Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel)

by K. M. Golland

  “Traffic was shit,” he explained, seemingly annoyed. He took a seat opposite me. “Everyone, this is Anna. Anna, this is everyone.”

  Cori whacked him on the shoulder. “You’ve forgotten names, haven’t you?”

  Bullshit! He’s being an arse.

  “Yeah, you got me.”

  “Hi, Anna, I’m Cori, and this is my partner, Josh. But you can call him Bugs.”

  If I weren’t so furious over the stunt Mike was pulling, I would’ve rolled my eyes and laughed at Cori’s cheekiness. But I was furious. Ropeable. And if I was going to be completely honest, I was also a little fucking hurt and offended that he felt the need to choose some random woman off the street and bring her here just to make me jealous. It was pathetic.

  “And this is my roommate, Em,” Cori added, gesturing to me. “And her partner, Brad.”

  I politely said hello, because it wasn’t Blondie’s fault H was a cunt, but then I decided that was as far as my politeness would extend, biting my sausage in bread quite piggishly.

  “Mm … I’m so hungry I could eat an arsehole,” I mumbled.

  Josh choked on his beer.

  Anna smiled uneasily

  Cori gave me a what-the-fudge-cakes look.

  Brad stopped behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders, flexing his fingers.

  H didn’t bat an eyelash. In fact, the dick-knob smiled knowingly at me. You Penis-a-corn. You rainbow-shitting unicorn with a dick attached to your head.

  I had to up my game. I had to make him so disgusted in me that he’d give up and leave, leave this barbeque and leave St Kilda.

  “hat’s ooo good, abe,” I slurred and garbled, continuing to eat my sausage and not giving a fuck from my fuck storage bank.

  I let my head fall back and looked up at Brad who was hovering over me upside-down. My lips pursed. I wanted a kiss.

  “You want to finish your mouthful, first?” he asked, bending down.

  “Maybe I want to share this sausage with you. You’re always sharing yours with me.”

  He laughed. “This is true.”

  Swallowing what was in my mouth, because sharing chewed up sausage at any cost was just outright feral—and I was pissed off, not feral—I grabbed the back of his head, wrenching him toward me and sticking my tongue down his throat.

  “Easy, pixie,” Brad said, breaking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Oh come on. Don’t pretend you don’t like it rough. We both know that’s not true.” I grabbed the bottle of wine and filled my glass, offering some to Anna who screwed up her nose. Her loss. “Cor, want some more?”

  “I think I better. And I think you better have more food.”

  Ugh! My plan wasn’t working. All it was doing was appearing to amuse H and making me out to be some adolescent who couldn’t hold her own liquor. Maybe I just need to step it up a notch. Go for cruder … very unladylike.

  I poured Cori some more wine and handed it to her. She thanked me but clenched her stomach. “Aw … remind me never to do sit-ups again,” she said to Josh. “My tummy hasn’t stopped hurting since.”

  I slurped my wine. “Maybe you just need to shit out a cock.”

  “What?”

  “Ya know, punch one out the size of a cock.”

  “Em!”

  Josh choked on his beer again.

  Brad moved the wine bottle out of my reach.

  Anna looked at H, then to me, then to everyone else.

  And H? Yeah, he laughed. As in full-on belly-laughed. God dammit!

  The only thing left for me to do was fart. Oh my God, I can’t. I just … can’t. Shit! Shit! I have to.

  Wiggling just slightly on my seat, I concentrated on the movement within. Nothing. But that was the beauty of a fart—if there could be such a thing—because when you wanted to, you couldn’t. And when you didn’t want to, you did. Bad!

  Spying Anna snuggle up to H from out of the corner of my eye, I figured that in absence of bottom burpage, I’d grill his decoy instead. “Soooo, Anna, how do you know Mike?”

  She giggled, which looked stupid, given her age. Not that I knew her age, but I guessed she was at least eighty. Okay, well maybe that’s an exaggeration.

  “Well,” she said, glancing at H with a smile, “we met online —”

  “Oh, online? How nice. That must be—”

  “Yeah, Emily,” H interrupted me. “Anna is the one in the picture I showed you the other day.”

  I furrowed my brow, wondering what the hell he was talking about until the shit-eating grin on his face hit me, detonating every single skerrick of disgust in my body.

  Anna was the woman he’d been going down on.

  The woman whose pussy I’d deleted from my phone.

  You disgusting arsehole.

  Drawing upon every ounce of acting experience I had, I skolled my wine and smiled, delicately placing my glass down and focussing on the rim. “Oh yes, I remember.” I met H’s and Anna’s eyes. “It was a lovely photo. Very sweet.”

  Anna turned and faced H. “What photo?”

  “Just one I—”

  “Took when you weren’t looking,” I interrupted, finishing his sentence for him and refusing to look at him, even though I knew he was staring at me.

  “Show me,” she said. “I want to see it.” Yeah, hon, I don’t think you do.

  He squeezed her hand. “It’s no longer on my phone. I have it on a memory stick in the apartment.”

  “Oh, okay. Will you show me later?”

  “Sure. I may even take another one.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled her in for a kiss.

  I turned away. I felt ill. I felt angry. I felt confused. But most of all, I felt disappointed in him, me, us, everything. I was done. I was done playing these ridiculous childish games, and I was done fending him off.

  I. Was. Just. Done.

  “Babe,” I said, my tone exhausted and devoid of any enthusiasm to stay and mingle. “I’m done. Want to come and tuck me into bed?”

  Brad drank the last of his beer, tossed the bottle in the bin, and made his way toward me, his eyes communicating that he wanted nothing more than to do just that.

  “I want nothing more, my sexy pixie.”

  I inwardly smiled.

  ***

  Brad had scooped me into his arms in front of everyone and whisked me back to the apartment. I hadn’t looked at H as we retreated. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever want to. And that hurt my heart, because for the last two years he’d helped heal it, and not in a romantic way. He’d been my friend with textual benefits, my rock with a cocky mouth and a hard-on, and the pillar of strength I’d often proverbially grind up against.

  He’d just always been there for me, and I knew in my heart of hearts that he no longer would be. I knew that I had to let him go. And I would, as soon as Brad, Cori and Josh flew back to Darwin in a couple of days’ time. For now, all of my attention, time and thoughts belonged to Brad. He had my mind, body and soul.

  He had me.

  To do whatever he wanted to.

  “Whatever I want?” he asked, staring down at my naked body.

  I drew my knees to my chest, gifting him a nice view of my arse as I kneeled on the bed. “Yes. Whatever. Wherever. Whenever.”

  A gruff noise reverberated in his throat. “Don’t move. And keep your head down.”

  I loved it when he was all ‘do this and do that’ during sex. It was hot, and trusting him to take the lead was even hotter, because I did. I trusted him implicitly. But the anticipation of what he would do and when was what had arousal trickling down my thighs.

  Doing as I was told, I kept my head down and waited, all of my senses amplified. Heavy breathing. Heart pounding. Arms trembling. The movement of the bed beneath me, and the smell of pending sex in the air … all of it had every nerve-ending in my body ready to explode.

  The touch of a single finger to the base of my spine had my back arching instantly. It also made me sigh. His hands w
ere forever warm and soft, a delight on my skin.

  He trailed his finger up my back and across my shoulders until his hand clasped the back of my neck and guided me up to kneel with my back straight.

  Hot breath caressed my ear. “I want to fuck your arse. Is that okay?”

  My eyelids fluttered closed as his tongue traced a line down my neck, his hands reaching around to cup my breasts. “Yes. But my pussy wants you first. She’s jealous like that.”

  He pressed himself against my back, and there was no mistaking how keen he was. “She shouldn’t be,” he murmured, his teeth nibbling my shoulder. “I’ll take care of them both.” Brad’s hand fell to my hip and then crawled to my thigh, his finger sliding across my clit and delicately twitching it. I rocked against his hand, wanting the contact.

  “You’re impatient, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You want to come, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want my cock, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He let go of my breast, placed his hand on my back, and gently pushed forward, guiding me onto my hands and knees. I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and smiled, knowing what was coming.

  “Stop swirling your arse around or I’ll have no choice but to fuck it first.”

  The edge of warning in his voice told me he was serious, so I stopped swirling, but only for a second.

  “I’m fucking serious, Em. You keep doing that, and I’ll have no choice not to. I’ve wanted in that arse from the moment I first saw it. Let me take my time with you.”

  “Okay. But don’t take too much time. I’m needy.”

  He chuckled and slapped my arse. “Don’t I know it.”

  I cried out at that sting, but then melted with the burn as he rubbed the spot. “Now, Brad! Or I’ll use my toys, and you can sit there and take your sweet time with yourself as you watch me hit multiples.”

  “Are you threatening me, baby?” he asked, teasing my opening with the tip of his dick.

  I moaned and swirled my arse again. “Yes.”

  He pushed into my wet and wanting pussy, the slide delicious and smooth.

  Brad slapped my arse again, but didn’t rub it better. It was my punishment. But when he gripped my hips and pounded me relentlessly until my thighs trembled and I was just about to scream his name, the absence of his cock when he pulled out was easily the worst punishment I’d ever experienced.

  “What the hell?” I growled, turning my head to look back at him.

  “Up you get. I want you to sit on that gym ball over there.”

  I followed his gesture toward the corner of my room where my large, blue gym ball sat idle. Oh … OH!

  My eyes lit up. “Wherever?”

  He nodded.

  I stood up and sashayed over to the ball, glancing over my shoulder and smiling deviously at him.

  “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

  I winked, then rolled the ball to him.

  He stopped it with his hands and patted the top. “Sit then lie back. Legs open.”

  Touching my breasts, I pinched my nipples and walked toward him, not saying a word, my eyes doing all the talking as I took a seat on the ball and leaned back while opening my legs and finding my balance.

  His hands gripped my thighs and held me still as he swiped my sensitive clit with his warm tongue, making me cry out. “Oh, fuck yes! Lick me, babe. Lick me good. I want all of your tongue.”

  A hungry growl vibrated against my pussy, and he unleashed a carnal attack with his mouth. I gripped the ball. I gripped his head. I tried desperately to balance as he licked, nibbled, sucked and flicked his tongue until I was coming all over his face. Wow!

  I convulsed with the pleasure of my orgasm. Brad pushed two fingers inside me and pulled them out, rubbing my arousal all over the opening of my arse.

  “Up,” he demanded, taking my hands and pulling me flush with his chest. “You ready?”

  I could barely speak, still trembling, so I nodded, his lips finding mine as he kissed me tenderly. Our tongues slowly swept each other’s and licked gently, my teeth gently nibbling and biting as they moved across his. It was a sweet kiss. A loving kiss.

  The perfect kiss.

  Pulling back, I gave him one quick peck on the lips before turning and leaning over the ball, rolling it forward just slightly until my hands reached the ground and my arse was in the air, my feet on tiptoes on the ground behind me.

  Brad’s hand found my hip, holding me steady. He positioned his cock at the entrance of my pussy and pushed in. We both moaned, and a gentle bounce began, the two of us finding rhythm quickly using the momentum of the ball.

  “Oh God yes!” I slurred, and my head dipped. It felt amazing, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sustain my position for too long. “Babe. My arse. Now!”

  Pulling out of me, Brad inserted his finger and massaged the walls of my pussy, coating it with my arousal and pulling it back out again before teasing my puckered arse. Slowly, he pushed inside.

  I relaxed with the push and breathed out. “Mm …”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah.”

  He slid in and slid out. “More?”

  I nodded.

  He pushed his cock inside my pussy again and fucked me hard, covering himself with every drip I released. I was so fucking wet, and so fucking ready for him to fuck my arse.

  Sliding out of my pussy, he spread as much of my arousal as he could over my opening and positioned his cock, pushing in slowly.

  I beared down and relaxed as much as possible. “Oh …” I moaned heavily, my eyes falling closed, the slight sting of my arse heightening with his every movement.

  Brad groaned, deep, long, his tone soaked in pleasure. “So tight, baby. So good.”

  I couldn’t speak. I was full, relaxed, stretched. Comfortable. Not to mention my teeth clamped my lip and words were the furthest thing from my mind.

  Brad thrust ever-so-slightly using the motion of the ball, inching in bit-by-bit until his thrusts were longer and deeper, and my moans were harsh, little grunts.

  It was glorious.

  It was dirty.

  It was gym ball anal.

  My new favourite workout.

  Saying goodbye to Brad and Cori had been harder than anticipated, their absence felt much stronger this time around because I didn’t have H to fall back on. The pain of my loss was near crippling, because for the past two years, when things got tough, H had been there for me. Always. Just a text away. But he wasn’t this time. And even though I still felt that I needed him, I couldn’t have him.

  I didn’t want him.

  H was a dead-end with a scenic route. He was heartache cloaked in pleasure, and the amber light at a traffic intersection.

  He was an addiction.

  And like any addiction that needed to be overcome, I’d pretty much gone cold turkey, ignoring his texts, not answering the door, and staying within the apartment. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I wouldn’t have been strong enough to face him, because pain. Because lust. Because he was my Achilles heel. But also because of the way I’d treated him and the way he’d retaliated.

  It all hurt too fucking much.

  When the ones you love cut you, the pain is profound because you bleed more. And you bleed more because you’re not only bleeding for yourself, you’re bleeding for them.

  I’d loved H, in my own Optimus Prime kind of way. And for those days following Brad and Cori leaving, I’d bled for him, bled for me, and bled for the loss of his constant support and general uplifting conversation. He’d been my saviour, my strength … the reason I first smiled everyday. But I realised that when I opened my eyes this morning and didn’t cry that I didn’t need him as much as I’d thought I did. I didn’t need Brad and Cori for that reason, too. Because as it turned out, I’d only needed myself.

  I’d only ever needed myself.

  I was a strong-willed, thick-skinned, outspoken woman, bu
t I was aware I had chinks in my armour. Small but dangerous cracks. And when you cracked, you eventually broke.

  I wasn’t about to let myself break.

  Opening the door to my apartment, I ran toward the stairwell. There was not a chance in hell I’d use the elevator, because God forbid he enter and trap me inside like the last time. So I jogged down the steps, careful not to misjudge one and tumble down the rest before exiting the building. My objection was to make it to The Esplanade without seeing H, so I ran fast. I’d been cooped up in the apartment for days and needed the sanctity of fresh air and to stretch my legs.

  Crossing the road and making contact with the sand, I decided to run a different route than usual and headed toward Station Pier. It was farther than what I’d normally run, but I welcomed the escape, needing the distance and burn.

  I focussed on anything and everything that wasn’t the tightness in my chest, admiring the sun’s rays reflecting from the water’s surface. The seagulls hovered overhead, and bike riders shared the roads with the morning peak-hour traffic. But my focus was my destination up ahead—the Spirit of Tasmania, docked at Station Pier. The closer I got, the bigger it appeared. It was a good focal point.

  Just less than forty-five minutes later, I’d returned home, jogging to a stop at the apartment elevators and bending over to catch my breath. Fuck the stairs. My legs are jelly, and jelly doesn’t do steps.

  Hearing the ping of the elevator doors, I stepped in when they opened, turning around to a sudden, pungent smell of …

  Blackness.

  ***

  My eyelids slowly fluttered open, heavy and weighted. I felt tired, dizzy, and disorientated, and at first I wasn’t sure if I were dreaming, waking from a dream, or experiencing the world’s worst hangover. My head spun, my eyes were sore and my limbs felt weak. A nauseous wave churned within my stomach, and yeah … I definitely felt sick. What the hell happened?

  Uncertainty prickled my skin, and I couldn’t remember a damn thing other than waking up and going for a run, getting home and then …