Page 72 of Cheap Heat

I grinned to myself. Oh, just our grumpy new IT guy. Spent a bit of time last night with his sexy long tongue trying to fuck my throat.

“Just someone I met at the grocery store,” I told Vince casually, and he snorted and shoved my side.

“You’re such a dog.”

I smirked. I was—unapologetically so. I just liked fucking, and I wasn’t interested in anything more than that. I loved my life exactly how it was.

I wasn’t an asshole about it to the people I hooked up with though. I liked to think I was pretty clear that I was just interested in having some fun, and nothing else was going to come of it.

And I was definitely interested in having some more fun with my surly ghoul neighbour.

I hadn’t noticed that Crossbody was in the room, but he suddenly appeared at the sink, tossing back his long hair.

“You really picked someone up at the grocery store yesterday and took them home,” he said flatly as he filled his water bottle. “So your standards are… what, they can afford to buy groceries?”

I rolled my eyes. He was such a pompous ass. “Guess so,” I said lightly.

When he scoffed and parted his lips to speak, I hit the button on the blender to drown out whatever snooty remark he was going to make. His mouth snapped shut again, nostrils flaring.

“C’mon Crossbody, don’t be jealous of Dan just because people actually want to fuck him,” Vince drawled when I turned off the blender, leaning his hip on the counter and crossing his arms. He snorted. “Besides, you’ll have to have the gigantic stick up your ass surgically removed if you want anyone to fuck you.”

Crossbody’s jaw clenched. He shot Vince a seething look before turning and stalking away.

I sighed, screwing the lid onto my beaker. “You shouldn’t rise to it, man.”

Vince shrugged stiffly. “He’s a monumental prick. Someone needs to remind him often that he’s not any better than the rest of us or he’ll end up even more unbearable.”

“Just ignore him. He tries to rile you up the most because you react to it. He’s just a troll.”

Vince snorted, mouth twisting into a grim smile. “Bet he’d fucking hate to hear you call him that, seeing as he thinks trolls and literally everybody else are beneath him. Except maybe Corey.”

I grunted in agreement, chugging my shake.

“I mean, he’s been here years and he still forces us all to call him by his stage name?” Vince continued incredulously, his lip curling as he looked over at Crossbody, who now had earbuds in his ears as he tied his hair up into a ponytail by the treadmill, getting ready for a run. “Like we’re so far beneath him that we’re not even allowed to use his real name?”

I shrugged, not really caring enough to have my own opinion. “Don’t think I know what his real name is.”

“Me neither.” Vince’s frame had stiffened as he scowled at the royal fae. “Don’t think any of us do. He’s such an arrogant asshole.”

I eyed my friend oddly. “You’re getting real worked up about it, bud.”

He shrugged jerkily and turned his back on Crossbody, then rubbed his neck. “Just feels like he’s been getting worse recently. I don’t know.” Sighing, he cracked his neck and shook out his hands. “Maybe I just need to get laid. Been a while.”

“Probably.”

Vince had a lot of restless energy all the time, and I knew he was pretty dominant and somewhat aggressive when it came to sex. We’d never fucked—I’d been honest with Rafe about that—because we just weren’t attracted to each other, but I was pretty sure we wouldn’t mesh too well in bed if we ever did attempt it. His tastes veered a little darker than mine.

At the reminder that Rafe had gotten all drunkenly surly the other night over my supposed foursome with my fellow wrestlers, my mouth quirked.

I wonder if he might be up for having a little fun in the office.

That could be pretty hot. Maybe he could keep my head under his desk for a while, using my mouth as a cock sleeve for a nice, slow blowjob while he worked.

My nuts tingled. Well, that was my plan for the morning sorted. Just as I was about to make an excuse to Vince and start heading for Rafe’s office, the doors to the backstage area opened.

“Alright, ladies,” Hogbody, our pig shifter wrestling coach, barked as he shuffled into the room, cigar already clamped between his stubby teeth. “Holt has sent over the line-up for this weekend. I want the dullahan and the moth in the ring in the next ten seconds.”

As Kit lazily flew down from the pipes in the ceiling, yawning and scratching their chest, Val piped up from the rowing machine in the gym area.