Disorderly

by Grace, Hazel

  Purposely locking eyes with him, I move my body like a wave, inching the fabric from my dress higher for him to see. His blue eyes deadbolt to my hand as he watches it crawl higher. In this moment, I feel powerful, it’s the most I’ve ever felt in my life. Holding the lust-filled eyes of Wyatt makes me feel as though I can take over the world.

  My tequila-filled world.

  I drop the fabric of my dress, letting it cascade down my legs. Wyatt’s narrowed eyes peer back up at me, sending surfs of brazen thoughts through my head. Mandy is still grinding her butt on Wyatt, twirling her hair and grinning. I feel my admirer’s hands clasp my hips, which would irritate me if I were sober, but drunk Nova uses it to her advantage. Bending over, I use my legs to push my ass out, making it jiggle and pop.

  The bass of the music trickles deeper within me, the moves are no longer calculated but fluent. The grip on my dance partner tightens, urging me to come closer. Thing is, I don’t want closer with him. I want Wyatt. Gazing back up to Wyatt’s on-going stare, I straighten, bee lining my way to him. Coming to his side, I clutch his arm, dropping my body to the floor. Wyatt’s calloused fingers find the skin of my forearm, rough and inviting.

  Spinning on my heels, my back toward him, I start to inch up his body. Mandy’s brows furrow at me for stepping into her territory, but I just smile, placing my hand on her shoulder and turning her to face me, giving me the inches I need to place myself directly in front of Wyatt. My ass lightly brushes Wyatt’s groin area, but I don’t focus on that just yet. Finger motioning for my admirer to come over, he quickly does. Blond hair, tall, that’s all I see of him. He’s a blur at this point. Anything and everyone is becoming a fuzzy haze when Wyatt is here, still holding onto my forearm.

  Mandy starts to dance with the other guy and, knowing there is maybe only a minute left of the song, I unleash everything, my soul and certainty into this song. Wyatt is a stone, except the fingers of his one hand, leading a trail up my arm and down my back as I grind and mesh my body to his. His skin sears mine as the adrenaline channels through me, sending my heart, pulse, and brain speeding in all directions. I force myself to take a breath and calm myself but everything rugged about Wyatt jerks me in his direction, following obediently behind him.

  Lord, no wonder he still seeks me out. I’m like one of those damn bitches he fucks with.

  Wyatt’s arm wraps around my waist and we’re walking. Off the side of the dance floor, which we made our own, and toward the side of the bar. I don’t ask where we are going, I honestly don’t care. Wyatt opens a door, guiding us inside a dark room, and closes it. My heart speeds up, and my ears adjust to the quiet atmosphere of the faint thudding of the music.

  Wyatt’s body looms closer to me, demanding my full attention on him now. The only light in this room is from the moon beaming down through a small window toward the ceiling, emitting off his white tee.

  “Think that was funny, Rora?” he asks in his deep, sexy as fuck voice. His hand reaches out for me, but I take a step back.

  “What are we doing in here, Wyatt?” I press, inching backward at his continued advances. My butt hits a piece of furniture, a table I think, and I freeze. Wyatt lifts me onto the surface and spreads my legs open as he settles in between them. The cooler air hits the inside of my thighs, which feels amazing against my searing skin.

  “Business,” he deadpans, his hands finding my waist and pulling me closer to him.

  “Hmmm…a man of so many words,” I hum, reveling in the sensation of how my skin tingles at his closeness.

  “Words are overrated,” he murmurs. “I prefer actions.” His voice suddenly sounds closer, and I open my eyes to his head cocked next to my ear. My panties become instantly soaked.

  “I don’t like what I saw.”

  I exhale a breath. “What was that?”

  Wyatt’s hands roam up my ribs, making me shiver automatically. “You’re not stupid, Rora.”

  “You’re not the boss of me,” I reply lamely. His graze sweeps lazily over my stomach, making my breathing hitch in response.

  “No, I’m not, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to own you.” His abrasion continues downward, past my belly button and onward, causing my knees to involuntarily squeeze together. “Were you trying to get a rise out of me? Piss me off?”

  So, let’s stop here for a second. We know my story, remember Jerry? Enough said. Now I promised myself that I’d stand up for myself when need be. In this instance, my irritation is starting to creep up on me. The fact that pissing him off is like a cardinal sin, is bullshit. And here we go with what I was looking to avoid.

  Now, mind you, I know you’re thinking ‘well you started it’. I did, I won’t deny it. But he asked for it.

  Was I being petty—yes.

  Was I pushing him—yes.

  But he needs to chill.

  “Were you trying to aggravate me when you showed up out of nowhere on the dance floor?” I counter.

  “A question for an answer.” He pulls the fabric near the slit of my dress over to gain more access. “Sounds irritatingly familiar.”

  “Yeah. You.” I poke his chest with my index finger, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he leans closer, his face inches from my forehead as he inhales.

  “How many guys got to feel your ass on their dicks tonight?”

  I pull my head away from him. “What?”

  He cups my chin and applies pressure, sending a tingle of lust to my pussy. “How many?”

  “You want an honest answer?”

  “Never pegged you as a liar.”

  “Two.” I gasp as two fingers suddenly circle my clit through my panties, slow and lazy. My hands find his forearms as I hold on from the waves of tickles that shoot through my body. I stifle back a groan, afraid it’ll voice how long it’s been since a man has touched me.

  “Shit, you’re so fucking wet,” he groans. He lets go of my chin and routes to my breast. “Is that what did it? The thought of this ass grinding against two strangers' cocks?” I shake my head, swallowing my moans in my throat. “No?”

  His fingers glide down to my opening, and I hold my breath. I want this, and I don’t. Wyatt fucking me could become an obsession, and it was one I didn’t need, but my body urged him on by arching into his hand.

  “Do I make you wet, baby?” he whispers in my ear. “My fucking fingers revolving around this pussy.” I don’t answer, no smart-ass comment comes to mind. Instead, I open my legs wider, letting him have full access to me, which initiates a low growl from him.

  “Fuck, Rora. I want to eat this pussy until you scream.” I moan, his fingers circling me a little harder. Latching on to my lace panties, I pull them to the side, letting him feel fully how wet I am. It’s bold. A term I wouldn’t use to describe myself, but that was before Wyatt. Before his fingers were touching me intimately and making my senses dissolve.

  “Shit,” he growls, using my juices to create more friction. He brings his finger up to my mouth, and I open right away, tasting myself off his skin. I groan deeply, tasting the tang on his callous fingers. “Tell me how good you taste, baby.”

  “Fucking delicious,” I whisper before his lips suddenly crash down on mine. His tongue invades my mouth immediately to search for what I’ve just experienced. It’s crazed, inflamed, and his body melts with mine. His fingers assail through my folds, sending pleasure through every nerve ending of my body.

  “Tell me to stop,” he mutters, taking my bottom lip and sucking lightly on it. “Or I’m going to fuck you for the first time in a dark room, in a club, on a fucking table and not feel bad about it.”

  I reach for the back of his head, lacing my fingers through his hair and tug. Hard. “I fucking dare you,” I whisper.

  I can’t see her eyes, but I can hear it in her tone—the challenge. And what I want is to be buried unfathomably deep into the woman who drives me fucking nuts. I’ve been saying it since she pressed her soft lips to mine in that dirty ass stairwell, it didn’t end wit
h her and I. But seeing her rubbing her ass, the ass that I’ve been waiting to bite into since day one, against Prince Charming’s dick, that idea flew out the window.

  Well, half of it.

  I’d own Rora, her body, but not her soul. Even if once and for a short period of time because I don’t think my dick has ever wanted anyone more than her. Her soul wasn’t something I wanted or was worthy of having right now. I’d give her a taste of the prison bad boy, the one who fucked her world up, but nothing would come out of it. And when she challenged me to fuck her, well, I’m only human for damn sakes.

  “I don’t back down from a challenge,” I warn her. “Be careful.” Her fingers loosen around my hair as she brings my head down, having our foreheads touch.

  I’m surprised that I don’t get pissed when she yanks on my hair. Normally, I don’t like people being anywhere near my face or head, prison shit and always being on alert, but when Rora does it…let’s just say my cock doesn’t mind it at all.

  “And be careful who you corner in a dark room,” she retorts, her lips inches from mine. “I might surprise you.”

  “You’re already a surprise,” I tell her as I sink a finger inside her warm pussy. She takes a sharp inhale of breath, and I love it. I love her small groans and moans, the way she tries to contain herself from unleashing into God knows what. There is a beautiful monster living underneath that perfect ivory skin and I want to meet it.

  Thrusting another finger into her pussy, Rora bites my lower lip, her hands cascading down to my neck, where she halts them there. While my attention is focused on building her up, she startles me when her free hand cradles my hard cock.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, as my dick presses against the zipper of my jeans. Slowly she caresses my length as though she is learning every damn inch of it. She adds pressure, making it pulsate blood straight to my head like a shot of cocaine.

  “Rora,” I warn, mostly to myself. This was a dangerous game, worse than a race and having a shit load of money on the line. It was a woman who was crawling under my skin with jealousy and lust attached.

  Any pussy wasn’t hard to come by, but what was interesting was the need for this woman’s pussy. I’d be lying if I said that it would be just a normal fuck. Something about her lured me in, slowly and slowly, like a hook in a fish, digging deeper into me.

  “Rugged,” Rora counters. And that’s what does it for me, the stupid ass nickname she gave me off those soft lips, making my dick ache to plunge off the deep end. And off that ledge is me losing every rational piece of my brain.

  Pulling my fingers out of her warmth, I undo my zipper and spring my cock free from my boxers. Before I can position myself to lose every ounce of anger and lust that I have for this woman, she slides off the table.

  Slapping my hand away from my own cock, yes my cock, she kneels in front of me like a goddess worshiping and takes me into her mouth. My jaw drops, and I don’t stop the deep moan that leaves my own lips. The way she uses her tongue, lapping up the bottom of my dick, you’d think she did this for a living. I’m starting to think she does when she takes me deeper—no teeth, no gagging—and mixed in with that white stain on her green shirt she was wearing the day I met her, she fit the job description.

  If this woman knows that her blow jobs alone could get her anything she wanted, us as the male population are fucked. She has the perfect amount of sucking, licking, and pressure on my shaft, and I know my cock will never experience anything else like this again.

  Her hand squeezes my upper thigh as the other works me, following her mouth up and down. I can feel the build up in my balls and, as much as I want to come deep in her throat, I pull her up by her arms. Instinctively, she turns around and bends over on the table, but I’m not having that shit. I want her moans and sighs mixed with mine, her breasts pressed against my chest.

  “What’s wrong?” she quips through shallow breaths. Scooping her ass up with my forearm, I pick her up. I don’t even want a table involved in this because with this fuck, it’s just me, her, and the air we need to breathe.

  “I want to see you when I fuck you,” I rumble, as she wraps her legs around my waist.

  Oh, God, just shoot me now.

  Rora smashes our lips together, towing me back into the moment and holding on to my neck for support. My fingers pull at her panties, hearing them rip slowly, as Rora bites my lower lip from the material digging into her flesh, a soft growl escaping her.

  Tossing them on the floor, I hoist her above my cock, sliding into her leisurely. It’s the greatest high I’ve ever endured, that men aren’t knocking down her door to get a taste of her is beyond me. But I’m grateful because I don’t need the extra jail time.

  “Oh fuck, Wyatt,” she sighs, entwining her fingers around my neck.

  I squeeze her ass. “Rugged. I only want that name off your lips when I fuck you.” Her forehead touches mine as her pussy suffocates my dick. She’s so tight, so warm, so fucking mind-blowing.

  “Whatever you want. I just want you to give me everything.”

  “I’ll give you everything,” I tell her, thrusting deeper and losing some of my self-control. “But I want you to lose every bit of Rora and release that fucking tidal wave inside you. I want you to fuck me like you’ve fucked no one else.” I squeeze her ass again for good measure. “You got me, baby?”

  She nods, as she squeezes my hips with her legs and starts to ride my cock. Her head nods to the side, and I take advantage of her exposed skin, using my tongue to feel the goosebumps on her skin. She tastes like rapture and hell all in one flavor. A woman who has been through shit but can still feel. Something I’ve been fighting to do myself.

  “Fuck me harder,” she begs through a ragged breath. As much as I want her to show me how much she can do, I got her at a disadvantage up in the air. But when she drags her fingernails down my arms…maybe not so much because she makes me shudder in response.

  Plunging inside her, her moans become more frantic and so does her grip on my shoulders. My body can’t get over how startling it is that the woman in my arms has become an added addiction. Sure, pussy is pussy, but Rora has something magical going on because I can’t get enough of how good she feels in my arms and where my dick currently resides. It’d pay rent just to visit and inhabit the area if my dick could feel this high all the time.

  “Yes,” Rora sobs, tucking her head in the crook of my neck. “Don’t stop, Rugged.” Rora’s lips find my skin, and she takes her time, like I did her, for a moment anyways. I never said I had loads of patience. Apparently, she doesn’t either because her breathing is hastier now, I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, and she screams for me to go faster.

  “Son of a bitch,” I clip. “You’re fucking killing me right now.”

  “Are you fucking complaining?” she alludes with a chuckle. “Thought you were up for the challenge?”

  I push my tongue into my lower lip and fight back a smirk. “Is that a new thing with us? Don’t hold back?”

  “There is no ‘us’,” she kindly notes. “And, yes, we don’t hold back.”

  “Fine with me, baby.” Then I go full throttle, stretching her pussy out and seizing what I’ve been craving for weeks. Rora screams that she is coming, and I follow right behind with her nails tattooing me with her pleasure. I hold her while she catches her breath, a divinity drained and limp against me. It’s a sight I’ve never seen before. The glow around her, the feel of her body pressed up against me. But it’s gone too soon when she unwraps her legs from around me.

  The normal, casual fuck of not staying too close or attached to your partner, Rora has down to a tee. And I can’t help the bitterness rising from my stomach when she just detached herself from me so quickly. I’m starting to feel like a bitch who is starting to develop feelings.

  I let her slide down my chest to the ground, but my hands are still glued to her waist. “Thanks,” she says, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, as she straightens her dress.


  A loud knock sounds at the door followed by a muffled voice that I can’t hear because all the blood has rushed from my head to my other head. Rora strides toward the door with me on her heels and opens it.

  On her heels like a fucking puppy. Geezus fuck.

  “Aurora, we’ve been looking for you everywhere,” that dickhead Prince Charming barks over the music. I’m about to round the door and tell him to fuck off when another voice comes into the conversation.

  “Miss, are you okay? Why are you in a dark room?” So, here’s where I become petty as hell. Wanting to show off that I just fucked the most beautiful woman in this place, I want these ass clowns to see my shit-eating grin. But before I can take half a step, Rora’s hand reaches up for my neck.

  My neck ladies and gentlemen.

  It’s like she knows where to control me, stop me, and silently tell me not to move. And like a red flag waving on the beach impeding people to stay away from the dangerous waves, I stand there like an anchor, attached to her.

  “I was just making a phone call,” Rora lies, twirling her hair with her other hand. “The music was so loud, and I stumbled upon this room.”

  “Everything okay?” Ethan presses. “I thought that Wyatt guy might have tried something.” I grunt, which gets me a warning squeeze from Rora.

  “No, he’s gone. Told you it’d work. I’ll be out in a few moments, I have to make another call real quick to my mom. Would you mind keeping Paige company for me?” she asks sweetly. Asshole says he would, and Rora quickly closes the door.

  Removing her hand, she pulls her hair back and walks away from me.

  “Want to explain that,” I blurt, staying in my spot.

  “There were cops with him,” she replies. “Didn’t think you’d want to spend the night getting questioned. Because I sure as shit don’t.”

  I close the inches between us, my thumb brushing her skin. “You wouldn’t be.”