Worth It

by S. M. Shade

  My eyes widen as he bursts out laughing. “I didn’t,” I groan, but I bet I did. It wouldn’t be my first dick chorus. Usually that comes a little later in a relationship though. You know a guy is a keeper when he lets you use your fingertips to make his pee hole move with the words like the little guy is the one belting out those awesome lyrics.

  Try it. It’s epic.

  It’s also a great way to find out where his tolerance level stands on the weird-o-meter. Usually I don’t bring my vagina in for a duet though. That makes me sound like a crazy girl.

  “You did,” he sighs, trying to sound putout, but he can’t stifle his mocking grin.

  Apparently his weird-o-meter tolerance level is really high.

  “How did you get naked?” I ask, trying and failing not to sound flustered.

  “You made me get naked, because you demanded that my cock sing along with the music on your phone. Obviously I had to oblige just to find out what the ever-loving fuck you were talking about.”

  I look around aimlessly for that pesky, absent hole that never seems to swallow me up when I need it to.

  His soft rumble of laughter only makes me burn a little hotter with embarrassment. One-armed girls gotta have a few more awesome attributes than those damned two-armed girls. Making his penis sing too early on is not smart. Then again, it’s one week. He lives too far away for this to turn into more. Which sucks. Because I kind of like him.

  Sighing and pulling myself out of my own head, I slide back on the bed so I can get comfortable against the headboard. I take in the fact he looks showered, dressed, and incredibly sexy in his jeans and collared shirt.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, as though I have the right.

  I don’t remember what’s on the docket for the wedding week today, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be banned from all further festivities once my mother wakes up and remembers she had her hand on an unknown man’s penis. I’m sure she also won’t be too thrilled with the fact she was drugged. It was probably one of the randoms who showed up—thanks to me—but she’ll blame me. I guess it is my fault, if you want to get technical about it.

  “I’ve been helping the guys get things set up for the bachelor party tonight. You missed brunch. So did most of the other women, your mother included.”

  He grins, and I groan while covering my face with my hands.

  “She’s probably bleaching her hands.”

  “So, there was more to the story about your mother? Do I want to know?” he muses.

  “No. Definitely not. Save yourself, because I’m already doomed to the memory being seared into my brain forever and damning me.”

  “I have to meet the guys in a few. The party starts at six, but we’ve got to go into town. Thanks to your ecstasy champagne and gross-a-thon, everything we had planned suddenly pales in comparison to your bachelorette party.”

  A slow smile spreads across my lips. “Want me to handle the strippers for you?” I ask innocently. “The place we used has a great variety.”

  “I doubt they’ll come out here after last night,” he says, smirking.

  “I doubt they’ll drink the champagne, but I still have my mother’s credit card, and anyone will come if the price is right.” I pause and think about that. “Anyone will work if the price is right. Not sure come is appropriate for that sentence, given the events of last night.”

  His eyebrows go up, but I hold my hand up, stopping him from whatever he’s about to ask. “Never mind. I need to get ready and go get robo arm from my dad. I dropped it off with him at his hotel yesterday. Have you seen my pretty arm?” I ask, cringing at how ridiculous that question probably sounds to a normal person.

  “I put it up in your closet last night. Stacked it next to the other two you had in there the same way they were stacked.”

  “Awww,” I say, drawing out the word as I bat my lashes like a grateful damsel he saved from distress. “My hero.”

  He laughs while rolling his eyes. “Handle the strippers. Anderson said he gets some since Jane did. Drink water. Rest up. I’ll come find you tonight as soon as I can slip out of the party.”

  A challenging grin forms on my lips. “Who says I want to see you later?”

  He’s suddenly on me, tugging me under him so fast that my breath catches in my throat. I open my mouth to gasp, but he seizes that opportunity to kiss me, stealing every indignant word and curse I planned to spew. And I melt like I have no brain cells as the lustful animal in me takes control.

  I moan into his mouth as he lowers against me. His belly is right against the bare skin of my desperate lower half, and I grind against him. My fingers tangle in his hair, and my other arm comes up, resting against his chest as he makes my mind go completely blank.

  Suddenly, he pulls back, and I kiss the air for a second before the motion registers. When my eyes open, he’s staring down at me. Then, the jackass winks as he smirks and stands up, and my jaw falls open as he starts walking toward the door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, jerking the T-shirt back down into place.

  “Reminding you that you want to see me later. Bye, Kasha.” He turns and faces me after he opens the door, and he grins like he enjoys seeing my glare. “Lay off the drugs. I like you sober.”

  With that, he shuts the door, and I mutter a few curses before using the bathroom doors to go back to my room. Lydia is missing, but I find my phone easily enough.

  After dialing the number, someone answers on the third ring.

  “Yes, I’d like to order five strippers for the night. And I have a really special request.”

  As soon as I get off the phone, my door flies open. I swing around, and blow out a breath of relief when I see it’s Roman stalking toward me.

  “What are you—”

  My words are cut off when he grabs me at the waist and drags me to him. His mouth is on mine in the next instant, and I grin against his lips as I kiss him back.

  “Thought you had somewhere to be,” I mumble against his lips.

  “Fuck them. I can be late,” he says, lifting me enough to carry me back through the bathroom and toward his room.

  I giggle against the kiss as my toes swing in front of his shins.

  “You never give me any warning that you’re about to kiss me,” I mumble, still kissing him.

  “Because I never want you to try to stop me,” he mumbles back.

  I decide talk is overrated when his tongue starts doing mind-numbing things against mine, sending my mind into the gutter as I imagine that tongue somewhere else.

  My feet touch the floor at the same time the bed touches the backs of my knees. Roman lowers me down, sliding me onto it ever so gently as he comes down on top of me, never breaking the kiss.

  It’s slow and savoring, and I can’t stop worrying that I taste like death, because I never got to brush my teeth.

  Dental hygiene gets forgotten as he slides my shirt up around my hips, finally taking advantage of the fact there’s nothing on under the shirt.

  His fingers brush sensitive flesh, and I shudder against him. He groans against my mouth, and then I hear the rustle of his jeans being moved down. That has me grinning again, because I love the way he seems to want me as much as I want him.

  Pushing up, he sits back on his knees, his jeans hanging down past his hips, and I lick my lips as I watch him roll the condom down, slowly covering all that sexy. It’s mesmerizing.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he asks as he comes back down on me.

  Before I can ask him what he means, he’s kissing me again, and I’m getting lost in him, which seems to be too easy for me to do.

  When he starts pushing in, my legs slide up, giving him better access.

  I lose track of time as he draws out each thrust, slowly taking me like we have all the time in the world. Our bodies are slick with sweat in no time, and my lips are tingling from the deep, hungry kiss we’ve been lost in.

  My fingers find his hair, and my other arm slides up his arm,
gripping it the best it can. All it does is make him kiss me harder, and his thrusts get a little rougher.

  When I’m crying out his name, my body is thundering like a boulder of pleasure has just rolled through it, hitting every single bit of my flesh on its way down.

  It’s the most powerful and most vulnerable I’ve ever felt in my life. Roman whispers something too soft for me to hear before he’s suddenly thrusting in one last time, and his body jerks before he drops to me, breathing heavily as I grin at the vacant air in front of me.

  My eyes are too heavy to open, and I’m too comfortable to move. So I wrap around him like a one-armed spider monkey and savor the moment while it lasts, trying not to fall too deep before I have to let him go.

  ***

  “What are we doing?” Lydia hisses as I adjust Jill—my now fixed robo arm, according to Dad.

  So far, so good. Jill hasn’t tried to Jill me off, and I’ve purposely thought about masturbation without directly insinuating intent.

  I pet my robo arm. “Good girl.”

  “What? Seriously, Kasha, stop petting Jill and answer me. What are we doing here?” Lydia says again as Henley walks away from the side. You’d think Lydia was scarred from her experience with the ballroom or something, since peering into the windows is freaking her out.

  “Definitely in the pool house. I guess the ballroom wasn’t clean enough to use.”

  “Probably smelled like thirty different varieties of vomit,” I state dryly.

  “So sorry I missed all that fun.”

  “Hey! Hello! Someone tell me why we’re here, because I still smell like thirty varieties of vomit.”

  I cringe as I turn to face poor Lydia. Apparently she got caught up in the crosshairs. She really doesn’t smell too pleasant. I blame all that hair. It’s hard to get all that out of your hair, and, according to her, she was covered in it. I don’t know, because I bailed out of there and spent the night making sweet penis music with Roman that I can’t remember making.

  Henley and I both got berated earlier when Lydia finally found us. Henley spent all day with Davis. I was in Roman’s room until some of the guys came to drag him down. Then I had to go find my dad and get back my arm. Just a typical day in the life of Kasha Jensen.

  I like Jill when she behaves.

  I go back to petting my arm. Henley is giggling at a text she just got. Lydia groans.

  “It’s like I’m dealing with puppies!” Lydia hisses.

  “Puppies?” Henley and I both ask in unison.

  “Yes. Puppies. One second you’re chasing your own tail, and the next you see a ball. Answer me without getting distracted. Why. Are. We. Here?!”

  “Shhh,” Henley and I hiss in unison. “You’re going to get us caught.”

  “Caught doing what?” Lydia whisper-yells.

  Music starts thumping from the direction of the pool house, and Henley and I share an excited look.

  “Think they’re here?” I ask Henley.

  “Who is here?”

  “Let’s find out,” Henley says, as we continue to annoy Lydia by purposely evading her questions.

  Lydia is the good one. We’re both the devils on her shoulder, versus her one angel on the other. That angel doesn’t get much talking in, because we’re pushy. Two to one odds run in our favor.

  “What are we finding out?” Lydia whisper-yells.

  “Did you already tip?” Henley asks me.

  “Who?” Lydia groans.

  “I tipped majorly. Monica really should ask for her credit card back. I paid for several extras.”

  “Extra what?” Lydia asks.

  “Nipple clamps?” Henley asks seriously.

  “What the actual hell?” Lydia gasps.

  “No clue. I didn’t really read the list. Just told them I wanted all the extras they could throw in with their most popular package. They overlooked the ecstasy fiasco.”

  “Who?” Lydia hisses.

  We tiptoe over to the back of the pool house as the guys toast their beers. Unfortunately, no strippers yet. My eyes search the room like they can’t help themselves until I find Roman. He’s in a black button down shirt now, and a pair of darker jeans. We might have wrinkled his other clothes a little.

  With his inky black hair, his cool blue eyes, and that devilish little smirk, he looks like gift-wrapped sin.

  Yes, I’m licking my lips. Get over it.

  “Why are we here?” Lydia hisses, ducking down beneath the window while her eyes widen wildly.

  “To see the show,” Henley says, grinning when her eyes zero in on Davis. I go back to eye-fucking Roman as we wait.

  He’s talking to some guy, and the guy is laughing about whatever he’s said. I really hope he isn’t telling him the singing penis story. Surely that would be just as embarrassing for him.

  Lydia peeks over the edge.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  As if cued, the door swings open and in walk five women wearing trench coats. Their hair is up on their heads, bound tightly in a knot, and their lips are all wickedly red.

  Game on.

  My eyes flick to Roman as the guys break into a fit of cheers. He smirks but sits down in the back, watching it from a distance as the girls start walking through the room, their eyes sizing everyone up.

  A woman’s lips move, but I can’t hear what she says. Everyone starts looking around as she steps onto a table. I look down as Henley raises the window just enough to let the sound carry better.

  “Who’s Anderson?” the woman asks loudly as one of the big men who came with them starts unlatching a trunk.

  Someone cuts the music, making the whispers of excitement hiss louder around the room.

  “I’m here!” Anderson yells, walking toward her with a massive grin on his face.

  Her dark smile curves her lips, and I swallow hard. She looks seriously menacing—hot, but scary. Like she might enjoy beating the shit out of his ass and then shove her fist in it.

  Maybe I should have looked at those extras I bought…

  Anderson seems oblivious to the cold, ruthless look in her eyes, but Henley’s eyes meet mine, and we share a panicked breath.

  Lydia gasps when Mr. Security walks over and hands her a black leather thingy. Is that a riding crop? No. No, it’s not. It’s a cat o’ nine tails.

  That’s not good. That’s not good at all.

  “You ready to play?” she asks Anderson as the other girls start picking guys.

  One picks Roman, and I tense, but he shakes her off, distracting himself with his phone until she moves on to pick someone more eager. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I snatch it out, frowning when I see Roman’s name on the screen.

  When did he put his number in my phone?

  ROMAN: Really hope this isn’t what it looks like… You didn’t seriously call in dommes, did you?

  Should I be worried that he spelled it correctly?

  I grin like an idiot and decide not to respond, because Anderson is watching Queen Evil Eyes as she disrobes. She’s wearing a black leather, lingerie-nightie thing that fits every cliché vision of a dominatrix I’ve ever had. And wow. She’s fit. Her muscles aren’t bulky, but they aren’t hidden either.

  Anderson’s smile wavers a little. He likes his chicks soft, not muscular.

  Gross. I’ve retained information about Anderson. That’s important brain space! What if I ever need to tell someone what those plastic thingies on shoelaces are and can’t remember because Anderson’s female preference checklist is invading space?

  Wait?! What are those plastic thingies? No!!!

  “Ah fuck. Why the hell not,” I hear Anderson say in amused resignation, drawing me out of my head.

  Gross! When the hell did he get down to his boxers? Why is he in his boxers? No strippers asked us to undress last night. And I would have totally remembered that.

  “Definitely a double standard,” Henley sighs. “No one asked us to undress,” she adds, echoing my own thoughts because she’
s as crazy as I am.

  He turns and smirks as he bends over, putting his arms against the wall. One of the other girls grabs something, and four more guys from the party are lined up against the wall after that.

  Evil Eyes smirks. It’s super creepy too.

  She suddenly rears back with her cat o’ nine tails, and a loud pop slaps through the air. Anderson’s high-pitched scream rattles around, Roman leaps to his feet, and then four more shrill screams join it behind familiar pops that sound off in uniform sequence.

  “Silence!” the women all command at once.

  Roman’s eyes are wide in his head. I keep looking from him to the craziness to him again just to watch his reaction.

  “I kiiill you,” Lydia says in a small, weird sounding voice.

  Henley and I both look down as Lydia’s body shakes with silent laughter, tears forming in her eyes.

  “Silence!” the women inside snap again.

  “I kiiiill you,” Lydia says once more, snorting, then covering her mouth like she’s dying on the inside from so much laughter.

  “What the hell?” Henley whispers, which forces Lydia to snort again as her body shakes harder.

  Another series of loud pops, and some louder curses follow, and I look up as Anderson gets restrained by one of the security guys. Evil Eyes grabs his crotch, and his eyes widen as he gets held immobile. “I said SILENCE!” she roars.

  “I kiiill you,” Lydia says again, this time laughing and then choking to stop the sound from escaping.

  She’s lost her motherfucking mind.

  “Did you go drink the tainted champagne?” Henley hisses.

  Lydia shakes her head, but she can’t form words because of her internal riot.

  We go back to watching as Anderson is restrained and now he has a ball gag in his mouth. Oh dear fuck. What did I buy?

  His eyes are wide in his head, and there are totally nipple clamps on him right now. Four other poor guys are stuck in the same position, the security team too buff to be toyed with.

  I quickly pull up my phone to figure out what I bought. Scrolling through my email, I finally find the contract with the list of specifications. It’s when I get to the extras that I cringe.