“Kat,” I whisper, looking into her jade eyes before walking toward her. Her back smacks into the countertop as she tries to back away from me. I end up pinning her hips against the counter, my arms trapping her on either side. I lean in close to her, but I want to be closer. Her hands have nowhere else to go, she rests them on my chest, and I feel her touch pulse through me.
“Are…are you actually talking to me now?” she stammers, then gives a small hiccup, and I swear it takes everything in me not to carry her out of this place caveman-style to my bed, where I know she’ll be safe. I don’t like seeing her like this, drunk and vulnerable.
I smile at the shock in her question. I know, I’ve been a dick, baby. “You’re drunk. You’d better be a good girl tonight, baby. No guys are to touch you. Get me?”
“What do you care, Ry-ker?” Kat enunciates my name in a cute slur. “I mean, you can’t talk to me in full sentences most of the time, or at all in over a month now. Then you’re hot one second, then cold the next…” she trails off. “Speaking of hot, you’re so hot, did you know that?” Her drawing out my name like that was sexy as fuck and has me imagining her screaming it out in ecstasy. And her calling me hot makes my dick ache and my heart pound.
“I don’t care that we haven’t talked in a month. I just don’t wanna see anybody get hurt tonight, believe me, sweet girl, just behave. You and me, we’ll talk again. Soon. I promise, beautiful.” And with that, I kiss her nose before guiding her out the door. I wait there, watching her for a second, making sure she makes it to the ladies room before I disappear into the crowd.
She never looked back at me, which only makes me smile. Stubborn thing.
In spite of myself, knowing I should just leave her alone, I can’t stop myself from looking out for her, watching her after she emerges from the washroom. I keep my eyes on her all night. Running into her by the washrooms served to make me all the more aware of her, and her every move. From that point on, I was sunk. Game over. I can’t help it. My dick is straining my pants so badly; I couldn’t stand up even if I wanted to.
“I’m just gonna stay here,” I tell Matty and Justin, who want to take a prowl around the other side of the club, “and have a beer or two and chat with Roger and Bryce. You guys go on. I don’t see anything I’m interested in yet. Besides, Bryce needs a job, so I’m gonna tell him about Pub. I’ll catch up in a bit.”
“Okay, man, were gonna hit the head then do a walk-through. I saw a sexy little thing by the stage I wanna get closer to,” Matty says before walking away.
Damn Kat and her sexy-as-fuck self.
Once Matt officially ditches us for that chick, there is no way I’m leaving my spot at the table with the guys, especially since Justin came back to join us.
“Ryk,” Justin shouts, “Matty says we can go on home, he’s found his for the night, and we are in no way to expect him home tonight. He actually told me to tell you that if he can help it, he won’t be seeing our—well, he meant your—ugly mug ’til Sunday.”
“Cool, glad he’s hooking up,” I say as he shows me the chick Matt’s picked. “What about you? Doesn’t Matt’s girl have any friends you can hook up with?” I ask as I look where he’s pointing.
Are you fucking kidding me? This is perfect.
I can’t help but feel relieved as Justin points out the group Matt has decided to infiltrate, pointing out Claire as his night’s conquest. Matt being near Kat could be beneficial to me. Hopefully he spends some time getting to know her, too, which will in turn give me his opinion about her. Maybe another guy’s perspective would help squash these feelings she gives me.
“Hey, Ryker, check out this chick getting up on the bar, man. She’s fucking hot,” Bryce says, nudging me.
What the fuck is this? With perfect clarity, I see Kat being lifted by a couple of guys up onto the bar, yelling out to the DJ to play “Stripper” by SoHo Dolls. With a sexy, lopsided smile down to her friends, she slowly unties each of her heeled sandals, unwrapping the straps weaved around her calves before tossing them aside. Then Kat begins to sway her hips in time with the sexy beats pouring out of the speakers, and my breath hitches. Her hips and legs grind lower and lower down as the lyrics kick in.
I’m stunned, mesmerized, and just cannot take my eyes off of this girl who is affecting me like no other before her. Affecting me in a way that I’m not okay with at all. She is consuming my thoughts, and I need to end this bullshit. Not only am I noticing her effect on me, but so are my buddies, just as she’s rubbing her hands ever so slowing down between her ample cleavage as Maya Von Doll sings in whispers the words about moving, being in the mood, and teasing.
My wettest dream comes to life in tunnel vision before my very eyes, but then is abruptly interrupted.
“Hey, stalker, drool much? You wanna napkin to catch all that drool there, bud?”
Justin, the asshole, asks from beside me, a knowing smirk on his face. “Dude, she is one hot piece of ass, that chick right there. Look at those fucking titties,” he says, handing me a napkin, watching her sway those sexy-as-fuck hips to the music.
I’m pissed that he’s watching her, commenting on her. Without warning, I turn to him and scowl, tossing the napkin back, hitting him in the face with it. “Don’t ever think about that chick, Justin,” I all but growl. “She’s not for you. Ever.” I realize my teeth are clenched, my eyes trained on his, sending off a ‘do not test me’ vibe. And, oh boy, does he get it. It’s at this point I know I’ve just outed myself where this girl is concerned, not to mention I feel like an ass. Justin is my friend after all.
He raises his hands in defeat. “Whoa, man, Jesus! Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were into her. I didn’t know you fuckin’ knew her. So, tell me, lover boy, who is that sex-on-heels and what are you going to do about the way she’s got you all twisted up? ’Cause, dude, you almost took me out over some chick.”
“You’re a dick. There’s nothing going on. I think she’s hot. Yeah, so…sorry. She’s nothing. She’s just some chick who works at the bar with me. I’m not trying to sound like a dick I, uh…I just know I’ll be sinking between those thighs pretty soon, and need you to back off, man, that’s all. I just don’t want there to be any confusion. I’m the one who’s going to fuck her, and not any of you douchebags,” I say, then add “and you know me. You can go for it once I’m done; I don’t care for repeats.” I hope he’s buying it. You’ll never have her, dude. I don’t think I will ever be done with her.
Where the fuck did that come from? I. Am. So. Fucked.
“As if I’d want your sloppy seconds, dude,” Justin says, then just stares at me with a ‘you’re full of shit’ smile. It’s obvious I’m failing to hide or deny the impact Kat has on me. Fuck me. The last thing I need is the guys razzing me about Kat and how I’m acting like some kind of whipped pussyboy over some girl.
Once I realize what a tool I just was, I decide it’s time to get the hell out of there before I lose my shit even more and do something stupid. Something I know will prove I’m losing my damn mind. Something like stalking up to Kat, throwing her over my shoulder, and walking out the door with every intention of finishing what I started in the staff room. Fucking her ’til she can’t move. Please her like she’s never known. I want to make this girl tremble at my touch, teach her that only I can satisfy her, that I am what she craves. I need this girl like I need air, and it’s crazy, because I barely know her.
Thanks to Kat Rollins and that sexy-as-fuck dance on the bar, I think I’m going to lose my mind completely. The worst part, I don’t think she realizes how truly stunning and sexy she is.
Never has my cock been as hard as it is just from watching a woman dance. Fuck me. I’ve had to hide out in our booth all night as my dick is in a constant throb. It’s like this girl has a one-way ticket to my cock and she keeps taunting me to convince her to get on, so she can take the ride of her life. Jesus Christ, what a sight that would be. Kat and her amazing tits moving up and down over me, her w
et pussy milking me for all that I’ve been saving for her. Shit! I’m gonna come all over myself if I keep thinking like this.
Damn, what a fucking vision, one I plan on bringing to fruition very soon. It’s at this moment when I decide that. I am going to get to know every single part of Kat Rollins.
Chapter 17
Ryker
I wake up in my own bed the next morning, alone, staring at the ceiling and feeling nothing but pissed off and irritated as hell. I lay here while image upon image of last night rocks through my mind like a movie reel that’s stuck on repeat. Groaning, I roll over in utter frustration, gripping my pillow as I scan the empty space beside me. “Fuck!” I mutter into my pillow, as my arms and legs starfish out, again noting the bed’s cool emptiness. It’s a space which should be alive with recent memories of me pounding into a willing pussy and a smell of last night’s sex. Instead, I wake up to this bullshit feeling, a feeling that karma is mocking me, out to get me, forcing me to re-evaluate these feelings I’m having.
Fuck! I feel like a pussy, which is a feeling foreign to me, a feeling I don’t like at all. A feeling I need to deal with, and fast. I’m not used to my bed being empty after a night at the bar, especially when it’s been empty as long as it has, and when I had firm plans last night to get some much-needed release. No, I’m used to waking up to either a warm body, which I’m quick to dismiss with a ‘Thanks, it was fun’, or at least the smell—I love the smell of fucking, breathing it in the next day. Nothing beats waking up to the smell of sex.
But this morning, waking up to this emptiness, this feeling I’m having, it’s pissing me off. I’m losing my game; I need to remember the stakes. Need to remind myself what chicks like Kat can do. No way will I allow some girl to take over my world again. I can’t let there be another Melissa. I can’t allow Kat to break down my walls. I can’t risk being left with a feeling of emptiness again. I can’t allow myself to become devoted to just one woman, not when there are many to choose from. Why the hell anyone would limit themselves is beyond me.
Last night clearly didn’t go as I had planned. I should be feeling sated and happy, not pissy as hell and hornier than fuck. Looking back on last night, I realize I acted as my own goddamn cock-block. I need to shake my head, rid my thoughts of a certain green-eyed beauty. I need to up my game. I need to fuck her out of my system, like I’d planned to last night. Kat is affecting me too damn much.
I mean, in all actuality, could I have gotten laid last night? Abso-fuckin-lutely. I had a bevy of chicks to choose from, which was all working out just great until my little encounter with Kat in the washroom.
God, the look on her face when she bumped into me was priceless. She looked fucking beautiful, her green eyes round from the shock of seeing me and the way her body responded to my proximity. She really is striking.
Kat was a very good girl. Whether she remembers our talk or not, she heeded my warning and stayed away from any guys trolling, looking for a hook-up. She saved some guy’s face last night, that’s for sure.
Well, until that fucking dance she was a good girl anyway. Little vixen. I swear it took everything for me to stay back. That dance, fuck me, that’s what changed my mind last night, solidified my choice. I didn’t just want any girl. No, I wanted that girl. Last night I wanted—I needed—Kat.
Lying here, I play out last night more times than is good for me, but I can’t help it, I keep pressing rewind. Apparently, I feel the need to torture myself; I’m a glutton for punishment this morning, but I just can’t shake the images of Kat running through my mind. I’m like an addict needing one last fix.
I groan in frustration because she was right, what she said about me not talking to her. I wipe my hands over my face. Irritated with myself, I think about how I should have gone over to her last night. Realizing that Matt being with Claire would have been the perfect reason for joining them, giving me the excuse to talk to her, to get close. But with this unpredictable growling reaction I tend to have toward her and the ramrod hard-on I get at the mere thought of her, there was no way in hell I was going anywhere near her last night. Not that I didn’t want to; believe me, I wanted nothing more. But I need to have better control over myself when I’m around her. No wonder I feel like such a puss.
With these relentless thoughts of Kat, I realize I’m wound way too fucking tight to function normally. Irritated, I whip out of bed, throwing my covers to the floor and pulling off my boxers. I head into the washroom and directly to the shower with my dick beyond angry, throbbing for release. I crank the water on without attention to its temperature; the colder the better, in fact. I need to relieve this tension.
Once under the spray, I stand still, trying to let the pulse of the cold water take the edge off me as it cascades over my shoulders, neck, and back. But it doesn’t. I succumb to the need pulsing through my body. Using the visions I’ve stored of Kat dancing up on the bar and laying under me on the ottoman as ammunition, I take my swollen cock in my hand. I tug it over and over, slow to fast, then fast to slow, teasing and taunting myself, imagining what I’d do if I were sinking my cock inside her tight pussy. God, I bet she’s so fucking tight. Shit, I need to sink myself deep inside this girl. With that last thought, I close my eyes, bracing myself as I come hard into my hand, overflowing down onto the tiles.
As I finish pumping it out, I watch my cum flow down the drain and leaning against the cool tiled wall, catching my breath and thinking how this fucking chick is killing me… killing my game. As soon I talked to her last night, I knew I would be going home alone. No one could elicit the sexual cravings I was having, and it pisses me off. I need to deal with this shit and soon.
Chapter 18
Kat
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. I wake up in my room the next morning with my head feeling all kinds of fuzzy. My body is chilled to the bone as I realize I’m completely hungover and stupidly wearing nothing but my bra and panties. Apparently, I cannot dress myself for bed properly when I am tequila drunk. I pull my dark purple duvet off the floor onto my bed and snuggle into it. My head is pounding. Gosh, am I ever happy I unpacked this baby the other day. I lay snug as a bug, thinking back on the night, at least what I remember of it. We had such a blast; it was a much-needed night out with friends to de-compress and let loose. Despite having a feeling of being watched all night—a feeling that I just couldn’t seem to shake—the night was otherwise epic! I haven’t laughed, drank, and danced like that in forever. It was awesome to cut loose. I definitely need to let myself do that more often; well, maybe go lighter on the tequila next time.
I know without a doubt that we will absolutely be heading back to The Beaver and Bulldog. The music was a perfect balance of new and old hits, the atmosphere was positive, and the drinks went down all kinds of smooth, especially the tequila, which was also the reason why I couldn’t be bothered trying to hook up for the night. I was way too drunk to start any kind of meaningful conversations with the opposite sex. Plus, I was having way too much fun with my friends to really care.
Close to an hour later, I finally force myself to get up out of bed. Having thrown on a hoodie and my fave pair of Lululemon’s from the day before, I cover my freezing body, but before exiting my room, I come to a halt in front of the mirror. Oh fuck, I’m a mess. Mascara is caked in little clumps along my eyelids, my hair’s a bird’s nest, and crusty lime ’rita drool at the side of my mouth to my chin. A sure sign of a good time, if you ask me. “Thank God this is not a regular thing, Rollins,” I mutter as I grab a yellow hair tie, scooping my hair up into a knot on the top of my head. I’ll deal with my face in the washroom.
Opening my door, I have every intention of making my way down the hall to the washroom, but I’m sidetracked by a deep voice booming in the distance. What the hell? I’m pretty sure this unfamiliar voice is coming from the kitchen. Confused and curious, I forego the washroom, cautiously heading to the kitchen. I’m not too concerned, as I know it’s probably a guest of one of the girls; I’m just
a bit jelly that he’s not mine. Yeah right, like you could handle a one-night stand. As I approach the archway, I end up stopping stock-still, awestruck with what I see in front of me. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph on an airplane! Who the fuck is that sex on a pole of a man standing in our kitchen? Wow! Did one of the girls score big time last night, or what?
I make my way closer to confront this unknown hunk, this shirtless wonder. But as I get closer, I laugh at a voice I hear and the person I see lapping up this guy’s every word—Claire. I should have known. My little bestie is, of course, sitting on a barstool grinning like a Cheshire cat at Pole Guy.
“Oh, there you are!” Claire calls out as she spots me smirking in her direction, glancing between her and her hottie, who is not only half-undressed, but also cooking breakfast. “I hope we didn’t wake you, Dancing Queen,” she says. I shake my head, smiling sheepishly at Claire’s name for me this morning.
I stop in front of the fridge where my goal was to grab the cream for coffee, a much-needed staple this morning. A vague image from last night’s festivities flashes into my head. “Oh my God!” I shout as I leave the cream and march over to the stool next to her, the need to suddenly sit taking over.
“Did I, uh, did I dance on the bar last night?” I ask, nervously thinking Please say no, please say no, as memories start flooding back to my mind.
“You sure as hell did, you little sexpot. And fuck me, was it a sight!” Claire laughs back at my question.
“Yeah, you were hotter than Hades, by the way,” adds Pole Guy. Wiping his hands on a dishtowel, he reaches over the countertop for me to shake his outstretched hand.
“Hey, the name’s Matt. We met last night, but I think it’s safe to say you may not remember,” he chuckles as we shake hands.
“Oh, God, no,” I moan and they both laugh out loud, proceeding to tell me how Matt, no longer to be referred to as Pole Guy, was walking by on his way to the bar and noticed Claire and decided he needed to talk to her.
My Mind's Eye (Pub Fiction #1) Page 13