Think like a man instead of a women and get over like one.
Cheers, mate.
I reached down between us, teasing his cock through his pants until he let out a welcomed moan. He was hard. Thick. Girthy. I kept my other hand tethered in his hair and pulled hard until his eyes met mine. Black nearly ate away the blue of his irises. Wild. Carnal. Raw. All male dominance gazed back at me.
He reached up and ripped the right side of my top down to expose my breast in one motion, and then his mouth latched on to my nipple, slowly teasing. Until he gently bit down. A hum vibrated through me, and all my weight fell back on the wall behind me. I was no longer concerned with staying upright—or preserving my pride. The center seam in his jeans drove exquisitely into the apex of my pants. I was ready to hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper. His zipper. My zipper. I didn’t care. But I didn’t. Instead, he rocked his hips, scraping the hardness behind his jeans against my clit, my breaths now coming out in small pants and gasps.
Holy shit, I’m about to come from being dry-humped.
I found a new appreciation for tailors and would start a global initiative demanding thicker seams for all men. He continued his tireless onslaught, taking me higher, faster, deeper into the depths until stars broke across the back of my lids. I came. Hard. It wasn’t until I drifted back to conciseness that I was able to hear my own deafening screams.
Dumbfounded and completely blissed out, all I could manage was a sly smile. I wanted another one. Who’s happy with one orgasm these days?
He kissed my nose sweetly. “Georgia, I’m no’ a money guy. I’m a passion guy. I’ve learned long ago money canno’ buy happiness,” he said as he straightened my top. Then he gently lowered me to my feet.
Annoyed at the suddenness of his words, I responded swiftly. “I know that.”
He began to straighten his own clothes, but ignored his still-hard cock. “Do you?” He looked unconvinced. “Love is a beautiful thing, and fortunate for the person who finds it. I hope your mother’s philosophies don’ rob you.”
“You know…I can’t figure you out. You’re Judas-ing my bliss right the fuck out.” Then it dawned on me. His statements, while true, were entirely too mature. Guys I knew didn’t speak this way. Sensitive shit sent them running. “How old are you anyway?”
“I’ll be thirty next month,” he answered before walking to the door that led back out to the patio.
Was our time over? What about reciprocation? At least ask me for a blowjob or something. Anything. I couldn’t figure out why he was being such a dick. “Oh,” I said to hide my feelings of dismissal. No wonder why he was so mature. Eight years can make a difference. However, I was still rooted in the reciprocation part. “Isn’t there something you’d like me to do to you? For you?” I wasn’t a selfish bitch, and wanted him to know it.
“No.”
“No?” I blinked as I hustled to keep up with him. “So you’re completely okay with walking around like…that?” I pointed to his unrelenting bulge when he stopped in front of me.
“Utterly.” He seemed annoyed by my question when he relit his cigar and pulled it deep into his chest. Utterly was the worst possible reply—ever. This guy had a penchant for fucking with my emotions. And I wasn’t emotional! I didn’t like the way they felt, so I steered clear of them. Stepped over them. Ran through them.
A single raindrop hit my cheek, and I looked up to the heavens, almost searching for words. I couldn’t remember the last time I was dissed or rendered speechless. My eyes focused on the gloomy grey clouds above. The bright starry skies long gone. A summer storm was brewing, but it wasn’t the threat of rain that darkened my mood. It was Rory. The way he made me feel.
Some larger drops started to fall, and my eyes met his steely gaze. Still rooted in the same spot. I searched his face. Long gone was the passionate guy that brought me a delicious orgasm via the seam of his pants. A lone wolf replaced him. As the awkward minutes ticked, his resolve never wavered. I insulted him with my honesty.
“You about done with apps, honey?” Keira’s soft but insinuating voice interrupted my thoughts. Was I done? Both yes and no. Could this be any more uncomfortable? Fuck no, I thought.
Connor shuffled in behind Keira and over to where Rory was. I had no choice to interrupt their conversation. “Umm, we’re on our way out.” I nodded toward the door. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
He didn’t dismiss Connor to privately say goodbye to me like I wanted, but instead, leaned around him. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. He then directed his attention to Keira. “It was nice to meet you, Keira. I hope you’ll come back fo’ a visit.”
Wait. What? What. In. The. Fuck. Why was he being suck a dick?
She extended her hand and Connor stepped back, allowing Rory to shake it. “Very nice to meet you. And you betcha.” She poked his chest. She touched him. She touched him and I wanted to kill her.
A mature person would have shrugged it off. However, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Tears threatened my eyes and I took off in a fury. I ran so fast my heels came out of my shoes, so hobbling ensued until I reached pavement.
“Hold up, speed-racer.” Keira caught me by the arm just as I sped into the street. Laney and Summer flew out the door a few moments later.
“What’s with the sprinting?” Summer asked, charging out the door.
Laney whined, hiding behind Summer, “Shit it’s raining. My hair is gonna be so fucked.”
I shrugged Keira off my arm and ignored Summer’s question. “How long until the Uber?”
Laney quickly pulled up the app on her phone. “There are five within three minutes. Any preferences?”
Keira swiftly waved her hands. “Get something big. No midsized anything. You can’t go wrong with anything big—right?”
As the three girls debated size, I fell into a fitful silence, my nervous toe-tapping followed. Why was I so peeved? Was it the fact he dismissed me? The shame I felt admitting my mother was basically a gold digger? Or worse, I was turning into one myself. I shuddered at the thought of becoming anything like her. Yet the words passed my lips so matter-of-factly, as if I was okay with it. I couldn’t discredit how she reflected poorly on me.
I didn’t hear the Uber pull up, but was instructed by someone to get in. Without a word, I scooted across the seat robotically.
Before Summer could slam the door, the girl’s questions came fast and furious.
“What’s with the rush to leave?”
“Hopefully so we can make it home in time to see Michael Phelps qualify tonight. You know how much I love Olympic swim trials,” Summer cried from the back seat.
My head whipped around angrily. “No, this has nothing to do with Michael Phelps.”
Keira twisted in her seat to face me, her tone and face both serious. “I have two important questions, and you need to be honest. There’s no wall of shame in this Uber. One—did that Irish-one-night-stand do anything to hurt you? I mean…in a bad way?”
“No.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent.” After a heavy sigh she continued. “And since when do you hate on Michael Phelps? I thought you loved him? He’s an Olympian dammit. He’s as close as a Titan as we’ll ever get in our generation.”
“That’s your follow-up question?” I yelled. “You love Michael-fucking-Phelps. Not me!”
“Well, it’s a concern.” She shrugged. “It sucks when you think you know someone.”
I looked over my shoulder to where Summer and Laney sat. Summer still looked perplexed while Laney laughed her ass off.
I thought about jumping out of the vehicle just from sheer frustration, but the speedometer read fifty miles-per-hour. It was then I directed my frustration at the driver. “Listen, Guillermo, I want to get home in one piece.”
“Oh, I can’t make page six a bloody fucking mess. Slow it down.” Keira leaned forward tapping his shoul
der.
“He’s the dude from Kimmel?” Laney asked.
“Are you girls high?” Guillermo asked, looking into his rearview mirror. His two eyes nearly swallowed up by his over-grown beard.
“No, unfortunately.” My voice almost sounded crushed by the realization. Some weed wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t a good idea, either. Late night munchies weren’t a girl’s best friend.
“Wait two freakin’ minutes,” Keira yelled, scrolling through her phone like a lunatic.
“What?” we all asked in unison, suddenly alarmed.
“Michael Phelps just made history. Tonight was his fifth Olympic appearance and we fucking missed it.” I grabbed her phone to throw it out the window, but she tightened her grip. “I’m running on five bars right now and I will kill you. You know what that does to me. It’s Manhattan. These fucking enormous buildings cock-block my service.” We continued to struggle for a moment longer until Guillermo abruptly pulled the vehicle over.
“Get out. I’m sick of dealing with crazy bitches all night.”
“Fine by me,” I said, exiting the car.
Unfortunately, Laney and Summer were stuck behind Keira, who was not leaving until she had her say. “This is NYC, everyone’s crazy here. Where do you get off? You’re profiling the mentally ill. Do you know that? And not very American.”
“I don’t give a fuck, lady.”
Flustered, Keira flipped her seat forward for the girls and exited the car in a huff. “Well, he sounds like he’s from New York, but he looks Middle Eastern if you ask me.”
I started to walk home, not caring about the rain, or bothering with the three nut-jobs behind me. My place was only a few blocks—lucky me.
“Call me,” Keira shouted.
“You looked gorgeous tonight, babe,” Laney called out.
“Epic night as usual.” Summer’s voice was the last to hit my ears.
“Yeah whatever,” I mumbled.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Irish fallout
A few days later, my emotions were still all over the place. Sleep didn’t come easy. Dance was a struggle. Appetite nonexistent. Anxiety clawed at my throat. It all pointed back to the starting point—Rory. Insanity and madness drove my irrational thoughts. What was it about him that made me crave him to the point that nothing else mattered? How could you miss, ache, crave someone you just met? I decided I was certifiable. The idea of staying in bed a few more days was very appealing. However, that wasn’t an option. For one thing, I could hear the distinct click-clack of the nearby thorn in my side heading my way.
Keira entered my room and quietly closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath before turning and limping toward me, her face grimacing with each footfall. Though, when she saw me watching, her pain suddenly turned into guilt. Wide-eyed, she scanned the turbulent room in abject horror. “Jesus fuck, Georgia! You look like hell, and this is a dump.”
Maybe I was being paranoid, but she looked guilt-ridden. “Thanks so much for your sensitive insight, bitch,” I mumbled, drawing the covers over my face. She ignored my insult and opened my curtains. “How long are you going to skulk in the dark? Talk to me.”
“Keep them closed please. Darkness washes away all bad feelings, and there’s nothing to talk about.”
She ignored my request and came to sit beside me on the bed. She let out a loud gasp as she lowered herself. “Inside, we are all broken. My heart cries all the time.”
Wait. What? I unfolded the covers from my face to assess what all this gasping was about. However, her smile held regret. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was hiding from me. “Spare me the verbal hand job, Keira. You’re not very good at it.”
“Not what he said,” she mumbled. “You look like a wounded bird. It’s awful to watch. Kinda like a car-wreck you can’t force your eyes away from,” she added thoughtfully.
Oblivious bitch. Three minutes in and I already wanted to choke the life out of her. “If you prefer your organs on the inside of your body, I suggest you steer clear,” I shouted and sat up. She was really pissing me off. I actually thought she was here to cheer me up. Nope! She didn’t have one considerate bone in her body.
She defensively held out her arms in front of her. “See, you’re homicidal. I’m trying to help here and you’re ready to kill me.” She focused on fixing her makeup in my vanity mirror. This time, she shuddered, but before I questioned her, she began to speak again. “I’m just saying…why be at war with yourself over a guy? Do you know how many hot Irish guys there are? Who cares if Rory has a body made for worshiping?”
That was it! What came after homicidal? Blood-thirst! “You demented bitch!” I stood and walked her way. “Is there a gentle bone in your body?”
“This has nothing to do with dementia,” she answered, offended by my comment. “Since when are we gentle with one another?” She shrugged her shoulders. “The city is filled with men—incredibly hot men with big dicks. They don’t call this the Big Apple for nothing. Embrace it…take a bite out of it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Keira…that’s not why it’s called the Big Apple.”
“You say potato, I say starch.” She waved me off.
Needing to move the topic onto her, let her feel a little heat for once, I asked, “So…where were you last night? And what’s with the all the discomfort? You come here looking like you’re in complete agony.” I examined as she hustled for a quick answer.
“Well, if you really want to know, I was with Mickey.”
“Mickey?” I yelled, filled with jealousy. “Where?”
“Jugs & Stokers.” Her eyes glinted with guilt. “I’m so sorry, honey, but he’s hot. I don’t think I broke the girl-code-by-laws. At least that I’m aware of.” Chicks before dicks.
“You went back there?” Without me? That would have sounded as pathetic as I felt. “Why?”
“He asked me the other night if I wanted to get a bite to eat. I said yes, of course. He’s hot, and you know what accents do to me. I can’t be held accountable, Georgia. You said it yourself. I’m demented. And people with dementia suffer terribly.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I started pacing. This was unbelievable. She hid this from me the last few days. I had no idea they even exchanged words past ordering drinks. Then again, I was a little preoccupied with my shit.
“I didn’t tell you because you refused my calls, and I didn’t think it was something you wanted to know after what happened…or didn’t happen. Which you still haven’t told me.”
My hand immediately grabbed the base of my skull, possibly to keep it from exploding. I sat down on the edge of my bed and debated how to even explain what happened. It was nothing. Yet it was everything. Nauseating. Infuriating. And I was beginning to realize how disturbed I really was over this.
She walked over and took my hand in hers. “Just tell me.”
I took a deep breath and conceded. Maybe talking about it would make me feel better.
So, I told her everything. Two pots of coffee later—and a few hits of a stale joint—we discussed every last infuriating detail. It took hours. We broke it all down, dissecting every last fact, word, gesture, inference, and emotion of that night.
“Babe, any dog can chew a pig’s ear, but how many can get the pig?” Keira asked, fingering my bangs away from my eyes.
I laughed, feeling the effects of the weed. “Now I know you’re stoned. Are we seriously debating dog treats?”
“We debated everything else. Why not dog treats?” She chuckled. “But no, personally I would never give my dog a pig’s ear. You know what I’m trying to say, though, right?”
Strangely, I did.
“But, hun, if you’re looking to speak to Rory, you better hurry. Mickey said he was leaving town for the weekend.
“Thank you,” I said pulling her into a hug. She winced carefully, removing herself from my embrace. “Do I even want to know?”
“Pro
bably not.” She winked and pulled me to my feet. “Good luck, babe.”
I rushed into my closet, pulled a sundress off the hanger, grabbed a pair of sandals, and headed for a quick shower.
CHAPTER FIVE
Touch my lucky charms
and I will choke your little Leprechaun
It was late Friday afternoon. The noise of midtown Manhattan rush-hour traffic rumbled around me. The wailing sirens, screeching tires, and sheer congestion added to my chaotic melody. I was spent. My stomach growled, and I felt the early pangs of a hunger headache coming on. Great. Other than that, the ride there was unmemorable. It was my hope the ride home would be a different story. My mind waded through the many possibilities that could play out. A few profane ones worked their way in, and a few expletives found their way out. When I finally arrived, I wasn’t as nervous as I anticipated, but resolute.
The front door was open and I could hear the steady beat of music. Not wanting to waste any more time or mind-fuck myself, I walked in. There was no one checking IDs at the door. At first glance, it looked quiet. Quiet was a good thing. It would give me time with him. Uninterrupted time.
No such luck.
People were already drinking, some grabbing a late lunch, and others typing furiously on their phones. Faceless, nameless, and the whole time, I was drawn to the one person who stood behind the bar with a backwards ball cap—Rory. His smile seemed embroidered onto his face. He wore a sleeveless gym shirt, showing off his strong arms. He leaned over the bar, closely talking to someone. He looked better then I remembered. I smiled, almost giddy, recalling the way his tongue teased my skin. My impatience grew and I was about to interrupt him, but decided against it. Instead, I took a seat at one of the high-tops and wait.
To avert my attention away from Rory, I responded to several texts from Keira, but I quickly became curious as to who made him smile like that. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, so I had to resort to eavesdropping. Nothing wrong with a little harmless reconnaissance, right? The problem was, since I arrived, people had started filling the place. It was happy hour on a Friday night.
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