Pillow Talk

by Luke Prescott

  She follows me into the kitchen. “I have some Miller Lite in the fridge. You can grab one if you want,” I offer, trying to make her feel more comfortable. The whole ‘my house is your house.’

  She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge, and my chest warms at the sight.

  After the food is plated, I slide hers over to her and she takes a bite. She licks her fingers with an ‘mm’ and my dick twitches. Fuck. Stop. This is friends. We grab our plates and head into the living room.

  “I like your house,” she tells me.

  “Thanks, the open floorplan is one of the things that sold me on it.”

  She glances around at the furnishings—large flat screen tv on the wall, bookcase, leather sofa and recliner—and I wonder what she thinks of my lack of bows. I’m a man, so my place isn’t bogged down with frilly decor. It's simple. Like me. Most days. Sure, when I get under the hood of an old car, yeah, I get greasy, but I keep the grease at the shop and my place neat. It isn’t borderline obsessive clean, but everything has its place. Especially my prized possession: a framed Wayne Gretsky signed jersey and official picture. It hangs right over the couch, and Payton stares at it for a moment.

  “Hockey fan?” she asks, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder before planting that fine ass on the couch.

  I sit beside her. “Gretsky fan. Big difference.”

  “Oh, well hockey’s cool.”

  “Hockey’s ok,” I say.

  “It’s so mean.”

  “Mean?” I take a bite of a green pepper.

  “They nearly kill each other on the ice. It’s all so violent.”

  I tilt my head to the side. She’s sweet. “Yeah, I guess it is kind of violent. What about you? Big sports fan?”

  She shakes her head. “Not really.”

  “Knitting?” I ask.

  Confusion is set in her eyes. “I’m sorry?”

  “Your hobbies. I bet you knit. Like sweaters and shit,” I say, taking another bite.

  She laughs. “No, I don’t know how to knit.”

  “So, what does Payton Hudson like to do for fun? You do know what fun is right?”

  She glares at me, crinkling her nose. “Yes, I know how to have fun.”

  “That doesn’t involve decorating?”

  “Oh, ha ha. I sometimes like to hike.” She takes a sip of her beer.

  I set my plate down, taking a quick swallow of beer. “Wait a second, you hike?”

  “Sure. What you don’t think I know how to get dirty?” she asks.

  Oh damn, I’d love to find out how dirty she can be. Keep it together, man.

  I stare at her for a moment, trying to think of something to say. “Yeah,” is what I say. “So, you like living here now?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Well, I’m not really sure. I mean, I like it here for now.”

  I raise a brow in question. “For now?”

  She places her plate down and takes another sip of her beer. “Yeah, for now. Who knows where the road will take me.”

  She sounds like a wandering traveler, and all of a sudden, I want to know more. I need answers to her past, present, and future.

  Buy Link

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  Damaged

  By Luke Prescott

  Damaged

  Copyright © 2017 Luke Prescott

  Cover Design: Bite Me Graphic Design

  Editor: Devilish Desires

  Formatting: Devilish Desires

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Brett

  “Troy, being my wingman doesn’t mean sit at the bar ignoring me. Christ, you’re fucking useless,” I say, grabbing a seat.

  My best friend, Asher really screwed me over by falling in love. Don’t get me wrong, he deserves to be happy and all. He just didn’t take me into consideration when he handed over his heart...and balls. Thanks to him, I’m stuck looking for a replacement wingman. You’d think these assholes would jump at the chance. I mean most of them would never have a chance with any chicks if it wasn’t for me. Yet, none of them take it serious.

  “Thanks man, you make it a real treat to hang out with you,” Troy says, shaking his greasy hair.

  Tossing back my shot, the warm liquid burning down my throat, I slam the glass down, grinning. “Damn right I do. You’ve gotten laid twice in the last two weeks. Let’s not pretend it isn’t because of me. Sex and you weren’t exactly on the best of terms.”

  “Whatever. So what’s the plan?”

  Tossing back another shot, I scan the room. “That’s more like it, Troy.” My eyes land on a blonde bombshell. She’s got her friend with her, which is where Troy comes in. Slapping him on the back, I push a shot his way. “Drink up, we’re going in.”

  Troy walks over in his faded, worn-out jeans with a hole near the front pocket and an old t-shirt. Damn, I kind of wished he would have dressed up, maybe even just a little bit. I know I’m in no Armani business suit, but at least my jeans are clean and my t-shirt doesn’t look like it got ran over by a truck. He starts talking to the blonde’s friend. I give them a few minutes before I make my move. The whole point is to make sure the friend is well occupied before I get over there. With Asher, it was easy. We both knew exactly what to do, but trying to teach someone something that was perfected over years, isn’t that easy. Even for me.

  I grab a beer and make my way through the crowd over to them. “Troy, hey man. Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”

  Scrunching his eyebrows, he looks at me. I slightly widen my eyes, trying to get him to say something. This is what I’m talking about. Fucking idiots.

  “Oh, hey Brett,” he says, sticking his hand out to me. Christ.

  “Don’t be so rude. Why don’t you introduce me to your beautiful friends,” I say, looking right at the blonde, giving her a wink.

  “Layla,” she says, with a smile.

  “Gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl. I’m Brett.” Yeah, I’m laying it on thick, but that shit works.

  After a few minutes of talking, Layla invites us both to sit. Surprisingly, Troy keeps the friend well occupied. So, I take full advantage of the time with Layla. I ask her questions about herself, because I know women, and she’s the type that likes to talk about herself. She comes across as this tightass, but she’s anything but. She’ll happily let me bang her in the bathroom of this bar.

  Moving closer to her, I rest my hand on her thigh. Glancing down at it, she bites her lip. “Nice ink,” she says.

  “Thanks, do you have any hidden tattoos?” I ask, with a grin.

  She laughs, like I knew she would. “No, but I’d really like to get one. I think it’s real sexy,” she says, running her hand up and down my arm. “Do you only have your arms done?”

  Trudging my hand through my dark hair, I wink. “No, it’s not just my arms, sweetheart.”

  Here we go, wait for it.

  Running her eyes all over me, trying to figure out where my ink is, she smiles. “Where else?”

  That’s it.

  Leaning my mouth close to her ear, and my hand closer to her pussy, I nip her earlobe. “How about I show you?”

  She’s more than willing to grab my hand once I stand up. Leading her to the bathroom, I check over my shoulder to make sure Troy is still keeping the friend occupied. This is by far the best he’s been as a
wingman. Maybe he’s trainable after all.

  Pushing into the bathroom, I slam her against the back of the closed door and kiss down her neck. She lets out a soft moan when I bite her supple skin. Hiking her leg up, I grab it, holding it against my hip. As I work my way down to her tits, I push my hard cock against her.

  “Oh, Brett,” she moans out, trying to kiss me.

  Pulling her away from the door, I push her against the wall, keeping my front to her back. I’m all about fucking, but kissing, no. That shit is too personal, too much emotion and feelings happen when you kiss. Since I’m avoiding that car wreck, I keep it all about the sex.

  Pulling her hair, I turn her head to face me. “Layla, if you want me to keep going, let me be clear. This is just sex, nothing more. You good with that?”

  Lust clear in her green eyes, she bites her lip. “Show me those tattoos, Brett.” Yanking off my shirt, her eyes widen. “Damn, that’s hot.” She takes a moment to let her gaze travel over the ink on my arms and chest. Roses on the arm, a cross front and center on my chest. Mi Vida Loca, ‘my crazy life’, scribbled across my pecs.

  Giving her a half grin, I lift her and she wraps her legs around me. Her hands explore my upper body, as I free her tits from her dress. Sucking a hardened nipple into my mouth, she bucks against me, letting out a loud moan.

  Sinking my fingers into her ass cheeks, I move to the other tit. She continues to moan, sinking her nails into my back. I need to fuck her. Just like this, pressed against the wall with her tits hanging out.

  As I start to unbutton my jeans, the door flies open. “Brett, this wingman thing is really working. I’m leaving with Suzie,” Troy announces, before even noticing what the fuck I’m doing.

  Layla screams and pushes out of my arms, covering herself quickly. “Troy, get the fuck out of here, man,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “Oh damn, sorry. Sorry man. Just carry on,” he says, stumbling over his words as he rushes out.

  Layla, on the other hand stands there with her arms crossed, giving me some evil looking eyes. “Your wingman. Seriously? You set me up,” she yells.

  Christ. “Layla, come on. Does it really matter? You’re still turned on.”

  “Was. I was turned on,” she shouts, rushing out the bathroom, letting the hard wooden door slam as it echoes through my ears.

  “Troy I’m gonna fucking kill you,” I whisper, picking my shirt up to toss back on.

  Grabbing a seat at the bar, I figure I’ll drown my sorrows. Maybe give Asher a call and tell him a real friend would get his ass down here.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Turning my head, I can’t help the smile that breaks out. “Eva Chapman. How the hell are you?”

  We met in middle school and she was always fun to hang out with when we were young. I’ve seen her around from time to time over the years, but come to think of it I haven’t seen her around in a while.

  She looks damn good. Her long brown hair falls over her shoulders, leading right to her tits. Which look fucking amazing almost spilling out of her dress. That blue dress. Damn, what I wouldn't give to see what's underneath it. Shaking my head, I push away any sexual thoughts of Eva. She's just a friend.

  Laughing, she sits down. “Better than you, considering I was in the ladies room and overheard.”

  Groaning, I scrub my face. “Great.”

  “I’m guessing you need a new wingman?” she asks, laughing again.

  “Why you want the job?”

  “Maybe. Maybe I do.”

  Chapter Two

  Eva

  Brett Daniels. I haven’t seen him around in a while, but as soon as I heard the yelling when I was in the bathroom, I knew who it was. I didn’t need to even hear his name, I just knew it. He’s a player...the player. I’ll admit, he’s good at it. Good enough that if I hadn’t been friends with him since middle school, I’d fall for it all too. The tattoos covering his muscular body, that messy black hair, the facial hair that he keeps trimmed close to his face, and those bright blue eyes. Yeah, he’s fucking hot by anyone’s standards. It’s a good thing I’m immune.

  “So where’ve you been hiding?” he asks, tossing back a shot of Jack.

  “I haven’t been hiding, I’ve been busy.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I laugh. “Shut up. So, how’s life without Asher?”

  Turning in his seat, he rests his tattooed arm on the sticky bar. “You make it sound like he died.”

  “Well, he did in a sense. He’s not out here having fun anymore. He’s at home with the little woman, picking out wallpaper and curtains,” I joke.

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re right about that. Still aren’t looking to settle down yourself?”

  “Brett, you know damn well I’ll never settle down. Wasn’t something that interested me years ago, and it’s only been reinforced now. It’s all about fun. You know that better than anyone.”

  Relationships are dirty, and complicated. You spend all your time with one person, trying to please them. Trying to make them feel like the center of the universe. Thing is, you shouldn’t need to spend your time convincing someone how amazing they are. If they don’t know it, they aren’t worth your time. I’ve wasted enough of my time.

  “Oh, you know damn well it’s all about fun for me. Last thing I need is to hand over my balls like Asher,” he says.

  We spend the next hour catching up and laughing. It feels good to be having fun, feeling carefree. It’s been a hell of a year and right now, sitting here with Brett reminds me how much I’ve been missing. He may come off as a manwhore, sleeping his way around this city, and yeah he is, but I don’t see him that way. I see him as a friend, someone that I wouldn’t mind hanging out with again.

  “Alright, let’s talk about you needing a wingman,” I say, feeling the full effects of the alcohol swimming in my veins.

  “I find your confidence sexy as hell, but you know I need a guy for a wingman. How are you going to distract the friend while I make my move? Unless, wait. Are you into girls now?” he asks, a huge smile breaking out on his face.

  Tossing my head back laughing, I rest my hand on his large bicep. “It’s only girl on girl when there is a guy there to enjoy it,” I say, giving him a wink.

  “Hot, but that still doesn’t help.”

  “You’ve been limited with a guy for a wingman. You haven’t noticed all the action you are missing when a group goes out. I distract the guys, you have your pick of the ladies. It’s simple really. You get action, I get action. It’s a win/win for us both,” I say, flipping my long brown hair over my shoulder.

  He searches my eyes for a minute, before a smile starts to spread across his face. “Eva, when did you become such a badass?”

  “I’ve always been a badass, you just never noticed,” I joke.

  “Bullshit. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying. Plus, you know damn well I’d notice.”

  He’s right. I wasn’t always this badass, but things change and you change with them. There’s no going back in time, no second guessing decisions you’ve made. It’s pointless. Life is too short to not have fun while you can. So, yeah, I’ve become badass and I’m damn glad.

  “My badassery is just something new you’ll have to get used to,” I say, grinning.

  Smiling, he searches my light brown eyes. “I’ve missed you, Eva Chapman. Let’s give it a go. If it doesn’t work, fuck it. But we’ll definitely be hanging out one way or another.”

  “Oh it will work. Don’t tell me I’ve got more confidence than you now.”

  Moving in so close, I can smell the whiskey on his breath, he says, “My confidence is something you should never question, and my big ego should be proof enough.”

  This is how he does it. Moving closer, talking in that deep, sexy voice. It can make women drop their panties without a subconscious thought. I’m not exaggerating, he’s that fucking good. Not even sure why he’s worried about having a wingman, because he sure as hell doesn’t need one
. But in an effort to get some fun back in my life, I’m more than willing to do it.

  Pushing on his solid chest, he backs up. “Save your sweet talk for someone it will work on.”

  “Oh, my sweet talk is something else entirely,” he says, lifting an eyebrow.

  Rolling my eyes, I finish my drink and stand up. “Okay sweet talker, I’m going home. You still have my cell, so give me a call and we’ll make plans.”

  Shocking me, he stands and wraps his strong arms around me, lifting me off the ground. “Get ready, you’ve just replaced Asher.”

  We both laugh, and I walk away, leaving him at the bar. Replacing Asher. Okay, I can live with that.

  Chapter Three

  Brett

  “Yo, Brett. I said get me an oil filter, not a belt. What the hell are you so distracted about lately?” Charlie yells.

  “Shut the hell up. I’m not distracted, I just can’t understand you when it sounds like you’re talking with a dick in your mouth,” I toss back, throwing the filter at him.

  I keep telling everyone, I’m not distracted. There’s no reason for me to be. Just thinking about Eva. Damn, I used to have such a crush on her when we were young. She never took my shit, always gave it as good as she got it. I teased that girl relentlessly, always trying to get her attention.

  “What the hell are you grinning at, Daniels?” Robert, my boss, asks walking by.

  Alright, maybe I’m a little distracted.

  There are days I kick myself in the ass for not going to work for Asher, but I know it wouldn’t have worked. I don’t like taking orders. I sure as hell don’t like taking orders from my best friend. It would have ruined our friendship. I would have ruined it. Asher is the only person who’s been in my life that hasn’t left for one reason or another. My parents were too busy snorting cocaine to even remember they had a kid. I got shipped off to my grandparents, who tried to teach me right from wrong, but I wasn’t an easy kid to deal with. Too much anger.