At the other end of the totem pole was Marco.
Laird, who’d been laughing and joking the whole time, was next. As Willa approached, his eyes flew to mine, wide with panic, as if he just now realized I was going to have to watch her stroke him as part of this whole event. As Willa slid into position beside him, he shuffled back half a step, one eyebrow cocked as he kept his gaze on me.
He’s asking permission. It took me a second to interpret his actions, but as soon as I did, I gave him a wink to let him know it was okay.
It wasn’t okay. Not in the least. Jealousy boiled, hot and angry, in my gut as I curled my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to hold still, to not launch myself at her like a psycho and rip her arm away from his pants where she was lingering way too fucking long. The only thing keeping me still was the fact that Laird’s focus never wavered from me. He held my gaze the entire time as if trying to reassure me the only way he could that I was the only one he was thinking about in that moment.
But when she shifted her grip lower, to cup his balls, I was a fraction of a second away from detonating.
No, she fucking didn’t…
Laird coughed, taking a step back and twisting away as he covered his mouth.
I stopped breathing, waiting to see she if went for him again.
Go on, bitch, I dare you.
But instead of grabbing his crotch, she caught his elbow and slid him into place—in front of Marco at the head of the line.
I exhaled in a relieved whoosh, forcing my jaw to unclench. Laird’s eyes were soft with apology, and I gave him a wobbly smile to let him know I understood.
The only person left to be measured was Smith.
Willa ran her hand down his groin, pausing as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped partway open, then squeezed again. She glanced from his crotch to the blush high on his caramel cheeks back to his crotch, then she mimed fanning herself before putting him squarely ahead of Laird.
Smith met my surprised gaze with a bashful grin, slouching next to Laird. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to sink into the floor or go for nonchalance.
Willa turned to the rest of us. “And the cockiest snare this year—”
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward, interrupting her little speech.
“I think you forgot about me.”
Willa scrunched her nose. “You?”
“I’m a snare player too, right? No special treatment? Shouldn’t you check the size of my balls? Just to be fair?”
She glanced back at Marco and Laird. Marco was nodding like a rabid bobblehead, leaning closer in his eagerness. Laird had a suspicious gleam in his green eyes when he met my gaze for a quick second before I focused on Willa again.
Practically salivating, Marco stepped out of line to stand next to Willa, clearly not wanting to miss a second of some live girl-on-girl action. “Reese is right for once. You need to rub her down too, Willa. Do it slow.” He licked his lips. “Real slow.”
Spreading my legs slightly, I held my breath as Willa approached me. She reached forward gingerly, almost as if she was worried I had cooties and was contagious.
“For fuck’s sake, Willa, it’s not like you’ve never touched a vag before.” I caught her wrist in my hand, pulling her forward and placing her palm boldly at the apex of my thighs. “You’ve got one of your own, and if you haven’t gone exploring down there by now, let me tell you, you’re seriously missing out.”
Marco groaned and several of the other guys made similar noises.
This was almost too easy.
I rubbed her hand down my inner left thigh, watching her expression closely. There was no way she could miss it.
Her fingers closed around me through the soft jersey of my maxi dress, stroking the length of the gigantic dildo I’d tucked into a pair of Spanx before I left my dorm room.
Willa’s mouth fell open, her eyes first widening in shock, then narrowing in confusion as her fingers retraced their path. “What the…” she whispered.
“How do I compare?” I used my most innocent voice.
She gaped at me, and I dragged her palm along the silicone length one last time, pressing firmly.
“You… you win.” She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned. “Reese has the biggest dick out of any of you.”
The people closest to me stepped back like I was on fire and they had no intention of helping to put out the flames, confusion twisting their faces.
Marco snarled and half-pushed her out of the way, shoving his hand between my thighs and cupping me crudely.
And then the blood left his face as his fingers met the firm length he didn’t expect to find there.
“What the fuck?” After yanking his arm back, Marco stooped down, caught the hem of my dress, and bunched it in his meaty fist until I was exposed from the waist down.
The head of my newly acquired gigantic black cock stuck out beneath the bottom hem of my mid-thigh shapewear.
In the back of my mind, I registered that a crowd had pushed close to us when he’d raised my dress, everyone eager for a free show. Hoots of laughter filled the room, some of them pointing. Their expressions ran the gamut from mirth, awe, and respect from the guys to disgust and confusion from the girls.
Except for Willa, who just looked relieved that it was a sex toy and not a real dick.
“Still want to give me that private lesson, Marco?” I blinked at him.
And then he was stumbling backward, bulldozed out of the way by Laird as he tore the dress from Marco’s hand, covering me up, then tucking me behind him and shielding me from Marco’s view with his broad back.
“You don’t touch her. Ever.” Laird seethed as he barked out each word, the fierceness of his glower enough to melt the polar ice caps. “You don’t touch any woman like that.” He turned to extend the warning to the rest of the snare line, glaring at each in turn. “Like you have the right to just reach between her legs without permission. I don’t care if she has the sweetest pussy known to man or the biggest, blackest dick to grace this planet—you ask. You get consent. Always.”
If my dick were real, I’d have just gotten the most epic erection of my life. Raised a fucking obelisk. Laird Bronson had never been sexier than in this moment, a gladiator among mere mortals, laying down the law.
Laird turned a full circle, staring down every male in the room. “Do I make myself crystal fucking clear about how this drumline works?” He didn’t raise his voice as he said it.
He whispered.
And his warning was all the more chilling because of it.
But afterward, when Marco caught my eye and I saw the rigidness of his stance and the dark hatred pinching his mouth, I regretted my decision. Despite my momentary victory, I had a feeling I’d be paying for this little prank of mine tenfold. A shiver of foreboding skated down my spine.
I found Smith in the crowd—Amber damn near accosting him after discovering the size of his dick—looked him in the eye, and said the two words I’d been hoping would be unnecessary tonight. “Scrotum Breath.”
Laird
Where is she?
A minute ago, she’d been right behind me, so close I could feel her ragged breathing against my back. But by the time I finished staring down Marco and two other assholes—damn bass drum players—who seemed to think my outburst was just for show and I wasn’t one hundred percent dead fucking serious, she was gone.
I pushed through the crowd that was still amped up from Reese’s outrageous stunt. Not in the kitchen, not on the tiny balcony, and not in the bedroom or the connected bathroom.
I ran my hands through my hair before gripping the back of my neck in frustration.
Where the fuck did she go?
I made one more pass, double-checking where Marco was—shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat—and confirmed that Reese was nowhere near him.
My blood ran hot, then cold.
The image of Marco’s fingers curled around Reese’s waist as he held her dress up, baring her whole bottom half to the entire drumline played in technicolor inside my skull.
On repeat.
I wanted to roar, to wrap my fingers around his skinny neck and squeeze until he turned purple, to punch my fist right through the flimsy drywall of this shithole apartment.