Innuendos (It Had 2 B U Book 1) (2 page)

Max and I met during a P.E. class. I failed miserably at hitting the ball during softball, so Max helped me. I loved how he could make me laugh and take away the uneasiness I felt behind the plate. We instantly hit it off, and he never made me feel like I was fat like some of the other guys in school did. From that day forward, we were best friends, and I have him to thank for slowly building up my confidence as we got older.

During college, I started to jog a lot with Max, and it wasn’t long before my curvy body became lean and fit. I have Max to thank for that as well. As a personal trainer, he makes it his mission to tire my ass out every morning. I’m not sure why he likes making me sweat. It’s not like he gets any of the perks a boyfriend would from making me sweat. We have a strictly platonic relationship—well, besides the weird flirt thing we do sometimes and the occasional cheek kiss here and there.

Max is my crutch. He’s the guy I lean on when my life unravels around me. He’s my cheerleader when I need him to be and my savior when I need someone to step in. One time I brought a guy home that ended up being a
Fifty Shades
wannabe. When I started screaming not to touch me as he chased me around the room with a paddle, Max barged in, grabbed that dude by the scruff of his neck, and carried him out of my room like a momma cat carting her kitten. Needless to say, Paddle Man never got another invite.

See how badly Max distracts me?
The minute I start thinking about him, I totally lose all train of thought.

Back to how I look.

My long brown hair is in waves around my head and covers most of the backless part of my dress.
Yes, this is why this particular dress is Max’s favorite . . . I cannot wear a bra with it.
My nose is covered in freckles and spread prominently across my apple cheeks. I notice when I apply a heavy layer of mascara and use this shiny green eye shadow, that it brings out the mint color of my eyes and my freckles seem to stand out more. I used to be ashamed to have freckles, but as I got older, I realized that freckles actually turn men on. To finish off my perfect outfit, a dark cherry lip gloss glistens across my lips, and my face is covered with a one shade too dark cover-up and powder that shimmers against my skin.

Yup, I definitely look hot.

When I emerge from the bathroom, I hear the quick intake of breath coming from my left. I look over and find Max standing in his doorway. He’s wearing a bright blue button up shirt over black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up so that they show off his massive forearms. Did Max just do one of those breath intake thingies that people do in the movies?
Nah! Not my Max.

I do a little turn and show him my outfit. “As always, I must pass the five steps of Max’s approval. What do you think?”

He grins and takes a step towards me. “Hair is cute,” he says, taking the end of one of my wavy locks and twirling it around his finger. “As always those adorable freckles of yours are flirting with your nose.” He steps around me. I feel his arms glide down my forearms and gently grab my waist.

Now I’m the one sucking in my breath. Goddamn him and his irresistibleness.

“The dress is clinging to your hips just right, though, I do wish it dipped down a little more so I could see what panties you’re wearing.”

I swivel around and smack his arm. “Who says I’m wearing any?”

His eyebrow twitches in approval, “Will you let me check to make sure?”

I smack him again, harder this time. “Stop it, Max. That’s three steps. Two more.”

His hands immediately thrust out towards me, and I can see he’s going to grab my breasts.

“Uh uh, funny guy, hands off my melons.”

“But how am I supposed to assess step four if I can’t squeeze the melons?”

“Use your imagination. I know you have one. I’ve heard all about your role playing.” I raise an eyebrow and laugh.

“Hey, you pretend to be a cop one time in the bedroom and suddenly you’re a role player.”

“If the cuffs fit, wear them.”

He chuckles, “Fine, no melon squeezing. I’d say they pass the test, seeing how your nipples keep taunting me from beneath the fabric.”

I gasp and look down. Sure as shit, my nipples are waving to him like a couple of happy sluts—those traitors. Deflecting him with my usual grace, I shake off the sudden heat between my thighs and give him my best smile. “What about step five?”

“Trust me, Breezy. I can honestly say that you never fail the five steps, even when you wake up at five o’clock in the morning with bed head and eye boogers.” He taps my nose and walks away.

“Eye boogers? Really? You’re such a card, McGowan.”

“Card? What are you, fifty?”

“Going on twenty-seven,” I say with a wink. “Okay, I’m going to be late. At least I know that I will always have your approval.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and grab my purse.

“Hey, Hicks! Make sure he treats you nice tonight. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Max. Have fun tonight, and remember to please use the sock!”

“You forget the sock one time and suddenly the girl is traumatized for the rest of her life,” he mumbles to himself.

“I’m sorry. I still swear you had sex with an alien that night. Human girls just don’t bend that way.”

“They do when I get ahold of them.” He returns my wink from earlier, and shoos me away with his hands. “Get out of here, silly girl, before I tie you up to my bed and show you what you’ve been missing.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I grin and quickly run out the door. I know he’s just doing his normal flirting thing, but for some reason that twinkle in his eyes seems a little bit more dangerous. How do I know this? Because I was ten seconds away from the heat between my thighs turning into a liquid. Damn it Max! Why do you have to be so damn handsome and charming all the time?

Chapter Two

Max

Shit! I just made the worst mistake ever! Why did I pick out my favorite dress for her to wear? Watching Breezy walk out the door was pure torture for me. That girl is my Achilles heel. If only she knew how much she drives me crazy. For the last ten years, my best friend has been the epitome of the perfect woman: intelligent, graceful, funny, incredibly sexy without even knowing it, and completely off limits. Yup, I friend-zoned myself for the sanctity of our relationship. I will not cross that line, no matter how badly my dick wants me to.

So how do I satisfy my Breezy denied dick might you ask? Easy! I turned myself into a man-whore. It’s not something that I’m proud of. In fact, there have been several occasions where I questioned my sanity because of how much pussy I get. The reality is, by immersing myself in the puss, I forget how badly I’m attracted to my best friend and roommate. I know she doesn’t care about my revolving door of hoes, but unfortunately, I feel bad about it every damn time it happens—and it happens a lot—like every other night.

There are downfalls in my plan to distract my cock. First of all, there are the monthly STD checks I have to give myself. I’m on a first name basis with my doctor. His name is Al, and frankly, I think he’s a little too amused by all the stories that I tell him while we visit.

The second downfall is that my condom stash has to be constantly replenished. I’m pretty sure I was the spokesman for Trojan there for a while. I got so fed up with buying condoms all the time that I’ve actually made it a habit to visit places where they give them out for free. Now my stash is ginormous and a little intimidating when you think about it.
That’s a lot of sex to live up to.
The good thing is that I know Breezy will always be taken care of. As much as I hate the idea of her dating anyone, at least I know she stays safe. The last thing I need is for her to get knocked up by some asshole and have him steal her away from me, for good.

I’m like her good luck charm. The minute any guy meets me, they show their true colors and run away with their tails between their legs. I kinda feel bad for Breezy. She wants to make her relationships work, and here I am fucking them up at any chance I get.

The third problem of whoring myself out, is the crazies. Of course I have plenty of girls who are perfectly fine with one-night-stands, but then you get that one girl who goes crazy. Suddenly she’s picking out wedding patterns, poking holes in condoms, and taking a bat to your vehicle. Yup, I had all that in one shiny blonde package, after a one-night-stand went terribly wrong.

I need to slow down. I never thought I would get to the point where sex wouldn’t be enjoyable anymore, but I’m there. I’m pretty sure if I don’t stop now, my favorite appendage may shrivel up and fall off one of these days. Then what use would I be to anyone?

As much as I would like to put a stop to my constant perusal of the under regions of the female body, tonight is Breezy’s date night with Numbers Man, and that means I need to distract myself—again. I grab my phone and dial my wingman’s number, ready for a night of heavy drinking. Tony picks up on the second ring.

“You ready for this shit, Princess?” He asks in an overly enthusiastic voice. Tony is a jackass, and has this sick obsession with calling me pet names because he thinks it’s funny. I’ve gotten so used to it, that I don’t let it bother me anymore. Tony has been my wingman for the last four years. We met at a party, and both had a mutual admiration for how the other was good with the ladies. I’m not kidding when I say that Tony is the master when it comes to women. If Breezy dubs me the Pussy Slinger, then I dub Tony the Mack Daddy of Pussy. His record with women puts mine to shame. He’s the one man that I keep Breezy far away from. The moment Tony laid eyes on my sexy roommate, he was all over her and made it his personal mission to try to sleep with her. Luckily, I’m a lot stronger than he is. All it took was one body slam to the wall, a few idle threats, and the fact I made it perfectly clear she was off limits. He got the message.

“Yup, you ready?”

“What’s the plan for tonight? Redhead? Ebony Goddess? Or are you feeling the fatty tonight?”

“I kinda have a taste for Chinese,” I say smiling.

“Ah yes, the kinky chink. Good choice, my friend.”

“Could you be anymore racist?” I ask him, grabbing my wallet from off my desk.

“Probably, but what fun would I be if I didn’t offend someone every now and then? Meet you at the bar in five?”

“Sure, see you there.”

Just as he promised, Tony is leaning up against our favorite bar five minutes after hanging up with me. I probably got there only a few minutes after him, but in those few minutes, he already has a trio of girls circling him. Like horny moths, they flitter about him, pestering him as he waits for me. I think it’s his red hair. It’s like a beacon of obnoxiousness, kinda like a lighthouse, only oddly styled and attracting chicks not ships. For some reason, girls are attracted to gingers—especially Tony.
I’m not sure exactly why.
Tonight his hair is wildly styled on the top of his head. He’s wearing all black except for a splash of pink that barely peeks out of his breast pocket. He’s got his hands shoved into his slacks, and that stupid shit-eating grin of his greets me as he sees me stroll up. The three girls twittering around him don’t look old enough to get into the bar. Before he goes to jail for statutory rape, I jump in and save his ass.

“Honey, there you are,” I say in my most feminine voice. The girls turn around and their mouths drop. “Baby, I told you to wait for me.”

Tony lifts up a disapproving eyebrow.

I put my arm around his waist and lay my head on his shoulder. “You know how much I miss you when you’re gone.” Then to be funny, I squeeze his ass, and just as I hoped he would. Tony squeals like a piggy.

His jailbait fan club bailed the moment my head met his shoulder. The ass grab was purely for his discomfort and my own personal amusement.

He shoves me away and groans, “What the fuck, Max?”

“Jailbait, you’d be lucky if they were sixteen.”

“Fuck. Thanks for saving me then.”

“No problem, Honey. Shall we go inside,” I ask him smugly.

“Only if you promise never to grab my ass like that again.”

“Sweetheart, you know I can’t resist your ass. It’s like straight up muscle.” I go to squeeze it once more, and he punches me in the shoulder.

I guess I deserve that.

“Alright funny guy, let’s go find you a little Chinese hottie.”

Once we enter the bar, we fall into our normal routine. First we scour the club for our targets. Right off the bat, I see my prize at the other end of the room. She’s sitting with a few girlfriends, and sipping Mimosas. She’s petite, at least 5’4. She’s wearing a skin tight red dress and classy black pumps. Her almond shaped eyes are spending more time staring at the table than looking around the room.

She’s nervous. Perfect! The submissive types are my favorite
.

Tony’s eyes settle on the hot blonde sitting next to her. All the girls at the table are wearing the color red. Some of them are dressed a little skimpier than the others—Tony’s blonde being one of them.

“So,” Tony says, “how are we going to play this? Are we going to buy them a round of drinks and get straight to flirting? Are we going to hit on their friends to make them jealous? What’s the game tonight, my friend?”

“Drinks, no games, straight up flirting, and then home immediately.”

“Fuck dude, is it Breezy’s date night or something?”

I throw him an angry glare. “What do you think?”

“You just need to man up and tell that hot bitch how you feel about her.”

“I swear to god, Tony. Call Breezy a bitch one more time and I’m going to feed you so much more than a knuckle sandwich.” I raise a threatening fist.

“Okay, geez. I forgot how sensitive you are about Breezy.”

“She’s my best friend. I don’t appreciate anyone talking about her in a demeaning manner. Now, how about you shut up and help me ring in our targets?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We turn around to the bar and order another round of Mimosas for the table of ladies in red. We make our way over with drinks in hand and smile as the girls finally take notice of us. My target fidgets nervously. Tony’s, on the other hand, is puffing up her chest and showing off her obviously fake knockers.