by A. L. Wood
She reaches out her hand as in to shake mine, “Hello, my name is Abigail. You can call me Abby, all of my friends do. What’s yours?”
I take her hand, not wanting to look like a complete bitch and shake it. Far as I know, the innocent look could be an act. She could just be some groupie looking to bag Gage and use him for all he’s worth. If there is anything I have learned in the past few months, it is this: You cannot judge a book by its cover, looks are deceiving. I cannot express that enough. The one time you let your guard down, could be the undoing for any one of these guys.
“You can call me Layla,” I say politely, but with my guard still in place.
“I was thinking of getting out of here, so were Zepp and Jason.” Gage says. The wheels in his eyes spinning in motion. He’s taking this girl home.
“Yeah, we were thinking of getting out of here too.” Liam says acceptingly.
Wait, what? We were planning on grabbing another drink. I don’t think it’s safe to go home just yet. Not with how my hormones are skittering all over the place, like electrical currents zapping everything in its wake. I look to Liam in surprise and he shrugs me off.
“I’ll call us a cab,” Liam says, looking at me.
“I find that the further I go back, the better things were, whether they happened or not.”
-Mark Twain
Chapter 11
Liam
I shut the door and lock it behind me. Layla runs on ahead and into her room. The alcohol is slowly dwindling out of my blood stream, the buzz not as strong as it was an hour ago. I walk into the kitchen in search of a glass for water. After I fill it up from the tap, I walk into my bedroom and grab the Tylenol off my dresser.
I’ve learned that for me, taking some acetaminophen and downing a few glasses of water helps prevent a hangover, no matter how many shots I consume. I toss my shirt in the hamper and my jeans follow shortly after. I’m down to my boxer briefs, when Layla comes rushing in.
At first, she just stares at me. I can feel and see her eyes all over my body. I shouldn’t be interested and I really, really shouldn’t want anything like this to happen. I’m not sure if it’s the slight buzz I still have going on, or if it’s just me. I’ve been abstaining from sex for over a year now, not wanting the difficulties that seem to come with, when I do fuck someone. Again, I really shouldn’t want this. It has the power to ruin us, as not only friends, but roommates. Plus, her best friend is marrying my best friend. I shrug off her eyes. Not easily, though.
“Yes?” I ask her.
“You are aware that I didn’t bring my phone out with me tonight?” She looks skittish.
“I guessed, because I didn’t see it in your hand. Had you brought it, you would have been glued to it. I’m tired as fuck, because someone’s screams woke me up this morning, so please get to the point,” I say, it coming out harsher than I had intended it to. But my patience is wearing thin and I really don’t want my cock to harden at this moment. Which it will, if I have to put up with her presence while she’s wearing her barely there shorts and see through tank top.
I have to keep reminding myself, tables, chairs, dogs, dudes. To keep my now sex addled cock at bay.
“No need to be such a dick.”
“Layla,” she cuts me off.
“Well I just checked my phone and I have a shitload of text messages all from the same person.”
“Who,” I ask. Obviously it isn’t the usual, if she seems so concerned about it.
“Carl.”
Well, this instantly pisses me off.
“Let me see,” I demand.
She hands me her phone and I open her messages. There clear as day, is the name Carl. So she obviously exchanged numbers with him at some point, because she has his name in her contacts. That infuriates me and I have no idea why. I ignore those feelings and click his name.
Thankfully, she didn’t reply and she doesn’t have the setting turned on that would let him see that his messages were read. They start out harmless at first, him saying hi. That he likes what she’s wearing tonight, the color of her dress compliments her. All charming things to say. Then slowly but surely, things turn sour. He starts to say that he would like to see her outside of work, that he could give her many nights of pleasure.
That had she wanted to, he would have met her in the break room and taken her right there. He would ‘fuck her brains out’. When she doesn’t reply though, he gets more demanding that she do. That he’s had enough of her teasing and he won’t stand for it anymore. That seeing her ‘with that guy’ on the dance floor made him want her even more, but also pissed him off. The idea of him being so possessive of her, without having any claim to her, makes me sick. It also makes me want to murder him.
I keep scrolling through and sure enough, he starts threatening her job. That if she wants a job to return to, she needs to go on a date with him that promises an afterwards interlude. I stop reading and look to Layla. She looks frightened and she’s lightly shaking.
“You need to quit. You’re not going back there.”
“I- I can’t.”
“What?” I say, this time just as harsh as I had intended.
“I need an income. There aren’t a lot of jobs around here, especially for someone who hasn’t even completed a degree and surely there isn’t any job in my field of choice.”
“You have money, Layla, You don’t even need a job. Are you kidding me? You would really stay at a job where you have a crazy co-worker, who is bordering the thin line of creeper and stalker obsessed?” I ask, demanding an answer.
“You are right, I do have money. Right now. Who knows how long that’s going to last. I need to save.”
“Save for what? You don’t need or want for anything. I doubt you’ve ever had to struggle paycheck to paycheck.”
“In case my parents cut me off. I have to save, so I can pay my own way.” She says in a whisper.
“Why would your parents cut you off now? Either way, I don’t see it as an excuse to not quit.”
“They are going to cut me off as soon as they find out that Natalie and I will be home. That the wedding is going to be at home and that they won’t be invited.”
“Then find a different job! Something! You cannot go back to that fucking bar. If they cut you off before you find another job- something that I don’t understand and it’s not even the issue at the moment- I’ll pay for everything. You want to settle for good in Boston? Anywhere? I’ll buy you a damn house. You don’t have to worry, but you are not going back there,” I tell her, leaving her no choice in the matter.
“Liam, I can’t accept that. Truly, I am grateful that you would do that, but I’m not a charity. I can and will do this on my own. I’ll figure it out,” she turns around to leave my room, “Goodnight.”
I pull her away from my door and back to me. She’s not running away from this conversation, like she did at the bar. I’m not letting her run away, like I always do. I’m a little surprised that she’s not sucking at every emotion I am throwing out at her and begging for more. She always carries that longing look of loneliness with her. Even when she’s happy, it’s still there, just hidden beneath a veil of faked cheerfulness.
“Layla, I’m not done talking about this. I mean it, you are not going back there. If you do, I will carry your pretty little ass out of there myself. I’ll throw you over my shoulder in front of everyone. Don’t believe me? Try it. Go back, work your next shift. The second you walk in that door, I will be right behind you, taking you out of there. After I punch that cocksucker in the face, of course.” I threaten, my face overcrowding hers. Our noses so close to touching one another’s. I would do it too.
I hear her intake of breath. She knows that I mean what I say and that I’m not fucking around. I glance down at her lips, wanting to see her take her next gasp of air. Wanting my lips to supply her that necessity.
The tip of her tongue peeks out on to her lips. She swipes it along her bottom lip, slowly, teasingly. I want t
hat to be my tongue, tasting her lips. Tasting her essence. My cock starts to harden and I start thinking about all of the things I would do to her. Regretfully, I slowly give her her space back. I turn around, trying to control my aroused self, hoping that she turns to leave and doesn’t see it.
I give her a few minutes to leave before I turn around, my dick the traitor, still rigid beneath the one hundred percent cotton. I turn my entire body around to verify that she left only to find that she hasn’t. She’s stood still against the wall, frozen. As I begin to question her on why she was still standing there, I realize as I follow the direction her eyes are looking in.
She’s seen it.
IT.
“Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.”
-Henry David Thoreau
Chapter 12
Layla
Liam’s closeness paralyzes me. Even though he’s moved back and away from me, already dismissed, he turns away from me. I saw him eyeing my lips only moments before he pulled away. I can’t help that I wanted him to kiss me, that I want him. I am well aware that things could turn sour between us very fast, as soon as the deed was finished. I’m not sure if it’s the buzz or my own true emotions that at this point I really have no care for the repercussions that will most likely be the outcome of us coming together.
I don’t want to leave his room, because I know that as soon as I do, he will act as if this moment right here, right now, never happened. If I were to mention it, he would either pretend it was just my imagination- that it never happened-or even worse, he would say it was a lapse in his judgment and blame it on the alcohol. Neither of those is what I want to happen.
I can advance on him, make the first move, and determine if he really wants the same thing. Something I have wanted to happen since the day he moved in. But something I never felt the right to claim for myself, because I had believed he and Nat were involved on a deeper level.
I know he has demons and I am not the person to fix him or his baggage. I have my own as well, that I still have no idea how to fix. I myself, am not a relationship type of person. I have my life to live still and goals I want to reach and maintain, without having to carry someone else along with me. The only female I have seen him interested in was Natalie, and their relationship never extended past the friend zone, so maybe he took a vow of celibacy or some shit.
What do I really know about him? Why do I even care? I’ve never cared about anyone I’ve slept with. Why change that all now. I can go after what I want with no expectations in place, as normal. If he feels the same, of course. As I’m contemplating whether I should just make the first move or leave, if this would end up being one big mistake, Liam turns around.
I don’t notice it at first, but when I do, my mouth opens on a gasp. He’s turned on, and not a little, but a lot. Enough to make his cock stand rigid, tenting his briefs. He catches my eyes and knows that I’m staring. Here it is, the choice.
“Is…is that for me?” I say shyly, like I’ve never done this before. Get your shit together, Layla.
Liam looks down, at the tent he has made. Unsure of what to say in reply, I suppose. I nervously tug at my fingers, the silence is deafening.
Maybe I was wrong. Very, very wrong. Something else must have turned him on. Maybe he is embarrassed to be honest about it. I consider running back into my room, but I don’t want to humiliate myself further. How can I explain myself, without causing further embarrassment for either of us?
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, while blindly turning around to exit.
“Yes.”
His words halt me. I don’t move, out of fear that his yes was not an answer to my question that I asked only moments before. Maybe he’s saying yes to my apology, as in that he’s sorry too. Sorry that it isn’t for me.
My body is so on edge with need that I’m trembling. I want this with everything I have inside of me, and with no regrets. Fuck the ramifications. If it’s one night, I can deal. I’ll have to. I can find a way to get myself over that bridge. No looking back.
I feel his body heat, before I hear his words. Then I realize that he must be mere inches away from my body, away from touching me. I let out a moan that sounds so unlike me. I don’t even recognize my own voice. That’s when he closes in on the gap between us. My back contoured to his front. And I can feel it, every single inch, poking into me hard as a huge stone.
“Yes, it’s for you,” Liam says in a guttural tone.
I sink my bank into him, brushing my ass across his cock. He slowly trails his tongue up the side of my neck, then back down to my shoulder. He repeats this pattern on both sides, while clutching my hips.
He nips lightly at my ear, curling his magnificent tongue around my ear lobe. I can hear his uneven breathing perfectly and know that he is as affected by this as I am.
He glides his right hand over my right hip lightly, slowly pushing my shirt up, until he can lay his palm flat against my stomach. One of my arms is locked against my side by his, so I use my other to reach around behind me, grabbing his hip as leverage to shove my ass back into him again and again.
“If you keep doing that, this is going to end much sooner then I’d like,” he says on a groan.
Internally I smile. That’s how I want him to feel. I lean my head back in so our lips can meet. I have to taste him. The kiss I was hoping for didn’t happen, he pecks my lips with his.
Tease.
I feel his hand slide into the front of my shorts, under my panties, slowly. I bite my lip in anticipation. These fingers, his fingers, are ones that I have dreamt about.
A guitar player, a rock guitar player, has to have the most quick and nimble fingers, to be able to play music like that. I’ve seen Liam play and his hands fly and glide around the chords.
“Is this what you want?” He asks me, needing confirmation.
“Yes,” I reply, with no hesitation at all.
I not only want this, but ashamedly so, I need this desperately. And just as I thought, his fingers light a fire like no one else.
He started off slowly, teasing me. With one hand still clutching my hip and mine holding onto his. One finger swiping up the wetness between my legs. He pulls his hand out of my panties and brings that one lone wet finger to his lips.
He sticks his tongue out and swirls at the pad of his index finger, a light taste. He groans inwardly, deep and guttural. It sends butterflies to my gut.
“Delicious.”
My eyes are stuck to him, this gloriously beautiful man. That this resiliently strong and seemingly untouchable man, would fall down to the taste of me. My insides are quivering and all I want are his hands on me again.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please, what,” he asks, playing with me.
Okay, I’ll play his game. But the end prize better be what I want. Him inside me.
“Please, touch me.”
“Where do you want me to touch you, Layla?”
Fucker. I grab his hand and press him into me.
“Say it,” he demands.
“Touch my pussy, please.”
At this, he works his hand back into my panties, except he doesn’t just swipe at me. Nope. He rubs furiously at my clit. He’s holding onto my hip so hard, I’m sure I will have bruises come morning, but it will be worth it.
As he rubs my clit, I grind my ass into his rock hard cock. He starts rocking back. I can feel the precipice of my climax rising, almost there. My breathing is shallow and my legs are ready to collapse. Then he stops.
“Nooo…” I accidently moan out.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. I just need you out of the clothes. Right now,” he whispers in my ear.
I don’t hesitate. I start ripping my shirt off, as he pulls my shorts and panties down. I face him, completely nude.
He’s wearing nothing but those boxer briefs and a rigid cock. At th
at moment, I need to taste him. And not just his mouth. He and I meet, going to the other at the same time. Our lips clash, roughly. I open my mouth first to meet his tongue.
His taste is a deliciously sweet cinnamon. It could be from the schnapps, but somehow I don’t believe that’s it at all. It’s him, his natural taste and of course I’m greedy. I want more.
I don’t give him a chance to deny me from either taste. I give him the kiss of my life. I clutch the back of his neck, holding his lips to mine and meld our lips and tongues together. I end it on a moan. Before he has any idea what I’m doing, I drop to my knees and slide his briefs down.
Oh. My. God.
This man is not only without a doubt the biggest I have ever seen, or touched, but he also has a piercing. It’s the only one I have ever seen in person up close that’s pierced. And it’s fucking hot.
A Prince Albert piercing has never been a curious matter to me, but the fact that Liam has it is somehow surprising. I mean, I know he’s a dominant tough male, whose body is covered in tattoos, but I really never guessed that he had this. And I love it.
I smile up at him knowingly, while trying to close my hand around his shaft, what I can of it anyway. It’s that thick. I coat my tongue in salvia and slowly lick the underside of his penis, coating it with my tongue. I do the same with the top, allowing a lubricant, so I can slide my hand along without rough friction. I flick his crown and the piercing with my tongue. He moans random swear words, while running his fingers through my hair. I decide that’s more than enough teasing for him and myself.
I open my mouth and take him in slowly, as far as my throat will allow me to accommodate, without gagging. I work myself into a slow and steady rhythm, while rotating my hand, along with the up and down bob of my head. He starts tugging at my hair to pull me away and then pushing my head to shove my mouth further down his rigid cock. I take my free hand and cup his balls that are drawn tight. I gently massage them, while I pick up my pace of sucking his cock.
