Revelry (Taint #1)

by Carmen Jenner

  “What?” I say.

  “I said buzz me up, I’m on your doorstep.”

  I let out a huge sigh, and say, “Fine. Hold on.”

  I get up from the bed, only my feet are tangled in the covers and I fall flat on my face. My phone goes sprawling across the floor, and I stare at it from the expanse of my disgusting carpet and wonder how I got to this point. For a moment, I just cry, because Peppermint Pattie is smeared on my cheek and smooshed into my carpet, and I’m lying face-down on my filthy floor on my birthday. Alone. I don’t even have that stupid cat to keep me company. God damn I hated that cat, but I’d take it all back—the tour, Coop, Levi and the job at Harbour Records for just one day with that cat. Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t take Coop and Levi back for the cat, but I’d definitely give all of the other stuff for that feral feline.

  Tim’s tinny voice echoes out from my speakers, and I glance at the phone. “Ali, open the door. Your neighbour let me in the building.”

  I crawl across the floor and stand, unlocking the deadbolt and sliding the little chain free from its brass holder, then I sink to my knees and crawl across the floor again towards my Peppermint Pattie. I pick up the part that isn’t smooshed and I bite into it. Gooey peppermint oozes out the side, coating my cheek and fingers, but I don’t care.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, what happened to you?” Tim says as he enters the room, and then peeks his head out through the open doorway, checking for my neighbours, or an escape hatch perhaps.

  “Hey,” I mutter glumly.

  “Oh, Jones, did he call again?”

  “No. He’s dating a Victoria’s Secret model, whose name I can’t even pronounce, she’s that exotic. I’m sure they’ll have very beautiful babies together, and they can grow up and be these crazy talented rocker/model hybrids.”

  He sighs. “You’ve been Googling again.”

  “Yup.”

  “So is there anything on Cooper?”

  “Nope. Only a few new pictures with fans from their concert in Paris.”

  “Well that’s good, right?” he asks, as if he’s trying to prompt a response from me other than Me Jane. Rock star gone. Jane sad.

  “I don’t know. I want him to move on,” I say, licking the gooey peppermint from between my fingers. “I want them both to move on.”

  “But you want them both?”

  I shrug. Did I want them both? No. Not anymore. I sure as hell missed them, but it had always been abundantly clear that my heart belonged to Cooper. What could I do about it though? I loved him. I missed him so much that some nights I felt like I was suffocating, gasping on the inside for a breath I couldn’t take. But I wasn’t willing to come between him and Levi anymore. I’d done enough damage.

  “I want them both to be happy,” I say.

  “I hate to tell you this, Jones, but we don’t always get what we want,” Tim says, with a life-is-hard-suck-it-the-fuck-up look.

  “Yeah, I know.” I smile up at him, but I feel the deluge coming.

  “Ali, how long since you showered?”

  “I don’t know? A day maybe?” He glares at me, one eyebrow raised. “Okay, so more like three days. What? I haven’t had a shift in a while.”

  “Maybe because your boss doesn’t want you to scare away all the customers,” he says, and attempts to pull me from the floor. I dig my heels in.

  “I don’t wanna.”

  “Get up. Get your stinky arse in that shower, wash your fucking hair—’cause I think there might be something living in it—and put some god damned makeup on. I’m gonna find you something skimpy to wear and then you and I are hitting the town. I’mma be your wingman. Your pussy is getting pounded tonight, whether you like it or not.”

  “Okay, well now that’s just sounding a little rapey. What if I don’t want my pussy pounded? What if it’s already taken too many poundings and it misses the cock that used to do all the pounding, and now it’s just sad? What then?” I ask, feeling the words slip from my mouth as quickly as the tears fall from my eyes.

  “Your vagina is not sad, Jones. Your heart is. Now get the fuck up before I strip you down and throw you in that shower myself.”

  I let him pull me up this time and I walk to the bathroom, not bothering to take any clothing with me, because I have a feeling Tim will veto them anyway in favour of “something skimpier”. I lock myself in and frown at my reflection when the mirror shows me an unhappy hobo.

  “We really have to stop meeting like this, Ali,” I say to my hackneyed appearance. And then I peel off my layers of ripe-smelling clothing and run the water.

  After an age beneath the spray, I emerge from the bathroom on a cloud of steam. I smell of spice and vanilla, and my hair is clean and leaves wet trails down my back.

  “Is that a … oh my god … is that a real fucking girl?” Tim says, covering his mouth in mock surprise.

  “Shut it, butt fuck,” I say. He’s cleaned up a little while he waited, and fat tears form in my eyes again.

  “No, no more fucking crying. I don’t do crying. You know that,” he says, and he points to a dress he laid out on my bed. “Now get your arse over here and get this shit on.”

  I suck back my tears and wander over to my freshly-made bed. “I’m beginning to see why Cloe left you.”

  “Cloe left me because she was an arsehole. Just like Brad, and just like those two band jerks.”

  “Well, technically I left them, except Brad, and they’re not really arseholes,” I say, and then grimace before adding, “Again, except Brad.”

  “Okay, I don’t give a shit. Just get dressed and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “Tim, this is a Halloween costume,” I say, picking up the wiggle dress I wore two years ago to the Halloween party Tim, Brad and I had held at our apartment. I’d gone as a zombie Marilyn Monroe, and if you looked close enough you could see some fake blood staining the fabric, though it was well covered by the giant red cherries adorning the dress.

  “So?” He shrugs, looking up from his phone, his fingers working at the keypad while he glances at me.

  “Who the hell are you texting?”

  He looks up at me from over his smart phone. “Some of the guys.”

  “Please tell me you’re not lining up a pity fuck?”

  “I’m not lining up a pity fuck,” he says automatically, with no emotion in his voice whatsoever.

  “Oh eww, you totally are.”

  “Just go get your arse dressed, Jones.”

  When I emerge from the bathroom again, I’m wearing the dress and a fresh coat of war paint, courtesy of MAC. I do a half-hearted little spin and Tim whistles. “You scrub up good, kid. If you’d looked like that a little more often when we’d lived together I might have tried stealing you away from Brad.”

  “But not now?” I glare in confusion at my wardrobe, both wondering what he means by that and silently freaking out about my limited footwear selection. All I own are my new-ish lucky red Cons, combat boots, and one pain in the arse pair of red pumps that I’ve worn once, to the same party where I wore this dress. I settle on the heels, because I’ll look like an arsehole in Cons with this dress. But I’m not happy about it.

  “Maybe if I’d found you again before the rock star stole your heart, but you’re too far gone, babe. Anyone can see that.”

  “Which rock star?” I grab Tim’s arm for support as I stuff my feet into the shoes and wiggle around a bit. With the exception of being blessed with the ability to rock multiple orgasms, being a girl kinda sucks. “There were two, remember?”

  “What do you mean, which one? Did the other guy ever really have a chance? It’s like you think I don’t know you at all, Jones.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but mostly I just stand there, wondering if it was always so obvious to everyone else around me, wondering whether Levi ever really did stand a chance, and feeling a fresh wave of tears slam into me because in hindsight I can see now how this entire mess could have been avoided.

  Ti
m’s eyes narrow and his lips tighten when he sees I’m about to lose it again.

  “No.” he says firmly, as he grasps my hand and leads me through the front door. I barely have time to snatch up my keys and my ID before we’re out the apartment.

  Okay, so maybe my birthday didn’t suck after all. Tim took me to The Smoking Panda, which had the most amazing pot stickers, and the cocktails even had fairy floss. His friends had shown up sometime near nine, and by then I was well and truly shitfaced.

  My pity fuck, Braden, is cute, a pasty Irish lad with cropped blond hair and an accent so thick I had trouble understanding whether he was asking for a shag or … no, I’m pretty sure he was just asking for a shag, now that I think on it. And for all of ten seconds I might have entertained the idea, before my heart squeezed painfully at the thought of another man moving inside me.

  I don’t know whether Tim had told him about me, or whether he’d just opened Google a time or two and knew my story, because these days it was as if that were all it took to bring up those horrible pictures and that video. I could do without the pictures, but I still watched that video on the daily, because it let me know it’d been real—or at least, part of it had been real.

  Regardless, Braden was a gentleman. Sure, he flirted, and as the night wore on he’d moved closer to me, so close I could feel the warmth of his thigh against mine through the fabric of our clothes. And when Tim and I had said we were leaving, Braden leaned in, his hand at my waist, lips at my ear, and asked if he could see me again.

  I thought about that, what it would be like to date one man while my heart belonged to another, but in the end, I shook my head and told him the truth: that I was in love with someone else and I didn’t see those feelings disappearing anytime soon.

  Tim and I left the bar, and grabbed a bottle of Bundy Rum and a six-pack of beer and headed back to my apartment, because it was closest, and my feet hurt, and he was my friend, who loved me despite what a pathetic slob I was.

  “Here, hold this,” I say thrusting the bottle of rum that we’d been swigging from toward him while I slide my key in the lock. The door swings open, and I come face to face with a dream. A real-life walking, talking, sexy-as-all-fuck fantasy. My fantasy.

  “Tim,” I whisper in an aside, “Have I finally gone completely fucking nuts, or is Cooper Ryan standing in my apartment?”

  Tim stumbles in behind me, accidently pushing me forward. I totter on my stupid heels and slam into Cooper. “Oh shit, that’s not good.”

  The door closes behind Tim with a loud thunk. It echoes the sound of my heart, heavy and thumping against my ribcage. Coop waits until I’ve found my feet again, before he lets me go. I step back, as if the touch of his skin burns mine.

  “I didn’t realise you’d have company,” he says, his voice cold. And god, how I’ve missed that voice—well, not that voice exactly, but a much less pissed off version.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to give you your birthday present.” He glances behind me at Tim, his eyes glazing over with anger. “Seems I’m not the only one wanting to give you something today. I’m sorry I showed up unannounced.”

  I frown, wondering what he means by that, when I see a fluffy ginger head pop out from around the couch. “Is that my grandmother’s cat?” “Yeah. I had the woman at the shelter look after her until we got back. I know you hate cats, but I thought this one meant something special to you.”

  “Hey, I’m Tim,” Tim says, stepping forward and thrusting his free hand out in front of Cooper.

  “Coop.” He shakes, though he doesn’t look as if he wants to.

  “I know who you are. I’m a big fan,” Tim says, and I frown, because he sounds like a fucking fangirl.

  Since when? I mouth to Tim, and he has the decency to look embarrassed about it. He’s not Team Coop. He hates Team Coop. He hates Team Rock Star because they turned me into a pathetic, snivelling shell of a woman who doesn’t shower for days and who eats Peppermint Patties off the floor.

  “So, Jones, I’m just … gonna go,” Tim says.

  “You don’t have to leave,” Coop says, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I have a plane to catch anyway.”

  “You’re leaving?” I ask, and my throat is tight, my voice thick with emotion.

  “Got that European tour, remember?”

  “Right,” I say, stunned, because Coop is standing in my apartment. On my birthday. He tracked down my grandmother’s cat and had someone take care of her, and he showed up here unannounced, and he smells so damn good … and he’s leaving.

  Tim kisses the top of my head, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jones. Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter, but I can’t take my eyes off of Coop for fear that he might vanish, as though he were never here. The door snicks softly closed behind Tim and I exhale loudly. I don’t know how to process this, and the buzz I had going before from those cocktails is almost gone.

  “I’m sorry I interrupted your plans.”

  “There wasn’t really much of a plan, come home, get drunker and … How did you get in here? How do you know where I live?”

  “Vanessa gave me your forwarding address, and your property manager let me in.”

  The cat jumps up on my bed and begins kneading my duvet with its paws. “I can’t have a cat in this building, Cooper.”

  “Actually, she said it was okay.”

  I shake my head. “Everyone still does exactly what you want, huh? You just throw a smirk their way and everyone falls to their knees in submission.”

  “Not everyone.” He rakes a hand through thick black curls and gives me a sad smile. “Apparently.”

  “Why did you come here, Coop?”

  “I came … for your birthday.”

  “You flew across the world to tell me happy birthday?”

  “Kind of, yeah.” His eyes dart away from my face and study my apartment. I suddenly wish I hadn’t chosen to hide out in my blanket fort all day eating Mint Patties and crying over google, and had instead gotten my fat arse up off the bed and cleaned up a little. He smiles awkwardly. “So, how have you been?”

  I arch a brow at him. “How do you think I’ve been?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” He shakes his head and looks away. “Tim seems nice.”

  “He is nice.”

  “Good.” He grabs his jacket and throws it on. “Well, I set up the cat’s litter box in the bathroom, and there’s food on the bench behind you.”

  “Okay,” I say dazedly. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He takes a step towards me and cups my face in his hands, and then he kisses my forehead. I close my eyes and melt into his touch. “Happy birthday, Ali-Cat.”

  He moves around me, his hand brushing mine as he passes. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. It’s as though I haven’t been able to breathe since I left him. And it feels so good to breathe again.

  “Coop,” I whisper. He turns to face me, and I eliminate the distance between us, sliding my hand behind his head and pulling him down to kiss me. He stills. A beat passes. My heart squeezes painfully because I worry he doesn’t want this, and then he opens to me, his tongue probing, seeking. His mouth hot against mine, and just as needy.

  I grab the lapels of his jacket and tug it down his arms, and then I walk us backwards until his hard body is shoved against the door. He lets out a grunt and slides his fingers into my hair, equally as rough, and kisses along my jaw. His stubble grazes my neck, and his mouth devours my flesh with hot, wet kisses.

  Cooper licks his way along my collarbone, shoving the thin strap off my shoulder and yanking down the bodice of my dress. The other strap snaps, and I gasp as it stings my skin. He pushes the fabric down, exposing my breasts, then he bends and takes one nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking a brutal trail from one breast to the other. My pussy aches, my skin and senses electric. Too much time apart has made us both desperate for the feel of one another.

  Neither
one of us can get close enough. Coop palms my arse. He kisses his way up my breasts, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling it hard. I throw my head back as a wordless cry escapes my mouth.

  Reaching behind me, I unzip the dress and wiggle it and my panties down over my hips, letting it fall to the floor. I’m completely naked, and he’s wearing far too many clothes. I slide my hands up underneath his shirt and rake my nails down his chest, over soft nipples and tensed muscle. He growls, driving his tongue into my mouth, consuming every breath I have left. I claw at his T-shirt, moaning impatiently when our mouths break apart to pull the material over his head. My greedy hands reach out and stroke him through his jeans. Hard. He’s so very, very deliciously hard. My fingers scrabble for purchase on his fly, but our movements are too hurried and I wind up fumbling. Coop pushes me out of the way. He unzips and shoves his jeans down over his hips.

  He takes his cock in his hand and strokes it. A bead of pre-come glistens on the tip and he collects it with his thumb, sliding it over the engorged head. I bite my bottom lip as I watch. When his eyes meet mine, there’s hesitation in his gaze. He opens his mouth to speak, but I press my finger against his lips and say, “No.”

  He parts his lips and sucks my finger into his mouth, biting down on my soft flesh. I moan, because even his teeth in my flesh feels more erotic than anything I’ve experienced after weeks of playing with my We-Vibe to take the edge off.

  Unable to help myself, and unwilling to prolong my pleasure any longer, I scramble up his body. Coop’s fingers dig into my arse, holding me steady, and then he spins us and slams my back into the door. He braces one hand against the frame—the other moves between us to take hold of his cock. He slides the tip through my juices, and I gasp when he massages my clit with the head of his cock.

  “Fuck me, please,” I beg, rocking my hips against him. Coop leans back, spitting on his hand and rubbing it over his cock, and then he pushes inside, hard, until he’s seated balls’ deep.

  “Fuck, I missed your tight cunt squeezing my cock, Ali.” He pulls out, almost the entire way, and then slams back inside. My fingers claw at his back, my heels digging into his arse, edging him closer. I need his body, his mouth and his cock to consume me. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.”