Leah Mitchell isn't the same shy, poor girl anymore. Now a college student, she is enjoying her life in the city and the freedom she longed for. She works hard and knows her worth. She has it all, but her heart aches for the only person from her pas...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Whoa, look at that!" Mac leans forward on the couch and rests his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands under his chin. He's enthralled, absolutely unable to tear his eyes away from the flat screen in my apartment.
"He's got skills." Sean nods in appreciation. "And he's not ugly. If I were a girl, I might not be able to resist him. I bet he's hung, too. What do they say about us, tall guys?"
"That we've got some mighty fine packages," Drew says. "Come to think of it, that's right. Mother nature is wise. She wouldn't punish a handsome, tall specimen of a man with a tiny, unremarkable dick."
Mac's shoulders shake from the failed attempt at keeping his laughter at bay.
"If he controls that dick the way he controls that bike." Drew fans himself. "Maybe it's not too late to change teams, huh, guys?"
"Fuckin' dickheads," I grit through my teeth.
The guys' laughter drowns out the MotoGP commentator's voice and the rumble of the race bikes' engines.
"Cheer up," Sean says. "Between Gray and you, she'll surely choose you. Who would go for a handsome, loaded, successful, and young sports star, right? Nobody. Absolutely nobody."
I grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl by my side and throw the kernels at the fucker. I already regret having those assholes here. Whoever said male solidarity existed doesn't know shit. It's as rare as fuckin' unicorns. I chew on my bottom lip, wishing I still smoked.
"Jokes aside, the guy's talented," Mac says. "Leah's so damn lucky. Imagine how cool it is to be there and see both races in person."
"Very cool," Drew agrees. "Untwist your panties, Brian. It's an amazing experience for her."
Jealousy is an ugly bitch. Ever since I snooped and saw Kitten's Instagram, the green-eyed monster has been eating me alive.
I didn't like the way that fucker leaned his head against Kitten's. The fact that she was wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a V-neck tee snug around her tits didn't quell my nerves. Let's not forget one thing—Kitten grew up a bit, and by growing up a bit, I mean that her cute little ass is perkier, and so are Kitten's girls.
Besides, she lifts. Kitten has a crapton of gym selfies on her Instagram and a couple of pictures on her bike, showcasing her cute little butt in tight leather pants. She deserves to be bent over that bike and have those pants ripped off her ass with my teeth.
The guys go quiet, watching the final lap of the race Adam Gray will win. I know he won because the race has already finished. We're watching the rerun. Discreetly, I pull up my Instagram and go to Kitten's profile.
My heart drums a frenzied rhythm in my ribcage. Kitten uploaded new pictures.
"Spanish sunsets are the best." The caption reads. In the picture, Leah is smiling, holding a glass of wine. A thin-strapped long red dress is wrapped around her beautiful body, and the fucker of the racer boy has his greedy fingers splayed on Kitten's waist. Judging by the scenery, the two of them must be at some fancy-ass vineyard. Nobody else is around. Did that piece of racer dick ask Kitten out on a date?
