I raised my brows and turned my head once again to see Troup studiously ignoring me.
“Is that right?” I said. “Tell me more about this ‘State’ guy you know.”
My urging started all the stories.
“I met him on the day that that big brawl that made national news happened,” Cannel said as she leaned forward. “Toot brought me to this very bar. We were talking, all having a good time, and then this noisy little asshole comes in here. He recognizes Toot, and shit hits the fan. I have never, in my life, seen someone take someone down so thoroughly with just his words. I kept expecting State to throw a punch, knock this guy to the ground for the things he was saying, but State just stood there, took it, and then that was that. He asks him calmly to leave, and then the guy does. Just like that. It was the weirdest thing ever.”
A beer’s set down in front of me, and I reached for it to wash down my giggles.
Oh, man. This was rich.
The hot-headed boy turned into a stoic, in-control man.
That was comical.
“Remember that time State talked that guy down out of beating the hell out of that girl? We all went outside, and that man was feeling her up behind the dumpster. He didn’t lose his cool at all. Just calmly told the guy to either stop what he was doing, or he wasn’t going to like the consequences. I’ve never seen him unable to talk some man down.”
My laughter must’ve not been as hidden as it appeared because Troup’s hand went to my knee and squeezed.
I squeaked and had to put the beer down.
My laughing eyes turned to survey him.
“You are known for your control here?” I wheezed.
Trouper shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Really, the only time I’ve ever seen him get upset was when his jacket was stolen by some newbie asshole who thought it would be funny. Trouper couldn’t find it anywhere. The kid thought it would be hilarious to take the jacket and punk him by stringing it up the flagpole. I’ve never, not ever, seen him lose control so badly than he did that day,” Traci said softly.
I looked at Trouper then, and he sighed. “Why are we talking about me?”
I snickered as I gulped down half the beer.
We listened to more stories of the men’s escapades, and by the time that the beer hit my bladder, I was in a damn good mood.
I hadn’t been in this good of a mood for eight whole years.
Eight long, exhausting, ‘why the hell did I put my career first’ years.
I patted him on the thigh. “I have to pee super bad. I need out.”
That, and I was about to go get off in a stall.
There was no other way for it.
I couldn’t stop myself anymore.
His hand, and his closeness, and my needy self having not gotten any since the last time I’d seen him? Well, let’s just say that made for the perfect storm.
I’d just gotten into the bathroom when a text message appeared.
Troup: Fast forward to three minutes and twenty seconds on our video. That’s the part I use every time I need a quick wank.
I would’ve felt embarrassed because he knew what I was doing, but goddamn. I was just too far gone.
I did go to our video, though.
Over the last eight years, it’d been the only thing that I’d used to get myself off besides my fingers.
Watching it and rolling my finger over my clit had literally been the only freakin’ thing that could do it.
Once I made it into a stall, I ignored every single bit of shit that was going on around me, and pulled my pants down.
I hadn’t ever done anything like this before, so I stood up and bent forward until my arm was against the wall, then placed my head on my arm.
Then I realized that I couldn’t do that, hold my phone, and touch myself.
So I straightened, pulled up the video, then fast forwarded it to where he suggested.
It wasn’t the underneath shot that I always fast forwarded to when I needed a quickie.
Nope, this one was of him, holding the phone out wide, getting the shot of my blissed-out face, and him slowly pushing in and out of me.
My eyes were closed, and my mouth was wide open in a moan.
My video self then said, “Oh, yes. Trouper. Fuck me just like that.”
I immediately turned down the volume, hoping and praying that nobody heard that.
Then, because I liked to share my embarrassment when it was funny, I backed out of the video and sent a text to Troup.
Beckham: So I just blared out ‘oh yes. Trouper. Fuck me just like that.’ I think I might be embarrassed a bit. I hope nobody heard. Also, it’s incredibly awkward to masturbate in a stall with people all around you. Also, side note, I’m not sure how to do this. I can’t get relaxed enough.
Trouper: Meet me outside the bathroom door.
I quickly did my business, zipped and buttoned, then walked out of the stall.
Nobody looked at me like I’d just blasted a sex tape, and I was thankful for that.
After washing my hands, I walked out into the hallway that would lead to the main room and felt my heart flip all over again upon seeing Trouper there leaning against the wall.
He stood up slowly, his lazy sprawl coming to full alert upon seeing me.
His eyes took me in.
I knew what he was seeing.
I had a stain of color high on my cheeks. My nipples were pebbled, and the seam of my jeans were pressed up between my legs tightly, giving me a bit of something to rub against if I walked or moved just right.
My eyes trailed down the length of his body, taking in his jacket, the white tee underneath, and the faded jeans.
My gaze stalled out on his cock, which was very
