Colin (Unexpected, #6)

by Cora Rose

My date has fallen asleep on me. His chin is on his chest, those long, dark lashes flush against his cheek. And he’s snoring. In the middle of a restaurant. He nodded off while I was mid-sentence. Fuck. This is my life now. Slowly killing my dates with boredom.

When I’d asked Ben out, he’d seemed excited, stumbling over his words and blushing, so I thought that maybe, just maybe I’d found a good one. But then he fell asleep mid-conversation, those pretty eyes of his just shutting as he nodded off. If it wasn’t so fucking depressing, I’d laugh.

I need to get a life…maybe go on a violent crime spree and collect body parts. Maybe then I could keep my dates awake and interested long enough to get laid.

There is nothing better than reading about double penetration and rimming to keep my mind off the fact that I’m going to die alone.

So, no. I won’t pull the fucking weed. I’d rather die.

I swear to god, this kid looks innocent, but he secretly tries to murder me in my sleep.

I have an overwhelming urge to take one of my son’s Nerf guns and shoot him with it. Just aim right at that perfect hair and cause it to split right down the middle. Like Hey Arnold!

I have a seven-year-old child. I have learned a thing or two about holding my ground.

if there’s one thing Americans know, it’s how to beat the fucking British.

I am a grown man on a healthy diet of chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the occasional piece of broccoli thrown in there.

I cannot just go around flashing my dildo collection to any random man standing in his window.

This is for the weed outside. And for all of America, really. I won’t back down.

As much as I’d like to think that I showed him, I don’t think I showed him much besides the fact that I am a total slut for big dicks.

Jesus fucking Christ.

So no, this is not rock bottom, everyone. I have ...

Look out ...

I have a ridiculous obsession with my loud, smiley neighbor who I’m sure cuts his food with a fork and not a knife.

He’s stubborn, talks back, and honestly, probably deserves a good spanking.

God, I’d spank him so good. Make that arse red.

“You know, Ethan, you sound more and more American every time I talk to you.” “I do not,” I snap, feeling offended. “I sound perfectly British.” He snorts a laugh, and I grip my phone tighter.

I glance over for the billionth time, eyeing Colin, and he catches me looking. Our eyes slam into each other’s, and I lose the ability to breathe for a moment until the racquetball hits me in the side of the face with a slap.

Oh, for fuck’s sake,

“Should we go say hi?” Joel asks.

“Absolutely not,” I bite out. “I have no desire to do that. We will stay right here.”

But still, my good-for-nothing legs are carrying me forward until I’m stopped dir...

My god, who are these people? Breaking into houses. Are they criminals? Although, when I look at Sem and how he looms silently, I can imagine him doing that.

Americans always smile too fucking much. Would it kill them to fucking frown once in a while?

I just peek over at Colin who is looking everywhere but at me. Well, tonight he won’t be looking elsewhere. No. Those eyes will be on me while he comes.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, his mouth still around the straw. “I’m totally minding my own business and not listening to this at all.” Sem adjusts Magnus on his lap, his big hands encircling his waist as he rests his chin on Magnus’s shoulder. “What he said,” he says and smirks.

God, Sem. Honestly. Have a guy’s back.

“Let’s go,” I say, and to my surprise, Ethan stands up and helps pull my chair out. Like Mr. Darcy. I’m gaping at him as he pushes my chair under the table. “What is that look for?” he asks. “You’re acting like a gentleman.”

“Why do you always insist on smiling?”

“Oh, heaven forbid I smile. Would you rather I look like I have a stick wedged up my ass, like you?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk. We both know what’s been wedged up yours as of late…”

“That’s different,” I hiss, and he smirks. He...

“Take off the fucking clothes, or I am going to rip them off of you.” Well, no need to get violent, Ethan. And I really do like this shirt. It would be a shame to have it torn apart.

I want him to touch me. He better not fucking touch me.

“You like what you see?” I try and tease, but I peg my prostate as those words leave my mouth and I end up whining. “Yes,” he groans. “You desperate little slut.” God, that word. I despise it. It’s degrading. “Say it again.”

And fuck it all.

It’s becoming a nuisance. If I wasn’t so attached, I’d chop it off in the name of treason.

“You got the stuff?” Daniel asks like he’s conducting some kind of drug deal, and Ethan cocks an eyebrow before gesturing him to come closer. And then as slyly as he can, Ethan hands him a Rice Krispies Treat from his pocket.

“When I first moved in. He was peering over the fence, spying. Much like his father, to be honest. And so I fed him. Seems he keeps coming back for more. Apparently, the rule ‘do not feed the wild animals’ has merit…”

Is it because he was in my room last night? He did touch my knee when he came. Maybe he thinks we’re married now.

“Did you poison this?” I ask, peering down and blowing on it. “So contrived,” he huffs. “I wouldn’t bother with poison. If I murdered you, I’d want to watch as the life is snuffed from your eyes.” “What the hell, Ethan?” I mutter with a snort. “God, you sound like Jack the Ripper.” “Perhaps I am.” “In another life maybe.”

“You British are sick fucks,” I say.

“Auntie Cat, you got the goods?” he asks, holding out his palm.

and I just stare at him. Seriously, why does my kid always sound like he’s buying drugs? Who taught him to hustle like this?

“I don’t want to do this,” he says before sucking the precum right off of my dick. “You fucking liar,” I grumble, pushing past his lips, but pause nonetheless, wanting to make sure he wants it. He groans impatiently, tilting his head up to suck harder on my head.

Yeah. Fucker wants it.

I am going to remember that while I am rejected quite often, I am worth it. I will be worth it to someone. One day.