So Wrong (Boys of South Chapel, #1)

by Abby Millsaps

“Levi here, my boyfriend,” I emphasize, “loves supporting smut brunch. Isn’t that right, Dukey?” As soon as I say it out loud, I hear it. But the damage has already been done. I fight to keep from cringing and bat my lashes at him instead. Dukey it is.

“We meet over Zoom. We make breakfast, pour ourselves a drink or six, then hang out online on Sunday mornings,” she says, her green eyes alight. “We have members all over. Rachel is in Michigan. Angela’s in Jersey. And Kym is in Louisiana. I even got Decker Crusade’s new PR rep, Megan, to join us a few weeks ago. We may have scared her off with some of our somnophilia masked-men recs last time, but—”

“Smut is synonymous with spicy romance books.” I open my mouth, ready to ask her to define spicy, but before I can, she clarifies. “Spicy meaning books with a lot of sex. My smut brunch friends and I read it all. Dark romance. Small-town romance. Sports romance. The options are endless,” she chirps, her whole face lit up. “We’ll read just about any subgenre, as long as it ends in an HEA. That’s the number one rule of smut brunch. Happily ever after or bust. We won’t even consider it as our book of the week if it doesn’t have an HEA.” “So it’s like Fight Club?” “Exactly. Only hornier.” I nod, but then falter. “Wait… did you say book of the week?” “Yep.” “So you read, like, four or five books a month?” I surmise, feeling a little more confident in my swaying. “Oh, Dukey. Bless your heart.” Dukey isn’t going to be a thing. But before I can nip that in the bud, she continues. “I read four or five romance books a week,” she declares, her chest puffing proudly and pressing against mine. I squeeze her hand and pull it to my chest. “With what time?” She shrugs. “I make the time. I always have my Kindle with me, and I listen to a lot of audiobooks.” With a shake of my head, I give her a teasing look. “You’re crazy.” “I prefer to think of it as delightfully delusional,” she says, smiling. But then her expression slips and her tone turns more serious. “And saying someone is crazy or insane is ableist. Mental health isn’t a joke.”

“Life has a rhythm,” he whispers. “Everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t know what the reason is right away.”

“Your turn, Daisy. Take those off and let me see that pretty little cunt.”

“Eyes on me, Daisy. I want to watch my girlfriend’s face when I make her come for the first time.”

User 333221312: This is Hunter St. Clair. I need an emergency session as soon as possible. You can reach me via email or at this number. I will check messages as often as I can.

“Don’t even think about it,” I grit out. “You made me wait three years for a taste of your perfect pussy. I’ll be damned if I’m not the first one to get to touch it now.”

“I don’t think we’ll both fit…” Hunter bites down on her bottom lip. “Have you seen Duke’s dick in action? You definitely won’t both fit.” “Brat,” I snarl.

“Use me. Fill me up. I want to feel you both.”

“Was that the first time you’ve ever, uh… you’ve ever been with a guy?” Greedy knows I’m bisexual. He’s never discussed his sexuality with me, though. He clears his throat softly. It’s dark and quiet, and with Hunter sleeping between us, it’s best if we keep our voices low. “That was the first time I’ve ever been intimate with anyone other than Hunter.”