Bastard Bachelor Society (The Bachelors Club) by Sara Ney

Author:Sara Ney [Ney, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-27T18:30:00+00:00

The sound of Abbott’s front door opening and clicking shut doesn’t register as quickly as it should, my brain still letting my dick rule my thoughts.

“Abbott? Abbott dear, are you here?” The sound of expensive heels clicking on the foyer tile reaches our ears at the same time. The heels stop clicking for the briefest moment, and a delighted voice filters to the living room. “Oh, Brooks, are you here, too?” Nan calls out.

“Holy fuck!”

Where the hell are my fucking clothes, where the hell are my fucking clothes? I stumble, clambering. Falling off the couch, onto the floor.

She must have spied my shoes next to the door, my keys resting on the table.

“Kids? Where are you? Are you in the living room?” I hear the distinct sound of grocery bags being set on the kitchen counter and her heels clicking as she gets closer and closer…

The apartment might be posh, but it’s smaller than a postage stamp, so realistically, in a matter of seconds, Nan is going to walk into a scene straight out of an amateur porno, probably giving the old woman a stroke.

And if we give Nan a stroke, that means I get no more treats.

But then…Nan finds me with Abbott’s leopard-print throw blanket twisted around my hips. She enters the living room holding what looks like a bag of Chinese takeout in her prim and proper hands. A black purse is slung over her other arm.

She quickly turns and heads back the way she came—but not before, “For land’s sake, cover your little bits, Brooks. They’re dangling out the side of the blanket like cherries.”

Jesus Christ, if my balls weren’t already shriveled from the cold draft, they’d be buried inside my body from the humiliation of having my neighbor’s grandma seeing my fucking nuts and telling me they’re dangling like cherries.

My dangling bits.

Christ Almighty, will I ever live this down?

“Nan!” Abbott exclaims after gathering her own wits. “What are you doing here? It’s…it’s…”

“Late,” I deadpan, checking my phone for the time. “It’s eight o’ clock.”

“I know dear, but Grandpa and I were at the club and I thought I’d pop by to invite you to lunch tomorrow.”

“Did you bring me groceries?” Abbott is sliding her pants on, shouting to her grandmother in the kitchen, the only one of us with any fucking common sense at the moment.

“No, dear. These are for Brooks. Men so rarely handle these matters themselves.” Her head pops around the corner as I’m pulling my shirt on. “Isn’t that right, young man?”

“Uh.”

This is what happens when you let your guard down and forget the rules…

Rule 3: No giving gifts.

Not the same as receiving gifts, but is food a gift? I should have thought about all this when Nan gave me the gift cards.

Giving is not getting—I haven’t done anything wrong.

Still. A nagging guilt settles in my stomach when I step into my pants, hard-on still a touch too alert for my liking.

I yank at my shirt, dragging it down to conceal my erection.

That’s not shit I need Nan seeing.

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