“Meaning he’s too busy getting his hole off Sexy Legs to even think about getting high,” Alec snickered. “Jesus, her pussy must taste like ambrosia or whatever it is the gods eat— Ow, Jesus, fuck, don’t hit me with that.” Clutching the side of his head, he groaned, “Dammit, Joe, you’re lucky I’m wearing a helmet. You could have given me brain damage.” “No, you’re lucky you’re wearing a helmet,” I shot back, still wielding the boss of my hurl precariously close to his throat. “Next time you even think about my girl’s pussy, I’ll take the head clean off your shoulders, ya hear?”
