by Megyn Ward
Again, like a complete idiot, I nod.
“New roommate rule:” he says, dipping his head to my chest. “You don’t come without my say so.”
His tongue touches my nipple, circling sensitive flesh before drawing it into his mouth, sucking and nipping at it with his teeth until I’m panting again, each draw his mouth makes on my breast bumping the head of his cock against my slick, wet center.
I moan.
Patrick lifts his head and gives me a crooked grin before he levers himself off the ground and away from me. “Now, if you don’t mind,” He turns his back on me, heading toward the bathroom. “I’m going to finish my shower.
Twenty-four
Patrick
I leave Cari in the hall and head back to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The shower is still running and its curtain is laying on the floor. The spring rod it hangs on is floating in the tub. I fish it out and hang the curtain back up before stepping back under the spray to finish showering. I want to jerk off so bad it’s making my dizzy. Scratch that—I want out of this shower. I want to bury myself balls deep in Cari’s quivering pussy. I want to pound myself into the center of her so hard and fast she won’t walk right for a week. I want her screaming my name so loud the whole damn neighborhood will know who’s fucking her.
Instead, I stay where I am. The shower is ice cold but I force myself to stay put until my hard-on is gone and my dick is practically shriveled in on itself.
If this is what it takes to be an asshole, I’m not sure I can manage it.
Out of the shower, I sling a towel around my hips and duck across the hall into my own room as quickly as possible—but not so quick that I don’t notice her bedroom door is closed.
I’d had a plan—a simple one. Give as good as I’d been getting. Make her feel all the things I’d been feeling for the past six months—hell, the past three years—while keeping my own response in check.
Usually something I’m good at.
The only thing I learned is that I like what happens when I push you.
That’s all it took. All she had to say before I was yanking down her pants and finger fucking her in the hallway.
The guy I’d been 24 hours ago would never do something like that. He wouldn’t have let things get so out of hand. He wouldn’t have tackled her like a sexually deranged linebacker. He wouldn’t have taken her to the brink of coming and then left her there without delivering.
And he wouldn’t have felt so good about it either.
I rub my hair dry and get dressed—cargos and a random t-shirt—before I realize I still haven’t shaved. Not wanting to risk another visit to the bathroom, I make a beeline for the living room. Stopping only long enough to pull on a pair of shoes and snag my laundry basket, I head out the door.
When I leave, her bedroom door is still shut.
I don’t go far. Heading downstairs I round the bar to see Declan behind it, building a round of Black and Tans for a bunch of rowdy locals in the back of the bar, watching the Sox game.
He gives me a chin jerk and tosses me a key as I walk past the bar before reverting his attention to the pints he’s working under the taps. Carrying my load of clothes down the hall, I use the key he tossed me to unlock the office where we keep a stackable washer and dryer. Adding soap to my load of clothes, I set the dial before locking the office on my way out.
When I get back, Lisa is standing at the bar, waiting for her order. When she sees me, she smiles and I smile back as I slide onto a worn leather stool. “Hi, Patrick,” she says, looking at me through her lashes while Declan sets the last of her order on her tray.
“Hey,” I say, gaze straight ahead as she walks past to deliver the round.
“Con told me but I was sure he was full of shit,” Declan says as soon as she’s out of ear shot.
“What?” I look up to catch his expression. He’s either amused or concerned. With Dec, it’s hard to tell.
He sets a pint of Harps in front of me and shakes his head. “She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” he says, whipping the towel of his shoulder to wipe down the bar between us. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”
I think he’s talking about Cari and I feel my jaw flex, the muscles in my neck going tight. I’ve known Cari for years but that didn’t mean I know about every guy she’s been with. The thought of her and Declan together makes me want to hurt something. Namely him.
Before I can say anything, he continues. “I dated her for a few months in high school,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s crazy. Like, bag-full-of-cats crazy.”
He’s talking about Lisa. I pick up my beer to cover up the fact that I’d been three seconds away from committing assault over just the thought of Cari with someone else and even though it was a simple misunderstanding, I can’t quite shake the anger that’s clawed its way into my gut.
I shrug, already done with the conversation. “It was over before it even started,” I say setting my pint on the napkin he tossed in front of me. “And I’m not looking for a do over.”
“Really?” Declan says, arching an eyebrow at me. “Does she know that?”
“She’ll get the picture.” I lean back on my stool, elbows resting on the edge of the bar, gaze glued to the muted television behind him. “Eventually.”
“Yeah?” Declan looked at me for a second before letting out a low laugh. “You heard the part about her being nuts, right?”
I think he might be right and it feels strange not to care. Before I can tell him to drop it, light streaks across the dark Mahogany bar as someone comes through the door, drawing his attention. Ready to call out a friendly greeting to his new customer, Declan sees who it is and tenses, his fingers tightening around the towel in his hand before he drops his gaze, the greeting never uttered. Curiosity getting the better of me, I shoot a quick look past my shoulder to see who has my control freak, over-achieving cousin polishing rocks glasses like his life depended on it.
It’s Tess. She shoots me an I-know-your-secret look as she strides past the bar before bouncing it up, letting her gaze skim past Declan, barely acknowledging his presence before landing it on the Sox game going on over his head.
Ouch.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I say, lifting my pint and draining it. I set it on the bar and nudge it forward. After our construction business took off, Declan rarely worked weekends. Matter of fact he only works Thursdays and that’s just so he can keep Conner’s bathroom conquests to an absolute minimum. The thought of Conner left alone to tend bar on Ladies’ Night was as awe-inspiring as it was frightening.
“Con’s backed up at the garage and Da’s taken Mom away for the weekend.” He looks relieved that I’m not peppering him with questions about what I just witnessed. “It’s their anniversary.” He sets a fresh pint in from of me. A reward for minding my own business.
I lift the pint and shake my head. “You should’ve told me. It’s my—”
I hear her before I see her and I can’t stop myself for looking in her direction as she steps off the stairs and into the bar. She’s wearing her loose sundress; the one I tease her about looking like a blue potato sack. It’s about as sexy as a hospital johnny but the sight of her in it jerks at my cock like a divining rod. Because I know what’s underneath it.
She looks directly at me. Challenging me, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking and I have to force myself not to look way. To give as good as I got without dragging her back upstairs to finish what I started this morning.
She passes by, giving Declan a wave on her way to the table where Tess is waiting for her.
“Hey.”
I look over the bar to see Declan watching me watch her.
“What?” I gulp half the pint down in a few swallows.
“What’s going on with you?” Now there’s no question about it. He’s concerned.
“Nothin’,” I say, contemplating the Jameson in the well behind the bar. Maybe if I get drunk enough, I’ll manage to
put my cock into a booze-induced coma.
Right—because it worked so well last night.
“You sure?” Declan looks at the pint in front of me like he’s sorry he poured it. “Because you fucked the cocktail waitress last night. That’s not like you.”
I didn’t fuck Lisa but I didn’t correct him. Let him think what he wants. “Maybe I’m just tired of letting Con have all the fun,” I say with a shrug, already tired of this conversation.
Declan shakes his head at me. “You’re too smart to pull that shit and I’m too smart to buy it.”
“How’s the wedding planning coming along?” I swivel in my stool, looking directly at Tess for a second before turning back to Declan. “Mind if I bring date?”
“You’re too smart for that too.” Declan’s jaw sets, his hand going tight around the towel again.
I scoff, aiming another look over my shoulder, letting him think I was checking Tess out when the only thing I can see is Cari. “Smart is overrated.”
Growing up, Conner and I used our fists on each other plenty and I’ve had to pull Con and Declan apart more than once before things got too bloody, but me and Declan? We’ve never come to blows.
I have a feeling that’s about to change.
He must feel it too because he loosens his grip on the towel and blows out a sigh. “Look, I’m just worried about you. That’s it.”
“Keep your worry.” I drain the pint and push my empty across the bar. “Give me a Jameson.”
Declan snatches my empty glass off the bar and drops it in the sink. “What the fuck did Conner do to you last night?” He’s not looking at me when he asks so I don’t answer.
He’s also not pouring me a Jameson.
Before I can reach across the bar and help myself, the door behind me flies open again. This time ushering in a swirl of moderately expensive perfume and the fast click of knock-off stilettos. This time I don’t have to turn around to see who it is.
Jessica.
“I don’t care who’s in the hospital,” she says in a tone that shrivels my balls. “I have a cake tasting scheduled for 1:45.” Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of her leaning across the bar, pouty lips puckered, smudging lipstick across Declan’s cheek. She’s fake—every inch of her from her bleach blonde hair, right down to her bogus shoes. The door knocker of a diamond sparkling on her finger is the only thing real in between. I let out a sound that would’ve been a laugh if it didn’t feel so sharp and nasty against the back of my throat.
“I don’t want excuses,” she hisses in the phone, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “I want a wedding cake and there better be someone there to sell me one.” She jabs her finger at her phone, silencing the apologies of whoever she’d been verbally abusing, before giving Declan her full attention. “What are you still doing here?” She says, rubbing her thumb against his cheek, smearing lipstick across his face. “My parents are meeting us for dinner at six.”
I look at my watch. It’s not even noon.
“Hey, Jess,” I say, calling her Jess because she hates it and I’m just drunk enough to not give a shit. Our brewing fight forgotten, Declan shoots me a warning look before exchanging my empty glass for a few fingers of Jameson. Probably in hopes of bribing me into keeping my mouth shut.
“I have zero time for your shit, Conner,” she says to me, narrowed eyes taking in my three-day beard, ratty t-shirt and cargos. I give a fleeting thought to correcting her but I kinda like the fact that someone who’s seen me a thousand times and standing right next to me has mistaken me for Conner. I lift my glass and down the whiskey, muttering “fuck off,” into the bottom of the glass between swallows.
Acting like she didn’t hear me, she turns toward Declan again, giving him a what are you doing just standing there look. “Well? Let’s go.”
Declan sighs. “I can’t just go, Jessica,” he says to her, gesturing around the bar. “I’m working.”
“No, you’re not,” she says. “You’re standing here, talking to your brother.”
“I’m the only one behind the bar,” Declan says in the kind of tone you’d use to reason with cranky toddlers. “That means I’m working.”
Jessica scoffs before letting her gaze float around the bar, her face hardening almost instantly. “What is she doing here?” she says turning toward him again, voice raising an octave.
I turn in my bar stool, look at Tess. She focused on Cari, not to pay attention to the fight that’s brewing a few yards away. Cari’s got her hand clamped around her wrist like she’s holding her in her seat. I whip around, mouth open but Declan shoots me a glare and pours me another Jameson. Instead of talking, I drink.
Declan sighs again. This time it’s the long-suffering sigh of someone who’s had this argument a thousand time and doesn’t want to have it even one more time. “She’s eating lunch in a public place, Jessica,” he snaps at her, jerking the towel off his shoulder again. “and we’ve known her since we were kids—”
I’m about five seconds away from picking her up and dumping her ass on the sidewalk. Instead, I reach across the bar and yank the soggy towel out of Declan’s hand. “Get the hell out of here,” I say before draining my glass. “And take your screech owl with you.” I slam my glass on the bar and stand.
Jessica’s eyes narrow again at the insult but she’s smart enough to let it go. “Let’s go,” she says, smiling now that she’s gotten her way.
Declan gives me a fuck no look. “You’ve been drinking.”
Jessica scoffs. “Shocker,” she mutters before turning and making a beeline for the table Cari and Tess are huddled around. I want to follow her and do what I can to shield Tess from the river of shit that’s about to be unleashed. Instead, I walk around the bar, ducking under the pass through.
“Get her out of here, Declan,” Standing beside him, I hold out my hand, gesturing for the apron he’s wearing but he’s not paying any attention to me. Instead he’s looking across the bar, zeroed in on whatever was going on between his fiancé and his brother’s best friend.
“Dec,” I say, nudging him in the arm. “I’m serious. Just give me the keys and get her the fuck out of here.”
Making up his mind, Declan looks at me and nods, reluctantly fishing the office key from the front pocket of his jeans. “Are you sure?” he says, finally reaching around to untie his apron.
No matter what Jessica thinks, he knows I’m not his brother and that other than occasional weekday shift, I have zero experience behind the bar. I am in no way ready for a Saturday night shift.
The fact that I’m sorta drunk is a secondary concern, and we both know it.
I just smile. “What are brothers for?”
Twenty-five
Cari
Tess is staring at me, her mouth open, while I quietly recount how I spent last night and this morning. “Patrick said that?” She leans across the table, placing the flat of her hands on its surface to push herself forward. “That he was going to… and that you were…” She leans back in her seat, looking genuinely confused. “We’re talking about Patrick Gilroy, right? The guy who spent forty-five minutes last Sunday, helping Mrs. McGintey wrangle that bastard dog of hers? The guy who coaches baseball and volunteers at the library? That Patrick?”
“That’s him,” I say, doing my best not to look over my shoulder. If I do, I’ll see Patrick sitting at the bar. Watching me. Thinking about him, the warn ache between my thighs starts to throb, making me irritable. Making me wish I’d defied Patrick’s orders and made myself come before I came down here and tried to interact with polite society. “And could you keep your voice down—we’re in enemy territory.”
“Sorry,” Tess says, taking it down a few notches while sitting back in her seat. “It’s just...” she shakes her head, shooting a quick glance over my shoulder. “That’s not what I expected.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say, flipping the menu open even though I’ve read it a thousand times. “What did you expect, exactly?” I can’t ke
ep the hostile tone out of my voice. I know it’s not Tess’s fault things have gone so wrong between Patrick and me but blaming her is easier than blaming myself. This was all her stupid idea to begin with wasn’t it?
“I don’t know...” she says with a shrug, seemingly oblivious to my current mood. “But I didn’t expect Predictable Patrick to go all 50 Shades on you.” She falls silent and leans back. “What you’re describing isn’t anything like the sex Sara clued me in on.”
The second Tess says the name of Patrick’s ex-girlfriend, I nearly choke on my own tongue. “What?” I manage to croak out, too loud. I aim a quick look over my shoulder. Patrick is still sitting at the bar talking to Declan. “You asked Sara what he was like in bed?” I hissed at her. “Are you nuts?”
“Relax,” Tess sighs, rolling her eyes like I’m the crazy one. “I made it sound like I was interested in taking a run at him,” she laughed at the thought, shaking her head like Sara was an idiot for buying it. “She wasn’t too happy with the thought but she told me what I wanted to know.”
I held out for about two seconds before curiosity got the better of me. “And?”
Before she had a chance to spill, Lisa appears with our drinks.
“Here you go,” she says, syrupy sweet. Too sweet. “What can I get you girls to eat?”
I listen while Tess orders, a double bacon cheeseburger, chicken wings and a basket of onion rings. She’s five-foot-nothing, and wouldn’t weigh a hundred pounds after being fished out of the Mystic. Where she puts it, I don’t know.
Unfazed, Lisa scribbles on her pad before looking at me. I can’t be sure but her eyes seem to narrow just a bit. “Same,” I say, smiling while I hand her my menu, like I didn’t catch her with Patrick’s cock in her throat less than twelve hours ago. Like I didn’t want to punch her in the fucking mouth and drag her down the street by her goddamned hair. “Thanks.”
