“It was…” she whispered, “amazing.”
Fuck, yes. That’s what I wanted. What I needed.
Amazing.
“You know,” I shrugged in a feigned indifference, “maybe it wasn’t actually as good as we remember. Maybe we should do it again to make sure it actually was that good.”
Raven laughed, a rich chuckle that bubbled up from deep inside, and her exhaled breath brushed against the skin of my neck. That’s how close we stood. “What kind of logic is that?”
“Well, there’s no point in comparing any future sexploits to you and I if it was just a freak thing. If we had sex again and it wasn’t so good, that would make it easier on our next partners.”
She nodded, a glint of conspiracy lighting her eyes. Along with a spark of something else. Something naughty. She arched her pierced eyebrow. “We could try to make it bad.”
My jeans began to feel a little tight against my rapidly swelling cock. “Right, we could totally just fuck all sloppy and shit. Get it over with. That would ease things up. It would have to.”
I leaned in a little closer and watched as some of the humor left her expression, fading with the heat that simmered underneath the surface of her gaze. Slipping one hand around her waist, my touch skimmed the warm, smooth skin just below the hem of her vest.
She dropped her eyes to the desk beside us, setting her purse on it. “Hell, we could just do it right here.” Her voice had taken on a low, sultry quality that intensified the ache in my balls. Turning slightly, she leaned over the desk, her arms extended out in front of her. “I could just bend over the desk like this and… let ‘er rip.”
Her back arched, and she swayed back towards me, pressing her ass against my groin with an unspoken but oh-so-obvious plea to be filled. To be fucked. To be used.
Jesus.
Oh, hell… yes.
Just. Like. That.
In a flash, that memory of sinking deep inside her permeated my brain. All the blood in my body rushed straight to my dick. I was rock hard in an instant.
“Exactly. Quick and dirty.” My own tone sounded thick and dreamlike, as though it was a thought echoing around in my head instead of quiet words I whispered. Then the realization hit me. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom. I didn’t grab a new one to put in my wall—”
Before I could finish, Raven had slipped her hand into her purse and held a shiny foil package out to me.
“Here,” she whispered, sounding breathless and needy as she shifted back against me once more.
Fuck, yeah. She wanted it… badly. She wanted me.
This time, it didn’t even cross my mind to walk away. That luscious ass of hers nudging me gently. Her legs, showcased in those spectacular heels. I was throbbing. Hard and ready. In no time, I had sheathed myself in the condom, tugged up her skirt and pushed aside her panties, and slipped inside her.
It was supposed to be cold and clinical. An act. It shouldn’t have burned through me with every stroke. I shouldn’t have traced the kiss tattoo on her ass until the image was burned into my brain.
But, fuck… it was so good. It was everything my drunken mind had remembered. And more.
As I rocked against her, she lifted her hand, scraping her nails through the short hair at my nape. Just like I’d imagined, her jewelry jangled with the force of each thrust. Her body twisted until her lips were close to my ear.
“Drew,” she moaned against my skin.
“Jesus, don’t say my name like that.” I pressed a tight, firm kiss against her lips, swallowing the gasp she let out when I drove hard inside her again. “I like it way too much.”
“Sorry,” she whispered, biting back another moan, and the emotional force of her voice radiated through her body.
The effect was shattering, making it even worse. Instead of hearing her say my name, I felt it. I felt her body tighten around me. Papers fell to the floor. Her purse crashed down, spilling its contents across the hardwood. But she simply moved against me, wrapped up in the fever of sensation.
One more stroke, and I could barely hold it in. Every cell in my body wanted to release into her, to flood through her pores. As I withdrew, as the balls of my apa hit her just right, she broke in my arms. With a faint sob, her body tensed and shook.
“Drew,” she gasped, and I was done. Everything came rushing forth, wild and ragged as the rough groan I let loose. My movements slowed, tortuously drawing out the orgasm with tight jerks of my muscles.
For the longest time, I held her. Bent over my desk with my forehead buried against the sweet, hot, damp skin of her neck. I felt boneless and weightless. All sensation fled, leaving only a deep contentment.
“I’m not so sure that worked,” I finally managed to whisper.
“Okay, yeah… that was still really fucking hot.” She nodded, shivering a little at the heat of my breath in her ear.
I knew I should get up. I should let her go and try to forget this had ever happened.
But, Christ… I could still feel the reverberations of her orgasm with every breath. So I didn’t let her go just yet. Instead, I tightened my arms around her and placed a kiss on her shoulder. “I guess it was worth a try.”
“Yeah it was,” she said with a satiated whisper. “So worth it.”
So fucking worth it…
I woke up the next morning to a text from Maggie. She couldn’t find a necklace and she was wondering if it was at my place.
Just thinking about her made my stomach lurch and my heart race. I climbed out of bed, trying to think of where she could have left it. She had rarely stayed over. In all the time we’d gone out, I could probably count the times on one hand.
For a split second, I thought maybe she missed me. I texted her back.
Haven’t seen one, but I'll look.
She was pretty quick to reply.
Check by your bed. I think I set it on your bedside table the last time I was there.
Reminding me of bed… the last time she was in it. That little thought sparked into full on hope.
Want me to bring it to you if I find it?
Just let me know if you do. I'll come and get it.
Like a love-starved idiot, I immediately jumped up and hit the floor to look. Sure enough, at the head of my bed up against the wall was a dainty necklace. I couldn’t remember her ever wearing it, but I was a dude. I didn’t really pay much attention to what chicks wore.
I quickly snapped a pic and texted it to her.
Is this it?
A few minutes later, I got a reply.
Yes. I'll stop by to get it today.
My stomach twisted with apprehension. Strangely, not exactly excitement, but yearning for familiarity. For my life to get back to normal. A little suggestion that Maggie was coming by because she wanted that, too.
It was Friday. I had some appointments in the morning, but I generally kept Friday afternoons pretty clear so I’d be ready to head to the Copperline in time to tune up.
I can be home at about one for a couple hours before I head to the Copperline. Can you stop then?
No. Just leave it on the counter. I'll leave my key there when I pick it up.
That faint ray of hope immediately fizzled away. A sickening sensation settled in my gut as I realized she didn’t even want to see me. She actually did just want her shit… and to leave the key.
How official. The final nail in the coffin.
I hopped in the shower, mostly in an attempt to wash away that renewed bitterness of rejection. Turning the water on almost straight hot, letting the burn run over my chest, down my rigid abs…
…and something else began to filter in.
Raven.
Raven’s touch, soothing and conflagrant all at once. The sounds that emanated from her throat and the image of her skin beneath my hands.
The first time, I’d been so bombed that the memories seemed a little fuzzy. Heated, but surreal. Intrinsic. Deniable.
Yet now, I had a stronger memory that pulled at me.
Something irrefutable that challenged the sense of loss Maggie instilled in me. I let it take hold, guiding my hands to firmly grip my cock. Allowing the remembrance of her to overwhelm me, the image of her bent over my desk as I watched my length slide in and out of her.
Fantasizing about Raven to avoid thinking of Maggie was soooooo not healthy, for either Raven or me.
But, God, it helped.
So I used it. I allowed it to buzz through my veins until all thoughts of Maggie and heartache had been drowned out by the reverie of Raven and her touch.
After beating off, washing off, and toweling off, I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and headed downstairs. It was just before seven, and Justin sat hunched over a bowl of Lucky Charms, dressed in respectable university adjunct professor clothes. The guy even had a tie on.
“So what’s with the tie? You in trouble with administration or something?” I asked as I poured myself a cup of coffee.
“Fucking curriculum meetings,” Justin grumbled, scooping the last of the marshmallows into a bite.
“Gotcha,” I replied. “I figured you were in trouble for nailing a student or something.”
“Fuck off,” he snorted. “I’m careful. No students.” He got up to rinse his bowl and plop it in the dishwasher. He turned and leaned up against the counter, studying me warily. “So, I heard about Maggie. Batting for the other team. Or catching maybe. I’m actually not sure what euphemism would work for chicks.”
I shrugged. “Thanks for reminding me that I turned my girlfriend into a lez.”
“You didn’t do shit.”
“It sure as fuck feels that way.”
“That’s a crock of shit, and you know it.” He chuckled at my skeptical glance. “Besides, if I had a chick, I’d rather she left me for another girl. At least I’d know my dick was bigger.”
“Nice, Justin. Nice.”
“Besides, I was starting to think I’d have to go outside the group for a wingman, but now you and I can live like the good ol’ days.”
“Fuck… Dude, I dunno…”
He just gave me an easy grin as he grabbed his computer bag and headed towards the door. “Trust me. We'll get you all hooked up at the Copperline tonight. What you need is a good, cleansing fuck.”
Little did he know, I’d had one, two actually, and I wasn’t sure it helped in the long-term. Raven had the incredible ability of driving Maggie from my mind the second I touched her, but the emptiness flooded back when she was gone. The rejection still festered inside me.
Even worse, tonight would be my first time on stage in years without Maggie there. She didn’t want me anymore, and she had been the one who believed in me the most.
I didn’t know if I could hack it.
“Dude, yeah, totally,” Justin was saying as I dragged myself to the bottom of the stairs to the Copperline stage that afternoon. “He looked like complete hell this morning.”
I probably still looked like hell. Maybe even more so. My day at Ink had been long and quiet. Neil sorta kept to himself, and Raven had the day off. I didn’t have many appointments scheduled, so I ended up doing a lot of just sitting around and thinking about shit.
Sitting around and thinking about shit sucked.
“Fucking Maggie,” Cody muttered. Even he sounded pissed, and Cody almost never lost his cool. “What a complete bitch.”
“Yeah,” Denny murmured in his thick Irish accent. His Dublin-born roots tended to become more pronounced when he was annoyed or angry about something, so his lilt was telling. “She’d shite in your parlor and charge ya for it.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Justin asked. “Speak English, you fucker.”
“It means she’s a real bitch,” Felicity explained. As Denny’s wife, she was usually the first to comprehend his Irishisms, often acting as translator for the rest of us.
So they all knew, even their women.
Their women who were all pretty much the embodiment of perfection. Each one was hot as fuck in their own unique way—sweet and shy Ilsa, vibrant and outspoken Felicity, and stunningly gorgeous Sophie. Nothing would pour salt in the wound like seeing these perfect couples all happy and couple-y.
Even Justin, albeit not one to get tied down at all, would still be on the prowl for a hookup. He was a loyal fucker, but his loyalty kinda got put on hold when it came to getting a little. It was more of a I-won’t-fuck-you-over loyalty than an I'll-always-be-here-for-you type of thing.
I clomped up the stage steps with exaggeration, warning them of my presence. When I reached the top, the whole lot of them sorta stood there frozen, looking at me warily.
“Hey there, Drew,” Brannon hedged. Tucked up against him stood Sophie. She had the tendency to wear her emotions all over her face, and her eyes were full of compassion.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I shrugged and tried to shoot her a reassuring smile. I gathered that I didn’t pull it off, though, because she only looked more concerned as she pressed her lips together. “Really, Sophie, I’ll get over it.”
“You shouldn't feel bad about getting shot of her, you know?” Justin said.
“That's the truth,” Denny nodded. “Maggie’s a right bockedy-arsed aul' bitch.”
“You guys,” Felicity sighed, “I’m not so sure that’s helping.”
I gave her a weak, thankful smile. Their hearts were in the right place, but all the comments and reaffirmations really didn’t do shit to make me feel better. Nothing did.
Well, nothing but Raven. She had a special knack for getting me out of my head. I suddenly found myself wishing she was there with her own brand of therapy, which was silly. I hadn’t ever seen her at the Copperline before, nor did I expect to tonight. This wasn’t her typical haunt.
“What you need is fresh pussy,” Justin grinned, pulling me out of my wishful thoughts. “Fresh pussy fixes everything.”
“Oh, God, Justin,” Ilsa groaned quietly from where she sat on Cody’s lap behind his drum set. “You’re such a pig.”
“If by ‘pig’ you mean ‘awesome superstud,’ then, yeah,” he chuckled and puffed out his chest.
“Thanks, Justin,” I said with a roll of my eyes, “but I’ve had plenty of fresh pussy over the last couple years. I’m not sure more is the answer.”
“How about tried and true, then? Ruth’s here tonight, and she’s single again. I’ve already got her all lined up. You’re welcome to join in.”
Just the thought of jumping into another threesome made me queasy. With anyone. Ever. Aside from that, even if I had any desire to try a ménage with another dude—which I didn’t—I wasn’t sure I could try it with Justin. He was my best friend, but not that good of a friend.
No. Just no.
“Yeah, nah,” I replied with a shake of my head. “I think I’ll pass. I’m not quite desperate enough to see your junk.”
“Your loss,” he shrugged with a confident laugh. “My junk is fuckin’ amazing.”
We started to play, and things seemed to go fairly well at first. A little of the melancholy lifted when I got my fingers on the frets of my guitar. Some of that nagging worthlessness faded. I was far from on fire, but could go through the motions enough to please the crowd.
I absolutely dreaded the first break, though.
On stage, I had a job to do. It occupied my mind and helped alleviate the uncertainty, but what was I supposed to do in between sets? In the last couple years, breaks had meant slipping into the bathroom with Maggie and one or two of her friends for a quick fuck up against the wall. Or body shots. Or planning the excess of the traditional after party… and the private after-after party in my room.
The closer we got to the end of the set, the more nauseous I felt.
“There she is,” Justin grinned again as we came down the stairs to see Ruth at the bottom. Her eyes flashed up in a blatant invitation, going back and forth between Justin and I. She was obviously game for whatever we wanted. “You sure you don’t wanna?”
“Maybe next time,
” I laughed, trying to shake the desolate funk from my system. “I’m just gonna go grab a beer.”
“Okay, back in a few,” he smiled salaciously down at Ruth and smacked her on the ass as they headed out the back door, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I tried to shake off the sudden bereft feeling that filtered through me as the door slammed shut. I could do this. I could get through tonight and the next night… and the night after that.
No matter that the future felt so dark and forsaken.
We had about fifteen minutes before we were due back on stage, so I headed through the crowd to the bar, nodding at a few of the familiar faces here and there. Doug, owner and bartender of the Copperline, handed me my standard bottle of Bud. With a nod of thanks, I turned to look around…
…and I instantly wished I’d just stayed in the fucking hallway.
Right in front of me was Maggie and some chick I’d never seen before. Maggie’s hand rest on the girl’s ass, and she was whispering something that elicited a flirty giggle.
For an awkward moment, I just stared at them.
My mind was all but yelling at me.
Turn around! Get the fuck out of there!
The Mofos were practically celebrities in our little rural world, so most everyone in the bar recognized me. Clearly, a few people standing nearby obviously recognized her as half of what was formerly known as “Drew and Maggie.” The whispers were almost palpable, and it felt like all eyes were on me, waiting for my reaction.
Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.
Most people in the world can be classified as fight or flight. I, unfortunately, tended to freeze, and that’s exactly what I did. The next thing I knew, Maggie was looking up, and I found myself staring into the cold blue eyes of my ex-girlfriend.
“Drew,” she said icily, acknowledging my presence and shaking me just a tidge from my stupor. She looked spectacular. Frosted blonde hair that fell thick and straight around her shoulders. Cherry red lips. A slip of a dress that did nothing to hide her curves, only highlighting her full breasts right down to the hardened nipples.
Evanescent Ink (Copperline #4) Page 4