by Mj Fields
If Tobias Easton thought I was going to take any more time sitting in that obscene study, thinking about a damn thing to do with her, he was wrong. And if he pushes …
I force back thoughts of breaking him and Truth up, because those thoughts are as fucked up as I’m allowing myself to go with this shit.
Walking through the crowded museum-like room, blood boiling, I focus on the bar. I pass dozens of faceless people saying my name, ignoring them in search of something stronger than the venom Tobias unknowingly just pumped into my veins in an attempt to attach her to me.
Fucking joke, I think when a chick in a white shirt, black tie, dark hair slicked back in a bun, like she’s serving the fucking queen, asks, “What can I get for you?”
“Whiskey,” I say as I stand waiting.
She sets down a crystal rocks glass and pours a shot into the glass.
“Gonna need more than that,” I say as I reach over and lift the bottom of the matching decanter with a finger to stiffen the pour.
When the glass is half-full, she lifts the bottle away from my touch. “I think that’s good.”
I look up at her and raise a brow.
She shakes her head, lightly rolls her brown eyes, and sets the decanter back behind the bar.
As I lift the glass to take a drink, she tells me, “Ten dollars.”
The guy working the other end of the bar walks over as I set my glass down to grab even more cash and whispers in her ear as I peel a ten off the top.
“Twenty,” she informs.
I look up at her, annoyed, and she shrugs.
“Lady’s rules?” I ask, trying to hide the fact that I’m ready to fucking blow.
She takes the twenty. “Something like that.”
I down the glass and set it on the bar. “Another.”
She fills the glass, and I throw two twenties on the bar.
As she sets the decanter down to grab the twenties, I slam the half-full glass of whiskey, throw a hundred on the bar, and take the decanter.
When I begin to walk away, she calls after me, “You can’t take that.”
Over my shoulder, I tell her, “If the lady has an issue with it, tell her I dare her to come take it from me.”
I look around and notice the only eyes not smiling at me are the ones working the party. Doesn’t take a genius to realize that the reason for that is they’re not here for a fucking show or hoping to get a piece of ass from the one in the crew who’s yet to touch any of them.
When I see Tyler step in my direction, I hold up the crystal decanter and toast the air before taking a drink from it. He looks pissed. I don’t give a fuck. I hope he comes at me.
We exchange taunting glares, and when he finally begins to step toward me, Tobias grabs his shoulder and whispers in his ear. I’m no lip-reading expert, but I’m pretty sure he said, ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me’, to Tobias before looking at me.
I walk over to an audacious-looking chair that looks like only a king should be sitting in it. No one is near it, so I take a seat, hell-bent on finishing the bottle without any interruption, when one of Gabrielle’s friends approaches me.
“Nobody sits there,” she says, giving me a coy smile.
“Do I look like nobody?” I ask, bending my knee and placing my foot on the edge of the chair.
“You look like a lot to handle.” She licks her lips.
“You up for the challenge?” I ask before taking another drink.
She nods once. “Just don’t want the blowback. Give me a couple minutes, and then meet me upstairs?”
A chuckle rumbles from my chest. “I’m nobody’s secret.”
“I just—”
“Move along,” I interrupt her, already bored with the game.
“But—”
“There’s a line forming behind you, Blondie; get your shit straight and rejoin it, or feel free to look for something else to take the edge off.”
She walks away with, dare I say, hope in her eyes.
I have to remind myself that, since last summer when I swore off high school girls, I’ve been able to be a fuck of a lot more real with my needs and desires—no games, no ‘feelings’ to toy with, with whoever I’ve had under me. And since then, there hasn’t been a damn game to play.
But instead of hanging out with the older crew, I chose to come here tonight, which won’t happen again. But, since I am here, I’ll play the fucking game.
The next girl in what legit looks like a line in front of me—a line of girls in circles whispering amongst themselves, checking me out—walks up.
“You not interested in all that?” She nods behind her at the girls.
Shaking my head no, I ask, “You go to Seashore?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, Ocean County College, but my kid brother convinced me to come tonight.”
Perfect, I think.
“So, you came.” I nod once.
“Not yet, I haven’t,” she says, looking me over.
“Wanna crawl up here on my lap so we can talk about how to rectify that situation?” I set my foot on the floor.
“You want me to sit on your lap?” she asks amused.
I shrug. “That’s totally up to you.”
Doesn’t take her but a second to do just that, and I don’t take but a moment to make sure the right eyes are on us.
“Name?” I ask, watching one girl whisper to the next, like a game of telephone happening before my eyes. I assume they are spreading the word that I’m no longer unattached for the evening. One by one, I watch as disappointment graces their pretty made-up faces.
“Quinn,” she answers as she runs her hand down the front of my chest. “And when you’re done making sure you’ve proven a point to whatever high school girl it is you’re trying to piss off, how about you tell me how you plan to rectify the situation?”
I swing my eyes back to her, place my hand over hers before she grabs my dick right here in front of everyone, and tell her straight up, “I stopped playing with high school girls a long time ago. As far as what I’m gonna do to rectify the situation”—I help her off my lap and stand— “I’m more show and less tell.” I take her hand. “You know this place?”
“I know where we aren’t supposed to be.”
I glance back at her and see a devilish glint in her crazy blue eyes that look even more blue against her brown skin.
“Lead the way, Quinn,” I say as I motion before me.
Following her through the party, one of my hands in hers, the other still holding the decanter, I don’t even bother looking around. I simply follow her through the crowd and up the stairs.
As we make our way up the grand staircase, a painting on the ceiling catches my eye. I assume it’s hand painted by the detailing. South America, all in earth tones, except one country is in gold—Colombia.
At the top of the stairs, she turns left and looks over her shoulder. “You know they’ll be pissed if they find us up here?”
Lifting a shoulder, I give her the truth, “Don’t really care.”
At the end of the hall, Quinn grabs a doorknob and looks back. “Last chance to back out.”
Fucking love that she’s leading the drive and that I don’t have to ask all the questions I usually ask before laying hands on a chick.
“Do I look like a pussy to you?”
“Not at all.”
Inside, the room is dark. The only light afforded is of that shining through the window from the moon.
Quinn’s hands are on my waistband immediately as I kick the door shut behind me.
“You last longer on first or second go?” she asks, working my button.
“I’m a man—second time is always longer—but I’m also a gentleman, so you’ll come first,” I say, leading her toward the bed.
“And I’m all about equal opportunities.” She stops and sinks down to her knees as she lowers my jeans and boxer briefs all the way to my ankles, groaning as she sees the piercing while I toe off my sneakers, step
out of my jeans, and set the decanter on the floor before pulling my shirt up over my head and tossing it to the side.
Kneeling, she looks up at me, grips me in her hands, and then strokes my cock as it swells under her touch. As her lips wrap around the barbell and she flicks it with her tongue, my hips jerk a bit. First contact always gets me like that.
I fist her hair and pull her head back slightly. “Not looking for a commitment; just a good time.”
“Good damn thing.” She smiles and winks. “I’m so sick of guys trying to wife me. Now sit.”
“Not looking for a wife, just a release.”
She licks her lips. “We’re on the same page then. Now shut up so I can suck your dick.” She takes me in her mouth immediately.
“Fuck,” I groan as she tightens her lips around my length and sucks hard, like a fucking Dyson, hollowing her cheeks while taking me in as far as she can. When my cock hits the back of her throat, I grunt, “Fuck yes.”
She works my cock like a pro. Her skill intense. I grip the back of her head, thrusting in and out of her mouth, watching the saliva glisten from root to tip as it slickens my skin and drips out of the corner of her mouth.
I almost feel bad for going so hard on her, but when she sinks her nails into my thighs to the point I know I’ll wear marks, I don’t give a fuck and know she doesn’t either.
Within minutes, I’m ready for release, and although I could hold back, it’s clear as the spit on her chin and the hunger in her eyes that she doesn’t want that.
Gripping the edge of the bed, I grunt out a warning, “Gonna come.”
“Mmm …” Quinn moans around my cock before two hands grip me at the root and pump as she opens her mouth, giving me permission to fill it.
I push her hands away, grip my cock, and stroke hard.
“Give it to me,” she says before licking her lips.
I’m one stroke from coming when the door flies open, the lights flip on, and I see her.
She freezes, her mouth gaping open, and I glare into shocked, cognac eyes while cum begins to burst out of my cock violently.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Gabrielle yells out in a strangled cry.
Quinn stands up, turns around, and spats at her, “Jesus, some privacy.”
“You!” Gabrielle screams as she storms toward me, fists balled at her sides, and then hitting against my chest. “You pig!” she screams as she slaps me across the face. “You son of a—”
When her head gets yanked back, and she cries out, I realize I’m in the middle of a cat fight. And no, I’m not like some sick fucks who get off on watching two women fight. I also realize I’m past buzzed and heading straight toward drunk, because my reaction time is shit.
“You bitch!” Gabrielle whimpers as Quinn pushes her to the floor.
With one hand, I grab Quinn’s elbow as she’s about to punch her in the face. I wrap my other arm around her waist and pull her back. “Not happening on my watch,” I tell her as I turn us around so she’s not face-to-face with Gabrielle.
“She hit you!”
“I’ve been hit harder by babies.” I wink.
“Good to know even babies hate your ugly ass!” Gabrielle screams.
Quinn seethes, “I’m gonna knock her—”
“How about you take off? I’ll get dressed and meet you outside. I’m done with this scene.”
She smiles. “High schoolers, what were we thinking?”
“He’s seventeen, a junior in high school, you bitch!” Gabrielle says, shuffling to her feet.
“You’re what?” Quinn gasps.
“Legal,” I assure her while wiping some of my cum off her puffy red lips. Then I turn to watch Gabrielle rip her bedcovers from her bed and sneer, “Perfectly fucking legal.”
“Get your whore out of my house!” Gabrielle snarls as she pushes past me with an arm full of bedding.
Quinn steps toward her, but I grab her up, walk toward the bedroom door, and set her on her feet. “She’s not worth it. JTSteel on Snap. I’ll meet you as soon as I get dressed.”
She looks me up and down. “Seventeen?”
I notice her eyes stall on my cock and tell her, “That’s a ten.”
She sighs as she walks out the door. “Sure as hell is.”
I kick it shut then turn around. “You had no fucking right to—”
She slaps me across the face.
“You hit me again, and I will make it my mission to ruin you.”
Slap.
“Get the fuck out of here, you pig!” she says as she reaches up to slap me a third time in a row.
I grab her wrist and step into her, my dick nudging her dress as she steps back. I keep in pace with her as she retreats.
“Call it room rent for the two hundred and forty I’ve blown since walking into this fucking place,” I say, shoving her so she’s forced to sit on the edge of her now bare bed.
“Get. Out!” she screams.
I lean in and sniff her. “You’re one sick little bitch,” I huff. “Turned on by watching my cum shoot on her face. Silly fucking girl, you’ll never get a drop.”
“I hate you! Now get out of my room—my house!”
I let go of her wrist and step back, smiling maniacally at her. “Good. Now, next time Truth begs me to come here, I can tell her I’m not welcome instead of the fact that, no matter how much she thinks you’ve changed, I know the real you. Lying. Little. Bitch.”
I step back to grab my clothes, not wanting to spend another second breathing the same air as her, and can’t find them.
I look under the bed as she scurries off it and heads to the door.
When I stand up, she flashes a menacing smile.
Fuuucccck
“Where are my clothes?”
She nods toward the open balcony door. “I’m guessing floating in the pool.”
“My fucking phone was in my pants.”
“Seems like a you problem,” she says, slipping out the door and slamming it closed behind her.
Bare-Assed
Justice
After ransacking her room and tearing apart her closet, hoping like hell she has something in here somewhere from an ex that I can throw on, I come up empty-handed.
Sitting on the end of her bed, empty decanter in hand, I decide, Fuck it.
I peel off my ankle socks, slide one over my dick, and head out the door, not giving a shit who sees me. I’ve got not a damn thing to be ashamed of.
Walking down the stairs, decanter strategically held in front of my dick, I watch as people gasp, and then I hear a loud as fuck recognizable whistle, followed by laughter.
I look around and see Patrick, Max, and Amias. I hold the decanter up, forgetting it’s covering my dick, and tell them, “Ran out of whiskey.”
The room erupts in laughter as I make my way down and head toward the bar, ass and basically every other part of me on full display.
The bartender tries to hide her laughter as I set the empty decanter on the bar.
“Gonna need a drink.”
“No shoes, no shirt, no service,” she says, barely able to keep a straight face as the crowd behind me whistles, laughs, and claps.
I lean in and ask, “Lady’s rules?”
She nods as the other bartender hurries over to her side.
“Well, the lady’s the one who took my clothes, so I’m guessing she’s fine with it.”
“What the hell are you doing?” My sister’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn around.
She quickly steps in front of me, shielding me from the crowd.
Before I can say anything, she looks at Tobias, who is biting the hell out of his lower lip, trying not to laugh. “Give him your pants.”
He does laugh now. “My pants?”
“You’re wearing boxers; untuck your shirt—it’ll hide the goods—but he needs pants!”
“Truth, you—”
“Now!” she yells as she reaches for his jeans and unbuttons them.
Lo
oking over them, I see Harrison Reeves and the other “Horsemen” glaring at me. I lift my chin then a finger as Truth thrusts Tobias’s pants at me.
“Knock it off and put these on!”
After doing as asked and attempting, and failing, to button them, Tobias smirks and asks, “You wanna tell me what happened?”
Knowing the crowd that has gathered is now quiet, I look around to find Gabrielle, who’s looking at me smugly. She thinks she got one over on me.
I doubt that.
I give her a slow wink, just to fuck with her, before announcing, “Apparently, our hostess likes me naked.”
She narrows her eyes, and the room erupts in laughter again.
I can’t help but smile, knowing I just made her look like the little nymph she is.
Tobias whispers, “You realize you just took her on, right?”
I sneer, “The fuck I did.”
He laughs. “The fuck you didn’t.”
I wake to a pounding headache and the sound of snoring.
“Shut the fuck up, Patrick,” I groan.
When I hear my bathroom door open and Patrick walks out, I force myself up and look over to see Tobias is the one sawing wood.
“Morning.” Patrick smiles then starts laughing.
I lie back down and cover my head with my blanket, barely remembering the events of last night after trying to button Tobias’s borrowed pants.
I feel my bed dip right before Patrick starts filling me in. “So, you woke from being passed out in the corner chair informing all of Seashore’s elite that they could bow to the new king.”
“Fuuuckkk,” I groan.
“You missed Gabrielle chewing Tobias a new ass, right before Reeves, Jameson, and Hatt did the same shit. So, I’m guessing the king reference has something to do with the whole Horsemen theory that Truth came up with?”
“Only thing I’m king of is this bedroom, so shut the hell up and let me sleep this off,” I groan.
“And Gabrielle is off limits to—and I quote— ‘any motherfucker who so much as thinks about getting Queenie off with even his pinky, answers to the fucking king.’”
“Bullshit,” I grumble.
“No, that’s true,” Tobias says through a yawn.
“That’s your fucking doing, man,” I start to yell, but it hurts too damn much.