The Subs Club (The Subs Club, #1)

by J.A. Rock

I scratched my neck, which was inexplicably warm. I’d never met a mustache that made me feel this way.

My gaze flicked back to Pornstache, who drained his root beer and threw the glass bottle in the recycle bin for plastics. This bad boy made his own rules. Rawwwr. Yeah, I put my glass in with the plastics.

“I, like, wanted to have his children and shave his face but also feel his mustache sanding my balls and have him teach me how to smoke venison. It was a bounty of contradictions.”

“What a dick. I can’t believe I wanted to feel his mustache in all my secret places.”

Wear comfortable clothes? As opposed to what? Chain mail? A hair shirt?

Cock, meet jeans. Jeans, please contain cock.

“Take me home, sweetheart. I always wanted to get it from the Brawny paper towel guy.”

“We’re like the Baby-Sitters Club. Except instead of babysitting, we’re face-sitting.”