Hustler

by Meghan Quinn

  As if the clouds part and the sun shines directly on me, the little bit of hope is nearly blinding. “Yeah, I do.”

  “I say you bring her some muffins this morning. A little breakfast that she might have missed out on. Gives you a chance to have the upper hand again.”

  For once in my entire friendship with Scott, I’m grateful for talking to him about bullshit women stuff.

  “That’s actually a really good idea.”

  “I know,” he says proudly.

  “Thanks, man. I’m going to hop in the shower, I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Wait,” Scott shouts over the phone before I can hang up. “Dude, my wallet. Did I leave it there?”

  Seeing it earlier on the coffee table during my stumble across the apartment, I let him know it’s here. “Yup. You have a key, it’s on the coffee table.”

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  Rolling my eyes, I hang up the phone and think about what suit I’ll wear to offer Penelope a good morning. Time to turn up the fucking heat.

  ***

  Let it be known, I really don’t like where Penelope lives. Not at fucking all. There is zero security in the communal hallways - any stranger could walk in - and the walls are incredibly thin, to the point that while I made my way through her apartment complex I heard three neighbors fighting, someone banging the fuck out of someone else, and a baby crying incessantly. This was not a place for a girl like Penelope to live… or Page for that matter.

  Briefly, I ponder over what Graham would think if he knew Page lived here. Would he care? Would he want to offer her another place to live? Hell, I wanted to hook them up with a place in Hotel Paragon just so I didn’t have to come up here again. If a cockroach popped out from nowhere and started gnawing off my nipple I wouldn’t be surprised.

  Oh look, and there’s a rat eating a cockroach. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  With a box of freshly baked muffins stuffed under my arm and a drink carrier of to-go coffees in my hand, I knock on their front door.

  From the other side, because the walls are so thin and cheap, I can hear Page and Penelope’s conversation.

  “Who could that be?”

  “I don’t know. Grab the bat just in case, creepy Dave could be looking for more used razor blades.”

  Yeah, I didn’t fucking like her living here at all.

  “It’s too early for creepy Dave. Let me check the peephole,” Page’s voice becomes more distinct as she steps up to the door. “Oh my God, Nell, it’s Gavin.”

  “What?” Penelope’s voice is full of panic. I keep my face set in stone, in case they’re still looking at me through the peephole. “What’s he doing here? Don’t answer the door. If we stay quiet, maybe he’ll go away.”

  “But it looks like he has food. I don’t feel like eating Ramen noodles for breakfast again.”

  “Do not let him in,” Penelope grits out. “Not after last night.”

  “Penelope, the box is pink. That means pastries.”

  “Page, I swear to God if you open that door I will divorce you.”

  Clearing my throat, I say, “You know ladies, these walls aren’t exactly conducive for secret conversations. I suggest, before you embarrass yourselves even more, you just open the door.”

  “Oh my God! He can hear us,” Page hisses.

  It sounds like Penelope groans.

  “Page, I have freshly baked muffins, still warm from the oven…”

  The door flies open to reveal Page with a side pony, wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Her eyes are fixated on the coffee and muffins in my hands.

  “Come on in. Let me take those off your hands.”

  “Thank you,” I laugh as she strips the breakfast treats from my grasp and sets them on the coffee table, just to kneel on the ground in front of them and tear into the box without permission. Before I can say hi to Penelope, Page has a blueberry muffin in her mouth with a look of contentment on her face.

  Pulling my attention away from Page, I glance over at Penelope who’s wearing nothing but my button up shirt from last night and a shocked look on her face.

  Fucking hell she looks good in my clothes.

  “Good morning, Miss Prescott. Have a good night?”

  She rolls her eyes at my formality. “Dandy,” she answers sarcastically, avoiding all eye contact with me.

  “I wouldn’t just say dandy,” Page attempts a chubby-cheeked grin, her mouth full of muffin.

  Furious, Penelope says, “Hey Page, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  Staring down at the muffin, Page answers, “Yeah, at the Little White Chapel with this muffin, saying ‘I do’. I want to marry the shit out of this little fella.”

  Shutting their door, I walk toward Penelope, taking in their small apartment full of used, torn furniture. The difference in our lives is dramatic, my walls are decorated with fine art I spent years collecting, whereas Penelope’s walls are decorated with water stains and random pictures I’m sure she purchased at the local dollar store. It isn’t pretty, it’s run down and way beneath the class that exudes out of both Penelope and Page, but it is comfortable. It’s obvious both of them have put a lot of work into making something deplorable seem almost livable. And I use the word almost very sarcastically.

  I stare over at Penelope sitting on the edge of the couch, never shifting my gaze from her eyes. “So, Page, you were saying her night was more than just dandy?”

  Penelope steps in before Page can answer. “She wasn’t saying anything.” Waving her hand in front of her face she continues, “Damn Page, is that you? I think you need to go take a shower. There’s some kind of stench wafting off of you.”

  A little taken back, Page sniffs her under arm. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “It’s hard to smell traitorous, rotten bitch on yourself,” Penelope sneers. “Best go wash it off.”

  Insulted, Page stands tall, her muffin and coffee in her hand. “Well, you’re rude.” She takes off for her bedroom but not before calling over her shoulder. “Gavin, you were the best sex she’s ever had. She told me you almost broke her clit.”

  “Page!” Penelope yells in protest. “Jesus! I’m never telling you anything ever again!”

  Page’s door slams shut as the last words fall off Penelope’s lips. “Damn it,” she mutters to herself, playing with the cuffs of my dress shirt.

  Sliding onto the couch and scooting closer, I turn my body so I’m facing her, trapping her so she can’t escape me this time.

  “Best you’ve ever had?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “For a man with a small dick, she forgot that part,” Penelope shoots back.

  Leaning forward, I run my thumb across her bottom lip, a tsk to my voice. “Silly girl, you know damn well that’s not the truth, and do you know how I know that? By the way your little mouth dropped open when you saw my cock for the first time, the way your eyes lit up, and the way you screamed the moment I entered you. Not to mention how my long, thick, hard cock was able to bury itself so deep inside you that I hit that one spot I’m sure no other man has been able to touch.”

  Her breathing is heavy, her eyes glazed over, while my fingers graze the base of her neck.

  “Are you remembering it?” I ask her. “Are you reminiscing about how good it felt to have me inside you, filling you, stroking your sensitive nerves? Slowly at first and then fast, to the point that your pussy wouldn’t stop throbbing? Are you remembering that?”

  “No,” she answers, the whispered words barely escaping her.

  “Liar.” I lean forward some more, my hand on her thigh, gliding up to her hip, her naked hip. “You’re thinking about how it felt to have my tongue lapping at your nipple, how it felt to have the weight of my naked body on top of yours, the sound of my name rolling off the tip of your tongue the minute you came. You can’t stop thinking about it, that’s why your face is flushed and the reason why you’re wet right now.”

  “I’m not wet,” she lies. I know she’
s lying, it’s written all over her face.

  “Prove it.”

  “I don’t need to.” She crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

  I’m always right, and there is no way in hell she’s calling me on my cards just yet, it’s time to up the ante.

  Dropping to my knees, I place myself between her legs, spreading them further than she was expecting, a gasp popping past her lips. I push her knees up so they’re on either side of my chest. Because she’s panty-less, her entire pussy is exposed to me, and by the way her slit is glistening, I know I’ve been proven right.

  “Fucking liar,” I say before my mouth descends on her.

  I expect her to fight me, to protest against my onslaught but instead of her telling me to leave her alone, her head falls back on the sofa and her entire body relaxes, well, except for the tiny bundle of nerves at her very core.

  Getting comfortable, I hold her legs back and allow my mouth to do all the work, not caring that Page is only a stone’s throw away, in an apartment with walls made of paper.

  Delicately, I run the very tip of my tongue along her clit, barely touching her, driving her mad to the point that she starts to wiggle her hips against my face. That’s when I plunge a little deeper, still using the tip of my tongue but applying more pressure. A soft, long moan escapes Penelope’s lips, encouraging me to continue.

  I pull away, my voice raspy as I say, “Hold your legs where they are.” On command, her hands grip her knees, holding them in place, freeing up my hands to get to work.

  I use two fingers of my left hand to spread her lips apart, exposing her even more so I can flatten my tongue and really lap her pussy, running the length of her slit, loving the heady taste of her on my tongue.

  With my other hand, I push two fingers inside her, curling up just enough to apply pressure in the right spot.

  “Oh God, oh God,” Penelope cries, her eyes closed, her head shaking back and forth as sweat forms along her skin.

  Moving my fingers in and out, I flick my tongue rapidly along her slit. One, two, three flicks and then one long lick. I repeat the process over and over again, bringing her to the edge, and just when she’s about to fall over the precipice of pleasure, I pull away, leaving her breathless and moaning. I continue this delectable torture, not three, not four, not five times, but six fucking times. To the point that I’m about to come in my pants simply from the sound of Penelope’s moans and cries.

  “Please,” she practically screams, tears dropping from the corner of her eyes. “I need to come. Please, Gavin, please stop teasing.”

  I don’t listen to her. I tease her three more times.

  Flick, flick, flick, one long lick.

  Over and over again, pulling away when she’s about to scream at the top of her lungs.

  I can feel the pulse of her clit on my tongue, her skin soaked in sweat, her body tense, just looking for that one perfect caress, the final push that will send her spiraling over the edge. I’m sitting on my haunches, looking up into her desperate, needy eyes.

  “What do you want?” I ask, a whisper over her pussy.

  “I want you to make me come. Please, Gavin.”

  Without answering her, I suck her clit into my mouth right before plunging my fingers in deep, over and over again, bringing her to the brink of orgasm. Her bottom half thrusts up into my mouth and she cries out my name, loud enough for the entire building to hear. Her hands dive into my hair, pulling me farther into her pussy so that all I can do is hold my breath and bite, suck and lick her to completion.

  It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. And my cock isn’t even out of my pants.

  After a few more thrusts, she relaxes beneath me, twitching ever so slightly with every swipe I take. Once she’s settled down, her body melting into the couch, I pull away and wipe at my mouth, loving the way I can taste her on my tongue. Standing up and adjusting the crotch of my pants, I button my suit jacket and lean over her. Propping myself on the back of the sofa, I press my tongue inside her mouth so she can taste herself.

  Her eyes go wide, but then she melts into me. Before she can get too comfortable, I pull away and give her a wink.

  “Have a good day, baby.”

  With that, I walk out of her apartment, leaving her wondering what the fuck just happened. I just raised the pot, let’s see if she can match it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  **NELL**

  “Oh, my God,” I sigh, still reeling from Gavin’s unexpected pleasurable torment. The door to Page’s room opens and I rush to pull the shirt back down and cover myself just before she walks back into the living room.

  “You dirty, dirty little whore,” she teases with a huge smile plastered across her face.

  “Shut up!” With an embarrassed laugh that she—and probably most of our neighbors—had just heard me come undone as Gavin tongue fucked me on the couch, I slapped my hands over my reddening face.

  Of course she doesn’t shut up, I’m not that lucky. “You know, I imagine the noises I was just forced to hear are similar to what orcas sound like when they’re giving birth. Should we search it to compare?”

  All embarrassment fades as I continue to laugh genuinely. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Yep, I am. Now just apologize for saying I smelled in front of a really cute guy and we can go back to being besties again.”

  “I’m sorry,” I smile up at her.

  Her head cocks to the side, her lips mashed in thought as she taps her chin. Finally, she says flippantly, “You’re forgiven. Now get your post-orgasmic blissed ass off that couch and scrub the hell out of it, slut-face. And be sure to use Scotch Guard.” She turns her back to me and heads for the box of muffins, no doubt planning on hoarding as many as possible in her chipmunk cheeks. I watch as she shoves a bite of blueberry muffin in her mouth. It’s an amazing sight to behold, really. For someone so fit, the girl seriously puts food away when she can. She’s like an anaconda, unhinging her jaw and stuffing her pray down her gullet. I’ve considered filming her at times and sending it in to Animal Planet.

  “So what are your plans today?” she asks once she’s managed to swallow the muffin whole—poor thing didn’t stand a chance. “You know,” she smirks, “since you already got all your sinning out of the way before lunch time.”

  “Bitch,” I grumble.

  “Sinner,” she giggles.

  I flop against the back of the couch and curl my legs beneath Gavin’s shirt. Grabbing it had been an uncontrollable impulse this morning. I had seen it lying there on the floor and didn’t think, I just grabbed it and slid it on over the clothes I’d worn the night before. Well, not all the clothes, considering I couldn’t find my panties anywhere. When I got home, I ripped everything off, planning on shoving it all in the washer as I scrubbed the ever-loving hell out of my skin. Only… the shirt still smelled like him. So I stupidly slid it back on my naked body.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I whine to Page.

  “You mean besides the dirty on the couch?”

  I shoot her a withering look. “Obviously.”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugs as she sits on the chair across from me, clearly not wanting to get anywhere near the couch. “I mean, you say you hate him—”

  “I do!” I insist a little too adamantly, causing her to roll her eyes.

  “As I was saying,” she glares, “you say you hate him, but you did the dirty with him last night. You haven’t done the dirty in all the years I’ve known you…”

  “For the love of God,” I groan. “Please just say sex. What are you, ten?”

  She continues like I didn’t say a word. “And by your own admission, you were the one to instigate it.”

  “Are you getting to your point anytime soon, or are you going to spend the rest of the morning telling me shit I already know?” I snip sarcastically, earning myself a shot to the head with a piece of muffin. “Ouch!”

  “For Christ’s sake, Nell, pull your head out of
your ass, will you? You’re sitting there, right now, sniffing the shirt you stole from him before doing the walk of shame. You might want to hate him, but nothing about your actions are proving that’s the case.”

  Shit, that’s what I was afraid of, and exactly what I didn’t want to hear. “So what do you think I should do?” I asked in a small voice, terrified of what may happen since my body and my mind refused to get along and play well with each other where Gavin Saint was concerned.

  “Maybe just… let your guard down and enjoy the moment. From the wildebeest noises earlier, you have no problem enjoying it.”

  I toss a throw pillow at her head and give her a small laugh before growing somber once again. “You know guys like him only break girls in the end, right?”

  “I know,” she nods seriously. “But you aren’t just any girl. I know you don’t see it in yourself, but I do.”

  “See what?”

  “That you’re the only person I know so damned close to unbreakable.”

  ***

  I tug at the microscopic skirt that’s part of the cocktail waitress uniform in the high roller suite. I’ve been working that room for a couple weeks now and I still haven’t gotten used to how uncomfortable I am showing so much skin. Which is weird since I spent most of my childhood and teen years in spandex leotards and little else. But at least then I wasn’t wearing a three-inch thick bra that jacked my boobs up to my chin.

  Trying to gain as much coverage as I can, I continue to tug as I push through the door of the employee lounge only to crash into another massive brick wall that seems to have popped up out of nowhere.

  “Son of a—” I shout, rubbing at my head where I’d just careened into what felt like a foot of solid concrete.

  “Sorry,” the wall spoke and I look up into a pair of familiar eyes. Familiar eyes that are attached to a body that could give concussions with a single bump.

  “Oh, uh…” I stumble over my words as I continue to rub my aching forehead. “It’s okay. My fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “Nell, right? I met you by the pool the other day. And at Gavin’s dinner party?” I could have sworn I saw a mischievous glint in his eye when he said party.