How to Date a Douchebag: The Studying Hours Read online

  “Rex, it’s nice to meet you.” Jameson’s hand goes out for a handshake and Gunderson works it like a water pump. Once, twice. Three times.

  Four.

  Five.

  I glower. “Okay dude, that’s e-fucking-nuff.”

  Beside him, Zeke makes his move.

  “Jameson, Jameson, now where have I seen you before?” he asks, casually rubbing the stubble along the square jawline he hasn’t bothered to shave in days. Beefy fingers snap in her direction. “Right! Sexy Librarian. I almost didn’t recognize you without all the books. You must be a fantastic lay to have our boy Ozzy here following you around like a dog in heat—without being paid, too.”

  My arms fall from Jameson’s waist, prepared to—

  “I know all about you betting him to kiss me, so don’t bother bringing it up.” Chin tipped up, Jameson takes the wind out of his sails with blatant animosity.

  Allison snorts and becomes the next target of Zeke’s rapid-fire loathing. “Allison, Allison, Allison. You’re another story entirely. Want to know what we call you behind your back?”

  Oh shit, he’s gonna say it.

  In front of everyone.

  “Zeke, dude, don’t.” I put my arm out to stop him, fingers braced against his rock solid chest in protest.

  He laughs, shoving me back. “Around our place we call you Fuck Buddy.”

  Fuck.

  “Wow. Just…w-wow.” Allison’s lip quivers but she holds her ground. “Y-you…you are rude. I should slap you,” Allison chastises him, small spray-tanned fists clenched at her sides. “I want to slap you. James, can I slap him?”

  Drunk Allison is a tigress.

  “I know I’m rude.” Zeke shrugs, raking those weird gray eyes down her body, stepping into her personal space, leaning in close. “I just. Don’t. Care.”

  Allison takes a step back, glancing from me, to Zeke, and back. “I cannot believe this dickhead is Parker’s roommate.”

  I can’t believe it either and become desperate to extinguish these flames. “Can someone find Parker? Gunderson. Go. And hurry the fuck up.”

  “You are a piece of shit,” Allison shouts above the music. “Who do you think you are?”

  Everyone watches the sparring match between Zeke and Allison, enthralled by the live entertainment. Someone even turns down the sound system to a dull roar.

  Allison continues challenging Zeke, undaunted. “What’s your problem with us? Huh? Answer me!”

  Zeke’s hot head is decidedly cool. “When you deserve my respect, I will give it to you.” His gaze sweeps over Jameson. “She is a gold-digging bet he shouldn’t have won, and you’re just a Tinder swipe.”

  Arms crossed, Jameson’s laugh surprises us all. “You still haven’t paid him for the bet I helped him win, by the way,” she innocently chimes in, expression schooled. “You owe him five hundred bucks.”

  Emotionless silver irises slide in my direction. “See what I mean? She’s only after your money.”

  “What money?” Jameson laughs. “You’re a deadbeat. Unlike you, Oz is actually a nice guy who works his ass off for your team, and look how you’re treating the people he cares about.”

  “People he cares about?” Zeke grits out through clenched teeth. “You are a waste of his time.”

  “Whoa, son, show some respect.” Pat cuts in before I knock Zeke to the ground, arm braced across Zeke’s chest, forcing him to stand down. “Brother, I think you timed out. Walk away before Osborne and his girls knock yo pretty white boy teeth out yo skull.” The big black wrestler bumps Zeke with his meaty arm. “Sorry ladies. His mama never taught him no manners.”

  Allison continues to stare Zeke down, pure loathing aimed in his direction as she salutes him with a solid middle finger salute. “Bye, bye Daniels. Nice meeting you.”

  A retort is on the tip of his sharp tongue, but he hesitates—long enough for Pitwell to shove him toward the kitchen and away from the confrontation, women, and all people in general. Daniels turns, shuffling across the carpet into the other room—but not before shooting a glare over his shoulder.

  At Allison.

  At Jameson.

  “He’s got a real chip on his shoulder,” Jameson says, nestling into the crook of my arm. “I wonder what his problem is. For real.”

  “Abandonment issues, obviously,” her roommate theorizes as Parker finally drags his sorry ass over. Allison hiccups, recounting the entire exchange, narrowing her eyes toward the door Zeke disappeared through. “I want to scratch his dead lifeless eyes out.”

  “He can be a decent guy once you get to know him,” Parker throws in diplomatically, having missed all the action.

  “No—he is a major douchebag,” Allison counters. She throws her hands up. “And you! Did you hear what he called me? Maybe I should be pissed at you, too! What is wrong with you? How dare you disrespect me like that?”

  “I haven’t done anything!” Parker argues, red faced.

  “He called me Fuck Buddy!”

  “I was in the backyard playing beer pong, babe.” Parker goes on the defense. “And I’ve never called you fuck buddy in my life!”

  “That’s true, Allison. He hasn’t.” But then again, he’s also never defended her when we say it.

  “Let’s just leave. This party is a train wreck.” Jameson steps out of my hold and into Allison’s for a hug. “What do you want to do?”

  “My head hurts. I want to go home,” Allison murmurs, elbowing Parker in the ribcage. “Parker, take me home. And this time, you’re spending the night.”

  I shoot good luck Parker’s way and give him a fist bump, glad Jameson and I weren’t the center of all the drama, glad I’m not on the receiving end of what’s sure to be one hell of an ass ripping.

  A few quick nods, a few more hugs.

  “We’re out. I’m getting James the fuck outta here.” I give Allison a pointed look, glancing down at James. “Don’t wait up.”

  Jameson

  I can’t get Zeke Daniels off my mind. His indifference. His rude behavior. His callous demeanor.

  Something about the way he was watching Sebastian and me from across the room caught and held my attention; long before his careening gaze turned to a scowl, it was filled with something completely unexpected.

  Pain.

  I’m no psychologist—and I’ve been wrong before—but there is no denying it: Sebastian Osborne has something Zeke Daniels wants, and he’s as petulant as a child who can’t express his feelings, dealing with it the only way he knows how—through frustration and anger.

  And mini bitch fits.

  But why?

  Why did he find it necessary to degrade Allison? Why did he find it necessary to demean my budding relationship with Oz? I assumed they were friends, but now I’m not so sure.

  No one would treat a friend like that.

  Not if they cared.

  I consider this fact while Oz uses the toilet, emerging from the bathroom moments later to collect me where I’m perched on the end of the sofa in the living room.

  He leads me by the hand down the short hall to his bedroom, lacing our fingers together when we cross the threshold. Flipping on the light, he presses me gently against the back of the closed door. Large hands cup my face, thumbs brush the underside of my chin in slow strokes. Dark, penetrating eyes scan my face as we wordlessly study each other.

  The rough pad of his forefinger traces the line of my skin in a slow trail, over my cheekbone and along the curve of my eyebrow. His thumb tracks down the bridge of my nose until he reaches the cupid’s bow of my lip. Rests it there.

  Rubs his thumb back and forth across my soft, parted lips,

  his gentle touch leaving a mark on my skin like a brand.

  As he intends.

  Sebastian slides those magnificent hands across each side of my neck, raking them through my hair, and leans in, nostrils flaring. Settles his mouth on mine.

  Kisses me. Softly. Tenderly.

  It deepens.


  Wide, open-mouth kisses, heavy on the tongue.

  Pinned to the door, my back arches when he moves those magic hands lower. Over my shoulders and down my arms, painstakingly slowly. Grasps my hips. They snake around to my rear, grabbing a handful. His knees bend, and before I can react, he’s effortlessly hauling me up and off the ground like I weigh nothing, our mouths still fused together.

  With Sebastian, I’m dainty and petite and deliciously vulnerable.

  Suspended in the air, my legs instinctually wrap around his waist. He leans into me, all our yummy, private bits smashed together in perfect symmetry, lined up like a sexy, heavily panting puzzle.

  We fit.

  “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.” I gasp when his lips hit the corner of my mouth.

  “Yum. You taste like beer and honey.” He hums in my ear. “And me. You taste like me.”

  “I like that you taste yourself on me.” I purr at him in between kisses. “It’s sexy.”

  “Jesus James, I can’t get enough of you. You’re—”

  A booming crash stops whatever he’s about to say; Sebastian goes lethally still, listening.

  A door slams shut, the thud accompanied by muffled voices and raucous female laughter. Giggling. More than two people are obviously stumbling down the hallway and falling into furniture. Another door slams, voices resonating from the next room. The telltale noises of mattress springs creaking. The sounds of a girl being tickled.

  Moaning. Tittering.

  Oh jeez.

  “Great, dickwad is back with groupies,” he complains stridently against my lips. “We need a house rule about that.”

  “Shhh, quiet,” I whisper. “They’ll hear us.”

  “I will not shhh.” His velvety voice raises defiantly. “That dickhead can kiss my lily white ass, especially after that shit he pulled at the party.” Calloused fingertips dip into the neckline of my pink angora sweater, exploring the swell of my breasts. “You’ve been waiting to kiss me all night and I’ve been waiting to get you alone.”

  “But we’ve been together since last night.” I nip his earlobe playfully. “I only went home to shower and change.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Deft hands sweep back my hair while his seductive lips find purchase on my neck, nipping gently, tendons in his biceps flexing with every movement as he balances my weight. “So soft and pretty…your sweater is driving me to fucking distraction.”

  His voice is low and gruff and hot—so hot. I moan when his mouth does a leisurely lap up the column of my neck in a single stroke, rolling that naughty tongue across my skin like he’s lapping up honey.

  And I’ve never, never been one for licking—ever. But I like this licking. Love his mouth and his lips and his tongue. They’re provocative in a way that gets me so deliriously hot and bothered and ten shades of turned on.

  Wet.

  My hips swivel, rocking toward the throbbing length between his muscular thighs, my eyes wandering toward the bed against the far wall. I must be gazing at it longingly because he asks, “You wanna get naked?”

  “Yes.” I feel more alive than I have in years, more sexually awake than I have in my entire freaking life.

  I feel sexual. Sexy. Desirable.

  Safe, protected with his strong arms wrapped around me.

  Adored.

  I feel powerful and respected, and there’s no doubt I’m calling the shots here.

  Sebastian walks us to the bed, lays me on the edge, and gets down on one knee. Unbuckles my platform wedges, one thin leather strap at a time, before sliding them off my feet and setting them off to the side. Massages my heels before kissing my pink toenails.

  Our hands reach for the zipper of my jeans at the same time.

  Snap.

  Zip.

  I lift my hips and shimmy them off with ease. Oz kisses my knees, running his rough hands up my thighs until every last nerve in my body tingles. Quivers.

  Jolts alive.

  My shaking legs involuntarily spread as I reach for the hem of my sweater, pulling it up and over my head. It hits the ground at the same time Sebastian’s fingers meet the bare skin on my abdomen. He scoots up, bending forward to press his warm lips near the space below my breasts, his big hands caging my ribs.

  I stare down at him, at the top of his head, astonished when his tattooed arms wrap around my waist in an embrace and he lays his forehead against my stomach, holding me.

  Just…holding me.

  It’s strange.

  And beautiful.

  My fingers rake through his short hair then skim over the firm planes of his deltoids; they’re rock-hard and potent, one of my favorite parts of a man, especially from behind. Flattening my palms, they graze his shoulder blades and thick neck, kneading and massaging his dense, muscular body.

  Relaxed, Sebastian hums.

  Content.

  After a time, butterfly kisses pepper my stomach, that gorgeous mouth moving across my skin toward my décolletage.

  “Jameson,” he mumbles against my scorching flesh, his fingers tracing the outer cup of my lacy, demi-cup bra. The sheer lace is nude and almost see-through, and I watch transfixed when Sebastian nuzzles my left breast with his nose. Sucks gently on one hard nipple through the fabric. Fondles the right breast in his oversized palm, mesmerized.

  My head tips back and I gasp, pawing at the mattress beneath me when he licks and teases my nipples, dampening my bra. Sucks. Flicks the tip with his tongue.

  He watches me the entire time, dark eyes burning with desire.

  For me.

  Our eyes collide, ablaze and aroused. Half hooded and hazy.

  Drunk on lust.

  My lips part. Tongue runs along my bottom lip as my head rolls, hair falling in waves, stunned that Sebastian already knows how to work my body.

  Knows the tells that make me orgasm.

  My boobs being one of them.

  “Naked,” I whimper. “Get naked.”

  “I wanna fuck these tits,” he growls, releasing one and rising to stand. Hands hasten to his zipper and I watch as he tugs, frantically propelling the metal teeth…open. Full access. Relief when his jeans finally get shoved down over his erection.

  Next, he whips off his tee, tossing it aside, and I revel in his body. It’s gorgeous, a work of art. Muscular doesn’t begin to describe it. Strapping. Strong. Powerful. All broad shoulders and hard pecs. Smooth in all the right places, with a pleasure trail dipping down into his boxer briefs—a path I follow with my index finger.

  “God I’m hard as a fucking rock.”

  He throbs beneath his light gray boxers, the outline of his cock straining to bust through the cotton. I reach for the waistband, caressing just inside the elastic with my fingertips, back and forth (a total tease, I know) before running my flat palms along the smooth span of his waist, behind to his firm ass, inside his boxers. Squeeze that ridiculously shapely ass.

  Push his underwear down the leanest hips I’ve ever had the privilege to touch, guide them over his erection until my palms cup his glutes and squeeze.

  He’s eyelevel. It is right in front of my face and it is huge.

  Mouth watering, I eagerly lower my head and lick it like a lollypop, teasing beneath the tip with quick flicks of my tongue before wrapping my lips completely around it, sucking. Just. The. Tip.

  “Fuck James, fuck. Shit.” He pants a little frenziedly, hips thrusting toward me. “Suck it.”

  I suck just the end, tongue swiping at the clear pre-come and gloating with every grunt and groan coming from his strapping chest. Sebastian’s fists clench and unclench at his sides, a sure sign he’s trying to retain his composure.

  “Fuck, stop. I need you to stop, but shit…oh shit…that feels f-fucking good.” His tattooed arms go behind his neck and his head dips, eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings. He peels them open, watching my teeth friskily nip with glassy eyes. “Take it all, take it all,” he begs, voice raising a few octaves. “Please Jameson, please just fucki
ng suck it.”

  I do. Hands grasping his fine ass, I let them wander south at the same time I draw his thick, hard dick farther into my mouth. Hands continue onward, seeking, effortlessly discovering the secret spot under his balls I’ve only read about online, and I press down, rub it with circular motions while I suck.

  “Oh…my…fucking…g-god,” he rasps, his loud groan sounding like a tortured mixture of pleasure and pain. “Jameson…mmph...uh…uh…fuck…”

  Sebastian’s brawny muscles contract, biceps flexing behind his neck, hips driving forward. “Shit, shit, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” he repeats. “And then I’m gonna…f-fuck…fuck you.”

  Sebastian

  Jameson’s warm sexy body is burrowed in the crook of my frame, head tucked under my chin, ass nestled against my groin. Like two pieces of a complex puzzle we’ve finally managed to solve, we fit together.

  Perfectly.

  I don’t think we slept this way throughout the night. When we finally finished fucking, she told me I was a “hot box” and settled on the far side of the bed facing the window, sighing contently, happy with her own space.

  Like a dude.

  Jameson Clark is not a cuddler, but when I awoke to yet another raging boner, there was no resistance to my hauling her naked body to my side of the bed. No complaining. Only blissful sighs when I enveloped my strong arms around her, drawing her close, immediately folding her into my body.

  Tenderly, I nuzzle her neck. Sniff her hair and brush back the loose strands so I can kiss the long column of skin below her ear. Palm settling on her breast, I tease her areola until her nipple puckers beneath my wanton fingertips, waking up.

  Wanting to play.

  Mission accomplished.

  “Mmm…” She yawns, stretching beneath me, elongating her torso and making it easier for my hands to roam, drag them up and down her feminine curves. Marvel at her smooth skin.

  “That feels good.” She luxuriates beneath my touch. Kissing the spot between her shoulder blades, I move upward, sucking gently on her neck, careful not a leave a mark on her flawless skin. I nestle the tip of my erection into her ass crack.