Worth Billions

by Lexy Timms

  “Holy shit, that man was upset,” I said. “But my favorite was when we put one of Old Man Taffer’s cows in the principal’s office.”

  “That took so much damn coordination. It’s a shame Yahoo tried to spoil it.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “That red-headed freckle-faced kid? Taffer’s nephew or whatever?”

  “Oh fuck. I forgot about that. It was still a good one, though. How about the cow shitting right in the principal’s chair. We couldn’t have planned that even if we’d tried.”

  “Especially since the man sat in it,” Andy said, with a grin.

  “Oh shit. Do you remember when we got the cheerleaders together and played truth or dare under the bleachers after that football game?”

  “How the hell could I forget it?” he asked. “I got my first blowjob that night!”

  “That was your first?” I asked.

  “What? You had one before that?”

  “Hell yeah, I did. Cindy Jeppsson. Tenth grade.”

  “Get the fuck out of here. She was the hottest senior in school!”

  “And she loved my dick,” I said.

  “Oh, you know another good one? That swirly we gave that guy one time,” Andy said.

  My beer bottle stopped at my lips as my eyes darted over to him.

  “And the dumpster fire kid. What was his name? He was wearing that bright red and yellow shirt when we threw him in.”

  I bit down onto the inside of my cheek as Andy continued.

  “Oh, ha-ha, you know what you were famous for though? Your spit balls. Damn. All the ones you shot up to the ceiling that came down in teacher’s hair and shit? You never did teach me how to aim like you could.”

  Hearing a catalogue of my sins being rattled off wasn’t amusing. My laughter soon turned to guilt as a knot formed in my gut. As Andy continued listing off our ‘glorious pranks,’ I realized I’d been nothing but a raging dick in high school. I’d lashed out and hurt my fair share of people during my not-giving-a-fuck days when my father kept using me as a punching bag. I started remembering all of their names. Their faces. The tears streaming down their cheeks as they begged me to stop. To stop tossing them in trash cans and locking them in lockers and chasing them down for a swirly or some other humiliation.

  I downed my beer, seeking solace in the drunken haze that soon overcame me.

  One beer became two, and two became four. Before I knew it, Andy and I were throwing consequences out the window just like we used to. I was a fuck up in high school. I was a fuck up when I trashed Anton’s car. I was a fuck up when it came to Michelle. So why the fuck was I trying to act like I wasn’t a fuck up? I had money, sure. I had success, sure. But that success came from hitting people hard on the field and throwing a ball well. Now I employed people to do shit I couldn’t do and reaped the benefit from it. There was no specialty there. No hidden talent. Just a fucked up kid with a fucked up world and a fucked up past who was a fuck up in high school and got lucky.

  Maybe it was time I embraced my true destiny of being the best fuck-up ever.

  After all, what kind of man boasted of money but nothing else? I didn’t have a woman. Hell, I’d never had a successful romantic relationship. Ever. The women surrounded me because I had money. Not because they liked me. Some women flocked to me because of my athletic prowess. Or my fame. But most came after my money. And it same reason was why I didn’t keep many friends. Especially after leaving the NFL. Getting attached was a flaw in a person’s chemical makeup. Getting attached allowed someone to get taken advantage of.

  And I wasn’t ever going to get taken advantage of.

  Ever.

  “Fuck, why are you sitting here talking about the good old days when we could have them right now?” Andy asked.

  I chugged my sixth beer back as he slung his arm around my shoulder.

  “We’re still young! We got wants! Needs! What the fuck are we doing hanging around here?” Andy asked.

  “Fuck the past. So, let’s go do something,” I said.

  “There’s the Gray I remember.”

  “Well the two of you can go do something somewhere else. The two of you are cut off,” the bartender said.

  I wiggled my fingers for another beer, but the bartender slid me a glass of water. I bent over the bar to try and grab me a beer, but he slapped my hand with his wet rag. Leaving behind a welt that stung like hell and back. Andy erupted into laughter as I stumbled back onto my bar stool, his body leaning back so far he fell onto the floor.

  “Out. Now,” the bartender said. “Or I’m calling the cops.”

  “Like this town has any decent ones,” I said, under my breath.

  Andy was rolling on the nasty floor laughing as I stumbled out to my car. I was in no position to drive. That much I knew. So with my keys in my hand and my wallet in my back pocket, I stumbled my ass through downtown and back to Anton’s house.

  Back to the place where that beautiful slice of pussy was.

  Chapter 12

  Michelle

  I sat on the couch and started reading a book I had grabbed when I left Andy’s. My eyes kept flickering to the clock, taking in how late it was. Gray still hadn’t come back in yet, and I wondered where he was. Then again, I didn’t know why the hell I was waiting up for him at all. He kissed me in the kitchen and still walked away. He got a taste of me and he still rejected me. What did I owe him?

  Everything.

  He was letting me stay here free of charge. At least until he left.

  He was so damn hot. So interesting. I willed him to come through the front doors. I wanted to talk more about Anton. About his memories and his flirting and his kind smile. I wanted to do all of it while smiling and laughing with Gray. I wanted to be next to him. To be beside him. To feel his hands on me again. The second he kissed me, heat had pooled between my legs. My panties grew damp just thinking about all the things I knew a man like him could do. He kissed me with more passion than Andy ever had, and I found myself craving it.

  I brought my fingers up to my lips and relished the phantom presence of the memory.

  Despite my efforts, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss. About how it made me feel and how I hadn’t wanted him to leave. Even as my eyes fluttered across the same words I’d read time and time again that night, I couldn’t flip the page. Because I wasn’t focused on the book. I was focused on that kiss.

  I couldn’t stop replaying it in my mind.

  Even so, he had run away. Maybe he wasn’t as interested in me as I was in him. Maybe there really wasn’t a purpose to me staying up and reading a book I wasn’t really reading. If that was the case, I couldn’t blame him. Why the hell would a man like him be into a woman like myself? I had no prospects. No job. No hope of ever becoming anything. He was on the verge of going back to wherever he came from, and I was a week away from having to beg my mother for money for bus fare home.

  Yet, here I was still sitting on the couch waiting up for him.

  I’d seen something in his eyes at the dinner table. When he whispered the nickname Anton had bestowed upon me. It was unmistakable. I knew that I hadn’t dreamt it. In that moment, he wanted me. So why had he pulled away? The kiss left me breathless. He pulled me close to him and pressed our hips together so not even a breath of wind could have parted us.

  Why did he pull away from me so suddenly?

  He had a desire in his eyes. One that mirrored my own. He wanted me, I could feel it. And I tasted it on his tongue the second mine collided with his. Suddenly, the rattling of keys at the door ripped me from my trance and a smile crossed my cheeks.

  Until Grayson stumbled into the house.

  “Hey there, pretty girl,” Grayson said.

  He was slurring his words and it tainted the nickname I’d adored him whispering to me earlier.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He stumbled over to the couch and plopped down beside me, heaving the cushions so much the book tumbled from my hands.


  “Whoops,” he said, as a sloppy grin crossed his cheeks.

  “Well, how was your evening?” I asked.

  He laughed, and the smell of beer radiated from his breath. It was disgusting.

  It reminded me of Andy.

  “Ran into an old high school friend. Had some drinks.”

  “Some, huh? You look like you’ve had a little more than some,” I said.

  “The bartender strongly suggested we leave,” he said.

  “So you got kicked out.”

  He chuckled as his head fell back onto the cushions of the couch. I felt a frown encompass my lips. This didn’t seem like Gray at all. Not the Gray I’d gotten to know, anyway. Not the Gray I’d seen over dinner or in the mornings or out at the garage staring at whatever was underneath that tarp.

  Then again, I’d only known him a few days, at most.

  “Well I’m glad you had a good time,” I said.

  “The—best,” he said.

  Then he let out this massive belch that flooded the room with a disgusting smell. Nope. I wasn’t sitting up for this spectacle. If this was the kind of man Gray really was, then I wanted no part in it. I didn’t care for filthy, drunken Andy, and I wasn’t going to care for filthy, drunken Grayson. I’d spent more nights than I cared to admit babying that asshole during his drunken escapades. I wasn’t going to do it for a man I hardly knew.

  A man I apparently didn’t know at all.

  I stood up from the couch, but his hand wrapped around my waist. He tugged me into his lap and pulled me close, his beer-stained breath pulsing against my face. It was gross. I felt my stomach churning. I pressed my hands into his chest to try and get up, but he knocked them out of the way. I fell against him, my chest pressed against his, and I turned my face away as he smiled.

  “I cannot stop thinking about you, pretty girl,” he said.

  “Don’t call me that,” I said, as he sat up.

  He started stroking my hair as I continued to try and wriggle out of his grasp.

  “Grayson, let me up,” I said.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you. Or your lips. Or your body. I’ve been dreaming about burying my face into those—those perfect breasts of yours. Ever since that night you crawled into bed with me. Do you know how hard my cock gets for you?”

  I ripped my wrists away from his grasp and pulled away from him. I felt like I was on display. Used for nothing but my body, yet again. My cheeks flushed and I felt that shameful color trickle down my neck. How I wanted to hear those words roll of his sober tongue. How I wanted his strong grip pinning my wrists above me like the night I mistook his bed for empty.

  But beer tainted my nostrils, and tears clouded my vision as I stepped away from him.

  I was embarrassed. Angry. Frustrated. I wanted him. Even in his drunkenness, I wanted him. And I hated that about myself. There was something reckless in drunken sex. Something raw and passionate and unforgiving. But I wanted Gray to remember what we did, and he looked to be about three seconds from passing out. His eyes were hooded and his gaze was clouded. His body tilted off to the side as he reached out for me.

  “Come back, pretty girl. Come rest that pussy on my face.”

  “Goodnight,” I said.

  Then I turned my back to him and stalked off to my room. I stalked off to think about the two sides of Grayson I’d come to know existed. The strong, husky, considerate side; and the drunken, horny, fuck-it-all side. I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t be with another man like that. Andy had given me a run for my money with that shit, and I couldn’t afford to take another chance like that. I closed my eyes and leaned against the door, then locked it for good measure.

  I didn’t want Grayson barging in on me like Andy used to and getting any drunken ideas.

  I tumbled my body into bed and closed my eyes. That kiss seemed so far away now. It had been perfect and had rendered me breathless, leaving me aching for more. So much so that I faked reading a damn book to stay up and see him in. He had me, hook line and sinker. Until he came stumbling through those doors and showed me his true colors.

  Were those his true colors?

  Or was this part of his grieving process?

  It didn’t matter. None of it did. The bottom line was I’d gotten rid of Andy and I wasn’t going to replace him with another version that happened to have a decent side to him, sometimes, anyway.

  I was better than that. I had to be.

  I didn’t have any other choice.

  “Damn it, Gray,” I said with a whisper.

  Then I dabbed at a tear as it slowly leaked from my eye. Because I could still feel his strong grip around my wrists.

  A grip I wished was on my hips right now.

  Chapter 13

  Grayson

  Damn, my head hurt. Light poured through the window and splashed me right in my damn eyes. I squeezed them shut and rolled over, promptly tumbling off the damn couch.

  I’d fallen asleep on the couch?

  With a groan, I flopped down onto my stomach. The inside of my mouth tasted like I’d been licking tires. My head pounded so hard I thought it was going to split right in half. What the hell happened last night? Why the fuck was I on the couch? Why did my body feel like it was two steps away from plummeting into the bowels of hell?

  I drew in a deep breath before dragging myself off the floor. I stumbled against the wall, my head banging into it. Fuck. My legs didn’t even work. The room tilted and my stomach rolled with nausea as splashes of memories from the night before came back.

  Beers.

  Darts.

  Andy.

  “Shit,” I said.

  I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Shower. I needed a hot shower. I needed steam up my nostrils and the sweat and grime of that dank bar washed off of my skin. My hand slid along the hallway as my vision pounded and I counted out the doors. One door. Two doors. Three doors on the left coming from the living room. I pushed the door open and ran my knee into the corner of the bathroom counter.

  “Shit!”

  I slammed the door behind me and peeled my clothes off. They were sticky and gross, smelling like they needed to be burned. I turned on the hot water and stepped into the stream, washing away the cobwebs from my mind. Grabbing the soap, I sighed with relief, feeling the dirt slide from my skin.

  More and more memories assaulted me as I soaped up my body, and soon my annoyance turned into shock.

  The kiss with Michelle. It throbbed my cock as it hearkened to the images. The feel of her curves against my body. The excess falling into my palms. The heat of her lips pressed against mine.

  And that tongue.

  Oh, so sweet.

  Holy shit. The bar. I’d made an ass out of myself with Andy. I washed the soap away and ran my fingers through my hair, soaping up my locks as hot water unlocked the recesses of my drunken haze. Darts. Beers. Laughter so loud patrons got up and left. Fuck me, the pranks. The tin foil and the cow shit and all the bullying I’d done in high school. Rolled out for me onto a red carpet as Andy praised me for the asshole I had been.

  I saw him rolling on the floor, laughing.

  I saw the bartender’s anger as he threw me out.

  Oh holy fuck.

  When I got home.

  My eyes sprang open and I turned the water off. I dried myself off as quickly as I could before barging into my room. I threw on some clothes and made my way to the kitchen, struggling with the fabric as it stuck to my skin. I needed to cook up an apology. I needed to do something to get Michelle in my presence again. I’d been an ass. Holy shit, the things I’d said to her. Tugging at her and stroking her like she was some kind of fucking pet.

  Damn it.

  The things I’d admitted to her.

  I rubbed my eyes as coffee filled the corners of the room. It was almost eleven o’clock, so breakfast was long overdue. Brunch would have to do. I scrambled up some eggs and decided to go a little fancier. I made some savory crep
es and stuffed them with bacon and sausage along with some chopped up peppers, tomatoes, and cheese. I whipped up a light hollandaise sauce to pour over them before making a fruit salad, then sat everything on the table for us to enjoy.

  I really hoped Michelle was still around, because I hadn’t heard her since I’d gotten up.

  I walked around the house as the smell of food permeated the property. I dipped my head into each room, my heart dropping a little when I didn’t see her. The fireplace room. The living room. The bedrooms. Even the bathroom. But when I finally stepped into the library, I saw her folded up in a chair reading a book.

  Her eyes fluttered across the pages, unaware of my presence, and I wondered if she was hiding from me.

  “Knock, knock,” I said.

  Her eyes panned up to mine, but the look in them was blank.

  “So, the asshole from last night has been evicted from the premises, and as a show of goodwill the man left standing has made brunch.”

  My eyes danced along her face as I leaned against the doorway, searching for any sign. Anything to tell me that she’d come sit down and eat with me. And the moment that small, delicate smile slid across her cheeks my heart set itself to thumping. Hope sparked in my chest. A hope I hadn’t ever felt in this dark, dreary town. She unfurled herself from the chair and closed her book, then held it to her chest as she made her way for the door.

  She slid past me, her thighs barely grazing my jeans.

  I followed her to the kitchen, trying to keep my eyes off her swaying hips. And when she sat down, I made sure to pull her chair out for her. I needed to lay it on thick because I’d been an absolute dickhead. I poured her a mug of coffee and she smiled, her cheeks blushing with that perfect tint I was certain matched her pussy.

  I shook my head, trying to rid my mind of those thoughts.

  They’d gotten me into enough trouble.

  “I’m sorry for last night,” I said, as I sat down in front of her.

  “You were pretty drunk,” Michelle said.