I’m quiet. My hand shakes as I put my phone down. Any little thing can just snap my mind back to that night without warning, and it makes me sick. I can’t get it out of my head; Gabe’s hand grabbing me, crying out in fear as that psychopath approached the car. His blood splattering all over me. Laurel suddenly puts her arms around me, and I realize she only did that because I had started crying. I don’t want her to see this side of me. I don’t want anyone to see this side of me.
51
Another long day at the gym, and I’m exhausted. I am heading out when I spot Laurel coming out of the locker room. I smile, “You want to hang out tonight?” I ask, and she smiles.
She laughs; we both knew we’d be hanging out tonight, it’s just a matter of what we’re doing. We decide to head to Tyler’s apartment instead of hers which turns out to be a pretty big mistake. Tyler’s not there when we show up, but he’s left a bottle of tequila out on the counter. Fuck.
We start drinking like a couple of idiots, and we wind up sitting on the couch and turning on some television. We pop in a movie, convincing ourselves that we can control ourselves, but we’re both really drunk within fifteen minutes of the movie. That’s what happens when two recovering alcoholics are left alone in a room with a bottle of tequila. I guess after my embarrassing cry this morning, I need to throw out my sobriety for a bit.
The door to the apartment opens, and Tyler spots us sitting on his couch –his now half-empty bottle of tequila sitting on the coffee table. “Damn alcoholics!” he snaps as he marches into the den. He snatches the bottle up, “Shit, man, this stuff is expensive! What the fuck, Jonathan?”
“I’m sorry, man,” I say, and Laurel lets out a drunk, cackled laugh.
“You too, bitch!” Tyler snaps.
She sticks out her bottom lip, “Sorry.”
Tyler rolls his eyes and just plops down on the couch on the other side of Laurel, “Idiots,” he says and then turns up the bottle.
“Whoo-hoo!” Laurel sings, “Now it’s a party.”
A slight laugh emerges from his throat. “Well, it’s not like I got to work tomorrow,” he groans and takes another swig straight from the bottle.
“What were you saving the tequila for, Tyler?” I ask.
“I might be getting set up in the big leagues,” he says, “a real professional match soon. I thought Marty and I would celebrate.”
“Without me?” I ask.
“You’re an alcoholic, damn it,” he says and waves the bottle around, “and clearly, that means I can leave anything laying around.”
“Nope,” Laurel says and laughs.
We wind up passing the bottle around, and Tyler dumbly tries to keep up with us professionals. We’re all drunk out of our minds before too long –just staring at the television. I feel Laurel’s hand land on me knee and start to head further up my leg. For a moment, I assume she’s just so drunk that she’s forgotten Tyler is here. I glance over, and I can see this really freaked out look on Tyler’s face; her other hand is on his knee. What the fuck?
Should I say something? I have no idea; I just look forward and stare blankly at the television. I feel her hand rubbing me outside of my gym shorts, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s doing the same to Tyler with her other hand. I glance over. Fuck, she is.
Tyler is looking straight ahead, one hand is gripping the tequila bottle and the other the arm of the couch. I feel this crazy amount of jealousy run through me. I have to say something. “Laurel-”
“Shh…” she says and lets go of Tyler who gasps; he glances over me as though he needs to apologize. Before I can say anything else, Laurel presses her lips against mine, locking me in this sloppy, tight embrace that leaves me slightly woozy.
Tyler fidgets, and she reaches around and touches his knee, still looking dead at me. “Um… Laurel…” I say, and she kisses me again.
When she pulls away, she whispers, “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”
After hearing those words, I spot Tyler gulping down several swigs of tequila. “There’s no way in hell,” I start to say, but she grabs me between my legs. “Uhg…” I hear Tyler moan, and I see that she’s done the same to him.
She leans towards me, her lips tickling my ear, “You know,” she says, her warm breath making me shiver, “I think you should consider doing this for me –because I know someone who might… well,” she nibbles on my ear for a second, “You think Katie’s cute, right?” God, I do.
Nope, nope, nope, nope….
She pulls away from me and turns towards Tyler; he shoots me this completely freaked out look as though he thinks I’m going to jump up and beat the hell out of him. Her lips press against his, and he closes his eyes and goes with it. What the fuck, Tyler?
She stands up slowly, their lips still touching, and he completely falls off the couch trying to keep it that way. She trots off towards the bedroom, winks at us both, and disappears. Is she waiting on us?
Tyler is sitting on the floor; his mouth opens just as wide as his eyes. He’s trying not to look at me; he jumps back up on the couch and sits still for a moment, staring at the television. Neither of us move, that is, until Laurel appears in the doorway –having completely stripped down to nothing but her birthday suit. “You two coming?” she asks before sashaying back into the bedroom, and we both jump up. There’s this awkward moment where we glance at one another; it passes, and I follow Tyler into his bedroom.
Laurel is laid out on the bed, and she looks excited. I walk around Tyler because he’s standing there like he’s frozen solid. I sit down on the bed, and I’m pretty sure I have an annoyed look on my face. Laurel laughs and pulls me close to her, kissing me and putting her hands under my shirt to rub my chest. I feel weird with Tyler watching, but she gets me out of my shirt. She looks over at Tyler and waves him over with her finger. He allows himself to be summoned, and he sits on the opposite side of the bed from me.
The next couple of minutes is basically just me and Tyler trying not to look at each other while Laurel goes back and forth getting us out of articles of clothing because it’s like we both just freeze whenever she’s showing the other one attention. I literally do everything in my power not to look at Tyler once we’re both stripped down; we used to share a locker room, so it’s not like I haven’t seen him undressed before, but this shit is different: my girlfriend is here laid out butt naked on his bed.
We each lay down on either side of her, and she goes back and forth just kissing us. Eventually, that’s not enough. “Come on, guys, it’s not a tag-team,” she says and pulls me into an embrace, kissing me while reaching her hand around to Tyler. The next thing I know, he’s right there –kissing and biting her shoulder. He must be way more wasted than I am, which is sad since he started drinking close to an hour after Laurel and I got started. He definitely has a much lower tolerance for alcohol. His hand reaches around and touches her breast, and she groans. I hate that.
She starts to roll towards him, so while her legs are opened I stake my claim. I press my dick into her, and she moans loudly. Now, I get to stare at Tyler making out with her while I attempt to keep my erection up; I did not exactly think this maneuver through. She’s gripping his cock in her right hand, and I hear him grunting. She suddenly reaches around Tyler and grabs at me, and we roll onto our sides. I can just barely hear her telling Tyler to “put it in,” and I cringe; she is squished between us, and Tyler and I are way too close for comfort now.
We each seem to just take a shoulder to avoid looking at one another, but there is no escaping accidentally letting our arms or legs touch at this point. I kiss her ear and throat, and I can hear Tyler’s deep breathing just on the other side of her head. “Ooh, Tyler, I like that,” she moans, and it pisses me off.
I glance around her and see that he’s massaging her lower back. I reach my hand down and massage her clit while I continue pressing myself up further into her. “Jonathan!” she shrieks excitedly, and it’s like I start a damn Civil War when I
pull her attention back on me.
Tyler gets braver; he’s lucky if by the end of this I don’t murder him. He starts licking her neck and rubbing her shoulders. I counter that by showing her breasts some attention, causing her nipples to both get hard. I put my mouth around her left nipple and suck on it, and she squeals and drapes both of her arms around my neck and pulls me in to kiss my lips. The next couple of minutes get rough as we both prod her long and hard, and she screams and cries out excitedly with each new movement that we make.
Tyler starts making some loud moans; I did not need to know what he sounds like when he’s having an orgasm, but now I do. He pulls out of her and rolls away, lying flat on his back and panting slightly. I go to roll Laurel onto her back, but she pushes me and gets me on mine instead. She sits up, and then Tyler decides he’s not done. Fuck, Tyler, go away!
He gets up on his knees beside us and wraps his arms around her waist, and he pulls her down on me. “Oh, God!” she screams; one of his hands work its way towards her right breast, and his mouth licks and kisses her left. He helps her to slide up and down on me fast and hard, and I catch myself grabbing hold of the sheets to keep from bouncing around too much.
“Uhh…” I groan and cum inside her just as she is letting out this loud, pleasurable cry.
Tyler rolls over, and Laurel collapses between us. The three of us are all breathing deep and heavy, our skin all glistening slightly after working up a serious sweat. Laurel stares up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. We all get under the sheets, far too drunk to try to figure out tonight’s sleeping arrangements. Laurel curls up into my arms, and Tyler passes out on his stomach beside us. We are so going to regret this in the morning.
52
I wake up with a throbbing headache, but I’ve had worse hangovers. I feel around for Laurel, but she’s not beside me. I sit up quickly; Tyler is gone too… I guess that’s good. I would have been pissed to wake up next to just Tyler. There is a slight panic in my chest; where are they? They didn’t leave together, did they?
Then I hear a loud, horrible hacking noise coming from outside of the bedroom. I frantically search for my pants before heading out. I see Laurel first; she’s sitting at the bar, holding an icepack to her head. She’s in my t-shirt, and she’s failed to put on pants –at least she’s wearing her underwear. I blush to see that she is also sitting on an icepack.
Another hacking sound draws my attention over to the toilet in the midst of the kitchen –seriously, who designed this place? Tyler is on his knees, barely hanging onto the toilet, praying to the porcelain gods. “He’s been at it for at least fifteen minutes,” Laurel groans as I make my appearance.
“Tyler, you all right?” I ask, surprised I can even say the man’s name after last night.
He holds up his middle finger at me and proceeds to continue throwing up in the toilet. He lets out a few swear words and shakes, gasping a bit before he has to throw up again. “He was ass naked in here when I woke up; I got him to put on his sweatpants,” Laurel says; she looks miserable. “I feel bad for him,” she whispers to me.
I rub my temples; I guess I don’t have to kick his ass –the alcohol is doing it for me. I’ve never seen him so messed up before. He starts to pass out on the toilet, so I go over to shake him up. He jolts, “Don’t touch me!” and he falls onto the kitchen floor.
Laurel stands, and she comes over to us. The two of us pull him to his feet and help him walk over to the kitchen sink. He turns on the water and splashes his face several times; Laurel and I stand on either side of him to keep him from falling out. “I swear,” Tyler groans, “If you two ever tell anyone about last night, I’ll kill you.”
“Glad we’re on the same page, man,” I say.
“So you two wouldn’t want to do that again?” Laurel teases as she walks back around the kitchen island to sit back down on her icepack.
“No!” Both Tyler and I snap.
“Too bad,” she says, “I would have wanted to try to get Marty in on it next time.”
“Fuck that,” Tyler moans and grips the kitchen island in order to walk. He starts to let go of the island to head into the den, but I stop him.
“Easy, man, let me help,” I say, “You’re going to fall and crack your damn head open.”
“Asshole,” he grumbles as I walk him over to the couch.
“I’m going to fix some coffee,” I say; it’s clearly my job as the one who’s not quite as hungover. I still have a pretty bad headache, but I’m much more mobile than Laurel and Tyler –especially Tyler.
“Flush that,” Laurel says and points a finger over at the toilet, holding an icepack to her head. “Why aren’t you more hungover?”
I flush the toilet and cringe slightly –why the fuck is there a toilet in the kitchen? I still can’t get over that. It makes me not want to eat anything that comes out of the kitchen. “I don’t think I had as much to drink as you,” I say.
“So I bet you remember last night better than me,” she says.
I shake my head, “Unfortunately. I would have preferred to have blacked it all out.” I get the coffee going, and I bring both of them a cup. I toss Tyler a water too; I’m having a hard time looking at him.
“So,” Tyler says, desperate to talk about anything other than what happened last night, “how did that assessment thing go on Saturday for that manager?”
“It went fine, I guess,” I say, “I don’t know. That manager is pretty young, and I assume he’s kind of inexperienced…. But again, I don’t know. He might know what he’s doing. Either way, I’ll be lucky if the guy offers to-”
Call it fate. My phone is ringing; I search for it and find it lying on the floor by the couch. It’s Caleb. “Shut up!” I shout, but neither of them are talking. “Hello?” I say, ignoring my headache.
“Is this Trial?” he asks.
“Speaking,” I say.
“Hey, listen, here’s the deal. I’ve been looking over some of your past matches, and I think I might have been a little harsh. You’re good. I still have my concerns, and I still want you to take care of everything I mentioned at our meeting the other day, but if you’re up for it, I might have a match set up for you.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m serious,” he says, “It’s a low profile match, but the moron you’ll be boxing is desperate to make a name for himself. When I threw your name out there, well, he thinks if he can kick your ass he’ll be able to move up –you know? It’ll be an easy win for you, though, and if you dominate it’ll be a good comeback.”
“I’ll do it!” I say, trying to contain my excitement.
“Great. I’ll email you the details. I don’t have a trainer for you, man. No one wants to deal with you right now.” he says.
I cringe. “Seriously?”
“You don’t exactly have a good reputation right now,” he says, “None of my trainers are interested. Do you have anyone?”
“I’ll figure something out,” I say.
“Good,” he says, “get to work. Your match is in two weeks.” He hangs up the phone.
Two weeks? Shit! I’m seriously out of practice. I look at Laurel and Tyler who are both staring at me, waiting for an explanation for the big smile on my face. “What’s going on, man?” Tyler asks.
“I –I got a match.” I can hardly believe it.
Laurel jumps up, “That’s great!”
Tyler gives me a lazy thumbs up –still too hungover for a serious celebration. Laurel puts her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. I smile at her and kiss her back. “Nope,” Tyler snaps, “you two aren’t allowed to do that in front of me anymore.”
I flick him off and give her another kiss. I can’t believe it. I got a match.
53
Britany socks me in the nose; she’s got a serious punch. I counter, jabbing her in the chest. “Watch your footwork,” Marianna says; she’s hanging on the side of the ropes.
“Arms up, come one, you’re sloppy,” Katie says.
I had tried calling Damion to see if he’d be willing to train me, but he’s overbooked. I tried talking to a number of other trainers, but no one will take me seriously –no one who’s any good, that is. So here I am, training with Laurel’s posse. I’m actually really impressed with Britany; she’s got some serious speed. These women have been putting me through the ringer; each one of them has something different to show me, and I return the favor. My match is tonight, and any spare time at the gym I’ve spent sparring with them. When I’m off work, I’ve been working with Marty and Tyler too.
Alex approaches, and she shakes her head. “I hear you got a match tonight?”
“Yup,” I say, lowering my gloves; Britany punches me in the face.
“Shit, sorry!” she says.
I shake my head. Alex laughs. “Don’t let yourself get distracted tonight, all right? I’m rooting for you. Go ahead and take your lunch break, all right?”
I nod and hop out of the ring. “Hey,” LaWanda says, “why don’t we take Jonny-boy to our place for lunch? You need a good lunch to get you fueled for tonight.”
I smile. “Sounds good,” Laurel says, “I’m starving.”
“Ooh, I got something to show you guys,” I say as the group follows me out to the parking lot.
“Is that your car?” I hear Eleanor squeal as she points at the Volkswagen.
“Yup,” I say, and I hear Laurel laugh –loudly.
Bobby hooked me up; he had a mechanic who owed him big time from his days as DA. It’s not fucking pink anymore. The guy gave it a paintjob; it’s black with a red racing stripe. Plus, he fixed the handle and a few minor mechanical issues, so it doesn’t stall out on me anymore either. “Nice,” Laurel says, “When were you going to show me this?”
I laugh, “Probably today.”
“I like how he kept the pink fuzzy dice,” Marianna says, laughing.
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 145
