Beer Goggles Anthology

by Anthology

  His eyes land back on mine as he twirls a piece of brown hair between his fingers. “I promise you, Pris. You won’t forget me.”

  My heart pounds in my chest at his words, but I manage to say, “Only those who matter are remembered.”

  He gives me a smirk and leans in closer. I think he’s about to kiss me again, but instead, he reaches behind me to grab something. When he stands back to his full height, he holds a knife between our bodies. It’s a filet knife. A long skinny knife that has a curve to the end of it. Black handle and silver blade.

  My breathing becomes erratic as I look down at it. I know I should be terrified when a stranger holds a knife up to me, but I’m not. Terror is the last thing on my mind. He grabs the neckline of my dress and says nothing as he lifts the knife.

  I place my hands on either side of me and grip the end of the countertop.

  My vision starts to blur as my eyes grow heavy. “Chaseyn…” I pant. My thighs clench, and my heart pounds.

  “I told you I’d cut this dress off you, Pris. All you have to do is say so,” he says slowly.

  I can’t move. I can’t speak. The room is starting to spin as those last two drinks I took are kicking in. I want this. Something memorable. Something that will make all past experiences pale when compared. I need it!

  “Just say the words.” His bright blue eyes look into mine, and he smiles. Like he already knows he won. Hell, I’ve jumped him once. I’m prepared to go all the way.

  “Do it.” My voice is rough, and I feel like I’m swimming in a pool of lust. I’m about to go under, and he’s gonna be the one to hold me down. Bring it.

  He leans into me, his face inches from mine, and whispers, “Don’t breathe.”

  I suck in a deep breath as he places the knife at the neckline of my dress. He very slowly, very carefully runs it down the middle of my body, slicing my dress in half. I feel the sharp end of the knife touching my skin as it runs down over my chest and stomach. I hold my breath as I watch his eyes follow the knife in amusement. When he licks his lips, I realize it’s turning him on as much as it is me. He pulls it away quickly as he cuts the end at the top of my thighs.

  He takes a step back to look at his work, and I stand motionless, my hands still gripping the counter. My eyes fixed on him. He tosses the knife onto the counter behind him and steps back into me.

  I jump when he places his hands on my stomach. “You can breathe now,” he says as he appraises my body.

  My chest heaves as I suck in a few breaths. My head spins, and my body is heavy. I’m getting dizzy from him, and he hasn’t even touched me where I want it most. Between my legs!

  The dress falls off my shoulders and onto his kitchen floor. I stand before him in nothing but a black bra, matching panties, and silver glittery high heels.

  “Now what?” I ask breathlessly. Wondering what else this man could have in mind for me. So far, he’s right; it doesn’t matter how drunk I am, I won’t forget this night.

  He smiles as he reaches up and places his hands in my hair. “Now, I take you to my bed and fuck you.”

  Chaseyn

  My cock is hard as a rock, and my heart is pounding. I just cut her dress off. I. Cut. It. Off. Not sure what made me do it, but once the thought hit me, I couldn’t not do it. And she let me. Biggest. Turn-on. Ever. And now, she stands before me in panties and a bra with her heels, and all I can think about is her in bed with me.

  “What do you think, Pristine?”

  She swallows and pulls her shoulders back. I can see her eyelids growing heavy. The alcohol’s starting to bring her down. I’m not sure how much longer she’ll make it. “I think you’ve made your point.” Her words are slower than usual. She’s trying not to speak so fast that her words are slurred.

  “And?”

  “And now, I make mine.” She reaches up, grabs my button-up shirt, and yanks it open. The buttons go flying to the floor. Some even make it onto the countertop before her lips are on mine.

  Her force pushes us backward, and she jumps up into my arms. Her lips take over mine as I hold her up and try to walk us to my bed. We make it five steps and then we’re falling onto the floor.

  She’s above me laughing, and I’m underneath her, watching her face light up. She looked hot yesterday morning at breakfast. She looked gorgeous tonight all dressed up. But right now, she looks magnificent. Her laughter and her smile light up the room. It makes me smile just to see it. I feel as if not many people see this side of her. Happy.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I say, and her laughter stops. She straddles me while looking down at me. Her long dark hair hangs over her left shoulder.

  “And you’re stalling,” she says, arching a brow. “You know words won’t make this night memorable. I need action to back it up.”

  I laugh. “I can give you that.”

  Before she can say another word, I roll us on the floor so she is under me. My lips go to her neck, my hand to her black panties. I push them to the side and feel how wet her shaved pussy is for me already. She arches her back, and her hands yank on my hair, making my scalp tingle. “Chaseyn.”

  “Yes, baby?” I ask, pressing my lips to her collarbone and kissing my way up her neck. I slide a finger into her tight pussy as my teeth bite down on her soft skin. Then I add another.

  She gasps and bucks her hips as I finger fuck her while lying on my floor in the middle of my living room. Her hands move to grip my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin.

  My shirt hangs off me, and my pants are getting tighter by the second. “God, I can’t wait,” I tell her, licking my lips. I want to taste her so bad, but I need to be inside her more.

  “Then don’t,” she says desperately. “Do it now.”

  I remove my fingers from inside her and reach down, undoing the zipper on my slacks. I don’t even bother to take them off; I just pull my dick through the now open zipper and push her panties to the side.

  I spread her legs with mine and push inside her. Her back arches, and she cries out as I fill her. Her pussy stretches to allow me in, and I grind my teeth as she tightens around me. “Pristine.” I breathe.

  “Chaseyn.” She gasps, reaching up; she grabs my neck and pulls me down to her. My lips find hers, and I kiss her deeply as I start to move in and out. Each thrust harder and faster than the last.

  Chapter Eight

  Pristine

  The unfamiliar room sways as I lie on my side in Chaseyn’s bed. My arm is under my head, and the pillows are long gone. Somewhere on the floor along with the sheets and the comforter. My body still shakes from my latest orgasm. I’m sweating, and my heart beats wildly in my chest as I try to calm my breathing. I’m not only exhausted, but I'm also still very drunk.

  A hand gently lands on my ass, and I flinch. The skin is still sensitive from his hand spanking it earlier in the night. I hear him chuckle behind me, and his warm body shifts the bed as he cuddles up against me. “Nervous?” he asks.

  “More like sore,” I say roughly.

  I close my eyes to help stop the room from spinning, but it just makes it worse. I push him out of my way as I roll onto my back and cover my face with my hands.

  “Are you going to get sick?” he asks, his warm hand now on my chest.

  “No,” I say, and my hands muffles the word. “Trying to get the room to quit spinning,” I admit. “God, I drank too much.” I sigh as I remove my hands from my face. “Why didn’t you stop me?” I open my heavy eyes and look up at his bright blue eyes.

  He smiles, and he lets out a small laugh. “Like you would have listened.”

  “What time is it?” I lick my dry lips.

  “A little after eight in the morning,” he says after checking his phone. I moan, and it’s not the good kind of moan. “Are you sure you’re not gonna get sick?” he asks, rubbing his hand on my belly. It’s sweet.

  “I’m sure,” I tell him with a nod. “I just need some water,” I say as I sit up. I rub my hand over my head as it pounds. He
crawls out of bed and makes his way over to the bar. “And maybe some Advil. Do you have any?” The new position makes my legs shake harder.

  He nods as he fills me a cup of water from the sink. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I laugh softly and instantly regret it. “Ow.” I wince, placing my hand back on my head.

  I can’t help but look at his naked body. Watching as he walks, I can’t help that his muscular thighs and defined abs make my already racing heart beat faster. His semi-hard cock hangs between his legs, and I lick my lips. He sits down beside me and pushes the tangled hair from my face. “Good morning,” he says as his blue eyes search my face.

  “Morning,” I mumble as I take the water from him. I pop the Advil in my mouth and then down the water. My mouth is so dry and my voice is scratchy. “I wanna go back to bed.”

  He nods. “Okay. You can rest here today. I’ll take you home later. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  He smiles at me. That big panty-dropping smile, and if I had panties on, they would instantly be wet. But I’m still naked and very horny.

  He opens his mouth to speak, but I hear a loud knocking noise and then voices. “What was that?” I ask wide-eyed.

  “Fuck!” He curses as he jumps off the bed and grabs a comforter. Just as he throws it over me, I hear the door open to his house and voices follow.

  “Dude. It’s time to get up. We should have left fifteen minutes ago.” It’s his brother. I know that voice.

  “I’m not going,” I hear Chaseyn say as I hover underneath the blanket, water still in my hand and some now on his bed. I’m starting to sweat. Even though it’s mid-December, my body is still trying to recover from the orgasms I’ve had throughout the night.

  “What?” I hear a woman’s voice snap. “Yes, you are. Get up and let’s go.” I realize the high-pitch squeal is my sister. What is she doing here? And where are they going?

  “I said to go without me,” Chaseyn growls, getting irritated.

  “Where the hell were you last night?” his brother demands.

  He doesn’t answer, and I hear my sister huff. “What could be so important…”

  I throw off the covers and sit up, making sure to keep it up to at least hide my breasts.

  Chaseyn drops his head as he shakes it, knowing that me revealing myself is about to start a shit storm. My sister gasps, and his brother looks back and forth between the two of us as if he just saw a ghost. “What are you…” my sister says, taking a step back. “Why are you here?” she demands. “With Chaseyn? Did you sleep with him?”

  I don’t answer. The fact that my cut dress is in pieces on his kitchen floor and my panties and bra are hanging over the back of his couch and my heels on the floor along with his black slacks and ripped button-down give enough hints for her to put the pieces together.

  We all stare at one another silently. My head begins to pound harder, and I can feel Chaseyn getting angrier by the second as he sits beside me, the comforter covering his lap. The fear of what he’s thinking makes my palms start to sweat. Was last night a mistake? Is he ashamed? Should I be ashamed? Would I have slept with him if alcohol had not been involved?

  “I can’t believe you,” my sister says as she starts to cry. Doing what she does best—playing the victim. I watch as her fiancé takes her into his arms as if she just saw the worst thing possible, and my teeth grind. “How could you do this to me?” she demands, pulling away from him and looking at me as if I just destroyed her life. As if I just betrayed her like she once did me.

  I lick my lips. “How could I do this to you?” I repeat the question. “It wasn’t like I slept with your fiancé.” Her eyes widen. “Like you did mine…”

  To be continued…

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  Vikings

  By Sunniva Dee

  Chapter One

  Impressions

  “Seriously, they drink like Vikings.”

  It’s a ridiculous first thing to think in a new country, but Kara’s words still appear at the frontal lobe of my brain as the plane bounces onto the tarmac in Oslo.

  “What does that even mean?” I eye-rolled her at that, because, one: Vikings is old news and totally cliché, and two: drink like Vikings? What?

  She tipped her nose up. “Kristen, you call yourself Norwegian—”

  “That’s Poppa. As far as I’m concerned, I’m fourth generation.”

  “—and you’ve read up on, like, nothing about Norwegian history, and now you’re going to study there. How’s that going to play out?”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I love how alarmed you are though, especially since you’ve already visited and survived just fine.”

  “Ha! I went with the girls’ choir when I was little. That’s a tad different.”

  “Okay, so you saw some drunk people in Norway when you were twelve, and now you think I won’t be able to survive without a chaperone at twenty-two. That it?”

  Kara held her micro-brew up between us, candlelight making it gleam golden. “You don’t understand. Back in the day, the Vikings would drink so, so much they’d fall over themselves and puke and rage and fight.”

  “Which is relevant how again?”

  “And ugly-bump with or without consent depending on the girls. Like, if they were English it’d be mostly without consent.”

  “What, the English were a free-for-all?”

  “No, geez, you really need to read some history.” She blew her cheeks up. “The Vikings invaded everyone. Get it? They were warriors, and they killed the enemy men and took their women if they thought they were hot.”

  “And when was this?” I blinked innocently, because that much I knew; it happened stone-ages ago. Kara crossed her arms. But then they loosened, and she tucked her hands into her pockets.

  “Mm. A few years ago.” It’s always funny when Kara’s smile works to break through a serious expression.

  “Hmm, by ‘a few years,’ do you mean”—I wriggled my mouth, considering—“give or take ‘a thousand?’”

  With a pointer finger in the air, she prepared buts and other objections, but I cut her off.

  “So let me get this straight: you’re afraid I’ll end up shitfaced in a piece of Viking Norway. That I’ll shed what you call my ‘goody-two-shoes persona’ and become a drunk or a vixen or a victim or all of the above?” I arched a brow. “Then I’ll be hauled off to some Viking lair and taken advantage of. That sum it up?”

  “But you’re a clammed-up person! Who knows what your plan is.”

  The stewardess on this flight is Dutch. Now, she litters out stuff about the gate and where to go for transfers in three different languages. I don’t understand the Dutch version. The English one’s fine, but I have to concentrate like a bitch to pick up fragments of the Norwegian edition.

  The tang of smoked breakfast salmon still tints my tongue, and I chug my orange juice as we slow to a stop in front of our gate.

  I’m exhausted. Five hours of Detroit Metropolitan Airport will do that to you, especially when it’s in the middle of the night—and more especially if you have another seven hours and forty-seven minutes to go on an intercontinental flight. Mercifully, this is the last stop for me.

  “Thank you for
flying with Delta,” the hot steward boy murmurs as I pass on the way out. I cock him a tired yet, I believe, sexy smile, and plod out.

  Passport lines are excruciating. Seriously, they kill people’s souls. Why do they take for-goddamn-ever? Norwegians are more trusting than U.S. Customs though, so we snail forward at a somewhat digestible speed. Mr. Uniform at the checkpoint nods deeply once I’m there—due to wooden social skills more than respect?—and hands back my passport.

  Our pipeline of hell narrows again after baggage claim. Red dots of exhaustion invade my vision, and I work to not collapse all over my stuff. I’ve got two big suitcases, my laptop, and a ginormous Kate Spade I brought as my everyday purse. Great choice, Kristen. Great choice.

  I groan to myself in the midst of this slow, forward-shoving mass of cattle. I mean people. Gah, I’m in a reversed funnel. It ends only ten yards ahead, but it’s jam-packed with breathing flesh. Why? It spreads up there, the opening much wider. Get out, people. What are you waiting for?

  Oh right, strollers. A guy with a cast and crutches. Little kids. Old people. Other things. I blink back sandpaper and have a brief moment of guilt before fatigue takes over again. I could get out of everyone’s way. Hey, I’d be happy to. Just let me pass real quick.

  I feel someone staring at me. I blink so slowly it’s like I could fall asleep right here. I know better than to slide a glance to the right, but who follows social rules when you’re being studied?

  Movement. The starer bends and lifts the black rope separating our tract of doom from the rest of the airport. The corner-of-my-eye vision blows into a devour fest as I face the perpetrator and find a total Viking creating an exit for me.