by Pamela Ann
No need to remind. I knew my way around. There was no need to act all motherly in front of Dulce.
Willa had never been a fan of my lewd lifestyle. She’d never failed to tell me whenever she could, and as much as I appreciated her concern since she knew the severity and the endless pitfalls promiscuity could hammer down on me if I wasn’t careful, tonight she needed to lay off on mother mode. We were in a damn club—drunk and high—and she was concentrating on me?
“Always, Willa … always.” I winked at the woman I had grown up with, readying to get out of this booth.
While I casually rested my hand on Dulce’s hip, we slowly made our way to the far end of the floor where the room sat empty, waiting.
En route, instead of focusing on Dulce and the night ahead of us, my thoughts lingered on Willa.
There was no question the woman needed a steady boyfriend instead of relying on those dating apps she was so fond of. Those suckers sure made cheating vastly convenient for people who needed a quick hit and release.
I mean, I got it. We were on the road, and those dating apps found “matches” in whatever city we were in, but heck, it seemed just so … mechanical … so cold. Hooking up with chicks from clubs and bars could readily be a close comparison, but at some level, it required a form of “wooing” before the person began to converse with you. At least there was some genuine interaction between two people instead of exchanging emails or text messages. I mean, who had the damn patience to fucking text? I hated it. Why couldn’t people just call? Don’t even get me started on emojis. This world sure was getting soft. It was no wonder my generation was all fucked in the head, popping pills, snorting shit, talking to crystals, and having weekly appointments with their therapists.
“We’re here.” I found myself saying just as I glanced down at Dulce, looking delectably appealing while she fanned those lashes with those pretty fuck-me eyes.
Before stepping into the room, I made a quick mental note to leave any thoughts of anyone outside the door, and the only things my mind should be concentrating on were Dulce’s pleasure and my very own. Just sex. And more sex. No one else. Nothing else.
The private lounge was circular with wraparound one-way mirrored walls, giving us a great vantage point to enjoy the party while experiencing our own private one. There were loungers, sofas, and wingback chairs. Trays of appetizers and an array of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages filled the circular table in the middle of the room. Topped off with cocaine and weed, neatly stacked on silver platters, buffet style. They conveniently even provided small black straws, so we didn’t have to bother rolling up bills. Talk about an exceptional level of service. Just how I liked it.
Seemingly impressed, she gave me a giggle before tightening her hand around my arm. “This is ni—”
Dulce didn’t get to finish the sentence.
She was standing one moment, the next she was shoved against the wall, legs wrapped around my hips as I savored her parted lips, opening up to me like a fresh bloom on a spring morning, soft and gentle as she slowly melted against my body. The heat coming from her pussy filtered through my shirt, rousing me more. Solely targeting her cunt, I deliberately did a quick thrust, pushing her body farther.
The thong barely held as a barrier when my bulge roughly stabbed into her slit. I could feel the thin fabric straining to its limit as I demandingly began to crudely rub, earnestly trying to soothe her stimulated clit, infusing it with a good dose of unmitigated bliss. With each passing second, I successfully got her twat wetter. Slicker. Nature’s way of preparing a woman’s body for penetration, elongating her tunnel, lubing its pathway with juices for proper infiltration.
Men loved sensitive cunts. The wet sucking sounds their holes made as a dick plunged into their slippery channels—fucking music to my ears. There was nothing hotter than to see your partner pleasured to the fullest.
Therefore, I slammed her harder this time, the rock-hard knob swelling in my jeans directly aimed at her hot crevice, profoundly hitting her clit without reservation. The impact made her shudder, moaning my name as though she hadn’t had dick inside her in years.
“I want you,” she gasped as she reached in between us. I could feel her push her thong to the side before her determined hand roughly rubbed my bulge. “Fuck me now. Fuck me now!”
Not without putting in some effort, I won’t.
Releasing her lips, my fingers carelessly slipped off the straps of her barely-there slip of a dress, exposing those succulent suckers.
Dusky rose, the words popped into my mind as one greedy hand took a handful, feeling its weight. They were easy full C-cups. Perfectly rounded with perfectly matched nipples and areolas. Enticing and definitely fuckable. There was nothing sexier than watching those melons bob as my prick plunged deep into her depths.
I roughly fondled a boob, playfully tugging at the protruding nipple, squeezing it hard just as I shoved her against the wall. Dulce squealed. She begged as her cunt excreted more juices, soaking my shirt.
Damn, that’s hot!
“How bad do you want me?” I groaned, demanding, commanding.
Dulce tipped her head to the side. Soft curls began to form on the side of her face from the sheen of sweat on her forehead. She was breathless as she eyed me with half-lidded eyes, drunk with lust and irreparably horny. “So bad. So fucking bad, papi.”
Dulce was getting worked up, and we’d barely just begun. She was one horny woman all right.
“Down on your knees. Open that nasty mouth and suck me dry like the little slut that you are,” I directed in a low husky tone just as I began to unbuckle my pants, ready to see how eager she was to please me.
The lustful woman didn’t even hesitate. She merely gave me a cat-like smile before getting to her knees, ready to serve me obediently. The moment those fat hot pink colored lips closed on the head of my shaft, I made a low, throaty, pleasurable groan.
“That’s it, baby. Suck it better … harder …” I intently looked down at her working halfway through my length sloppily, fervently. “Take more of me,” I grunted as I placed my hand behind her head before my hips thrust farther into her cavity, pushing my way into her esophagus. Dulce gagged, but it didn’t stop me from fucking her throat. “Relax … Baby, relax your throat … Yeah, that’s it. You’re doing so well.”
Fuck.
It feels so good…
Dulce still made some gagging sounds as she tried to swallow my entire length. She tried and failed. What she lacked, however, she made up for in persistence. With her mouth concentrating on the head, she had both her hands grip my shaft, twisting, jerking with fervent passion.
Reaching in my back pocket, I pulled out the square foil. I had made sure to bring three, but if I needed more, we could head to a different hotel to finish this off.
I wanted to do some more foreplay, but I figured it was better to fuck first to take the edge off before we could resume fooling around. My dick wasn’t going to wait another half an hour until she came.
“Need a little help with that?”
FUCK!
Chapter 18
River
My eyes instantaneously snapped open. I’d been so caught up in watching Dulce sucking me off that I hadn’t realized we had an audience. Dulce stopped, as well. She was about to release me when I pressed my hand down her head, asking her to continue, and she did … without hesitation.
“As you can see, I’m busy,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “Get the fuck out of here!”
The incredulous woman simply stood there, seeming as though she was bored out of her mind before shrugging it off.
She had the audacity to fucking shrug!
JESUS.
FUCKING.
CHRIST!
Un. Fucking. Believable!
Instead of doing what I ordered her to do, the incorrigible Cara stood close to the one-way mirrored wall, absorbing the hectic party folks below. She took a good minute or two before she spun around, seemingly
determined as she helped herself to alcohol. As if she had all the right to be here.
She chose vodka. Unstirred. No ice. Shooting it straight up. All the while, Dulce kept on catering to me. Sucking me fervently, as though her instincts caught on that she had competition. Her instincts were definitely off.
Beyond peeved, stunned, and outraged all bottled into one, I stood there, somewhat paralyzed, watching it all play out as though it wasn’t my life Cara was fucking around with.
After she finished chugging alcohol, Cara then strode over to us, surprisingly with a calm demeanor. Upon reaching Dulce and me, she shocked us by drastically handing me a drink and another to a busy Dulce.
“Here, you look thirsty.” Cara almost shoved the shot into Dulce’s face.
The random gesture made Dulce release my shaft before she diverted her attention to my irrational ex. “I’m ok—”
“I insist.” Cara cut her off, determined as ever.
What a complete bitch. “Cara, if you don’t leave, we will.” My patience had run thin. I didn’t want to make a scene because we weren’t alone, and Cara knew this. My temper, the real fucking fiery kind, didn’t really surface when there were strangers around. Whatever her plan was, getting us ever more drunk wasn’t going to let us accept her presence in this room with us. This was between Dulce and me. This was the plan before Cara had interrupted us, and it remained unchanged. If this pissed Cara off, I didn’t give a fuck. She could take a hike for all I cared. We had both made choices, and I intended to stick with mine.
I was about to yank the shot glass away when Dulce surprisingly took it, possibly just to shut Cara up.
The wretched bitch had the audacity to pet Dulce’s head, as if she was some trained house animal.
“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” she smirked. “River loves ‘em like that.” She shot me a poisonous glance before pasting on that fake smile of hers toward Dulce. “He loves women who bark a lot, but can’t handle when they bite.” Offering her hand, she helped Dulce get to her feet.
Umm…what the flying fuck?
“Give her back, goddamn it!” I growled in protest, but Cara got Dulce wrapped in her pretty little fake smiles and followed her toward the couch.
My dick was unbearably stiff amidst this bullshit. My line of thought was muddled as were my emotions. Excruciatingly horny and too damn angry to hardly think straight, and much to my dismay, I had to wrap it up and walk toward them sporting some blue balls that were supposed to be gone already. But thanks to Cara, I was still in this miserable fucking state.
Muttering some colorful words, I carefully shoved my crown jewels back into my pants, ready to have the showdown of my life. And just as I was about to cross the damn room, I found the witch smirking at me … while Dulce was fast asleep on the couch next to her.
“What the hell did you do now? Did you poison her or something?” The little inconvenience knotting inside my stomach had all been forgotten. It was replaced with a different kind of knot, one close to being terrified. Would Cara seriously harm someone just because she was off her rocker? I rushed toward Dulce then knelt before her, cradling her face, trying to shake her awake. “Dulce, wake up!”
“Oh, relax. It’s just Ambien.” Her reassuring tone did little to the sky-rocketing temper that was about to explode in her face.
The level rose, and by the time I stood up, I was seeing stark white. “What gives you the right to march in here and fuck up my night!” My voice thundered through the room. It was so loud it temporarily overrode the hectic house music in our private vicinity.
Cara matched my stance. Even if she didn’t reach my height, the tenacity in her eyes could readily equal it. “You need to be taught a lesson! Never. Ever. Dump me like some trash! Hell will freeze over before I let you treat me like that twice in my lifetime, River Ellis! I don’t give a fucking shit who you think you are; no one treats me like garbage. Not even you. Do we understand each other?”
The bitch had the right to say what? “Garbage? I’m treating you like garbage?” I rebuffed. I could laugh if it wasn’t so fucking psychotic. “You came back engaged, you cold-hearted bitch! What do you expect from me, huh? D’you expect me to roll out a party, a fucking band—heck, let’s throw in some fucking cake while I’m at it! What the hell do you take me for? A fucking rug to wipe your shit on, huh, Cara?”
She shook her head, aghast and appalled at the same time. “Do you even hear yourself? You accused me of being vindictive before I left and now you’re doing the very same thing to me! You’re punishing me for a stupid joke!”
Cara … I loathed the idiotic side of her. How could I even fathom to reason with it? I could scream—heck, maybe slap her around to put some sense into her, but would it work? I hardly thought so. Her stubbornness was so ingrained it was like pulling teeth. Nothing worked.
“Don’t say a damn thing. Don’t even dare move. We’re leaving!” I couldn’t look at her for fear I’d just strangle her in frustration.
Ambien? Is she fucking joking? She could’ve killed someone. What then? Jesus. Christ. What was she thinking? If she was at all …
What drove her to this madness was all due to being left alone, not the likely scenario she had in her head. She most likely thought I’d dole out the bells and whistles just because she had chosen to spend this time with me and not some random guy she fancied for her flavor of the week.
I was dispensable. She had made she I understood as much. And when it was my turn to inflict the same treatment, she charged in with the most absurd comeback.
That was Cara for you—passionately insane to the last breath.
It took no time to get Arush and Willa to arrange the car to be ready for us through a different exit. Arush and Willa would also ensure Dulce’s safety and whatever else she’d need. I made sure to tell them not to spare any expense. Willa knew what to do; she always did. Both women barely glanced at each other; however, I could feel the heavy hostile energy bouncing off of them when they were in the same room. At this point, I didn’t care if they didn’t speak for the rest of their lives. Wherever Cara was concerned, if she was determined to wreck her life, she could go on ahead. She wouldn’t hear a peep from me.
Cara and I were guided through the kitchen and out the back door where the limo waited to take us back to the hotel.
She took the closest door, while I skirted to the other end. I did so by barely glancing at her.
Yes, there was no question I was fuming mad. I doubted Cara had to guess based on me ignoring her for the last fifteen minutes. And I intended to keep it to myself if I could help it for the rest of this journey.
These uncanny tricks just did me in. The night of fun had turned into a night of horrors. This was some telenovela shit, and I wanted no part in this twisted storyline.
Cara didn’t try to speak, nor did she dare explain herself.
Good. Silence was damn golden; I preferred it this way.
Less than half an hour later, we reached the hotel. The need to just dash out of there and hop on the next elevator was fucking strong, but somehow, I found myself waiting for her. I could feel the heavy lingering weight of her stares as I pressed the button to her floor before pushing the one to my floor.
When the cart dinged at hers, Cara chose not to move. I was furious, but the drained-out, silent kind. As a result, if she intended to fight, tomorrow was a better day. I lacked the ferocity, the fight to carry on sparring with her. She had drained all the fight out of me.
“If you have any words to say, save them. Now go, Cara. I think we’ve had enough pranks for tonight.”
“You’re not … you’re not … joining me?” Her tiny pleading voice wasn’t going to shake my resolve.
Was she crazy? The last thing I wanted was to be anywhere near her. “No, thanks. I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Okay…” She seemed incredulous. “I guess … I can take you to your room, then.”
Grr … Why couldn’t she just let it go
and sleep this off? Why choose to stay and continue to push my buttons? Wasn’t she exhausted from all of this? Even looking at her felt draining. Couple that with the unshakable inkling to throttle her, and it was the most off-kilter I’d ever been.
Why couldn’t she grasp when enough was enough? “Suit yourself, Cara,” I muttered as let go of my hand blocking the elevator door to close.
My wishes, whatever they might be, were never taken into account. Tonight was not any different.
The penthouse suite appeared inviting as I opened the door. The polar opposite of the chaotic scene I had left half an hour ago. The pristine surroundings and solitude were a breath of fresh air. I expected Cara to leave me be, so I didn’t look back to check if she strode back to the lift as I streamed toward the bar in need of some water.
Rounding the bar, I pulled the fridge open and tugged a cold bottle before slamming the door shut with a soft nudge of my knee. Cracking the top open, I gulped the entire bottle, cooling my heated pipes and quenching my thirst. For a brief moment, I tried to forget what had happened tonight as I shot the empty bottle toward the sleek silver garbage bin, and then a figure caught my eye.
It was Cara standing in my direct line of sight.
Whatever cooling effect the chilled water had on me had all but vanished as my hatred grew with each passing second I bore my eyes into hers.
“Can we talk?”
No. My eyes told her as much. I realized using my voice did little to sway her mind these days, so why waste my breath?
“River … please … Don’t treat me like this.” She seemed uncertain. Gone was the confident woman who had emerged at the bar. The Cara before me lacked poise as her foot moved to take a step but retreated before achieving it.
Good, she can stew for all I care.
After what she had pulled tonight, she more or less deserved it. If she was aiming to gain pity, she was with the wrong man. She was getting nothing from me.
