Drunk on Love (Cock Tales #1)

by S. L. Scott

  I’m not embarrassed to admit that I did the deed with her photo next to me. I’m embarrassed that I did the deed with only her knee poking through the bubbles. That’s it. One bare, wet, lustful, tempting and teasing kneecap. Damn that’s a sexy photo. There might be something to this insta-love theory. Though I’m leaning more toward a chemical imbalance. Holding the bottle of pills up from five feet or so away, I ask the guy behind the register, “What do these do?”

  “Hard dick. For hours.” I should be offended by his bluntness, but the curly haired hipster seems to know his stuff. “It’s a staff recommendation.”

  The little placard hangs from the shelf that displays the bottle. “Yeah, so I see.” I set it back in its place. That’s not what I need. If I could bottle the painful erections I’ve been dealing with, I’d be a millionaire . . . oh wait, I’m already a millionaire. Then I’d be a billionaire and market the hell out of those pills. Every bottle would come with that pic of Virginia’s knee. Works for me. I’m sure it can work for others. This could bring groundbreaking advancements in men’s penile projections. I don’t even try not to laugh. I’m funny as shit.

  After an hour of asking about almost every bottle of pills in the health store, I’m also starting to think that I’m out of luck with the chemical imbalance theory. “But Clive calls it insta-love. Is this really a thing?” I ask the hipster. I’d settled into a philosophical conversation on existentialist versus internalized love. He lost me on the self-love movement he was currently adhering to and inviting me to bear witness to the sanctity of it. I was brought back around when he mentioned love at first sight. His happened when he was three and “discovered” himself in the mirror. In reference to me, he claimed I was suffering from a clear case of socially acceptable attraction to someone I had physically bonded with resulting in a chemical change in my mind’s matter. He reaches behind him and places a small box of Godiva’s chocolates in front of me. “That will be nine eighty-seven.”

  “Why are you selling me chocolates?”

  “Have you not been listening at all?” he asks, exasperated.

  “I’ve been listening.” Understanding is a whole other issue, but I’ve been listening.

  “It’s just love, man. You’re overlooking the obvious. Just flat out, simple love.”

  Simple? Uncomplicated . . . “So I need chocolate to cure me?”

  “There is no cure. Trust me, my friend. You’re too far-gone. So you have to deal with the crisis at hand. Buy the chocolates and go see her. That’s the closest to a prescription as you’re going to get.”

  Go see her. I slap a ten bill down and take the chocolates, then tuck them into my coat pocket. “Keep the change.”

  “I was going to.” The hipster opens the paperback in front of him back up and adds, “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it.” I walk out into the late afternoon and text Virginia. What are you up to?

  She replies quickly, making me smile. Just work, but off in forty, so YAY!

  I start down the street, but type: Meet in the middle for drinks?

  Her: Just tell me where and I’ll be there.

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I grab a cab and head for the city.

  Forty-five minutes later I’m sitting at a table in the corner of a pub, waiting . . . correction: anxiously waiting for her to arrive. The bell chimes and a gust of wind ushers her inside. Despite the brown hair that was blown over her face, I know her. My heart beats erratically in response.

  She pushes her hair back and looks around. When she spies me in the corner, Virginia smiles and life feels better because of it. I stand when she comes toward me. Holy Jack Fucking Daniels.

  I step forward and as soon as she reaches the table, I take her in my arms and kiss her. Hard. With all the passion I’ve stocked up on since I last had my lips on hers. Breathless. I want to leave her breathless and wanting more. When our lips part, she languidly opens her eyes, and says, “I could get used to that.”

  “Never settle for less, V.” I help her with her coat, but put it back on her shoulders when I see what she’s wearing. “Why are dressed like that?”

  Laughing, she doesn’t seem to be taking this matter as seriously as she should. When I start zipping her up again, she moves just out of reach while swatting my hands away. “What are you doing, Hardy?”

  “You forgot your suit jacket at work. And from the looks of it, your bra as well.”

  “I took my bra off.” She waggles her eyebrows and pulls a hot pink lacey strap from her purse. I push it back down just as quickly. Laughter rings out, the sound even making me smile. She says, “What are you doing? You said when I’m around you I don’t have to wear a bra. I think they’re uncomfortable so I took it off.” After setting her bag on a chair, she takes her coat off again.

  When she sits down, I sit down across from her. She adds, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?” I ask, my eyes darting from her delicate collarbone that I bit and licked to the neck I’d love to mar with a hickey claiming her as mine for all to see, especially that asshole at her work. Claiming her? What the fuck am I doing?

  Oh, the candy. I reach into my coat pocket and pull it out. Placing it on the table in front of her, I say, “I got you something.”

  “You brought me chocolate? Hardy?” she teases. “Be careful or I might fall in love with you.” Temptress. “This is so sweet of you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Want to share?”

  “No, I want you to enjoy them in your bath.”

  She laughs freely. “I don’t know why I sent that pic. Just being goofy.”

  “You can be goofy with me anytime.”

  The waitress comes to the table and we order two beers while I continue staring at her. My favorite pink, several shades lighter than this silky little top she’s wearing, colors her cheeks. “You’re making me paranoid. Do I look that bad?”

  “No. You look amazing. I like this outfit on you. Shows off the goods.”

  That makes her laugh. “Well the goods got no love from Lowry this week. I think I’m going to have to practice lesson one on him.”

  Flirting? “No. If that outfit doesn’t get his attention, flirting won’t do jack shit.”

  “I noticed one of the personal assistants was wearing those red-soled shoes. What do you think about them?”

  Christian Louboutin knows what a man finds sexy and seeing those red heels draped over your shoulders or at the base of long legs . . . “Don’t waste your money. Guys don’t care about that stuff.” It almost pains me to lie to her this time. Her legs with those fuck me heels on would be an incredible sight to behold.

  “Oh, okay. I just thought—”

  “Well don’t think about him. Like I said, he’s not worth your time.” My words are crushing, evidenced from the downfall of the corners of her mouth, but I can’t seem to back this train up. Easy and uncomplicated have definitely vanished along with my patience.

  “What’s wrong, Hardy? You seem irritated.”

  “I’m fine.” I drink some of my beer, insanely jealous of her efforts for this asshole lawyer. Looking her over again, was it me? Did I tell her to change the other day or is this her own doing? “What did the guys in your department think of your outfit?”

  “Some didn’t say anything. A few said I looked nice. Others hightailed to the bathroom every time they saw me. I ended up reapplying deodorant twice and spraying my perfume throughout the day they had me so paranoid that I stank.”

  Her innocence is revealed again and a belly laugh escapes me. “You’re not smelly. Trust me on this.” They’re totally jerking off on the job. At least my work is in a bar. These horny sad sacks can’t hold their shit together around her and they work in the Financial District.

  She doesn’t even realize how the world sees her. That makes me laugh harder, not in a laughing at her kind of way but that she has no clue that these guys are vomiting the
snake because she’s so hot.

  Maybe I don’t need to get all caught up in jealousy just yet. There’s still a chance with her. As long as they keep seeing her as a geeky girl who’s into numbers and dresses in boxy suits, I’m golden. That will give me enough time to make her see that I’m more than a shallow prick with divine sex skills. There’s a guy and a heart behind this handsome mug. If only she’d take a good long hard look. She’d see I’m more than the parts that make me up.

  I’m a whole man who has given up his life’s creed to be with her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Once I laid down my emotional weapons and set aside my jealousy, I was enjoying my time with Virginia. Outside of Brooklyn—my place and the bar—I was seeing her in a new way. She is full of energy, hyped up on some copier incident at work, and moaning orgasmically over the best pastrami sandwich she’s ever had. In case you are curious, it can be found at Katz’s Deli according to her. I tell her I’ll take her to Ben’s Best back in Brooklyn. She’ll never look back after that.

  I’m hoping in more ways than one.

  We order another round. She adds fish and chips. “All of this food talk has made me hungry.”

  I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about her that I’m falling so in . . . like, and lust with when it comes to her. “What do you like to do for fun?” I wink at her. “Other than spend time with me.”

  Reaching for a rubber band she has around her wrist, she takes it and pulls her hair into one of those knots hot chicks wear everywhere these days. I like her hair down, but with it looking so messy on top like she just woke up or maybe even had sex is kind of hot.

  “Hardy? Helloooo.”

  Fast little hands waving frantically in front of my face bring me back to reality. Reality? Is this my new reality? Staring at a woman who clearly wants me sexually but wants nothing to do with me beyond that. Well, that’s an exaggeration. She’s here and our friendship is growing so I can’t say nothing to do with me. She’s just not reciprocating what I want with her seems closer to the truth. “Yeah?”

  “You asked me what I like to do for fun. Did you not hear what I said?”

  “Sorry.” I rub my temples quickly before hunching down and giving her my complete attention. “What do you like to do?”

  “I said,” she starts, matching my body language, “you.”

  “Me what?”

  “Are you really going to make me say it twice? It was hard enough the first time.”

  Hard. I almost say it but I’m losing my enthusiasm for the quick comebacks. Am I losing my mojo?Virginia slaps the table. “Oh my God, am I that boring?” She’s laughing, but I can see the offense on her face.

  “No. I’m sorry. I’m distracted today.”

  “I’d say so. What’s on your mind? You can talk to me.”

  “Not about this.”

  Her mouth scrunches to the side. “Penis problems?”

  Now I’m offended. “No. I don’t have penis problems. Damn woman, go for the low blow why don’t you?”

  We both laugh and say, “Low blow.” She adds, “Do you like that?”

  The laughter lightens, and I reply, “A blow job? I’m a guy. Of course I like blow jobs.”

  “I tried to give a blow job—”

  “Do I really want to hear about you blowing some guy?”

  Sitting back, she’s still full of giggles, and entirely too hot looking while doing it with her breasts bouncing against the silk of her shirt. “Oh come on. You’re my teacher. If I can’t talk to you, I have no one to get advice from.”

  “Don’t you have girlfriends who like to talk about their conquests?”

  “No.” The laughter ceases altogether and I already miss the sound. “Other than Katie O’Dowd—”

  I tap my glass on the table. “To Katie O’Dowd.”

  We clink our pints together and she continues, “My friends are just as helpless as me when it comes to finding love in the city.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you’re not meant to find love in Manhattan.”

  Her brow creases in the center, and she asks, “And where prey tell do you suggest I find it then?”

  Brooklyn. Across the table from you. You’re staring at him. “I don’t know, but maybe love doesn’t come in the form of Lowry Renquist, lawyer extraordinaire, but comes in the form of something more obvious, something right before your eyes but you’re too blind to see.”

  “Speaking of low blows . . .”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I know how you feel about Lowry. You’ve been very sweet to me. You’re looking out for my best interest and you make a valid point. I need to open my eyes and look around. There are plenty of other guys out there.”

  The food arrives, and she pushes the basket between us. “Wanna share?”

  Everything with you. “Thanks.”

  Our time together is disappearing and when she stands, I happily help her put her coat back on. She reaches for her bag and when she stands back up and turns, we’re toe-to-toe. Resting her hands on my chest, she asks, “Why is it so easy with you?”

  Easy? Interesting. The woman before me is anything but easy. “I’ve been thinking. What if—”

  “Hardy Richard.”

  No. No. No. No. No. I know that voice. Too well. No. No. No. No. No. Please don’t let it be her. Following Virginia’s gaze, it’s her and my heart sinks.

  “Hardy. Yoohoo.”

  “Hello, Isabella.”

  With both her hands on my biceps, she comes in for the two-cheek kiss. I don’t bother with either when our faces touch. Stepping back, she looks me over from head to toe and back again. “You’re looking well. So casual in your flannel and jeans.” Her voice is condescending, her remarks belittling dressed in fake appreciation.

  With her target in sight, she sticks her hand out to Virginia. “I’m Isabella Collins, of Connecticut.”

  What the fuck is that about? “Shall I bow to thy royal highness?” Fuck this. I need to save Virginia and fast. “Actually, we were just leaving.”

  Virginia accepts the handshake, and replies, “I’m Virginia Ryan of Manhattan.”Isabella looks down at my girl all bundled up and says, “A working girl.”

  “You make it sound so seedy, Isabella. On that note, we must be going.” Reaching down, I grab my coat and take Virginia by the arm, whisking her away. Isabella remains standing where we left her, her mouth agape, and her hand on her hip.

  “Call me, Hardy. We should get together.”

  I don’t bother acknowledging her as we clear the door and walk out into the cold night air. Putting my coat on, Virginia stands close, and says, “She was interesting.”

  “She’s an ex.”

  “Girlfriend, fiancée, or wife?”

  I hear the uptick in her tone, a tell tale sign. “Is that jealousy I hear, Ms. Ryan?”

  She spins away from me, I’m sure rolling her eyes. “Not at all. You’re allowed to have as many exes as you want.” Looking back over her shoulder, she summons, and we start walking. “I’m sure there’s a whole slew of women pining over the one who got away when it comes to you.”

  My face is too cold for big gestures. I shove my hands in my pockets, and laugh. “It’s freezing.”

  “You realize you’re not going to throw me off track that easily, right?” She bumps into me. “You always ask about me, but I want to know about you.”

  “How about coffee first?”

  “Definitely coffee first.”

  We walk into a Starbucks and stand in line with the other freezing patrons looking for a quick warm up. “We met at college and continued dating after for a year.” Dusting my hands together, I add, “That’s about it.” Trying to sidetrack her again, I ask, “Pastry?”

  “Yes. Cranberry Bliss. It’s my favorite and is only here for a limited time during winter.” Without missing a beat, she says, “Now back up and let’s go over how you ever dated someone so uppity.”

&n
bsp; Calling me on my shit. Check. I’ve got to hand it to her, she’s good. Very good. “I wasn’t always the laid-back handsome and extremely suave happy go lucky bartender you see before you. Oh wait, I’ve always been handsome and suave.”

  “And modest. I think that’s what drew me to you.”

  If I weren’t falling in love already, I’d be a goner for sure. “Yes, it’s my ‘modesty’ that brings the bees to the honey.”

  “Ew, don’t use animals or insects in reference to your penis.”

  I bump into her this time, and whisper, “Say it again.”

  “What? Penis?”

  A little louder, I continue teasing, “Yes, Virginia, just like that.”

  She may be embarrassed, but her green eyes sparkle in the pastry counter lights. “Hardy,” she scolds.

  I can tell she likes it though, her smile becoming harder to restrain. “Yes, Virginia, you can touch my penis when we get home.”

  Frantically looking around to make sure no one heard me, she grabs me by the coat and squeezes the fabric. “Good lord, Hardy. What is wrong with you?”

  “Yes, you’re so bad it’s good when you use the lord’s name in vain.”

  “You are so going to hell.” Not sure if I’m going to hell for real or if she’s teasing, but either way, I like her feisty.

  I slap her ass, the coat breaking the blow. “How about you take my name in vain instead? Will that get me into heaven?”

  Loosening her grip, she lifts up on her toes, and whispers, “If I’m taking your name in vain, I promise you, you’re already in heaven.”

  “Damn straight I am.” I’ll have to wait until I see the pearly gates. We have another lesson to learn before we get to the heaven that’s awaiting me. I wrap my arm around her waist before she can escape and kiss her.

  From the line, we hear the groaning, “Move up and get your coffee or get a room.”

  Virginia tucks her head against my chest, her emotions worn in the shade her cheeks turn. I lean back and tell the guy moaning behind me, “I’m working on both.”She shakes her head, but at least she’s still smiling. “Can we end the torture?”