by Gemma Weir
She’s beautiful, but there are a lot of beautiful women in this club. With her arms above her head, her body moving to the beat of the music, she looks fucking primal and the caveman I didn’t know was inside of me, is screaming at me to claim what’s mine.
Since the moment we shared, she’s all I can think about. She’s all I can see and feel and smell. I’ve fucked five women this week and the whole time I was touching them, all I could think about was her. It’s so messed up. If I was a real man, I wouldn’t be thinking about one woman while my dick is balls deep in another, but apparently, I’m a stupid motherfucker too.
The girls dance and drink, giggling to one another and laughing when they stumble on their high fucking heels. When Riley spots me, her eyes go wide and when all my brothers claim their women, I’m left to decide what to do.
My gut is telling me she’s mine, that I should claim her and tell every other fucking asshole in this room that she belongs to me. But my mind is at war, reminding me that I don’t know anything about her; I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend, a husband, a family.
I can’t stop my feet from moving though, and when I’m only inches away from her, the urge to make her mine is stronger than anything else.
Riley turns and I know she’s about to leave, to walk away, and I just can’t let her, so I reach for her, wrapping my hand around her hip. The moment I touch her the music goes silent and all I can hear is the chanting barbs of my own subconscious. Mine, mine, mine, mine.
I want to drag her to me, rip up her dress and fuck her right here and now. Fill her with my cum and make sure that the entire world sees that she belongs to me. I want to force her to her knees and watch as her lips stretch around my dick. I want to have her ride my face, my fingers, my dick. I want to take her in every way possible, make her so much mine, that she won’t ever deny how my touch affects her again.
Instead, I reach up and gently brush away a strand of hair from her eye, tucking it behind her ear. Then I trace the line of her jaw, lift her chin and press my lips against hers.
She freezes as I kiss her and for a second, I think about stopping, but just as I’m about to pull back, her hand grasps my arm and her lips start to push back against mine. Riley’s tongue pushes forward to mesh with mine and I’m lost in the taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips against mine, the way her body has curled into my chest.
I can’t risk touching her in any other way. The urge to throw her over my shoulders and take her home with me is too strong. I try to tell her with this kiss that if she just lets me, I’ll worship her. I’ll consume her, shatter her into pieces, then put her back together.
I pull back, needing to get myself under control; our lips part and a bittersweet sense of longing fills me the moment we separate. Slowly, I open my eyes, staring into hers as her lids part. Warmth fills my gut at the heat and need I can see reflected back in her gaze. Then she drops her hands from my body and all of the emotion in her face darkens. Her lips pinch together, and her hands at her sides tense into fists.
I should see it coming, but I don’t, not until her fist is connecting with my jaw, her face screwed up into a mask of anger and outrage. The hit barely registers, her tiny fist just grazing my cheek, but despite how weak the punch was, she still fucking punched me.
“What the fuck?” She screams at me, her shoulders tight. The hand she just punched me with cradled against her chest.
I have absolutely no idea what to say, or what to do. I’ve never had a woman punch me or scream in my face because I kissed her. I think that’s the reason she’s so pissed at me. Because I haven’t done anything else to her, or at least I don’t think I have.
I open my mouth to speak but she slashes her good hand through the air between us stopping me.
“No, just no,” she says, her eyes wild and her tits rising up and down with each angry breath.
I watch open mouthed and completely overwhelmed by confusion and lust as she turns and walks away. What the fuck is happening? I kissed her and she kissed me back, but now she’s leaving. I feel someone shove at my arm and I look down, finding an angry Nikki smacking my bicep.
“Follow her,” she screams at me, pointing in the direction of the exit and Riley’s hastily retreating form.
Looking from Riley to Nikki and back again, I nod and take off at a run, pushing people out of my way as I surge through the crowded club, bursting out of the exit just in time to see Riley climb into a cab and shut the door.
I lunge for the car, but I’m too late, and her eyes lock with mine as the cab pulls away from the curb and heads off down the street.
No, no, no, no, no.
No.
This isn’t happening. Justin did not just kiss me. He did not just give me the best kiss of my entire fucking life. No. He did not almost make me orgasm just from the touch of his lips on mine.
No. Just no.
There’s no way any of that could have happened, because if it did, then I just punched him in the mouth, and screamed in his face. This must be a dream. Maybe I’m having a seizure or something. But I can still taste him on my tongue. I can still feel tingles running along the skin beneath where his hand had been on my hip, and I can still feel the wetness in my panties from where my pussy filled with arousal.
Fuck.
The cab pulls up outside my hotel and I throw some bills at the driver and climb out of the car, clutching my injured hand. I’ve never punched anyone before and crap it hurts. My knuckles are already swollen and I can barely move my fingers.
He kissed me. He just walked up to me and kissed me like he owned me. But in that moment he had owned me. My body and my mind surrendered to him completely and it wasn’t until his lips pulled back from mine that I saw red.
My hands are shaking as I push open the door to my bedroom. I pull out my cell and type a quick text to Rosie.
Me: Sorry I had to leave. Speak soon xo
Throwing the cell onto the bed, I grab the ice bucket and pad down the corridor to the ice machine. I fill it, then make my way back to my room and go about fashioning an ice pack and laying it across my swollen knuckles.
My cell beeps and I grab it and check out the screen. It’s a message from Rosie.
Rosie: Where are you? We all saw you punch Smoke then run out.
Me: I’m back at my hotel.
Rosie: Are you okay? Do I need to get Park to beat the shit out of him for you?
Me: I’m fine, no ass kicking required.
Rosie: What happened? I didn’t even know you guys were a thing.
Me: We are not a thing!!! He just kissed me, completely out of the blue.
Rosie: Wow, he must have been a bad kisser.
Me: Ha ha.
Rosie: You’re okay though?
Me: I’m fine, enjoy the rest of your night
Rosie: Okay, see you later
Dropping my cell phone back onto the bed, I kick off my boots and flop down onto the comforter. Sighing loudly, I cover my eyes with my good hand and try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do now. As satisfying as punching his face was, now that I’m out of the moment I can also see that maybe, perhaps, it was a bit of an overreaction.
I’m hardly some innocent virgin who’s offended by a kiss from a stranger in a club. So why the hell did I freak out so hard about Justin kissing me? I’m pushing all of my unresolved Greg shit onto this guy and it’s completely unreasonable, completely unfair, but I just can’t help it. The thing is, that if I’m honest I know that Justin isn’t really anything like Greg; the only thing they have in common is how attractive they are. Where Greg was obnoxious about his good looks, Justin just seems to accept it. Where Greg was well-groomed to the point of ridiculousness, Justin is hot in a basic white shirt and jeans. Groaning again, I try to force him from my mind. This is ridiculous. I’m not this girl. I refuse to be this girl. I don’t need a man, especially one who can drive me to violence.
Rolling off the bed, I undress and crawl back under the
sheets in my comfiest pjs. Next time I see Justin, I’ll calmly apologize and let him know that I’m not interested. I need to behave like an adult, and punching a guy because he kissed me and I liked it, even though I didn’t want to, is incredibly childish. With a new resolve, I close my eyes and let sleep wash over me.
My eyes flash open. My chest is heaving and my heart is racing. The image from my dream, of Justin pushing me forward over a table flashes behind my eyes. The way his huge hand had felt as it had pressed down on the center of my back, holding me down as he kicked my legs wider apart and reached his hand between my thighs to touch my pussy.
I gasp as I remember the way his hot breath had felt as he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You can pretend you don’t want me, Riley, but no one will believe you after they hear you screaming my name.”
The room feels too dark around me; the night strangling me with all of the lust that’s pulsing through me. In the cold light of day, I can convince myself that I’m not interested in him, but in my dreams, I can’t deny how he makes me feel. How I ache for his touch, how I want him to do all of the dirty things he does to me in the oblivion of my sleep.
Squeezing my thighs together, I suck in a ragged breath and try to stem the ache between my legs. I close my eyes, but the feeling from my dream of his weight against my back, of his fingers as he pumps them in and out of me has me shuddering and squirming. My body is needy and when I slide my hand between my legs, I can feel the slickness of my pussy.
I let my eyes fall closed again, my fingers rubbing, circling, and probing as I allow the fantasy to consume me again. Justin teases my clit, pushing me closer and closer to release, then he replaces his fingers with his huge cock, stretching my pussy and filling me until I’m so full I can barely catch my breath.
His hand slides from the center of my back up to my neck, and he pushes my cheek to the cool wood of the table, pinning me in place. His thumb softly strokes circles on my cheek as he holds me down and fucks me. The thrust of his cock moving in and out is relentless, not giving me chance to do anything but gasp and whimper. He takes me so primally, that before I can even comprehend what’s happening, my body is tense and shuddering. When I scream, the sound is raw and desperate as my orgasm crashes into me.
When I open my eyes and look up at the bland hotel ceiling above me, my breathing is shallow and my body is on fire from the orgasm I just gave myself. “Well fuck,” I say into the dark, empty room.
The sultry beat of the song thrums through the large room and all eyes are on the naked woman dancing on the stage. The bar is quiet, as it usually is when Harmony is performing. I’m not sure what it is about her that makes her so captivating to watch, but it’s impossible to look away.
Somehow my eyes are not trained on the long-legged Latino beauty. They’re scanning the room and searching for the man who’s been avoiding me for three days now. When Riley drove away in a cab, I went a little crazy, stalking back into the club and demanding to know the number of her hotel room.
When Rosie refused to tell me, I shouted at her, demanding that she give me the information. Let’s just say that my attitude pissed Park off a little bit. Punches were thrown and I ended up leaving alone, my lip split, and my mind more confused than ever.
I need to see Riley almost as much as I need to stay away from her. She’s quicksand for me. One step toward her and I’m rooted to the spot, slowly sinking into her, and the more I struggle, the quicker she drags me under.
There’s a small bruise on my jaw where she hit me and a massive welt on my ego where her rejection battered into me. Why doesn’t she want me? That kiss wasn’t a one-way thing; she wasn’t an unwilling participant. One moment she was liquid in my arms, the next she was punching me in the face and running away.
Shaking my head to banish all thoughts of her, I let my eyes roam over the club. This is my domain. Grits has been slowly handing over responsibility to me one thing at a time and I’m more confident than ever that I can do this and do it well.
All I need to do now is figure out who’s stealing from Beavers and I think I’ll really feel like I’m contributing something of value to the place and I need that. I need to feel like I earned my place here and not just because Grits likes me or because I’m a Sinner.
I spot Park the moment he walks through the door and I’m immediately walking toward him. I behaved like a dick and I need to make amends and admit that I was an asshole. I’ll need to apologize to Rosie too, but Park is my brother and I don’t want there to be bad blood between us.
“Hey,” I say, when I reach him at the far end of the bar.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice terse and unyielding.
“I’m a fucking dick.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have an excuse; I just lost my mind for a minute,” I admit, looking down to the floor.
“Fucker, only you could still be pretty with a busted-up lip,” Park says with a laugh.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, twisting my lips into a smirk.
“Get me a beer, asshole. Then you can tell me what the fuck happened.”
“I think I’ll need more than one to explain that fucking shitshow,” I say, already heading behind the bar and pulling two glasses of beer from the pump.
Handing him a glass, I follow him as he leads us to a small table in a back corner, away from the eager patrons who are all staring at Harmony as she begins the pole part of her act; her naked body swinging around a stripper pole in nothing but a pair of ridiculously high hooker heels.
“I didn’t even know there was anything going on between you and Riley,” Park says the moment I sit down.
“There isn’t. Or maybe there is. Honestly, I have no fucking clue.”
“But when did it start? When have you even been alone long enough to start anything? Rosie is freaking the fuck out, bro. You need to tell me what’s happening here.” Park says, his Irish accent becoming stronger with his obvious agitation.
Sighing, I lift my hands to my hair and pull at the strands. “It’s just.” I pause. “Fuck, I don’t know. I mean she’s hot, but we had like this…” Stopping again, I try to figure out how to say it without sounding like a fucking pussy. “We had this moment.”
“A moment,” Park says, barely holding back his amusement.
“Fuck you, asshole. When I went to pick her up for the BBQ, she slipped out of the truck and I caught her, and, shit, I don’t even know, something happened.”
“You fucked her?” Park asks, his eyes wide.
“No, jackass, I did not fuck her.”
“Then what the fuck are you talking about?”
Sighing, I scrub at my face with my hands. “If you ever tell another fucking soul what I’m about to tell you, I will hunt you down and fuck you up.” I say from behind my fingers.
“Okay,” Park says with a laugh.
“I don’t fucking understand it, but it’s like something changed when I touched her. Like some fucked up obsession shit. Only now, I can’t get her out of my head. She’s all I can fucking think about. When I saw her at the club, I just couldn’t help myself. I had to kiss her, and she kissed me back. Then she lost her shit and punched me.”
Park just stares at me, his mouth slightly open, like he has no idea what the fuck to say to me. “You like her.”
“I don’t even know her last name,” I say, frustrated with all of the bullshit that’s coming out of my mouth.
“So you like her. Why are you freaking out about it? You fucking love women, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I don’t like her. She’s a bitch and she’s ruining pussy for me.”
Park laughs. “How is she ruining pussy for you?”
“Because every time I go near a fucking woman all I can see is her. She’s ruining sex for me. She’s fucking cursed me or some shit.”
Park is laughing so much he can’t speak. Asshole.
“Fuck you,” I hiss at him.
&
nbsp; His laugh gets even louder, and he slaps at the table with his hand. Flipping him the bird, I get up from my chair, but he waves his hand in the air to stop me.
“Sorry,” he says through his laughter. “Sit your ass back down.”
Scowling, I lower myself back into my chair and glare at him as he tries to slow his laughter.
“I never thought I’d see the fucking day,” Park says, the laughter not entirely gone from his voice.
“What?” I snap, annoyed at how fucking amused he is by all this.
“The day that a woman got to you.”
“She hasn’t got to me,” I snarl.
“Sure she hasn’t. That’s why all you can see is her, even when you’re balls deep in some other bitch’s cunt.”
Sullenly, I look away from him and focus on my beer, lifting the glass to my lips and chugging the rest of it down.
“So what are you going to do?” Park asks, his voice back to normal.
“Nothing.”
“What? Why would you do nothing?”
“Because I lose my shit when I’m around her. I need to just stay away. Plus, the bitch punched me in the fucking face, so she obviously isn’t interested.” I say, placing my glass down onto the table with a bit too much force.
“So you don’t want to know what room she’s in at the hotel?” Park asks.
“No,” I say a little too quickly, my gaze shooting up.
He raises his eyebrow up in question.
“Yes,” I reluctantly agree, knowing that even though I should, I don’t think I can stay away from her.
When my cell phone rings, I answer it without looking at the screen. “Hello.”
“Hey, sweetie,” Rosie’s voice says through the phone’s speaker.
“Oh, hey.”
“Oh hey? You ignore my texts for three days and now you’re just like hey,” she says, her tone angry.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair and stretch out my neck. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on, Riley?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously.” She says, the disbelief clear in her tone. “Do you like him?”
