“No. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“Why not? I don’t wanna remember this. None of it.”
“Because forgetting is a cop-out, angel, and you’re stronger than that.”
“How do you know?”
I flicked off the lights, hearing her fading. “I can just tell. Now sleep. You’re safe here.”
“That’s cause you’re an orc, and nobody fucks with orcs. Except you’re a sexy orc. A damn sexy orc.”
Shit was getting seriously interesting.
I left her snoring, a trashcan on the floor near to hand, and went to my bedroom.
I locked my door. Locked my bathroom door, stripped naked, turned on the shower, and told myself to stop thinking about her.
But it was futile.
I got into the shower and fought it as I washed my hair. I fought it as I scrubbed soap over my skin.
She was all I could see. All I could smell. All I could feel. I could picture every inch of her naked, wet body, and I could almost feel her pussy tight and wet and warm sliding around my cock as I pushed into her, could almost hear that sexy playful giggle as I teased her—shit, shit…she’d be so wet for me, she’d feel like—god, like nothing I had ever felt before. I just knew fucking her would feel like nothing I’d ever felt before. The way she’d move under me, on top of me, the way she’d whimper and moan and beg for me to fuck her harder…
My cock throbbed in my fist as I jerked myself thinking about Dru, picturing her wet skin against mine, her slick pussy swallowing every inch of my cock, which I knew for a fact would be the longest, thickest, hardest cock she’d ever had inside her, and I’d fuck her until we both went crazy with it—
I came so hard I thought I’d go blind, emptying my balls in gush after gush, until I went limp and had to brace against the far wall to stay upright.
I was a fucking bastard.
Because I knew I’d jerk off to Dru again, and frequently.
I just couldn’t touch her.
You don’t fuck the heartbroken ones: they cling, and I don’t do clingy.
Not ever, but especially not with my seven brothers about to descend upon me.
Which raised one very pressing question: Where the hell were all eight of us going to sleep? We hadn’t really fit four to a room back when we were kids; we were all big men who took up a lot of space now, and these rooms, while not tiny, were definitely not going to fit eight grown men, even if I did give up having a room to myself, which I wasn’t super excited about. Shit, none of us would be.
What the fuck, Dad? I’d have help at the bar, sure…but still. What the fuck?
5
Dru
I woke up to a pounding headache and a mouth so parched I thought I’d swallowed sand.
What the fuck—where was I? What happened?
I couldn’t remember anything, at first. Which was a mercy, of sorts.
I tried to fall back asleep, but, as a rule, once I was awake I was up for good, no matter how exhausted or still drunk or hung over I was.
The bed underneath me didn’t feel right—it wasn’t my bed. It was too firm, and the sheets felt wrong, and the blankets smelled wrong, and the pillow was too thick and it smelled wrong. I wrenched my eyes open, stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, which was a mistake, since it was further evidence I wasn’t at home. This ceiling was flat white drywall with no molding to hide the corners. My ceiling at home in Seattle was much higher and was industrial chic, black painted metal rafters meeting exposed brick walls.
I turned over to the side, and saw two minor miracles: a litre bottle of water, and two aspirin. Also, there was a note.
Masculine handwriting, sloppily and quickly scrawled, but legible:
Dru,
Bet you’re feeling like shit about now. Drink the whole bottle of water and take the aspirin, and then come downstairs. I’ll make you some breakfast.
Just so you know, one of my brothers is here, and he’s the ugliest motherfucker you’ve ever seen, so be warned. He’s also a major douche-tard, so don’t expect manners from him, as he’s spent the last few years pretending he’s a badass. His name is Zane, and if you ignore him long enough, he’ll go away. Unlike me.
Couple other quick things: I have a buddy in town who owns a dry-cleaning business, so he’s got your dress to see if he can work some magic on those mud stains. Second, I have another friend who owns a second-hand clothing shop, so she brought you some clothes. I got no fucking clue what size you are, so I told her what size your dress is and she guessed from there. Hope they fit.
Lastly, I seem to have developed an odd case of amnesia regarding last night. Too much Johnny, probably. So don’t feel weird, since neither of us remembers shit about shit.