Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One
Page 29

 T.M. Frazier

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“You can’t go anywhere ’cause you’ve got nowhere to go,” he answered. Although, I knew what he was really saying, that without him keeping my secret from Mirna, I couldn’t stay there. “Truth hurts, don’t it?”
“The truth?” I asked, growing more irritated by the second. I growled when my foot slipped from a rock. Holding on tighter I tried again, this time landing my foot on a smooth rock that felt like it would hold. “What would you know about truth? About honesty?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder where, unfortunately, he was still shirtless, his thumbs tucked into his pockets as he watched me climb. Even though we were arguing, his gaze was fixated on my ass until he finally decided that my face was also worthy of his attentions. “All you’ve been doing is playing games and toying with me. First, you act like you want to kill me, and then you act like you’re saving me, then you’re ignoring me completely, and now you want to take me out and pretend like you haven’t been playing some sort of game with me that I never agreed to play!” I shouted, just as the rock I thought would hold gave out and I slid the foot and a half I’d climbed back to the ground. I hit the rock with my closed fist and surprised myself when I made a dent.
“First, I said you couldn’t go anywhere not because I was being a dick, but because that type of rock you’re trying to climb crumbles like chalk and doesn’t hold much weight.” I let my forehead fall against my rock nemesis.
“SECOND, I think I liked you better when you were all crying and weepy over your shitty life, because this stubborn-chick thing is starting to be a real pain in my dick,” Preppy said. “And last, but not motherfucking least, I may be a lot of things, Doc. A criminal. Sure. A very good dresser. Absolutely. A man with a huge cock. Fuck, yes.” His face grew serious. “But I’m no fucking liar.” For the first time, there was no joke behind his words. No cocky smile or punchline to follow.
“Yeah?” I asked, just as an idea hit me. He’d put me in my place by throwing the H back in my face, and maybe it was time I put him in his. “Then let’s find out,” I said casually. I hopped back down the rocks and marched right back up to Preppy, who looked amused as all hell as I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped my foot on the ground.
“Oh yeah? How do you think you’re gonna prove that?” I couldn’t wait to wipe that smirk right off his face.
“SHOW ME.” I demanded, pointing to his crotch.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Preppy said, biting his bottom lip.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to fuck you. I want to see it. ALL of it. NOW. Since you say you’re not a liar, and I’ve been hearing about this monster cock, this thick dick, this whatever the fuck you seem to want to call the third man living in your pants, it occurred to me that you’re probably only talking about it so much because you have some sort of complex about it. Like the way short men are aggressive, or the way older men buy sports cars.” In my head, I’d already won this challenge and was well on my way back to Mirna’s where we could pretend the entire day never happened. “The way I see it, this is me.” I took a step toward him, pushing my index finger into his chest. “Calling your bluff.” I lowered it and pointed again to his pants. “Now strip.”
Preppy took a step back and, for a second, I thought he was going to tell me to fuck off. I was already planning my victory ‘flipping of the bird’ when he slowly tipped his chin up to me, accepting my challenge. He again removed his gun and set it on a rock.
“What do I get if you’re wrong?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in his pants and boxers, like he was about to pull them down. Yeah, definitely a move by someone who was bluffing. I was calling him out on his, and now he was calling me out on mine.
“What do you want?” I asked, curious as to what he would even want.
“Three minutes,” he said, without a second of hesitation.
“Excuse me?”
“Not to fuck you,” he said, and I let out the breath I was holding. “That would at least take four.” He taunted me more by lowering his pants, stopping just above what the fuss was all about. “Three minutes, and I can do whatever I want to you.”
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Whatever I want.”
I swallowed hard. Oh, he was good. He was really good.
I wasn’t buying it.
“Deal,” I said, taking a step back and waving for him to continue. “But when you say BIG, I do mean it better be BIG,” I said, although I didn’t exactly know how big was big. “Should we get a ruler or maybe call in a second opinion?” I asked, finding it easy to tease the man who’d been dishing it out to me for weeks now. “Or maybe some tweezers?”
Any second, I was sure he was going to fold. I could feel it. I just knew I was right and that he would…
“Oh, Doc,” he said, slowly shaking his head from side to side and making a “tsk tsk” sound. “You’ve just made the best mistake of your life.” Without another word he dropped both his pants and boxers, letting them fall around his ankles.
HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT.
“We done here, Doc?” And although it was him who was naked and exposed, it was also him whose voice was thick and laced with desire. “We good?”
I just. I mean. “Yeah, yeah we’re…done here,” I said, turning my head from side to side to avoid looking, but it was…wow. I didn’t even need a point of reference to know that what he was packing was monstrous.
And hard.
Preppy cleared his throat, and I was mortified that I’d been caught open-mouthed gaping at his dick. So I did what any respectable junkie would do. I turned and bolted.
“Oh no,” Preppy said, catching up to me in a few short strides before I’d even reached the first boulder.
Damn these short legs.
“Let me clarify,” he said, pulling me back against his bare chest. “YOU are done here, because you lost.” He spun me around in his arms and pushed me back against the rocks. His nose almost touching mine when he leaned down and said something that sounded eerily like a warning. My entire body went on high alert. “But WE are most definitely not done here, because I WON.”
“Fuck,” I muttered.