Promiscuous

by Missy Johnson

  "Are you okay?" I sat up, pulling up my jeans and buttoning them. She nodded taking a step back as I took a step towards her. "You don't seem okay. What's wrong?" I was beginning to doubt my abilities. I’d never had any complaints before, but she looked like she was moments from bursting into tears.

  "Was I that bad?" It was a joke. A bad one, but I was just trying to lighten the mood. Luckily, she cracked a smile. The smile turned into a laugh. She sat down on the lounge chair opposite me and shook her head.

  "You were wonderful," she said shyly. "I'm sorry, I just… The alcohol… I'm just feeling a bit off, that's all."

  "Can I do anything? Do you want a glass of water? Or maybe a heat pack?" I was really worried about her. This wasn't a normal post sex reaction.

  She shook her head. "I think I just need a decent sleep. I'm sure I'll be better in the morning." She hesitated before continuing. "This is going to sound really rude, but would you mind going?"

  I began to laugh. I couldn't help it. It was just the idea of being kicked out by woman after sex. She covered her face with her hands.

  "I'm sorry," she said, clearly embarrassed.

  "Beth, it's fine. Get a good night’s rest. I'll give you a call tomorrow, okay?"

  She nodded and smiled. We walked together to the front door.

  "Do you mind if I kiss you?" I thought I'd better ask her permission.

  She laughed and wrapped her hands around my neck. I took that as an invitation. My thumb gently stroked her cheek as I lifted her mouth to mine. We kissed slowly, my tongue dipping into her mouth, tasting her sweetness.

  I could do this all night. Well, I could have if she wasn't kicking me out.

  "Thanks for being so understanding," she mumbled, dropping her arms away from me.

  I winked at her, and gave her one more kiss on the forehead. "Get some sleep, beautiful. Call me if you need anything?" I asked. She nodded.

  Chapter Twelve

  Beth

  I opened the fridge and surveyed the contents. As usual, the selection was minimal: some low-fat cheese, an apple that looked as though it had been sitting there for weeks, and a tub of what looked like leftover curry, which I couldn’t recall ordering.

  Obviously, I needed to go shopping. Maybe I could send Noni. Shopping for shoes was one thing, but I couldn’t stand shopping for food. Grabbing the notepad from the kitchen counter, I began to write a list.

  When I was done, I glanced back over it. God, my personal trainer would have a heart attack if he saw some of the junk on here.

  Yes, I had a personal trainer, because I fucking hated to exercise; unless there was someone there to force me to do it, it would never get done. Not that I’d been to see him much over the past two months. Last week was the first session I’d had in ages.

  Sighing, I opened the cupboard, and located my emergency crackers. Well, they were now three months past the best-before date, but who was I to be picky? I carried them and a glass of water over to my desk. Just as I sat down, my email beeped. I clicked open.

  Coop. Shit, shit, shit.

  I hadn’t heard from him since my confession the week before. My heart pounded as I clicked on the message. I waited impatiently as it loaded, both dreading and excited about reading his response. What the hell could he say to the email I’d sent him? I was about to find out.

  Beth,

  Firstly, wow. Holy shit, I had no idea you felt that way, and now I feel like a first-class asshole for some of the things I said to you. What I don’t get is why you were pushing me into this relationship with Mia if you felt this way.

  I get that seeing me with her would be hard for you, but I really don’t want to lose our friendship. If you need space, I’ll give you that, but I really need my friend right now.

  Love you,

  Coop.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read the email for the tenth time. He missed me, and I missed him. Maybe avoiding him wasn’t the answer. Maybe pushing him away was what was keeping me from moving on? If I pushed him away, then I had someone to blame for what had happened. Letting Coop back into my life meant actually dealing with what had happened to me rather than avoiding it.

  I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that yet, just like I wasn’t sure I was ready to let someone new into my heart.

  Roman.

  My heart sank. After the previous night, I wasn't sure if I was ever going to see him again. I wouldn't blame him if he avoided me. What the hell had I been doing? The truth was, since the attack, every time I'd been intimate with someone I’d been so full of alcohol that I really had no idea what was going on.

  Turning off the computer, I stood up. I needed to think about this, about Coop. His words drove through me, over and over. He wanted his friend back. The thing was, so did I. More than anything, I wanted things to be like they were.

  Until late into the evening, I lay curled up on the sofa, clutching a cushion to my stomach while I watched an old black-and-white movie.

  I could ignore only the constant ringing of my phone for so long. After ten minutes of nonstop ringing, I got up and went to retrieve it. That’s what I got for leaving it in the kitchen. On loud.

  “What?” I muttered, picking it up without checking the number.

  “Beth.” Ivan. I sighed. Well, that’s what I get for not checking the number. There was a reason for call ID, so why didn’t I ever fucking use it?

  “Yes, Ivan, what do you want?” My skin prickled at the sound of his voice. Just the thought of him made my stomach turn. I tried to focus on my breathing, but I was already feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

  “Now, that’s no way to speak to your manager, is it?” he drawled. “Listen, I’ve lined you up for a movie audition. Six months in L.A. Shooting starts in three months, the girl they had lined up broke her neck. I’m sending the script over now. Take a look, and we’ll talk.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” I shuddered. Ivan’s definition of “talk” differed from that of most people. I’d learned that the hard way.

  “You just remember who got you where you are, honey. You might want to drop the attitude,” he warned.

  I hung up the call. If I kept on the line, I’d say something I’d regret. I knew I would. It was only a matter of time before I blew up at him, and to be honest, that scared the hell out of me. Pushing the devil’s buttons was not a good way to stay out of trouble.

  ***

  A courier dropped off the script a few hours later. I’d never done a movie. I’d never acted before at all, beyond my music videos.

  Acting hadn’t really been something that interested me, but maybe getting out of New York was a good thing. Especially if it meant getting away from Ivan.

  I read through the summary of the movie, and the role I was auditioning for. It was about a girl who leaves her small town for L.A. to make her dreams of becoming a singer come true.

  Sounds like the back story of every wannabe in L.A.—myself included. That was me, five years ago. Only I’d been “lucky” enough to meet Ivan.

  I flipped through the script, trying to decide whether this was something I actually wanted to do. I sang because I had a good voice, and honestly, it was just luck that I’d taken off the way that I had. If I stopped singing today, I wouldn’t miss it. It was something I did because I knew nothing else, and it made me enough money to be self-reliant. But not everything was about money. Hell, I was barely twenty, yet some days, I felt so old and worn, like my life was nearly over.

  I need to get out of here.

  Tossing the script aside, I went to the bedroom and swung open my closet. I had enough outfits to go a year without wearing the same thing, and all were designer. I picked out a coral dress that cinched at the waist, and paired it with some black sandals. I knew exactly where I was headed, and why I was headed there.

  ***

  Digging through my purse, I found my vibrating phone, checking the ID this time before answering. My pulse quickened. It was him.

  “Hey,” I
said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

  “Not much,” Roman chuckled. “What are you up to? Are you out? I hear music.”

  “I’m at The Carousel.” I held my head high, not giving away for a second that I’d been hoping to run into him. Or the fact that my ass had been parked on this barstool for the past hour because of it.

  “Oh, really?” he mused. “Waiting for someone?”

  I face-palmed. His voice had that tone to it, one that clearly said I know exactly why you’re there.

  “No. Just having a drink with some friends,” I retorted. Friends? Sure, me and my army of imaginary buddies were kicking things up. Could I be any more pathetic?

  “Well, good for you. But Beth?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t party too hard.” He chuckled.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, narrowing my eyes. I had no intention of partying too hard tonight. Or at least I hadn’t, until he’d suddenly shown an interest. “See you later, Roman.” I hung up before he could respond.

  I looked around the bar, wondering what I was going to do now. After only a couple of drinks, my mind was still coherent enough for me to be nervous about being out in public . . . alone.

  What if Ivan was here, watching me? He’d followed me once—what if he did it again? I shuddered, the thought making me want to hurl. Calling the barman over, I ordered a shot of whisky, and a vodka and raspberry.

  “What?” I said as he raised an eyebrow. My reaction was defensive, but I couldn’t help it—I was over feeling judged. He shook his head and poured my drinks, sliding them across the bar to me. Handing over the cash, I downed the shot, followed quickly by the mixer.

  I slouched down into my seat, waiting for the buzz to kick in. Instead of the usual high, I found myself feeling angry, and more frustrated. I stumbled outside and waited for the cab I’d ordered a few minutes before to arrive. Why was I so angry with Roman all of a sudden? Sure, I’d been looking forward to seeing him—that was the whole reason I’d come here—but the anger was misplaced. He got under my skin, and that scared me.

  He makes me feel vulnerable, and I can’t handle that right now.

  The cab pulled up and I climbed in, muttering my address. I stared out the window, trying to sort out what I was feeling.

  “Why am I such a mess?” I mumbled to myself. Here I was lusting after a guy who I couldn’t handle touching me unless I was half sloshed, but at the same time needing the rush that sex on my own terms gave me.

  The driver pulled up outside my house, right next to an all too familiar black Porsche 911. Sighing, I threw a fifty at the driver and climbed out.

  “Again?” I said, shutting the door of the cab. Roman smiled and walked toward me. “What do you want now?” I asked testily as I swiped the gate, still angry at the way he had gotten under my skin during our phone call.

  “To see you.” He came up behind me, his fingers moving aside my hair. I breathed in sharply as his lips brushed past my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stood erect, aroused by his touch.

  “What are you doing?” I mumbled, spinning around. His arms crept around my waist as he pulled me to him, his lips finding their way to mine. His lips tasted of whiskey, and I wondered how much he’d been drinking.

  His lips pressed against mine as he pushed me against his car, his hands exploring my body. My head spun as his fingers ran up my thigh, looping around the skimpy fabric of my panties.

  “Is this okay?” he muttered breathlessly in my ear, lifting me onto his hips as he worked my panties down.

  “Yes,” I whispered, kissing him as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He sat me down on the hood of his car, flinging my panties down over my knees and onto the stone driveway.

  I groaned, my hands over his, guiding them under my dress and over my breasts. His fingers tweaked my nipples. Pressing his fingers against my breasts, I kissed him, hard.

  Reaching down, I fiddled with the button of his pants, finally freeing his hard cock. Squeezing it, I pressed my lips against his, while slowly dragging my hand up the length of his shaft.

  “You’ve got a strong grip there,” he chuckled softly. He moved onto his knees, my hold on him releasing as he pushed me down until I lay flat against the car. I sighed as his hand ran over the top of my scrunched up dress, resting on my right breast.

  “Fuck…” I trembled as he rolled my nipple between his fingers.

  "Part your thighs for me," he said, his other hand trailing up my inner leg. Shivers raced down my spine as I spread my legs. He kissed the inside of my thighs, leading up to the crease of my legs. I touched his hair, my fingernails exploring his scalp as he moved closer to my lips.

  "Ohh." My body jolted as his tongue moved swiftly along my opening. With a single finger, he held aside my thong as his tongue continued to tease me. My hands gripped his hair as he thrust his tongue deep inside me, his finger massaging my sweet spot.

  His talent was magical. My hold on his hair tightened, desperate to get that tongue as deep inside me as possible. At that point I didn't care if he suffocated; the only thing on my mind was the climax that was rising inside me.

  "Oh yes, yes, yes!" I whispered, swinging my legs around his neck. He thrust a finger inside me while his tongue slowly licked me up and down. The combination of the two was driving me insane. "Please, oh please," I whimpered, my back arching. I reached up and fumbled with my nipples, rolling them between the tips of my fingers, the sensation pushing me over the edge.

  Pleasure rippled through me. I bucked my hips into his face, needing more of him. All of him. I groaned as he danced along the fine line of ecstasy and pain, pushing him away when it all became too much.

  “That was . . . wow.” It was all I could manage as I straightened my dress.

  He smiled at me, still leaning against the car.

  “Do you want to come in?” I asked. He nodded, and followed me over to the open gate.

  We walked up the path together wordlessly. What was he thinking? Because all I could think about was how amazing he had felt inside me. We reached the door. I unlocked it and let it swing open. He walked inside, with me right behind him.

  “Do you, uh, want a drink?”

  God, I was nervous. Why did this guy make me feel so damn nervous? Most people I could look at their expressions and get some idea of what they were thinking. Roman? No fucking idea. He gave nothing away, and when I asked, he told me as little as possible.

  Yet that hadn’t stopped me from fucking a girl in front of him, or letting him take me on the hood of his car. These were things that I’d never normally do, but for some reason, around him I wanted to act out. I wanted him to want me.

  He followed me into the kitchen, where I found a half-empty bottle of single malt whiskey in the back of the cupboard. I hated the stuff. It tasted like ass. I opened the bottle and poised it, ready to pour into the glass when I felt his hands run up the outside of my bare thighs. I gasped, the bottle slipping from my grasp and smashing to the floor. I didn’t move. I couldn’t, because his hands were now exploring between my thighs, over my damp panties, a finger occasionally slipping inside the fabric and stroking my bare pussy.

  Oh, God. My hands clenched on the countertop as my legs began to buckle.

  “You’re so wet,” he whispered in my ear. “Are you wet for me, Beth? Do you want to feel me inside you again?” I nodded, not capable of speaking anything resembling English. All I knew was that I had an incredibly hot, mysterious, older man with his finger inside me, and I did not want him to stop.

  “Oh yes,” I rasped, my hips bucking toward him as he teased me.

  He grabbed me by the thighs and lifted me onto the sink. I gasped, the cold metal freezing against warmth of my skin. His hands worked under my top, the feel of his fingers against me making me tingle. I closed my eyes and lifted my arms as he slid the top over my head. Pulling me toward him, his lips met the curve of my neck as his tongue slowly drew circles along my collarbone.

>   He was amazing. More than any other man I'd been with, Roman knew how to make a woman feel wanted. He pressed up against me, his lips determined to explore every inch of my body. We kissed, his tongue circling mine as his hands crept behind my back and unclipped my bra.

  I sat there, dressed in only my white silk thong, with him still fully dressed, and standing between my legs. My head was hazy, but not so much that I was incapacitated. I knew what I was doing, and I wanted to be with him—the only thing was, the alcohol made that possible. Had I not been drinking, I would not be sitting on my kitchen counter naked right then, no matter who was in front of me . . . even if it were Coop.

  I gasped as Roman’s mouth traveled down to my breasts. His tongue circled my nipple, sucking and licking me into a state of ecstasy. I curled my legs around him as my hands ran through his hair. I kissed his forehead, breathing in the coconut-almond scent of his shampoo.

  I groaned, my grip on him tightening as his fingers made their way down south. I jumped suddenly as they moved inside the edge of my panties. My thighs clenched with him still between them, my body aching at his touch.

  “Where is your bedroom?” he said, as he gently slid a finger inside me.

  “Down the hall and to the left,” I whispered breathlessly. He lifted me into his arms, his kisses not slowing as he carried me toward the bedroom. I held on tightly, as if I were scared to let him go. My heart pounded. This was moving too fast. The anxiety I was beginning to feel made me worry that the effect of the alcohol was starting to wear off. When doubts started creeping into my head, I got nervous.

  I couldn't do this alone. Could I?

  I wanted him. God, I wanted him so badly. But in my messed up head, all I could think about right then was Ivan, and the way I had felt so useless that night.

  The panic in me continued to feed on my worries. We reached the bedroom, and Roman gently lay me down on my rose embroidered bedspread, his fingers roaming all over my body.

  Edging my hand inside his boxers, I gripped hold of his stiff cock, gently moving my hand back and forth. He groaned and closed his eyes, his mouth tensing as I worked my fingers up and down his shaft.