I walked silently through their sleeping quarters, sensing that they were only lightly dozing. The Tall One had that look about him today, a look I had come to recognize meant the Feeder would be caterwauling throughout the evening. No matter, I had bigger fish to fry. Mmm, fish.
Slipping into their litter box room unnoticed, I went immediately to the trash can. Pawing with delicate grace, I upended the container, spilling the contents onto the floor. Digging through Kleenex, an empty pill bottle, one damnable cotton ball (which I lost at least twenty minutes to, when it decided to run from me), I came upon the curious item.
Wrapped entirely in toilet paper, as if to dissuade me, was an empty box with a long stick inside. The stick was a good weight, balancing nicely in the mouth. It would be good for a game of pounce hockey keep away. Grasping the flat end in my mouth, I padded into the other room and leapt quietly onto the bed. Climbing over legs and knees, elbows and arms, I nestled in between the Tall One and the Feeder, bringing my hockey stick with me for later.
It had been a long day. I’d been up for at least an hour, and sleep was calling. I examined the stick once more, noticing that on one side there was an interesting symbol on one end. Two lines, crossed in the middle. Hmm. Putting the mystery aside for now, I stretched out my legs, making sure I was touching both of my people. It seemed to comfort them. And that was my other job, making sure these two were always comfortable.
I could feel the Tall One beginning to stir; I’d better catch a nap before he was fully awake and bothering the Feeder.
I closed my eyes and slept instantly. Blissful. Happy. Content. For in my dreams, there were rib tips for days . . .
“What the hell is this in the bed? Clive? What did you bring . . . huh.”
“What is it?” The Feeder yawned.
A long pause . . .
“Caroline? You want to tell me something?”
A longer pause . . .
“So, Simon. Funny story . . .”
Turn all of your evenings into cocktail hours!
Missed any of the first four intoxicating books in the Cocktail Series?
Keep reading for sneak peeks!
They’re saucy. They’re sexy. They’re laugh-out-loud funny.
I’ll drink to that!
Caroline doesn’t hear things “go bump in the night”—she hears them go thump in the night. And it’s always her new neighbor Simon’s headboard . . .
Wallbanger
“Caroline, I didn’t realize you knew Simon. What a small world!” Jillian exclaimed, clasping her hands together.
“I wouldn’t say I know him, but I’m familiar with his work,” I replied through clenched teeth. Mimi danced in a circle around us like a little kid with a secret.
“Jillian, you won’t believe this but—” she started, her voice bubbling over with barely concealed mirth.
“Mimi. . . .” I warned.
“Simon is Simon from next door! Simon Wallbanger!” Sophia cried, grasping Benjamin’s arm. I’m sure she only did it so she could touch Benjamin.
“Dammit,” I breathed as Jillian took in this information.
“No fucking way,” she breathed, hand clapping over her mouth after she dropped the f-bomb. Jillian always tried to be such a lady.
Benjamin looked confused, and Simon had the decency to blush a little.
“Asshole,” I mouthed to him.
“Cockblocker,” he mouthed back, the smirk returning in full force.
I gasped and clenched my fists, prepared to tell him exactly what he could do with his cockblocker, when Neil burst in.
“Benjamin, check this out—this little hottie here is the Pink Nightie Girl! Can you stand it?” He laughed as Ryan struggled to keep a straight face. Benjamin’s eyes widened, and he raised an eyebrow at me. Simon swallowed a laugh.
“Pink Nightie Girl?” Jillian asked, and I heard Benjamin lean in and tell her he’d explain later.
“Okay, that’s it!” I shouted, and I pointed at Simon. “You. A word, please?” I barked and grabbed him by the arm. I yanked him outside and pulled him down one of the paths that led away from the house. He scrambled along after me, my heels ringing out angrily on the flagstone.
“Jesus, slow down, will you?”
My response was to dig my nails into his arm, which made him yelp. Good.
We reached a little enclave set away from the house and the party—far enough away that no one would hear him scream when I removed his balls from his body. I released his arm and rounded on him, pointing a finger in his surprised face.
“You’ve got some nerve telling everyone about me, asshole! What the hell? Pink Nightie Girl? Are you kidding me?” I whisper-yelled.
“Hey, I could ask you the same question! Why do all those girls in there call me Wallbanger, huh? Who’s telling tales now?” he whisper-yelled right back.
“Are you kidding me? Cockblocker? Just because I refused to spend another night listening to you and your harem does not make me a cockblocker!” I hissed.
“Well, due to the fact that your door banging blocked my cock, it actually does make you a cockblocker. Cockblocker!” he hissed back. This entire conversation was beginning to sound like something that might have happened in fourth grade—except for all the nightie and cock talk.
“Now, you listen here, mister,” I said, trying for a more adult tone. “I’m not going to spend every night listening to you try to crash your girl’s head through my wall with the force of your dick alone! No way, buddy.” I pointed a finger at him. He grabbed it.
“What I do on my side of that wall is my business. Let’s get that straight right now. And why are you so concerned about me and my dick anyway?” he asked, smirking at me again.
It was the smirk, that damn smirk, that made me go ballistic. That and the fact that he was still holding my finger.
“It is my business when you and your sex train come knocking on my wall every night!”
“You’re really fixated on this, aren’t you? Wish you were on the other side of that wall? Are you lookin’ to ride that sex train, Nightie Girl?” He chuckled as he wagged his finger in my face.
“Okay, that’s it,” I growled. I grabbed his finger in defense, which instantly locked us together. We must have looked like two loggers trying to cut down a tree. We struggled back and forth—beyond ridiculous. We both huffed and puffed, each trying to get the upper hand, each refusing to relent.
“Why are you such a manwhoring asshole?” I asked, my face inches from his.
“Why are you such a cockblocking priss?” he asked.
And when I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought, the fucker kissed me.
Caroline and Simon are all set to play house, but her crazy work schedule and his world travels keep coming between them and the sheets. Sure, the reunion sex is hot hot hot—but is that really enough? Alice Clayton serves sexy straight up—with a twist.
Rusty Nailed
As I turned my key in my apartment door I heard a distinct thump, followed by a click click click padding toward me.
Clive.
Pushing through the door, I was greeted by my wonder cat, my own little piece of feline heaven. In a burst of gray fur, my ankles were surrounded by purrs and insistent nudges.