Manbuns & Martinis (Drinking #1.5)

by R. L. Griffin

  You can always talk to me. You know that.

  Should I tell her I’m sorry? That I wish I could be more for her? But then I’d have to tell her I don’t think I’m good enough and I don’t want to tell anyone that. That’s something for me to know. I’ll be good enough for her one day, I just hope it’s not too late.

  Then I text Megan.

  That is one lucky Douche.

  I feel a shift in my world, one where Mad isn’t in it and my heart cracks with that notion. Then I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep for a few more hours before I really must get up.

  Mad ignored me all week. I’m not one to get clingy, but I asked her to go to dinner last night and she didn’t even bother responding to my text. It’s not like her and is really fucking rude. The excuse people use of being too busy to respond to a text is fucking bullshit and everyone knows it. I’m busy as shit and I respond to texts, I didn’t respond to Megan last week because I didn’t know how to respond. Think about that the next time you don’t take thirty seconds to respond to someone and use that excuse, know they know you’re full of shit. I look at my phone one more time to make sure I didn’t miss a notification of a text. I fear I’m growing a vagina.

  “Fuck,” I mutter as I pull out my suitcase and begin packing for this weekend.

  “What’re you packing?” Duncan yells from his room.

  “Same shit I always pack,” I answer grumpily as I throw shorts, jeans and a couple of tank tops in my bag, then zip it up. I’m low maintenance. I have a set of toiletries that stay in my bag so I don’t forget. I don’t go anywhere without my body oil. Shut up, I know it sounds ridiculous, but my hands and body take a beating from my job and when women touch me I want it to feel good, not hard and crusty. What? That makes me high maintenance? No. It just makes women want to touch me and I’m perfectly fine with that.

  My phone buzzes with a text that I pounce on. I hear a chuckle at my door and turn to see Duncan smiling at me.

  “That’s just sad dude.”

  Can you come pick me up? I’m super drunk and sorta horny.

  I sigh in relief, Mad, finally. My feelings of being pissed off that she’s ignored me all week fly out the window.

  “When do we leave in the morning?” Duncan asks.

  “Flight is at 9:00. I’ll be back here to pick you up around 6:00 am.”

  “You leaving?”

  “Mad needs me to pick her up, I’m hoping that means I’m staying with her.”

  “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  I wrap my arm around Duncan’s bare shoulders and snap a picture to post on Instagram. I quickly type out a caption. “Getting ready to head to Nashville for the book signing. Come see us at Amelia Anderson and Jessica Lowerly’s table.”

  I put my phone in my pocket and rub Snape’s ears as I pass. “See you, bud.” Mad watches Snape when both Duncan and I leave, but she comes to the apartment. She doesn’t have Snape come to her house. I washed my sheets last night so they’d be fresh for her. I also bought her favorite yogurt. It’s the least I can do, if I had to pay for someone to watch Snape it’d be way more expensive.

  Comments come in quickly, as they usually do, when Duncan and I are together.

  “Oh my god I can’t wait to see you.” @ellislandrocks

  “You guys are so hot and you’re roommates.” @readingrainbowsunicorns

  “Marry me.” @ellisland69

  “Are you gay?” @petelove

  “If you are I’m interested.” @petelove

  “Your dick.” @taralove

  I laugh as I head to my car. My dick isn’t even in this picture. People never cease to amaze me.

  The drive to the bar where Mad hangs out is quick and I pull into a spot. My strides are long and with purpose, I hope she’s not too drunk to talk about things. I’d never intentionally hurt Mad, she needs to know that. I push open the door and the bartender Matt nods his hello and then directs me with his eyes over to a table with Mad, her best friend Jenn, and two dudes. My eyes narrow unconsciously as I stalk over the table.

  Mad’s blonde hair is long and messy, some of it wavy but it’s mixed with straight pieces throughout. It’s one of the things that’s so sexy about her, her hair always looks like she’s just finished fucking. Her eyes grow big as I approach.

  “Ellis, what up?” Jenn greets and gives me a high five. The four of us, Mad, Jenn, Duncan and me all grew up together and stayed friends through everything. “What up Jennings?” I give her a side armed hug.

  “Oh nothing, just hoping one of these motherfuckers will take me home and end my dry spell, you know?”

  So, Jennifer Jennings has a foul mouth, loose morals and hasn’t kept a job for longer than six months. I know Mad helps her with rent when she needs it. She’s one of us though and we’re in it together. She has a job at our gym if we can ever get our shit together. We give each other the devil, but if someone else was to say the same thing to her I’d lay them out.

  “I’m sure that can happen, right fellas?” I say to the two very preppy, douchey looking dudes sitting at the table that are currently examining me. “Mad, you ready? I gotta get up early for my flight.”

  “Oh yeah, Ellis is going to let women drool all over him this weekend,” Jenn slurs. “Do you know that Mad has every book you’ve ever been on Ellis?”

  I blink. I didn’t know that. She’s never told me that. I look at her. Mad’s eyes are staring into her beer.

  “You’re leaving?” Douche number one asks Mad.

  “Yes,” I answer for her. “Look at you being so possessive.” This is from Jenn and it’s laced with something I don’t want to think about.

  “She texted me that she was ready to leave. I don’t have time to fuck around with y’all tonight. Mad,” I grab her hand and help her step off the high chair, “let’s go.”

  One thing about Mad is she gets quieter the drunker she is. The fact she hasn’t said a word means that she is wasted.

  “Bye y’all. Jenn I’ll call you later, be careful,” Mad says before letting me lead her out of the bar. I nod at Matt on my way out.

  “Drunk huh,” I say.

  “Yep.” Her gaze is stuck to her feet, which are in heels and show off her legs in her shorts. Her shorts are so short I can see my favorite part of her body. It’s the curve from her ass to her legs and it makes me hard as she walks in front of me.

  I grab her hand so she’s even with me. We walk like this until I put her in the passenger side of my truck. I close the door and gaze at her, she’s staring straight ahead avoiding eye contact with me.

  Once I close my door and back out of my parking spot I look at her again. She’s on the verge of tears and I don’t know why.

  “What’s up?” I ask hesitantly.

  She shakes her head no.

  “Mad, what’s going on in that head of yours?” I tap her temple with my finger.

  “I don’t know. I just…” She stops talking before her voice breaks, but I know it’s there.

  “Why didn’t you get back with me this week? Did I do something?” All the ladies out there reading this, let me tell you a little secret about men, we are not intuitive, we cannot read your mind. We know you’re not talking to us, but we usually have no idea why. If you want us to know something, please fucking tell us.

  She shakes her head no again, but I know she’s lying. Something is different between us, it’s not easy like it usually is. I pull into her driveway and hit the garage door opener she gave me a little over a year ago when she moved in, her eyes snap to it like it’s the devil. She snatches it from the visor, opens the door of my truck and falls out.

  “Oh shit,” I call as I open my door and rush around to her. By the time I get to her, she’s laughing and sprawled on the garage floor. I press the button and the garage door closes. I pick her up easily and carry her inside. I walk into her den and put her down on the couch. “Are you okay?”

  She makes a sound that’s unintelligible.

>   This pisses me off. If she’s not going to tell me what’s wrong, she can’t be mad about it. I tell her that while I cradle her chin in my hand and look into eyes that are filled with unshed tears. When she’s upset her blue eyes fill with waves of green. She releases a breath and then sits back.

  “I’m pissed at you and I don’t think I have the right to be, which makes me pissed at me and you know how I love that.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, it’s one of her nervous ticks.

  I crouch down to her level. Now we’re getting somewhere. I’m glad she’s drunk because usually it’s so hard to get her to talk.

  “Why are you pissed?”

  “I don’t want you to go tomorrow.” She doesn’t look at me, she’s looking anywhere but at me.

  “That doesn’t tell me why you’re pissed.”

  “I don’t want you to go fuck other women this weekend.” She lifts her eyes from her hands and hits me head on.

  “What does this mean?”

  “It means I don’t want you to fuck other people.”

  “So in this scenario, we’re still fucking,” I confirm this.

  She blinks at me.

  “What you’re telling me is after all this time you want to be with me and you only want me to be with you?” I spell it out, because I want to be sure.

  “I…” she starts and then looks down at her hands. “What I’m telling you is that I don’t want you to fuck anyone this weekend.”

  What does this even mean? Girls are so hard to figure out. She doesn’t say she wants to be with me. “So you don’t want to be exclusive? You just don’t want me to fuck anyone else this weekend?”

  Her chest rises and falls slowly and I take it all in because she’s wearing a halter top that’s teal and she’s not wearing a bra and I’m getting hard.

  She shrugs. Her nipples get hard when she sees my erection. This is the thing with us, we can’t talk, we love to touch each other too much.

  “I can do that,” I answer, because I would probably promise anything to get her into bed right now. Her pouty lips are without lipstick and I hope she leans in and kisses me, but she doesn’t. She pushes herself off the couch and walks to her bedroom without another word.

  I look after her as she disappears down the hall. What the fuck does this mean? I rack my brain. I mean, I’m not a genius, but she either wants to be exclusive or she doesn’t, right? It sounded like she just wanted me to be exclusive, not her. My brain starts hurting. Then my frown turns into a grin as I hear the first chords of a song that is sending me a message I know. I strip my shirt off as I walk to her room.

  She’s sitting on her bed with the remote to her speakers. Her mouth turns up in a smirk and I unbutton my pants rocking my hips with the beat knowing what she wants. I dance over to the bed and pull her by her ankles to the end of the bed. She lets out a low giggle. Then I pull her up and press her entire body to mine, I rotate my hips into hers and she follows my lead. My hands go into her hair as we simulate sex to the music. Then my leg moves in between hers and she gasps as she feels me against her. I kiss her hard and rough. I know she likes it because I know her, she bites my lower lip.

  I pull her halter top over her head and drop my head to her chest making quick work of her nipples. I circle, I flick, I bite, I suck.

  The sounds she makes are so sexy I have to hold myself back from stripping her shorts off immediately. She reaches into my pants and grabs my cock and I can’t help but rock my hips into her. Shit. I love it when she grabs my cock. I draw back and rock into her again.

  “Fuck, Ellis,” she moans as I move my tongue down her neck.

  “You want me to fuck you Mad?”

  “Mmmmhmmmm,” she answers and then squeezes my dick. I pick her up and throw her further on the bed, her heels still on her feet. She giggles.

  I lean over and pull her shorts off her, buttons fly off.

  “Shit, those were new,” she laughs.

  I pull her white lace panties down and they are hooked on her ankles as I spread her knees for me. I inhale her scent and lick her so gently her back arches, she grinds into my tongue and she groans.

  “Miss me?” I chuckle against her clit and she clenches her knees as if she’s going to squeeze the life out of me. Around and around and around I go. Some women don’t like this, but Mad lives for it. She could come eighty-six times if I lick her that many times. It’s like that Tootsie Roll commercial back in the day, how many licks does it take to get to the soft center...for Mad, it’s one. It used to take me three or four, but now I know she likes a circle with a finger inserted. Sometimes I just like to take my time, like I’m doing now. She’s writhing against my tongue and calling me God.

  I lift up to look at her and her eyes are closed, but she’s biting her lower lip and her hips are raised. I insert two fingers into her and she convulses around them. I dip down between her legs again and ride her out with my fingers and tongue.

  Finally, she pulls away from me, retreating because her senses are in overload, but I’m not going to let her get off that easy and pull her hips back to my mouth and feast on her. Her screams, cries and curses can be heard outside and her hands are on my shoulders, in my hair and then eventually pulling at the sheets. Within a second, I stand up and pull her to the edge of the bed and plunge all the way into her.

  “Oh fuck,” I groan because she’s tight and velvet and I can’t think straight. I’m driving in and out of her and her nails are scratching my back. Her feet are above my head now and I’m so deep I can’t hold on anymore.

  Her legs fall to the side of me and she snakes them around my waist. We’re both clean, we’ve been doing this for a long time and I know she’s on birth control. I actually drove her to get birth control when I was seventeen and she was a senior who took my virginity. Yep, that’s right I was seventeen my first time. I know, I’m making up for lost time now.

  “We need to talk,” she said her voice hoarse. My dick is still in her and now she wants to talk. So I nod and listen. I don’t pull out. I want to be inside her for this. “I…” she falters and there’s a sadness on her face that worries me.

  It’s only then that I pull out, she winces. She pushes herself back on the bed and wraps her arms around her knees that are now in her chest. I’m standing with my pants down around my ankles.

  “I had sex with Garret last weekend.”

  Okay, I don’t want to hear I told you so. The color red fills my vision and I blink it away. I’m livid and I know I shouldn’t be. Rationally, I know this is fine for her to do, but I can’t help but feel betrayed in a way. I was willing to try exclusivity and she’s telling me she’s fucking someone else. I know she said, “had sex,” but in my mind she’s still doing it, wants to leave here and fuck him up. I’m so pissed I don’t say anything. I pull up my pants.

  “Ellis,” she warns.

  I hold my hand up to stop her from speaking.

  “Mad, we’re not exclusive. I get that, but damn it I don’t want to hear about who you’re fucking, let alone the second I pull out of you.”

  “I was upset,” she whispers.

  “Why?” I put my shirt on.

  “Because I know you’re leaving tomorrow and will fuck someone else.”

  “So instead of telling me that, you had sex with your date and hid from me the rest of the week.”

  “Pretty much.” She juts her chin out defiantly.

  I run my hands through my hair and look on her nightstand for a rubber band to pull it back. Once I’ve secured my hair I look back at her.

  “You want to see this guy?”

  She shrugs. She fucking shrugs. The one person I’ve always counted on to be there for me besides Duncan, shrugs about the ending of us.

  I nod curtly. Then I turn and walk away. I want to punch the wall. No, I want to punch several walls. I want to rip things in two. I need to leave or it’ll be a bad scene. Not too many people have seen my temper and I don’t want to do this now.

  I’
m stalking through her house. Quick footsteps pad through the den to catch up with me.

  “Ellis,” she calls and I slam the door and open the garage. She opens the door, naked. I glare at her from my truck and reverse away from her. My future fades in front of me and I now have to figure out how to be without her.

  Duncan and I walk into the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville and I push my sunglasses up so they are sitting on my head.

  “Damn,” Duncan whistles.

  “Right?” I agree and look down at my phone. The phone that I had to drive by this morning and pick up from Mad’s mailbox because I left it in her bed when I stormed out last night. I’m still so pissed at myself for being mad that I don’t really know how to feel. Does that make any fucking sense? I didn’t think so.

  “Are you meeting up with Amelia?”

  “There’s that thing at like seven tonight to meet some of the readers, right?” I ask instead of answering his question.

  “Oh right, what are we doing in the meantime?”

  “Well, let’s get settled then I’m going to see if they have a gym. If not, I’m going to run off my stress.”

  “And by stress you mean any feelings you have about Mad?”

  “Exactly.” Duncan knows me well and he could tell this morning something was up. He eventually pried it out of me on the plane. His face told me I was an idiot, but he just listened. He’d asked what I was going to do and I told him try to be okay without her. Then he just shook his head.

  “Hi,” I say to the clerk behind the desk. “I’m Brad Ellis, there should be a key for me up here.”

  “Hi sir, all I need is an ID so that I can provide you with the key.”

  I put my license on the counter and think about tan skin, still glistening from sex.

  “Thank you sir, here’s your key.”

  “Thanks.” I think about blonde hair draped over blue eyes that have a navy rim around the iris.

  “Is there a gym?” Duncan asks.