Although I hadn’t seen her since then, Helena had given me her number, and for some reason, I’d thought it was a good idea to reach out. Call me a dog, but I had called her up with the intention of fucking her again, then sending her on her way. Only, at some point after she’d agreed to come over, dinner had been mentioned—not by me—and the next thing I knew, she was picking up food—and wine, of course, because wine didn’t suck (it definitely sucked)—and bringing it over.
So, technically, the booty call had been upgraded to a date.
And now… Now that I’d pretended to be a gentleman by sharing a meal with her and choking down the wine, I just wanted to strip her naked, fuck her blind, and move on with my life. My dick was still interested in her, but I feared the more she talked, the less that would be true.
Not to mention, if she kept rattling on about my books, I was going to pull out another bottle of wine and double fist it until I felt better. Or better yet, I’d pull out the Ketel One and go to town on it.
“That was great, Jakey,” Helena said, wiping her mouth as she eyed me. “I love Italian food. Remember that scene in your book…? Oh, crap. I can’t remember which one … but it was when Paul teased Theresa…”
Oh, I remembered, but I was still hung up on the fact that she had taken to calling me Jakey. I hated that she called me that, but sometimes, when it came to a guaranteed sexual encounter, as long as you could maintain an erection for longer than a minute … well, you just fucking learned to deal.
I refilled my wineglass, draining the bottle.
“Come on,” I urged, pushing back my chair and getting to my feet. “Let’s go in the living room.”
Helena smiled up at me, then grabbed her glass and got to her feet. “Have I told you how much I love this place? It’s so elegant, so tastefully done. And that lamp is cool.”
That was something she should’ve been telling my decorator because truth was, I wasn’t all that fond of the décor. In fact, I fucking hated it. Since I’d moved into the place nearly a year ago, I’d been contemplating changing it up, only I’d always found a reason to put that off, just like I put off everything these days.
Namely writing.
Hence, the reason Helena was here.
Personally, I considered it research. Since I was known for some of my over-the-top sex scenes, it never hurt to get a little wild and crazy with the freaky ones. And yes, Helena definitely qualified as freaky. If I remembered correctly, she was rather limber. Or double-jointed. Or both.
My mind instantly conjured up an image of the woman I’d met at the coffee shop that morning. The one with the coral hair and smoky gray eyes. I suddenly wondered if she was freaky. Between the tattoos and the piercings, it was easy enough to assume.
But that wasn’t all that I had wondered about her since the moment I had practically plowed her over and earned almost zero response.
Sure, I’d imagined her naked, riding my dick and pleading for me to fuck her harder while I twined my fingers in her coral locks, but for the first time in … possibly ever … I wanted to know more about her. What made her laugh, what made her cry, what made her go wild. No pun intended.
None of which I was ever going to find out because I’d been so tongue-tied I’d let her walk right out of that coffee shop without thinking to ask for her number.
My loss. Definitely.
A finger snapped in front of my face and I glanced over at Helena. At some point before my mind had wandered, we’d made it to my couch and now she was staring at me.
After setting my wineglass on the table, I did the same with hers, as well, then sank back into the cushions, hands at my sides as I turned my head and looked at her.
Helena was hot. Auburn hair, chocolate-brown eyes, full, pouty lips. Yep. Hot.
The same way strippers were hot.
She had a smoking body with her big tits, narrow waist, and rounded ass. It dawned on me that I didn’t know what she did for a living. Maybe she was a stripper.
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Helena asked, her hand sliding up my jean-clad thigh, her long, fake nails scraping lightly.
Whether or not you have a drawer full of sequined thongs. “Nothing.”
“Well, I can give you something to think about.”
Quirking a brow, I waited for her to continue. As I watched, Helena stuck her fingers into a small pocket on her skirt.
“I brought something.” She giggled. “I call them now and later.”
The candy? Surely not…
“This one’s cherry. My favorite,” she said with a grin, holding up the small, square packet.
Ah, condom.
That I could get into.
Helena wasted no time reaching for the button on my jeans, and within seconds, with my help, we’d managed to push them down my legs while she stroked my cock to full attention, then suited me up with the cherry-flavored condom. When she yanked my jeans from my ankles and tossed them to the side, I knew this night was about to look up.
And when she knelt between my legs, her fingers curling around my dick, I sucked in a breath.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered. “Let me make you feel better.”
Who was I to argue? I dropped my head back, closed my eyes, and let the forceful suction of her mouth distract me for a little while. I knew how this would go. Helena would blow me, make me come, then work me back up with her hand before impaling herself on my cock.
Not a bad way to spend a night, but I had to admit, I was waiting for the day when I met the girl who realized it wasn’t all about me. Actually, for me, the best part of sex was the foreplay. And not necessarily in bed, either. It was everything that led up to that moment. The first date, the second, maybe even the third. Then, when we reached that pivotal point of no return, when we could no longer keep our hands off one another, it was all about making her come apart, stripping her slowly while she watched everything I did to her, then making her come with my mouth and my fingers, long before we made it to intercourse.
Truth was, I was getting tired of the hookups and the meaningless sex. I wanted something more, something… I sucked in a breath when Helena scraped me a little too roughly with her teeth. Based on her moan, she must have mistaken that for pleasure.
And me … well, I simply kept my eyes closed, pushed all the thoughts from my head, and let her go to town.
Chapter Ten
Presley
Since I had slept most of the day away, by the time midnight rolled around, I was restless and edgy, unable to sit still. And because Gil was at the shop and Gavin was working for a little while longer, I had no one to keep me company at home, so I decided to venture down to the Elephant Room, a basement jazz club I liked to frequent.
Between my condo and the tattoo shop, there were a number of bars and restaurants, all sporting different themes, catering to the diverse groups that descended on the Live Music Capital of the World. That was one of the reasons I enjoyed living in Austin. And because these places were so convenient, there were many nights when I would meet one or more of my friends to hang out.
Tonight, I’d called Blaze, but she’d said she was busy. Since Charlie was also at the shop, that left me with Gavin. He worked nights, but he was an artist like me, so I knew he could make his own hours. When we’d talked at ten, he’d said things were slow, so we’d agreed to meet at midnight. It was nearly twelve thirty when he finally walked in the door, but that didn’t surprise me. Punctuality and Gavin didn’t go hand in hand.
When he spotted me from the bar, I waved him over to a table I’d procured in the back corner, farthest from the small stage. It was dark and relatively quiet, considering. Since it was Saturday night, the place was packed with people, plus there was live music—a regular who I happened to like had taken the stage—so finding a spot hadn’t been easy, but I’d managed.
“Hey, sweets.” Gavin greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, then a heavy sigh as he dropped into the chair beside me. “Why aren’t y
ou home sleeping?” he asked, taking a sip of the beer he’d brought over with him.
“Slept all day,” I told him.
“Which means you aren’t sleeping at night. Why?” The look he shot me was full of concern.
I narrowed my eyes at him, letting him know that was the dumbest question I’d heard all day. He knew exactly why I wasn’t sleeping. Or part of it anyway. But I’d promised myself I wouldn’t mention last night’s debauchery in my living room.
What I really wanted to talk about was the man bun he was sporting. It was … different, but it seemed to be working for him. Gavin’s blond hair had gotten long, and he’d taken to pinning it up beneath the beanie he wore. Tonight, he didn’t have the beanie, only the bun.
Pulling my attention away from his hair, I found ocean-blue eyes regarding me.
“Gil still keepin’ you up?”
“Gil? Don’t you mean both of you?”
Gavin grinned. “Sweets, I’m quiet when I make love.”
I snorted. “Make love? Like you even know what that is.”
“Fine. You got me there.” His smile was luminous, and definitely mischievous.
“But, yes, the noises coming from Gil’s room certainly aren’t helping,” I told him, pretending that was the reason I hadn’t been sleeping for the past couple of months. A roommate with a penchant for loud sexual encounters was a good excuse, so I went with it. “It’s like he checks these women’s decibel level before he brings them home. They keep getting louder and louder.”
“At least someone’s getting laid,” he told me with a wry grin.
“You took three chicks last night, asshole,” I told him. I knew he’d gotten laid. And if by some strange reason he hadn’t, it wasn’t because it hadn’t been available to him.
“Did you see what that one chick was doing to the other one? It was so fucking—”
I held my hand up to his face. I did not want to hear about it. Ever.
It was bad enough that I was going through a drought. In fact, I hadn’t been with a man since I’d broken up with Adrian a year ago. Not that I had any intention of mentioning that. Especially not in front of Gavin.
“So, you’re saying you didn’t sleep with them?” I asked incredulously, keeping the topic on him.
I knew Gavin better than he knew himself. We’d been friends since elementary school, and he’d always been popular with the opposite sex. Maybe not quite the man whore that Gil was (though he ran a close second), but I knew Gavin had been with several women as of late.
“I didn’t say that,” he stated, that devilish smirk out in full force.
“I guess I don’t have to wonder whether you’ve stopped doing them in pairs.”
The guilty look he shot my way said that he hadn’t stopped. I certainly did not envy the women who ended up in Gavin’s crosshairs. Sure, he was a good-looking guy—blond hair, blue eyes, chiseled jaw, leanly muscled, covered in tats—and he had a good heart, but I knew Gavin would likely never settle down. He enjoyed being single, picking up chicks, taking them back to his room and… Well, I didn’t want to think past that.
I had lived with Gavin for six months before Gil had moved in with us. So, for two and a half years, we’d been friends-slash-roommates, nothing more. I’d listened to countless encounters that had involved Gavin and some woman he’d met at a bar or wherever he’d been for the night. And to this day, I tried not to think about them. The same way I tried not to think about the chicks Gil banged on a nightly basis. It turned my stomach and not because I was jealous.
In fact, it had never bothered me that Gavin or Gil had a healthy sex life—hearing about it, on the other hand, I didn’t particularly like. But I had never had an issue with who they hooked up with. Still didn’t.
However, at one point, I had almost moved out and not because they were man whores. I’d considered moving out because I’d needed to in order to keep from damaging my relationship with Gavin. Thanks to … well, thanks to what I’d come to think of as The Incident. The incident with Adrian that would’ve caused major friction between Gavin and me, and likely would’ve ruined our friendship had I not handled things the way that I had. So, in order to salvage the most important relationship in my life, I had manipulated the truth about what had actually happened with the man whose name I would not be mentioning.
The fact was, Gavin was always taking care of me. He was my closest friend, the one person I shared everything with. Since we were kids, we’d been close. Never once had we ever crossed that friendship line, nor had we ever had the desire to. Clean, wholesome friends was what we were.
“You get any inspiration yet?”
I shook my head, then picked at the label on my beer. “It’s been a year, G. You think I should be worried?” I could pinpoint right down to the day when all my inspiration had disappeared. The same day I’d witnessed the guy I was dating screwing some chick in the ass. My mind had been blank ever since.
Gavin placed his arm across my chair and thumped me on the shoulder. “Nope. I think you should go with it.”
“Go with it? Are you fucking crazy?” I couldn’t simply go with it. If I did, my career would be over. I couldn’t spend the rest of my days tattooing flowers and fucking butterflies on people. That wasn’t what I’d set out to do in the beginning.
“Relax, Presley. It’s all good.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that I couldn’t relax. In fact, I was getting myself worked up more and more these days. With every passing minute, I was freaking out a little more. And quite frankly, it scared the shit out of me.
While I continued to peel the corner of the label from my bottle, I said, “Have you heard about that art contest? The big one that’s coming up?”
“You mean the one from that shop in California? With the grand prize of five grand?”
I nodded. Although I’d entered numerous contests over the years, rarely did they have a grand prize amount that came remotely close to that. This would be huge for me.
“You gonna enter?”
“I thought about it.” Right up until I’d realized I couldn’t draw shit anymore. At that point, it would’ve been stupid and naïve to think I could win. Although, the money they were offering… It was worth the attempt no matter what, especially since I’d drained a significant portion of my savings with the down payment on the condo.
Only I didn’t have a design idea.
“You up for that?”
I shook my head. In the mindset I’d been in, I wasn’t up for much of anything.
“When’s the deadline?” Gavin asked.
“February twenty-second.” Not nearly enough time to come up with a design and perfect it.
I was so screwed.
I peered over at Gavin, noticing that he was eyeing some girl in the corner. I followed his gaze, giving the woman a quick once-over. She was pretty, if very young. Twenty-one, at most. Not surprising—Gavin liked the younger ones, but thankfully he insisted they were legal drinking age. This girl’s café au lait skin glowed beneath the spotlight above her, and her dark eyes were sparkling with interest. And that … the interested part … was definitely Gavin’s type.
I sighed, knowing that I’d lost Gavin for the night. When he set his sights on a woman, he would be of no use to me anymore. Not that he would blow me off for a hookup. He wasn’t like that. But I knew he would be preoccupied for the rest of the night, so instead, I generally blew him off. It was easier that way. The last thing I wanted to be was the cock-blocking best friend.
“Hey, you know what? I forgot that I had something to do.”
Gavin looked down his nose at me. “You’re a horrible liar, Pres. I’m good. That girl’ll be there for a while.”
Ignoring him, I pushed back my chair, downed what was left of my beer, and got to my feet. “I thought I’d come hang out with you next Saturday.”
“While I work?” His eyes lit up as though that was the best news he’d heard all week.
“Yep.” I g
rabbed my hoodie from the back of my chair, then patted him on the top of the head. “I’ll see you at home later?”
“Yeah.” Gavin grinned up at me. Before I made it two steps away, Gavin gently grabbed my wrist, turning me back to him. “Hey, I meant to tell you, Adrian’s back in town in a couple of weeks. Thought maybe the three of us could go out one night. Have some beers.”
Adrian. Gavin’s older brother. The man I had absolutely no desire to see ever again. I should’ve told Gavin no; instead, I smiled and said, “Yeah, sure.”
I was such a fucking pussy.
Chapter Eleven
Jake
Sunday afternoon
“So, was it everything you’d thought it would be?” I asked Abby as we walked out of the movie theater to my car. It had started to drizzle and the temperature seemed to be dropping, so we hurried across the parking lot, and I hit the button to remotely start the car.
Abby shrugged. “It wasn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “When people say that about my books, it means they didn’t particularly care for it. In fact, one reviewer said that, then followed it up by saying they would’ve rather read a book on how to make glass.”
“Hey, making glass is interesting,” Abby noted.
I stared down at her when we stopped at my car. “Really?”
“No.”
I frowned; she laughed.
She continued to smile as she said, “Let’s just say, I don’t plan to see it again.”
“I’m with you there,” I told her, opening the car door for her, then closing it when she was inside. I made my way around the car, then hopped in and turned up the heat. “Pizza?”
Inked on Paper Page 6