Rich Prick by Tijan

21

Blaise

This was ridiculous. I was a horny guy in heat, like, twenty-four-seven.

I couldn’t even take my girl—and I couldn’t believe I was already calling her that—to dinner at a restaurant.

I wanted to touch her all the time.

I wanted to kiss her all the time.

I wanted in her pants super bad, but I was also enjoying just giving her lots of orgasms.

We did actually make it to her camping store later, and I loved that she was looking for a security system, because that meant she was thinking of my concern. But I was also distracted every time she made a sound.

She was cute.

Every new item she saw, she fell in love with, and my dick tried to grow into its own zip code. Every time she smiled, even when she was confused by something, she was adorable. She looked amazing walking around in those tight jeans, her simple tank, and I knew how those nipples tasted and felt. I could see they were hard for me, and every time I saw another guy checking her out, I gave him the look I reserved for people I wanted to murder. She couldn’t figure out why no store attendants came over to help her. They were all dudes, and they weren’t stupid. They saw how I wanted to rip their heads off.

Smart little fuckers, they were.

I was trying to be a good guy. I could’ve pulled her back to my Wagon, driven her somewhere, and had her moaning for me, but nope—a full date. That’s what I wanted to give her. So after the store, we went to dinner.

And I was in agony.

She was currently rubbing my lap under the table, and this time, she knew the torture she was putting me through. She soaked it up, and I wanted to soak her up, but that would be later. When I leaned over and whispered that promise to her, she blushed, and I kept hearing this weird thunking sound in my chest, like something twisted up in me was falling into place.

It scared the shit out of me, but not enough to end this date. Never enough for that.

After dinner, Aspen wanted to go to a bookstore, so we hit one up. We held hands. And she showed me the romance book aisle. Her favorite.

I noticed she tended to go for the pretty covers.

I picked one of those up and read the back. It was about a school shooting. Serious shit, but she kept going back to it and then putting it on the shelf again.

I bought it when she went to the bathroom.

She squealed when I gave it to her, and I wanted to eat her all the way up, but now we were stopping for ice cream. We found ourselves a table, which was good because I didn’t think I could walk. She licked her cone and seemed oblivious that I was mesmerized. I had to scoot down when some guys from our school walked by, because my hard-on was trying to lift the fucking table.

“Babe.” I leaned forward, trying to think of my grandma. “You gotta stop torturing me. My balls aren’t blue anymore. They’re fucking black.”

Her eyes got big, and I swear, that made her even hotter. I needed to find new words for lickable, tasteable, fuckable, hot, cute, and adorable because those weren’t enough to describe her.

A date.

We were dating.

I’d asked her to be my girl, and she’d climaxed her response.

I was dating someone, and I wasn’t letting her go.

This shit was getting serious.

A girlfriend. That was next.

Or were we already there?

“Blaise.”

Did I have a girlfriend? Was I her boyfriend?

The panic I thought I’d be feeling wasn’t there. What did that say about me?

“Blaise.”

“Hmmm?”

“Blaise!”

I jerked out of my thoughts, finding Aspen giving me a weird look. “What?”

She pointed to the side, and I looked.

Aw, crap.

Zeke stood there, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. My first thought was to punch him and wipe that smirk off, but the second was shit, shit, shit because Zeke wasn’t alone.

Our entire group of friends had decided they wanted ice cream.