I move closer. Hook an arm around her waist and pull her against me. She giggles, and I can smell the remains of her last Long Island on her breath. The girl is already drunk. I dip my head low, my lips grazing her ear as I talk to her.
“Are you having a good time tonight?” I ask.
“For now.” She presses herself further into me. Her hips slowly sway to the beat of the music, rubbing me in all the right places.
I shamelessly peer down the canal between her breasts. “So, what happens later?”
“Why don’t you come dance with me and find out?”
She swivels, positioning herself in front of me and wiggles that little ass against my dick, which is already throbbing. How can I say no to that?
“Let’s go.” I take one last swig of beer, ready to discard it still half full, and reach for her hand.
“Wait,” she says, stopping me. Then, with a sexy little smile, the girl sucks down the rest of her drink, leaving nothing but ice in the glass. “Can’t let that go to waste.”
I’m hard. So hard.
She entwines her fingers with mine and leads me to the dance floor. This is a girl who knows what she wants. At least, when she’s drunk. And with the way she wobbles when she walks, she’s one drink away from being completely sloshed.
Fuck.
Yeah, I probably shouldn’t go through with the afterhours plans I have for her. A better idea would be to find another girl who will remember what she agreed to in the morning. But that means leaving this Kappa girl to fend for herself, and I know the guys here and what they look for when they’re on the hunt—girls who are piss drunk who will agree to anything. A few have already been charged with rape.
I’m left with two choices: bring her home with me anyway because I’ll be gentler than the next guy, or be noble and take her back to the sorority house and let her sisters take it from there.
Suddenly I remember this is why I hate post-finals parties at The Underground.
We’re on the dance floor now, though barely. The building has got to be maxed out, but more people are filtering through the front door.
I decide not to think about what I’ll do with the girl later. I have time to consider my options. Maybe I can steer her clear of the bar for a couple of hours. Keep her dancing. ’Cause either way, I don’t want to be scrubbing puke out of my car tomorrow.
She faces me and digs her fingers into my hips, drawing me to her. I don’t object. Actually, it’s fucking hot. She rubs and moves against me, lost in the bass slamming into the air. I like it because this doesn’t remind me of Kate or Ellie, and I can concentrate on how this girl is arching her back and pressing her breasts into my chest. How my hands slither over her bare back and dip just under the waistband of her tight, black skirt.
The music pounds into my body, and I grind against her, feeling her up. Wanting to strip this hottie down and get more of that sweet, sweaty skin on me.
My intentions to be noble are fading real fast.
She rotates in my arms, tosses all of her hair over one shoulder, and shoves her ass into me. Now that’s nice. I hold onto her hips, helping her twist them to the rhythm of the club song playing. Her new position offers me the perfect view of her cleavage. Braless breasts jiggle as she dances. It doesn’t get better than that.
Song after song plays, and I’m not tired of this girl’s gyrating body bouncing against me. In fact, this is the easiest form of foreplay. I’m dying to see if it’s working for her too.
The only shitty part is that I’m beginning to feel the effects of my buzz slow. I could use another couple of rounds, but Kappa girl sure as hell doesn’t. She’s still tipsy, though better than before.
This is dilemma number two of the night: me or the girl.
I glance at the bar, then back at the boobs I’ve grown very fond of. And I make my decision.
She’d better be good.
As if reading my mind, she lifts herself up on her tip-toes and wraps her arms around my neck. “I need another drink,” she says.
I smooth my palms over her shoulders. “I got a better idea. How about we skip the drink and get the hell out of here?”
She puffs out her lower lip. “I can’t. I, uh”—she curls her mouth in a seductive grin—“have bathroom duty in twenty minutes. But you can join me in there if you want.”
Oh. I want, all right.
What I don’t want, however, is to have to wait until she finishes her sorority shift to get her in my bed. I need to wipe this day from my memory as soon as possible, and this girl’s body is going to help me do it.
“Twenty minutes?” I repeat.
“Yep.”
I wonder what her sorority sisters would think of her making an appearance, then me sweeping her out of there for an even better time. Giving guys head all night without reciprocation can’t be that much fun.
“Let’s go grab a couple of beers, and I’ll be your first appointment.” If all goes well, I’ll be her only appointment, and then I’ll have her sprawled over my mattress, panting until she can’t take anymore.
“Lead the way,” she says.
I order her a Smirnoff, low alcohol and fruity—basically Kool-Aid for adults. I half expect her to whine a little when I give it to her—it’s no Long Island Ice Tea—but she smiles and downs half the bottle. For myself, I order another Heineken and a shot. Easy to get down fast and I’m on my way to a mind-blowing good time in less than twenty minutes.
The kind of time that makes you forget about everything. About Kate. About my shithole life without her.
About Ellie.
Damn, I need to move this night along.
I wait until my hottie finishes her girly drink before I lead her to the men’s bathroom. With her on my arm, I won’t have to wait in line this time.
One of the walls is lined with urinals, the other has a couple of sinks, and there are two stalls in the back. That’s where we’re headed.
A couple of Kappa chicks man the line of hard-ons waiting their turn. I figure the senior members are awarded the less messy job of directing traffic. As one guy leaves a stall, another goes in. It’s a pretty simple concept, and the event usually runs rather smoothly. Guys are more willing to behave themselves if they’re getting rewarded with free head.
“Hey, Shayla,” one of the girls says, nodding at us.
Ah, that’s her name.
Whatever. I won’t remember it tomorrow.
“You can relieve Rianna in the last stall when she’s done.”
Shayla twists her hair behind her head and wraps a rubber band in it. “Okay. I brought a warm up.”
The girl’s gaze glides down me and lands on my crotch. Real subtle. Then she grins at my bulge. “Have fun with that, Shay.”
I’ve seen some of the girls take in their boyfriends first—a nice perk, I guess—so no one objects when Shayla has me follow her in, cutting in front of the five guys already in line. Like I said, free head is free head.
Shayla reaches around me and locks the door. Her eyes travel over me the way they did earlier at the bar when I first noticed her. She places her palms on my chest, and I watch her every move. How her hands slowly slide down my body, pushing into my abs some. Then they lower more, and she works to unbutton my jeans. Unzipping them, she flashes her green stare up at me, and I inhale with anticipation.
This isn’t normal protocol for this event. Normally the girls simply go for the gold, no bullshit, and I have to undo my own pants. I keep my arms at my sides, though, letting her lower my jeans and boxers to my ankles. As she does, she sits on her knees, on the black yoga mat beneath her.
I’m ready for her. So ready for this.
Leaning my head back against the cold metal wall, I close my eyes, awaiting the warmth and wetness of her mouth. The caress of her tongue. The grip of her fingers.
I’m not disappointed.
She takes me in deep right from the start. Fuck, it’s amazing. And the best part is that it doesn’t remind me of
Kate. Hell, it doesn’t remind me of Ellie, either, so it’s perfect.
Shayla’s tongue flicks over the underside of my dick, moving up and down the length. Once. Twice. Three times before she engulfs it again, her lips clamping down around me.
I’m in it, losing myself to the sensation. My hands wind around her ponytail, and I gently push her into me, commanding the rhythm.
She lets out a little moan with a breathy giggle, and Kate’s face flashes in my mind. My eyes fly open, searching the space in front of me for what won’t be there. The voice didn’t belong to my Katie, even though it sounded like her.
No, it belonged to the girl on her knees, doing what I can no longer feel.
I’m done with this. It’s gonna take more than a couple beers and a blow job to vanquish the demons whispering in my ear.
I ease her head away from me, then gently help her to her feet.
She narrows her eyes at me. “What? Did you not like it?”
I pull up my pants, shoving my dick back inside. “Oh, I liked it. I just want more.” I lower my head and suckle on the skin at her neck. “I want to be inside you.”
Her breath falters at my words, and she shivers. “I’m not supposed to leave yet.”
“What if I don’t give you a choice?”
“What do you mean?”
I grasp her earlobe between my teeth. “Do you want to come with me?”
She shivers again and slowly nods her head. “Yes.”
“Good,” I murmur, tilting her face toward me so I can taste those lips. “Then let’s go.”
I pick her up. Reach to unlock the door and sweep her out of the bathroom to the confused looks of her sorority sisters and the guys who’ll have to wait a little longer to get theirs now. Outside the bathroom, I put Shayla down, and we make for the exit.
She laughs as she scurries beside me in the parking lot. “That was so cool!”
I open the passenger side door for her, and she falls in, still laughing. “Sure,” I say, unamused. I only care about tapping this girl and being done for the night.
On the way back to my place, she straightens her skirt and clears her throat. “My name is Shayla, by the way.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
She cocks her head to the side, her brows narrowed in confusion. “Have I already told you?”
“No, babe, the girl in the bathroom said your name.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” She sits in silence for a full thirty seconds before adding, “So, what’s yours?”
“Damian.”
“Damian. Da-me-on,” she sounds out with a slur. “Hmm, I’ve never met a Damian before.”
“Then you’ve been missing out,” I tell her, taking a quick peek at her cleavage again to convince myself not to do a U-turn to take her back to the Kappa house. She and a few more shots of tequila are my ticket to mental numbness tonight.
I park my car, noting how Dylan’s motorcycle is here. If I’m lucky, he’ll be in bed. If not, he’ll grab his cane and top hat to play his version of Jiminy Cricket. I’m not in the mood.
He knows how torn up I still am over Kate, and he doesn’t approve of how I handle the pain. He’s right, though. What I do doesn’t work because I’ll be in even more pain when I wake up.
But the temporary fix, the short time that I don’t hurt, is what I long for.
Quietly, I open the back door that leads into the kitchen. I don’t hear the TV on, so I figure I’m in the clear. I guide Shayla toward the living room, only to be caught by the stare of my nerdy roommate who desperately needs to get laid. Plus, he’s sober, even after spending the last five hours at The Underground.
The dude is playing video games with his damn headphones on.
His gaze shifts to my evening playmate. Taking the headphones off, he frowns.
“’Night, Dylan,” I say curtly before he has the chance to interject, and I pull Shayla behind me to my bedroom.
Now, I can concentrate on what I came here to do.
“Your roommate doesn’t look happy about—” Shayla starts.
“I don’t give a fuck. Come here.” The first thing I do is unhook the halter around her neck, letting it fall forward so I can see the tits that have taunted me all evening. They’re nice and round with dark nipples bubbling out from the centers.
I bend down and suck one into my mouth. Shayla gasps as I roll the other one between my thumb and forefinger. She wobbles a little, so I grab her ass to steady her before walking her backward to my bed.
I position myself between her legs and lower her onto the mattress. She lies back like a good girl, wetting her lips with her tongue. Even though her eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated, I’m in too deep to stop now. I realize this makes me an asshole, but that’s nothing new.
Kate was the one who made me want to be better. Without her, there’s no point.
I lift her skirt up over her hips, revealing black satin panties, which I slide down her legs, then toss on the floor.
I’m not concerned with foreplay. We had enough of that at The Underground.
I strip down and roll on a condom, ready to dive inside her. First, though, I flip her onto her stomach. Face to face sex is too personal. I don’t like to look into her eyes or have her look into mine. It’s easier this way.
Shayla obliges, and I fill my palms with ass cheeks before I position myself over her. I slip a finger inside her to make sure she’s ready. I’d like to tell myself that I care about her experience, but right now I don’t. This is for me.
She’s wet enough, so I thrust into her. Her muscles immediately tighten around me, and it feels so fucking good. Better than her mouth.
I hold off, pumping harder, faster. Drowning my mind in the tension of my own body. My orgasm climbs, and I can’t think about anything except how goddamn amazing it is.
This is it. The top of the hill where my pain melts away. Where Kate is absent, and the thought of Ellie showing up tomorrow is nonexistent—as if her call never even happened.
This, right here, is where I go numb.
I think Shayla is coming, but I barely hear her cries.
Harder. Faster.
Harder. Faster.
Harder. Faster.
And then I lose control, groaning out my relief and what’s left of all that’s haunting me—if only for a little while.
~*~
Two hours later, the booze is leaving my bloodstream, and the pain I spent all night trying to wash away is returning. Full force, louder and louder.
Sara, Sahara, Sharna, whatever her name is, is sound asleep beside me, the sheet only half covering her partially naked body. Usually I have no problem convincing myself to use women for my own satisfaction. But these nights, the ones where the memory of what Kate and I shared crushes me to the bone, I’m reminded of who I am and how I never deserved her.
I work to push it away because Kate’s gone and she’s not coming back. I’ll never love someone the way I loved her, so it doesn’t matter who’s in my bed.
If I’m being honest though, what I feel right now is my own personal brand of punishment. The hangover that leaves me in shambles and more pain than when I set out.
This moment I crave more than the sex.
I suck in a deep breath, raking both my hands through my hair, and stare at the ceiling. I’d woken up to the sound of Kate’s voice in my head, softly reiterating her third wish.
“I wanna see the sun rise with you every morning for the rest of my life,” she’d said.
“That’s a whole lot of sunrises,” I told her. “Are you sure you can put up with me for that long?”
“That and longer. For always.”
The ghost of her face appears in front of me, her brown eyes so beautiful and tender, gazing at me like she’s actually here. The corner of her mouth pulls up into a grin. I reach out to touch her phantom cheek, and she closes her eyes to feel me.
“Always isn’t long enough,” I say into the darkness.
And then
she fades away in the shadows of my memory.
Chapter 5
Ellie
My palms are sweating.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and take a deep breath. This is such a stupid idea. I mean, this is two whole months I’m talking about. Eight full weeks. Can I trust Damian for that amount of time?
After Liam and Nora—his mom—died in the car accident, Damian started to do some really stupid shit. His once straight-A report card filled up with D’s, and he took his anger out on windows, buildings, and cars. He began smoking to piss off his dad. Alcohol drowned his pain, and later, so did a steady stream of girls when I wasn’t available.
I never said anything, though. I used him as much as he used me, filling the unbearable emptiness inside with him night after night because it was easier than admitting Liam was gone. With Damian, I could pretend that a piece of him hadn’t left me. That somehow I could still touch him.
The difference now is that I’ve moved on with my life. I let go.
Sure, Damian’s relationship with Kate helped speed up that process for me, but at this point, Damian’s had plenty of time to mourn his losses and do the same. The fact that I’m pretty sure he was drinking last night when I called makes me wonder though.
God, if he’s still up to his old tricks, there’s no way I can go on this trip to Australia. No. Freaking. Way.
With my mind on the fritz, I pull up to the house. I check Damian’s text on my phone again to make sure I have the right address. The place seems safe enough. A one-story beige and brick ranch-style home with a two-car garage. It’s also a decent distance away from Iowa State University campus. Not bad digs for a college student. Then again, I don’t expect anything less from a member of the Lowell family.
It’s not Damian’s housing conditions that concern me, anyway. It’s what happens inside the walls that worries me.
My phone rings, and I half hope it’s Damian calling to cancel. Glancing at the number on the screen, the hope dissipates. I guess our morning meeting is still on.
Love Always, Damian Page 3