as if Emma never spoke.
“Huh?” I ask, not necessarily playing dumb but not entirely clear on the actual question.
“What makes a chick wonder if a dude keeps whips and chains hidden in his closet?”
It’s my turn for my cheeks to heat, and I curse the depths of my empty Solo cup for not magically refilling with some liquid salvation.
I close my eyes and peel one open to check again.
Still empty.
Damn.
And you know what else?
There are still six curious eyeballs waiting for an explanation.
Double damn.
You know what?
Whatever.
I’m a big girl. If I can dish out the teasing about my friends’ sex lives, I can certainly take it when they turn the hedonistic tide on me.
But first…
I’m gonna help myself to Emma’s margarita.
Noting the perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched at me when I hand her back her empty cup, I clear my throat and say, “It’s not so much whips and chains as I picture a collection of rulers and neckties.”
Mason makes a rolling Explain motion with his hand, and then Kay uses his body to play defense when I eye her margarita.
Jerks.
“Just…just…ugh!” I throw my hands up and thread my fingers into my hair as my words jumble together. “Look at him,” I finally end up shouting, and then I fall backward when everyone, and I mean e-ver-y-one, looks my way.
Fan-flipping-tastic.
Oh, dear sweet, sweet chubby-cheeked baby Jesus, thank you for the easy distractibility of college co-eds, because by the time I sit up and shove my red hair out of my face, I only have the original Three Stooges to contend with.
“Do you may-be wanna try that again?” Emma asks.
“And may-be try pretending like you’re not on the sidelines at a Hawks game?” Kay adds in the same teasing singsong.
God, these bitches are lucky they are my sisses from other misses, or I’d hate their asses.
I clear my throat and try again. “Do you see him?” I jerk my chin, then bounce my eyes in CK’s direction when my friends don’t automatically look his way. “He’s got that quiet, reserved demeanor and those yummy sexy glasses.”
“Yummy?”
“Sexy?”
“Glasses?”
Em, Kay, and Mason ask in order, and I nod. “Uh…yeah. Dudes aren’t the only ones who can have fantasies triggered by eyewear.”
“Are we talking slutty secretary, naughty librarian-type stuff?” Mason asks the question to me, but winks at Kay.
Oy. That’s more detail than I needed to know about their role-playing preferences.
“Yup. Though in my case, it’s more I’m the naughty schoolgirl, and CK is the dominating professor ready to personally see to my detention.”
Aww, look at me joining in the TMI sharing.
My abuelita would make herself go hoarse reciting Ave Marías if she knew the number of times I’ve imagined CK’s blue eyes blazing at me from behind those lenses as he instructs me to bend over a desk to “teach me a lesson.”
Oh yeah, even now, my go-to masterdate is enough to have me squirming in my seat.
I jackknife up, my back going ramrod straight as a sudden thought slams my body like my bases dropped me after a basket toss.
Oh shit!
If we can hear Mason and Kay doing the hippity-dippity, does that mean everyone and, more importantly, CK is able to make out the buzz of my vibrator when I’m loving myself up thinking about him?