“I swear, Gabriel, the money is ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I keep doing it?” Axl is lounging on my couch, still in his Jamie’s Lodge uniform and shoving an ungodly bite of pizza into his mouth.
“I just want to know how you manage to look like you do by eating that crap,” I answer, nodding at the mostly-eaten slice.
“All the gyrating I do,” he says, still chewing.
I shake my head. “I don’t need a visual of you shaking your d**k in some poor girl’s face.”
He laughs. “You should try it.”
“No way would he do it,” Quinton says from the chair, his attention focused on the hockey game.
“More like no way would you do it,” I shoot back, giving him a pointed look.
“Hey, the ladies like their dark men thick,” he says, rubbing his hand over his not-that-thick belly. “Trust me, I don’t need to da
