by Lane Hart
“You wouldn’t mind if your friend fucked me while I was passed out on his floor? Why not?” I ask in confusion.
“Because you’re a little sex fiend who can’t get enough. Now touch yourself for me, angel.”
“Wait. Before you left this morning…did you tell him he could screw me?”
Bob shrugs without missing a stroke on his lengthening cock. “I told him we had an open relationship and that I wouldn’t mind if he wanted a turn with you.”
“Don’t you think…you-you should’ve asked me first before telling your friends they can have their way with me while I’m passed out!”
“Fine. I want to watch other men fuck you. Is that so wrong?” he asks. “I figured that if I had asked you to do it, you would’ve said no, but if I just left and things happen naturally, you would come around to the idea once you were sleeping around behind my back.”
“That…none of that makes any sense at all!” I say as I try and comprehend his fucked-up logic. “I thought we were together, a couple.”
“We are,” Bob says. He reaches out and grabs my hips to try and pull me down to his lap, but I stagger back and away from his grip. “Hannah, please. I let you stay with me after you dropped out of school, didn’t I? We have a lot of fun together, right? What more do you want?”
What more do I want?
How can he even ask that?
I want what most other single women want – a man to love me. And yeah, having hot sex would be great too, but it’s not the most important thing. I’m just so sick of people letting me down. Men letting me down. I thought I had convinced myself to not have any expectations with Bob so that I wouldn’t be disappointed. But I guess I was wrong, and I do want more.
Even if he told me he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me, deep down I know that I don’t love him and never will. He’s just a distraction from my self-loathing.
“Stop trying to overthink everything when you’re so drunk. We can decide which of my friends you would prefer to fuck in front of me later,” Bob says. “For now, come sit on my cock and do what you do best. I’ve never met anyone sexier than you, angel.”
I must not have drunk as much as I thought tonight, because I’m hesitating, and I never hesitate when it comes to fucking. Like he said, it’s what I do best. And apparently, he’s not going to give up on the whole idea of watching me with another man.
“I’m thirsty,” I whisper when I back away from him. “I need more wine.”
“Then go pour yourself another glass and hurry back,” Bob says as I retreat to the kitchen. “I’ve been waiting to get inside you all day, and my patience is wearing thin!”
Chapter Five
Conrad
* * *
It’s after eleven when I pull up in front of the red, one-level cottage where this son-of-a-bitch professor lives. What kind of asshole takes advantage of his students by sleeping with them? I hate agreeing with the police chief about anything, but no wonder he’s so adamant about getting his daughter home and away from this pervert.
Not that I have any right to throw stones in my glass house or anything.
The lights are on in the front rooms, so I climb out of the rental car and head up the walk to the front door where I ring the doorbell.
I hear muttered cursing on the other side as I wait for the door to open. When it finally does several minutes later, there’s a small man on the other side with his white dress shirt half-tucked in his suit pants. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he looks me up and down and says, “Can I help you?”
Rather than yell at what a piece of shit he is, I grit my teeth and say, “I’m here for Hannah.”
“Oh,” he says, eyes widening behind his frames before his lips lift in a smile. “You’re a friend of Hannah’s? She didn’t tell me she was expecting company.”
He doesn’t sound angry at the fact that a random guy is knocking on his door this late at night. In fact, he looks…happy.
“Well, come on in.”
“Ah, thanks,” I reply.
When he opens the door wide, I step through and run my gaze quickly over the entryway before heading straight down the hall to the living room.
“Hannah! We have a visitor,” the professor calls out from behind me.
I hear clanging from the other room before a beautiful woman comes staggering out of the dark and into the softly lit living room wearing nothing but a man’s white shirt. Her blonde hair is pulled up in a high, messy ponytail, and she’s grasping the neck of a bottle of wine in her small fist. Her empty hand grabs onto the closest wall to steady herself. “Hi,” she says as she blinks her big blue eyes at me while drinking me in, taking in every inch from my shoes to the top of my head.
“Hi,” I reply awkwardly as I look between her and the professor. I’m at a loss for what the fuck is going on. Why would they be so cool with letting me into their house so easily?
“Here,” the woman I’m assuming is Hannah says when she stumbles over to the professor and shoves the wine bottle into his chest. “I’ll fuck him in front of you.”
“That’s my girl,” the professor says while Hannah starts unbuttoning the rest of the buttons on her shirt until it’s open wide and sliding down her arms, showing off her heavy tits with puckered pink nipples and the barest patch of light hair between her long tan legs.
This isn’t some college girl like the ones back at the dorm. She’s a seductive goddess with a perfect, curvy body made for fucking. And apparently, I’ve become her next target when she lurches toward me, and I have to grab her bare shoulders to catch her before she falls over.
Hold on. What the hell is happening here?
“She’s drunk, isn’t she?” I ask the professor when it belatedly hits me. The bottle of wine and her inability to walk in a straight line should’ve been my first clues, but I was distracted by her getting naked in front of me.
“The sex is better for her when she’s a little tipsy,” the asshole responds as he takes a swig of wine right out of the bottle. “Want some?”
“She’s only twenty!” I yell at him. “It wasn’t enough for you to sleep with a student, you had to let her get drunk on your watch too?”
“Chill out, man,” he says. “Hannah’s a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants with her body, and right now, it looks like she wants to let you have it.”
I glance down and find the side of her face pressed to my chest, her eyes closed while her hands are diving up under my shirt. “Mmm. You smell really good. Good enough to eat.”
That’s when her teeth actually take a bite out of my shirt, pinching the tight skin of my pec underneath right near my nipple. It shouldn’t have felt good, but it sent a jolt of pain and pleasure straight down to my cock.
Gripping her shoulders I push her away from my body to keep her at an arm’s distance away before my dick gets too eager.
“Where are her things?” I ask the professor when he flops down on the sofa and…shoves his hand into his pants. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“The only way you’re gonna get inside of her is if I get to watch,” he says with a straight face. “You want to do her here or in the bedroom?”
I look from him to the face of the drunk woman looking up at me through heavy eyelids while licking her lips.
“What?” I exclaim in confusion before I let go of her when I finally pick up his meaning. “No, I’m not going to…where are her things? I’m taking her with me!”
“That’s not going to happen,” he argues as he pulls his hand from his pants and gets to his feet. “I’m not renting her out. It doesn’t work like that. Do what you want to her, but it has to happen here, under my roof.”
It’s times like this when I miss having my gun on me. I’ve never actually had to use it other than the night the Savage Kings went after the guys running a violent porn studio. I’ve never had to point it at an individual to make them do what I want because I’m a nice guy who is usually calm and polite, able
to talk things out.
But when Hannah flings herself at me again, winding her arms around my neck, the dickhead professor reaches for her, and I simply act without thinking. My right fist swings around and nails him in the jaw while my left arm goes around the girl to swing her up and out of the way.
The man drops to the floor like a bag of bricks, and it’s lights-out for him.
Hannah doesn’t seem to notice or simply doesn’t care. She’s too busy running her tongue over the side of my neck. Suddenly, her teeth dig into my flesh, and then she’s sucking on my skin as she moans.
I’ve never been in this situation before, a woman naked and horny in my arms, making it difficult to do more than enjoy the way she’s devouring my neck.
But then I remember that she’s drunk and doesn’t have a fucking clue who I am or what she’s doing. I regretfully push her away again, hoping I don’t lose a chunk of flesh because of her teeth.
“Hannah, you’ve got to stop,” I say when she’s as far away as my arms can get her. I even give her shoulders a little shake to try and sober her up. “I’m going to get your things, and then you’re coming with me, okay?”
“Mmm-mmm. I can’t wait to come with you,” she replies, trying to reach for me again. Her arms are too short, though, so she settles for cupping her own tits, drawing my eyes to them. I shouldn’t look at them. But I’m only a man, and they’re a really nice pair of tits.
Shaking my head to clear the lust from it, I back her up until I can push her down to a chair. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Can’t wait,” she replies.
Chapter Six
Hannah
* * *
I wake up gradually from the craziest dream. I was pissed at Bob about wanting to watch me screw other men, but then this big blond Viking badass showed up and I was all in on giving Bob his fantasy.
He smelled delicious, like citrus and sandalwood, reminding me of home, and tasted even better when I took a bite of his salty flesh. Then he disappeared before we got to the good parts. Now I’m all hot and bothered, dripping wet with a throbbing between my legs that needs to be satisfied before I burst.
I throw the too-warm covers off me and reach down between my legs, but there are cotton bottoms and panties in the way. I don’t remember putting them on. Rather than try to squirm out of them – I’m too tired to move – I just slide my hand down the front of both elastic waistbands.
“What are you doing?” a gruff masculine voice asks softly.
I blink my heavy eyes open to find the source, and it’s…the yummy Viking.
He’s standing beside the bed, towering over me in his black leather vest and jeans, a scowl on his gorgeous face, hands braced on his hips.
“You’re really here,” I murmur. “I thought you were just a naughty dream.” The bedroom walls and paintings behind him are way too plain and boring. It’s not a room I recognize. “Or maybe this is still the dream. I’m so confused.”
“You’re just really drunk,” the Viking says. “I brought you to a hotel to sleep it off. Our flight leaves in the morning.”
“Okay, sexy. Whatever you say,” I reply with a smile. “But what are we gonna do tonight?”
“We’re gonna both get some sleep,” he says when he reaches over and grabs my wrist to pull my hand out of my panties. “If we go to bed now, we’ll get a full eight hours before we have to leave for the airport.”
“I’m too turned on to sleep,” I admit. “Lick my pussy until I come?”
His chuckle is choked before it turns into a cough. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because it’s not.” His statement leaves no wiggle room at all.
He’s turning me down? Where the hell did he come from? He must be gay. That has to be it. Straight men never turn down a chance at having sex with me. I’m tall and curvy, and they’re all horny. In fact, Bob said so himself, sex is all I’m good for after all. If the Viking doesn’t want to screw me, then what does he want?
“I’m so confused,” I say again as I try to make sense of what’s going on here. “Who am I? No, wait. That’s not right. Who are you?”
“We’ll talk more in the morning when you can actually remember our conversation. Now go to sleep,” the Viking says sternly, turning off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in pitch-black darkness so that all I want to do is sleep at this current moment in time.
I like how bossy this man is, and even though I’m horny as hell, I’m also incredibly tired. That’s why I give in. Flopping over to my side, I tuck my hands under my cheek and let my body fall back to sleep. Although, I still wish I could figure out why the Viking doesn’t want me.
Conrad
* * *
I’m in way over my head.
I should’ve insisted that Cannon come with me because it may take the two of us to restrain this sex-crazed woman.
No wonder Chief Bailey was so determined to have someone come and get her. She had no business sleeping with a man who is old enough to be her father, and even worse, was willing to let me have sex with her without knowing a goddamn thing about me. How fucked-up is that?
From what I can tell, Hannah is out of control and found the perfect man to let her get away with being buck wild, including drinking so much that she doesn’t know where she is or what’s going on.
Tomorrow, once Hannah is sober, things should hopefully get easier. She’ll probably be pissed about having to go home on her dad’s orders, but at least she won’t be like this, so…provocative.
I’ve never met a woman like her. It has to be the alcohol in her system making her act like that. I have nothing against women who love sex. That’s perfectly fine. I’ve seen plenty throwing themselves at Cannon and the other Savage Kings, but none of them have ever been so demanding about it. Hannah is way too young to not have more respect for herself.
I sit in the chair on her side of the room in the dark, waiting until her breathing finally slows and becomes steady when she drifts off to sleep, and then I go to my bed on the other side of the suite. Sitting down on the side of the mattress, I finally pull out my phone for the first time since I found the professor’s house.
There’s a text message from the chief, asking for a status update.
Sighing, I quickly shoot him a message back that says Hannah’s with me and our flight leaves at eleven in the morning. He doesn’t need to know all the gritty details about what happened tonight. What father would want to hear about how their daughter tried to have sex with me and asked me to go down on her?
It has to have all been an act. She must have been joking. There’s no way a twenty-year-old woman would try and fool around with a man she just met, especially when she doesn’t even know my name. What if I had been an asshole who took advantage of her while she was drunk, like the professor? Does the chief know she drinks like a fish even though she’s not supposed to touch alcohol legally?
As if the man is psychic, my phone dings in my hand with a text from him.
Keep her sober until she’s home. When I find a spot at a rehab facility, I’ll text you the address. You should go straight there when you’re back in town.
So I guess he is aware. I remember from the day the chief showed up to blackmail me into doing this favor for him he mentioned Hannah had recently been arrested for public intoxication. After being with her for less than an hour, it’s obvious that she needs serious help, which her father is apparently going to get for her once she’s home.
That’s a decent thing for Chief Bailey to do, which is surprising since he’s always acted like a dick.
Whatever. It’s none of my business. I never want to see him or his daughter again once my part of the deal is done.
I just hope that he never needs another favor in the future because I have zero doubts that the asshole will continue to hold those videos over my head until he dies.
Not a damn thing I can do about it now, though. I need to get t
o sleep because tomorrow is going to be a long day of sitting on a cramped airplane, keeping an underage alcoholic from doing anything crazy.
I take off my shoes, cut, and pants to climb under the covers, praying that there won’t be any delays in the morning flight or layover in Dallas. But instead of closing my eyes, I keep watching the red numbers on the hotel alarm clock. Half an hour goes by, then an hour, and I still can’t fucking fall asleep. When it’s obvious I’m not tired enough for sleep, I even get up and go peek into the other room to make sure Hannah is still there and breathing, worried she could have alcohol poisoning.
She seems fine – right where I left her.
It’s the longest night of my life lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling, occasionally glancing at the clock.
Finally, sometime after four in the morning, I’m able to slip into unconsciousness only to be woken up to the sounds of heaving at 6:00 a.m.
Chapter Seven
Hannah
* * *
Most people hate throwing up.
For me, it’s cathartic – a cleansing of some of the nastiness inside of me. An exorcism of some of my bad decisions. I make so many of those that it’s important to purge a few so there’s room for more. Because there will always be more. I haven’t made a single good decision in years.
And sure, puking sucks while it’s happening, but afterward I’ll feel much lighter and better about myself, at least until I do the next stupid thing in my life.
But at the moment, my nose and throat are burning, my eyes are watering, and it feels like I drank so much wine last night that I’m losing important organs from deep within my body right along with the remnants of my stomach.
In between heaves, I hear someone sigh heavily before they tug on my long ponytail, holding it out of the blast radius, and then apply a cool washcloth to the back of my neck.
