by T. L Smith
“You think you can outdrink me?” D says, taking the bottle from Falcon and lining up his own shots.
“Of course I can, I am the master of fuckery.” Echo spits his drink out, laughing as Elicea looks back to me. It’s just us now, usually, no women are left. D sent them all home. Her eyes land on me as she watches me. She doesn’t turn away—she just stares. Not even paying attention to what Falcon’s saying to her. I like that. Pushing myself off the wall, I walk to her and stand directly behind her. She doesn’t move or look back, she stays glued as I breathe her in, careful not to touch her just yet. D slides her over a shot, not worrying about Echo as he has his beer in hand. D cheers her, then they both slam it back.
“You’re gonna dance with me, and no is not an option,” Falcon says, pouring another round of shots. She doesn’t agree, but I have a feeling she’s smiling at him because his eyes flick back to me before he pushes another round. She turns just slightly, looking up to me with the shot in her hand.
“Do you want one?”
Her lips are right there.
Right fucking there.
I want to bite them and lose myself in her lips while my fingers touch her hips, digging in to mark her. Taking the shot from her, I drink it back, all the guys’ eyes on me. Not that I don’t drink, I just don’t do it as often as they would like. She stays looking up at me as I place the shot glass down. She smiles, and I lean forward, my lips whispering on hers. Just the slightest touch because I can’t help myself and I have to fucking taste her. She’s still in surprise but opens her mouth. My tongue darts quickly out, licking her bottom lip to make sure I can fucking taste her before I pull back. She’s breathing heavily, and I just realize I did that in front of all my fucking mates.
Echo whistles loudly as D smirks, before he starts pouring another drink, while Falcon just stares.
“I feel like I need to fuck! Fuck hard,” Echo says standing, his hand reaching for his cock. “You two just turned me on. Go and fuck, would you?”
Elicea freezes as I keep my hands on her. My fingers digging into her hips as she releases a breath. She relaxes when he walks away to get another beer, then Falcon starts handing out shots again.
14
Elicea
His body heat is suffocating me. I can feel him all over me, and he’s only standing behind me with his hands touching my hips. I have to keep on squeezing my legs together and downing the shots Falcon’s passing me—hoping it will help put out the fire between my legs burning red-hot. My head becomes light, and I know I need to stop. Getting drunk with all four of my bosses is not the best idea.
Falcon presses a button and the music turns up louder. He starts swaying his hips as he walks over to where I am on the other side of the table. Creed tenses behind me but releases me as Falcon asks for my hand. Placing mine in his, I don’t say no. Not because I want Falcon, even though he is attractive in every way humanly possible, he just doesn’t make me nervous. Not like Creed does, and I know what I feel for Creed is not common. It scares me. What scares me the most is that we’ve only kissed twice, and I don’t even know him. Yet, he seems to have a pull on me I don’t remember giving him.
Falcon spins me on the spot then dips me as everyone starts clapping. Well, not Creed. Echo cheers loudly while Darby smiles. Lifting me back up, he does it again, spins me out then pulls me back in. It’s playful and fun, but when he dips me again, I see a sinister smile touch his lips, and I know he’s about to do something he probably shouldn’t do. I see his lips coming for me before I can stop them. Turning fast, his lips touch my cheek, and he whispers in my ear laughing. “One, two—”
Before he finishes counting, I’m pulled up and slammed into a very hard body. Those hands wrap around me so I’m encompassed by him, and I immediately know Creed by his smell alone.
Falcon walks away as Creed holds me in one spot. I pull back a mere fraction so I can look up at him, then wrap my hands around his waist as I start to sway us back and forth. He watches me, looking down, his eyelashes fan his face. The length of them makes me jealous.
Doesn’t he have enough luck in the looks department? Add on every woman’s dream—eyelashes too.
“You don’t dance,” I say, as I keep swaying, making his moves blend with mine. He pulls me back to him, so I can feel every inch of him and our bodies are one.
“I don’t dance,” is all he says.
I smirk and thank the alcohol for that. I’m not drunk, but I am well on my way to becoming drunk. Tipsy’s where I am at, so I’m going to stop.
“You’re dancing with me.” I lean my head on his chest. He grips me tighter as we keep moving, his head resting on mine.
“You’re an exception, you seem to be that a lot lately.”
I don’t comment, just stay where I am rocking with him. Not wanting to pull away to break contact with him because Creed is a man who’s very different from any other man. I’ve never met a soul like him.
“I like being that,” I half whisper. He stops moving and I pull back to see what he’s doing. Everyone’s gone from the room leaving just the two of us standing here. He looks over his shoulder then back to me. His arms are still firmly around me.
“You should go home.”
My hands drop from touching him and I take a step back, separating us, so he isn’t touching me. My hand scratches my arm as I look around, before looking back up to him. “What’s the number for a cab?”
Creed shakes his head and that’s when I notice a speck of red on his cheek. Leaning up to wipe it off, he flinches as I touch his face then lets me pull away. He looks at what’s on my finger and walks away, coming back with a wipe.
“Were you bleeding?” I ask him, as he wipes my hand then throws it in the trash.
“I’ll drive,” he says.
“You don’t have your car here.” He grabs whoever’s keys are on the bench then starts toward a car. I look through the door before we leave to say goodbye to the guys, but I don’t see them anywhere. He unlocks the same car we came in, opens my door then walks around to the driver’s side as I get in. No words are spoken, he sits there in silence, something I’m not used to. People around me speak, no one around me or any men I’ve ever been with are like him. Ever. He’s almost impossible to understand. And right now, with these mixed feelings, I really don’t want to deal with it.
Fun time is over.
I wake to hands wrapping around me, and the smell that comes to me in my dreams. Snuggling into it, I feel jolted and quickly open my eyes. I’m not dreaming, and arms are really around me, carrying me into my apartment. Creed looks down at me, realizing I’m awake, but doesn’t say a word. I go to make a move to get down, but his grip tightens on me as he walks further into my room, shutting the door behind him.
These men don’t seem to care about personal space, it seems not even warranted in their world.
“I can walk,” I say.
He stops at my bed, placing me down. Looking up at him, I do what I shouldn’t do. What I know I should do is let him walk out that door and not walk back in, become professionals and carry on a boss-employee relationship. That’s fucking hard, especially when he looks the way he does. His cell starts ringing but he makes no move to grab it.
Climbing up on my knees so I’m at the same height as him on my bed, his eyes track me. My hands wrap around his shoulders and I bring his lips to mine. Instead of letting him have the power, I take it back, claiming him. I pull him down with me the minute his lips part and he grants me entry. He falls on top of me, lifting himself up on his hands so he isn’t suffocating me, then he breaks our kiss. The kiss that could have been the kiss of all kisses. No, I lie. Every kiss he gives me is that kiss. His lips are addictive and I’m begging for them to be my next hit.
His hand trails down my side, his eyes never once wandering from my eyes. I shouldn’t be doing this. My head knows it but everywhere else is not listening in the slightest, not when his hands are touching me. His lips come back down, flush
ing out any worry I might have had, and he takes everything away with his lips. Stealing my thoughts and taking them as his own. I become his plaything, someone who isn’t in control of herself as he pushes up my dress, so the material glides high on my thigh. He pushes it up even higher, not bothering to stop until it reaches my head, and I sit up ever so slightly as he pulls it off my body. I now lay in front of him with only my panties on, as this dress didn’t need a bra.
Covering myself is something I don’t need to do. I like the color his eyes change when he’s turned on. The way the dark spots in his eyes become bigger and his stare turns even more intense as he looks me over like he just got served what he’s always wanted.
Me.
I reach for his shirt and he lets me pull it off in one go. I groan in appreciation the minute I see his skin, very tanned smooth, sexy skin. His snail trail, I want to lick all the way down until I come to my first prize, because I’m sure with him I’ll have many more to come. Instead, I run my nails over his back until I reach the edge of his trousers. He stands, lifting up off me, and then leans down to my knickers, his mouth kissing just above the panty line. He bites over my lace panties to my clit. I moan louder than I think I have before. I’m wet. Very fucking wet. He doesn’t care, and with his mouth grips the top and tears it down my legs until they’re off my body, leaving me completely naked and pulsating for him everywhere. He smiles as he stands. It’s wicked and makes me anxious for all the things that are to come. The things he may do to me.
His torso is carved straight out of the best models that ever walked a runway. His hands drop to his trousers and I lean up on my elbows as I wait for him to drop them, eagerly waiting to see what’s been pressed upon me several times before.
The minute he does, my legs close and my eyes go large. Nope, not happening. That cock is not entering. He reaches for my hand then places it over his cock, stroking it as I sit up. Leaning forward, I lick the top and listen as he groans while pulling my hair closer to him, so my head is now hovering over his cock. Licking it again, I try–fuck, do I try–to place it in my mouth. But I can only manage the tip as I massage the shaft with my hand. He groans loudly then pulls me away by my hair before his hand circles around my stomach and twists me so I’m now on my stomach.
“All fours,” he growls. I do as he says because if he slams into me right now, I’m afraid I may need a doctor. So when his hand slaps my ass, I flinch. He does it again until I stop flinching. Then his fingers make their way between my legs, and he slides straight in. I’m already soaking wet for him waiting for what’s to come. He finger fucks me while his thumb rubs on my clit. His other hand circles my ass, lightly tapping it while he kisses down my back.
He pumps harder until I have to start squeezing around his fingers, then he pulls them out and removes his finger from my clit. His kisses, though, they don’t stop, not even when his kisses are right near my anus. He kisses then inserts a finger straight in. Ass play is something I’ve tried once, then never again. I was always too frightened, but the way his finger is pressing right now has me moaning and pushing back for his touch. He pulls out just as I start to move. He seems to like to tease. To get me close, then stop, it’s almost too much. My body craves release, so much so that I’m almost ready to throw him on the bed and climb onto him myself.
Then when I turn my head I stop myself, because my eyes find his very hard, very large cock right in my face.
“You’re going to take it now.”
It’s like he’s warning me—I needed that warning.
Trust me. Because as I lay back, he lifts my legs over his shoulders then I feel him there as he positions himself at my entrance. He slides in slow, ever so fucking slowly, then stops. I feel him everywhere and soon I’m the one starting to move, wanting friction, wanting him to fuck me. He smirks when he notices this and does that exactly, fucks me so hard that when I come, I’m not even sure what to do other than scream. And scream. My legs turn to jelly and I can’t move. Literally.
He lays over top of me, breathing heavily, his cock still inside me.
I’ve never once been fucked like that, not once has it been so intense. Maybe it was the build-up, the anticipation of what was to come. Or maybe it was just his magical fucking cock that didn’t stop even after I came.
Either way.
I’m fucked.
Literally.
15
Creed
Her eyes close and open while she lays there completely naked, trying to look up at me. Leaning down I touch my lips to hers, and she murmurs something but I don’t hear it. Her lips kiss me back, just as I knew they would before I pull away. As I do, her eyes close, and soft breathing leaves her mouth. Lifting her up, I place her up the right way on the bed and pull the comforter over her. She moans but doesn’t open her eyes and starts to breathe more heavily.
Walking out of her room and into her small-ass living area, I stop. That’s when I see a photograph I didn’t recognize before. It’s hidden just behind where her television is located—it’s a picture of some guy and her. Placing it back down, I walk straight out of her apartment and drive back to D’s house. They’re out the back and I can hear their shouting before I even get out of the car. Thankfully D’s neighbors are far enough away that no one can hear them being dickheads. They are all drunk. Each has a gun in their hand and they’re aiming it at the beach trying to hit a can. Each of them fail due to the excessive alcohol in their system, and the waves which keep taking each can out into the ocean every time they place one down.
“Go and hold the can,” Falcon says aggressively to Echo, who flips him off.
“Fuck off, that water’s cold. And you’re a shit shot.” He looks back and sees me standing not far from them. “You didn’t stay with that beauty?” he asks making all three turn around. Falcon raises his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to answer.
“What are you doing?” I know what they’re doing, they do it often when they get too fucking drunk. Shoot shit up.
“Echo’s being a pussy and won’t hold the can still,” Falcon says making D laugh loudly.
“He doesn’t want to get shot again by you, you idiot,” D says, shaking his head then plops down on the beach.
The sun is starting to rise.
“It was hardly a shot—to him.”
Echo lifts up his shirt. Points to a bullet hole. “That’s a shot, you ass. From you.”
I’m usually the sober one, while they’re always the drunken idiots. Sitting down on the beach, Darby and I watch as they argue back and forth on who shot who, and if it really happened. It did, Falcon just doesn’t like to admit he’s a shit shot when he’s drinking.
“You left her, didn’t you?” Darby doesn’t say it loud enough for them to hear, but I nod anyway. He shakes his at my response. “Just because it’s new doesn’t mean it is bad.”
“It’s bad,” I tell him straight up. He doesn’t know the circumstances surrounding her yet. If he did, he wouldn’t be encouraging it. So I’m going to keep that to myself for a bit longer until I work out what to do with it all.
“Well, we can already see what you see in her. But Creed—” He looks to me, “Don’t fuck it up.” Darby stands, lifting the gun and shooting the can that Echo puts down for Falcon, who swears loudly at D’s shot and throws his own gun into the water.
I haven’t texted her, haven’t seen her for a day. She had yesterday off, it was one of the reasons we took her the other night. I don’t know how to navigate around her, not sure what to do and what’s right. Following what’s right is something I’m not good at, I tend to flow to the beat of my own drum. And that’s gotten me through life this far pretty damn well.
As I walk into work and see her behind the bar, she takes one look at me and averts her gaze. Johnny touches her shoulder and she manages to softly smile at him before a customer gains her attention. She’s good, her fake smile is automatically plastered on her beautiful face as she serves him.
“You sta
re at her like you’re starved, you know that?” I turn to see Bethany standing behind me watching me staring. Averting my gaze to her, I don’t look back to Elicea.
“How would you know if I’m starved, Bethany.”
She laughs at me. “You do know what I do for work, don’t you? You did hire me after all, men are a specialty of mine. You should know that.”
“What do you need, Bethany?”
She looks back at Elicea and crosses her hands over her chest. “Sabrina hasn’t come in, and I can’t get hold of her.”
Fuck! That means I need a new girl. That was Sabrina’s last chance, I won’t be dealing with her again.
“I’ll handle it.”
“We need a girl by the weekend.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I said—I’ll handle it.”
Bethany rolls her eyes before she walks off.
Stepping straight to the bar, I walk up to Elicea. Johnny’s standing beside her but backs away when he sees me coming. “Follow me.”
Elicea places down her cleaning cloth behind the counter and walks around the bar to my side and we head upstairs. I wave my hand indicating she goes first, and she does so without a word. Following up behind her was probably not the wisest choice because watching that ass is too much. Echo’s standing in the hallway outside of our offices, his cell glued to his ear as a painful expression is written on his face. He spots us, and I see Elicea offer him a small wave to which he looks stunned, surprised, then waves back before he turns whispering into his cell. My eyes are still on her ass as I manage to open my door and shut it after we walk in. She stands still, her hands by her side as she looks up to me.
One step and I’m fucked, the words I want to say to her don’t even leave my mouth. The only thing I can do is smell her, which in turn, drives me fucking mad.