by T Gephart
Angie seeing that was not part of the plan. Not that it should’ve mattered, she could screw whoever she wanted and so could I, but I was better than that. More careful. More discreet. And usually I was. This time, I hadn’t given a shit. It wasn’t like me. I wasn’t Dan, even though I’d probably slept with twice the number of women he had.
She should never have been there.
The reasons of how it came to pass were still a mystery. I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror while the water ran over my hands. The temperature so hot I wasn’t sure I wasn’t going to be rocking third degree burns. The messed up situation echoed in my head as I cut the water, toweled off and went back to the living room. Why the hell did she have to be in the fucking room? I would have assumed she’d been tied up with one of the douchebags. It looked like that’s where it was heading.
Yeah, I was going to need a drink. And not a beer.
The bar fridge offered a bunch of options, all of them tiny. Still a drink was a drink, so I opted for the scotch. I opened the bottle and threw it back, the need for a glass non-existent; the damn thing was barely bigger than a swallow.
The burn down my throat felt nice but didn’t last long; it also wasn’t even close to making a dent in what I needed. There was always the gym, running it out had always been my go-to solution. Well, that or sex, and seeing as sex was not going to happen, a run was probably the best option.
Not that my dick understood. No, I was still rock solid. And it hadn’t been from Kristen, not even fucking close.
As I toed-off my boots and stripped off my shirt, I figured the run probably wasn’t the best idea. Drinking and exercising, not a good mix. Not unless you were on The Jersey Shore. Of which I wasn’t. So I guess that was out for the night too.
The next bottle I snagged was bourbon, because that was smart. I figured might as well mix it up, it’s not like I gave a shit as long as I could continue drinking. Which I was going to have to stop the minute I exhausted my supply of tiny bottles.
This was so fucked up. Downing liquor like I was Ozzy Osborne. Any minute the assholes from VH1’s Behind the Music were going to bust through the door to interview me about my fall from grace. Might as well make the fall epic, go hard or go fucking home.
My ass sunk into the leather couch, the one near the desk Angie had jack-in-a-boxed out from, and I picked up the phone. My fingers hit the call button, the one that would connect me to room service.
“Good evening. This is Claire, how can I help you?” A sweet, bright voice answered.
My fingers squeezed against the bridge of my nose, the pressure building in my head. I didn’t want sweet, sweet had just walked out the damn door, so the reminder was just an irritation I didn’t want.
“Yeah, I want a real bottle of bourbon. Not this shit in the mini bar.” My voice was harder than it needed to be. And yet I couldn’t make myself give a shit, such was the intensity of my jacked-up mood. Fuck you, Em. I flipped off the air as I apparently started to lose my mind. ’Cause that’s what sane people do, tell a memory to go fuck itself. Seriously losing my grip.
“Sir?” Sweet-voice Claire called me to attention. Her tone hinting that she’d asked something. She’d probably asked if I wanted a pair of forceps to pull my head out of my ass. Valid question.
“Sorry, what was that?” I asked, trying to keep the bite on the sidelines. It wasn’t her fault she’d drawn the short straw and been on the other end of the phone.
“I asked if Maker’s Mark would be acceptable.”
Of course that’s what she’d ask, because it would make sense that she would want to clarify my order. What any normal person would assume. Pity no one in the room was currently flying the normal flag.
“Yes, send it up.” I resisted the urge to ask for a bottle of Grey Goose as a chaser. Probably over kill, I wasn’t an alcoholic despite my fucked-up behavior.
“Sir, might I suggest something from our extensive menu.”
Nice. She hadn’t apparently got the memo about me not needing a voice of reason. Or a burger and fries. Both which I hadn’t ordered.
“No food, just the bourbon, and I’ll take it without the side judgment as well.” I really was an asshole. Not sure how anyone thought otherwise.
“Sir, I wasn’t implying … I’m sorry. Of course, right away.”
The call ended and I tossed the phone onto the desk, not bothering to hang it back on the base. It’s one of the things I had marked on my list of don’t-give-a-fuck.
The knock at the door came pretty quick, which was just as well because I was all geared to drink myself into oblivion. Putting it off was more an inconvenience than anything; so the sooner I got started, the better.
I yanked the door open, ready to get my party for one started.
Motherfucker.
“Angie, what are you doing here? You need to go.”
She could not be here, especially not now.
“No.” She didn’t even flinch, her hands on her hips, the same fuck-you she usually gave to me.
“What the hell did you say to me?”
“I said no, Jason. I’m sure it’s been a while since you’ve heard it but I don’t give a fuck it’s not what you want to hear.”
Well then, she had my attention.
She moved forward and I hoped she didn’t trip on my jaw as she passed through the doorway and walked into the suite.
“Do you still want to have sex with me?” She moved closer, her breath hot on my face as she leaned into me. No booze that I could smell. At least one of us was sober.
Wait a minute, how many of those little bottles did I drink?
“Yes.” The word was out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. Me being honorable tonight wasn’t going to happen.
“Why?” Her eyes nailed me, and I had to concentrate to stay upright.
“Because you’re beautiful, and I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting you.”
“Okay.” She nodded once, her hands still planted on her hips.
“What exactly are you saying okay to?” The instructions would be good right about now. I’d already said I wasn’t a chick-whisperer.
“To have sex.” No blushing, no blinking, no flick of the hair. Her eyes on me and she was dead serious.
“Woooahhhhhh. Did you not tell me how much you couldn’t stand me?”
“I think I also mentioned hate.”
“So why the hell are you agreeing to sex?” This had to be a trap. Any minute she was going to whip out a machete and slice my balls off. Or my dick. Maybe both. I’m sure she already had the plaque picked to have them mounted.
“Because I want to, and this time at least I know that all I am getting is a fuck. There is something freeing about knowing where you stand.” She moved closer, the familiar smell of her shampoo invading my nose. Any chance I had of saying no to her was slipping away.
“Angie, trust me. You do not want this.”
Translation, we are both going to regret this in the morning and this time around I can’t get in my fucking car and drive away.
“How about you don’t tell me what I do or do not want, and take off your damn jeans and do what we both are so desperate to do.”
Well I guess some things had changed. Her mouth, for one. Not that I was complaining. It was completely fucking hot.
“This is a bad idea.” Actually, in the history of bad ideas, right here was numero uno.
“I know, and I don’t care.”
She slammed her mouth on mine, her tits pushing against me. Her hands, they were on a downward trip as they slid down my back and grabbed my ass. She was angry and aggressive, and I was so turned on my balls ached.
“Angie.” My hand fisted her hair as my tongue explored her mouth. She tasted so fucking amazing, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to stop.
“Shut up.” Her teeth bit down on my lower lip as she pushed me back. The sting of pain smacked my mouth, followed by the slight coppery taste of blood.
/> “You fucking bit me?” My hand grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her lips from mine, her eyes jacked-up on lust and rage.
“You deserved it. You were talking too much and if we’re just fucking, there doesn’t need to be any small-talk.” She smirked, licking her lips with freaking satisfaction.
“You want to be fucked? Is that why you’re here?” I kept her hair wrapped around my hand as I pulled her head further back, giving me access to her neck. Her pulse hammered away underneath the olive skin.
“Uh-uh.” She struggled to nod, my grip on her hair keeping her head from moving.
“You better know what you are signing up for, Angie, because I’m beyond the point of stopping.”
“Then stop being a pussy, and give me your cock.”
Control went out the window. My hands, my mouth, they were clawing at her like I was a savage. I was a savage, my fucking need for her so off the chain that I wasn’t sure I wasn’t going to stroke out.
That bullshit top she’d been wearing, the one that curved around her tits within an inch of their life was in my hand and torn from her body. I didn’t even give a shit I’d literally ripped her clothes off. It was in my way and I needed her naked. Her beautiful tits heaved up and down in her lacey black bra as I reached down to her ass and yanked at the zip of her tight black skirt. My concern for its welfare also did not rank highly.
She was so hot I couldn’t think straight, her skirt dropped down to her ankles and gave me a better look at all her marked skin. She hadn’t been afraid of the pain. The color stretched not only up and down her arms, but also across her ribs and down her hips. It was beyond stunning; it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
The ice bucket moment came just as I’d snapped her bra from her chest. The shredded material still in my hand as the knock at the door happened.
Fuck.
She stopped and grabbed my face. “That better not be a fucking booty call, Jason.”
That thing I’d discussed earlier, about her cutting off my balls, she had a look that spelled out the desire to do just that.
“It’s room service, I ordered bourbon before you got here.”
My brilliant idea, not so fucking awesome now. Who needed a drink anyway, I’d take my high in the form of the smoking, hot woman in front of me.
“Give me a second.” My hand reluctantly dropped her damaged bra and I made for the door. It was more than just an interruption. It was a wake-up call. One that I had no doubt she would take. Which was going to be a problem, because letting her walk out of my door tonight was not going to be easy.
“Hey.” I cracked open the door, my body blocking the view of the interior of the room.
“Hi, just delivering your drink, sir.” Some glorified bell-hop stood beside a silver cart, the Maker’s Mark sitting on top with a bucket of ice and a couple of tumblers.
“Just leave it there.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a tip. “I’ll grab it in a minute.
“Of course, sir.” Was what he said, but his face read differently. More like the man was questioning my sanity for leaving a bottle of booze out in the hall and why I wasn’t giving him access to my room.
All valid.
He took his suspicions and wisely didn’t ask questions, turning around and heading toward the elevator. The cart being pulled into the room with one hand while I held the door ajar with the other.
Angie was probably getting her clothes back on and getting ready to bail at that very moment but there wasn’t a chance anyone was getting the opportunity to look at her while she did it.
Nope, not a chance in hell.
“Maker’s, nice choice.” She wandered over to the cart and picked up a couple cubes of ice and tossed them into a glass. “I hate Jack Daniel’s.”
Not only was she not dressed, her tits still on display, but she’d lost her panties as well. Her body, naked, except for the obscene pair of black heels she’d walked in with.
“You’re naked.” My hands cracked the red wax as I twisted the cap off the bottle.
Her hand tilted her ice filled glass toward me. “Yep.”
“So, that last minute time out didn’t change your mind?” The amber liquid poured out of the bottle, filling her glass.
“Nope.” Her mouth popped off the P before she raised the glass to her lips and took a drink.
My fingers wrapped around the glass and stole it from her hand, not bothering to pour my own. “I like you like this.” I took a mouthful, as my eyes steamrolled over the curves of her body. My dick punched out against the zip of my jeans in a show of unanimous appreciation.
“Well, unless you expect me to fuck myself.” She didn’t even bother covering her tits, her tight pink nipples waiting for me to lick them as she pulled the glass from my hand. “You’re going to have to get naked too.” She took another mouthful before putting the glass down on the cart. “And unlike your last little friend, I’m going to need something more than just your hand to get me off.”
My mouth slammed against hers, the taste of bourbon and possibly regret, feeding me as I grabbed her ass and hauled her against my erection.
“That feel like enough of a something for you?”
I didn’t give her a chance to answer, instead lifting her off the ground and wrapping her legs around my waist. The resistance she offered, non-existent.
As much as I wanted to unzip my jeans and plunge my cock into her right there, the fact we hadn’t made it to my room yet was a problem. The shared space of our penthouse apartment, not a suitable location for it to all go down.
“Jase.” Her lips sucked at my throat as I opened the door to my bedroom, kicking it shut after we’d walked through the doorway.
“I didn’t think you wanted an audience and they’re going to be back soon.” There was no need to clarify the they. I’d been surprised they hadn’t arrived already. Saying hi to Troy, Dan and their ladies while my cock was buried inside Angie wouldn’t have gone down too well. Especially not with Troy. Best the big guy didn’t know, because me not having her tonight wasn’t an option.
“These need to be off.” Angie grabbed at my jeans as I tossed her onto the mattress, my body joining hers on the bed.
She wasn’t gentle, her fingers clawing at the denim in a bid to get them down. Her short fingernails my saving grace, with the abrasions on my thighs being nothing more than a few red scratches. The sting of it juicing me up more.
My boxers were the next thing to go, her hands giving me an assist while mine were otherwise occupied. I couldn’t get enough, my fingers on her skin setting me on fire. It was a deep fucked-up need to touch every single inch and I felt completely out of control. My hand snaked down between her legs as I sunk two fingers into her hot, wet core.
She moaned against my mouth, which I’d been keeping busy kissing her lips before migrating south to her tits, my teeth gently biting her nipples. The noises she made threatening to make me blow my load before we’d even got to the actual sex.
It was too much.
Wishing there was another way to get a rubber without needing to stop touching her, I cursed out a breath as I reached into my nightstand and pulled out a condom. My intention of making her come with my hand or my mouth first, no longer working for me. I’d do it later, and I would make it worth her while but if I didn’t fuck her right now, I was going to lose my damn mind. And probably the use of my cock, which had gotten so hard, it was actually starting to hurt.
I sheathed my dick in the condom, my hand smoothing the latex down the length of my shaft. Her body jacked up off the mattress in protest, her legs kicking open to reveal the slickness between them. It was beautiful, seeing her so wet and ready for what I was about to give her, I needed a second just to look. She took advantage of my distraction by reaching her hand down between us, palming my cock and giving me a stroke. I needed to fuck her. Like, yesterday.
“This is probably going to be faster than I want.” I smacked her ass as I ga
ined control of her legs. “But we can do slow later.”
“Fuck. Me.” The words jutted out through her gritted teeth.
And I’ll be damned if that isn’t exactly what I intended to do.
While one of my hands peeled hers from my cock, the other one held my dick steady while I drove into her in one swift movement. Smothering her body so completely I wasn’t sure I wasn’t crushing her.
“Agh!” Her hands griped my shoulders as her body tensed, her pussy gripping me tight like a vice. Her tits pressed hard against my chest.
“I thought you said you wanted to be fucked?” I drove into her again, this time her body easing up on the resistance, the slide of my dick getting easier with each thrust.
Her head thrashed back against the pillow as I slowly picked up momentum. “Yes.” She screamed biting against my shoulder. “Harder.”
That sweet eighteen-year-old I’d had in the back of my car was not the same girl I was currently screwing. She was different, and it wasn’t just her body that had changed, it was her whole attitude.
She grabbed my ass, pulling me deeper into her. Her hips lifting to meet each thrust, pushing me right where I needed to be. I couldn’t have talked even if I’d wanted to, our verbal exchange limited to primal noises. The need to be with her was so intense I thought I might actually blackout.
“Oh God,” she screamed as her body finally gave in, her pussy milking me as she came hard underneath me. Her body shook as she took all of me, the pulsing against my shaft undoing any hope I had of trying to make it last.
“Fuck.” It felt like every single nerve ending simultaneously exploded as my body tensed, my load filling her as I panted against her throat.
Fuck.
Both literally and figuratively, we were fucked.
And it had been so, so good.
“Angie?” My tongue traced the length of her jaw, more hungry for her than before. There was no way I wasn’t going to do that again. “Are you okay?”
“Just give me a minute.” Her eyelids slowly cracked open as I eased off her, another tremble shaking her body. “It’s just been a while.” Her satisfied smile enough validation that it had been just as good for her.