Together, the two of them are sure to show a girl a good time. By the way they’re looking at me, I’m guessing tonight I’m gonna be that girl.
Before you start counting on your fingers, I’ll remind you of what you already believe to be true. Yes, these two will bring the total of men I’ve been with in a twenty-four-hour period to four. Yes, by definition that does make me a slut. No, I still don’t forgive Cape for verbally reminding me of that.
In my defense, the first lay was lame. It was just one of those “have to do” things that…well, I just had to do. It wasn’t even pleasurable to me, so it doesn’t count. Cape was a joke, as you know, but even if he wouldn’t have uttered the s word, out loud, I still don’t consider me giving him head actually being with him. But that’s all history.
Right now, standing in front of me are two young men with stamina, desire and promise. I plan to take full advantage of those three qualities. Remember when I told you I enjoyed my job? When I said I wouldn’t trade it for a property patch or an ol’ lady title? Well, now you’re fixing to find out why.
My body is in orgasm overload. Between my thighs is the mouth of Crash, licking and sucking my clit—refusing to stop until he drags me back to that euphoric place that is spine-tingling, toe-curling, sheet-gripping good.
On my chest is the mouth of Scratch, nipping then smoothing my nipples—sucking harder when my body stiffens in preparation of release as Crash’s mouth finds that perfect spot that finally pushes me over the edge.
I’m still coming down from what could be my millionth orgasm of the night when I’m gently flipped on my knees and Crash enters me slowly. Being skilled with his mouth makes up for his quick release. It only takes a few minutes for him to fill the rubber surrounding his cock before he pulls out and falls down next to me in the bed.
The moment he’s beside me, Scratch is behind me—replacing his brother’s cock with his own. He’s thick and hard, making me moan into the pillow when he drives deep inside me. My muscles involuntarily clench around him and he groans, squeezing my ass a little harder.
Usually I’m on top, but being the gentlemen he is, he’s treating me like a queen because I’ve been working all night. The change is fresh, new, exciting and makes me proud that he’s stepping out of his comfort zone. I’m impressed. He’s pretty fucking good.
Rubbing his thumb over my ass, I wiggle against him—allowing him permission inside. Dragging his cock up the length of my ass, he dampens the area with my own juices before easily sliding inside me. Not wanting to be left out, Crash reaches his hand beneath me and circles my clit with his finger. The combination is deliciously satisfying, and before I know it, I’m coming again.
Following suit, Scratch slams hard one last time before stilling inside me. Falling down opposite of Crash, the two of them make a Delilah sandwich—raining soft kisses across my neck and chest in thanks. Soon we’re a tangled web of naked arms and legs.
This is living—no rules, no worries and no clothes. But as I start to drift, fully sated and surrounded by two men who respect me, desire me and take care of me, I realize that the moment is not perfect. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but something is missing.
One night.
Three orifices.
Four men.
Yet there’s an emptiness inside me. No matter how hard I try, no matter how many men I fuck, no matter how long I’ve done this, I just can’t seem to fill that void. But I don’t want to dwell on that. Some people would love to be me. I need to stop overthinking shit and be more appreciative of the life I have. Besides, how much better can it get?
CHAPTER 3
“Holy shit! Are you fucking kidding me?”
I crack one eye open to see Red standing in my door, unsure if she wants to hide her face or look. Once again, her hand moves over her eyes, then drops, takes the scene in, gasps, then covers her eyes again.
“Good morning, Red. Nice of you to knock,” I mutter, not bothering to cover myself or the two men on either side of me who are still fast asleep. “Why do you act all shocked and shaken around me? Didn’t you once live a very provocative lifestyle?”
“I’ve grown up since then,” she shoots at me, clearly offended by me bringing up her past.
“Well, maybe when I get as old as you are, I’ll grow up too.”
“I’m not that old.”
“No…you’re just a prude.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she fights to find a comeback. Deciding to add to her discomfort—payment for barging into my room unannounced and uninvited—I drag my eyes down her body.
In a tight leather jacket, low-cut shirt, jeans and heels, Red looks like the poster child for an ol’ lady. Her long thick legs, big tits and auburn hair don’t just make her good-looking. The bitch is downright sexy.
“You know,” I start, dragging my finger up my bare chest between my tits. “There’s always room for you in my bed.” For a moment, I think she’s considering it. But, quicker than I’d hoped, the battle between the new-and-improved Red and the demons of her past is over—leaving the present, boring Red as the victor.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” She gives me a tight smile, and I beam back at her. “I’m on my way out for breakfast. I was just gonna see if you wanted to join me.” My face falls.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because…” She looks at me like I’m supposed to know the reason behind her offer.
“Because…what?”
“Because it’s ten in the morning and I’m hungry. I thought you might be too.” Shrugging, she drops her eyes. There’s more. She wants something.
“What?” I ask, already bored with whatever the hell it is she wants to talk about.
“Huh?”
“Don’t play stupid, Red. I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve darkened my door. You’ve never asked me to breakfast. So what do you want?”
Her eyes move to Scratch, then to Crash before settling back on me. She mouths the word “please” and even gives me a big doe-eyed, pleading look. Who can say no to that face?
Me.
That’s who.
“No.”
“D…”
“It’s Delilah. And I said no.”
“We’ll go to IHOP. My treat. They have pumpkin pancakes.” She sings the last word as if it will help her case. It does. Who can say no to pumpkin pancakes?
Definitely not me.
“You fuckin’ owe me,” I mumble, climbing over Scratch who’s still snoring lightly. Stumbling to the bathroom, I start to yell for her to give me ten, but when I turn she’s standing right behind me.
She’s so close, I take a step back and she enters the bathroom with me, closing the door behind her. “I can’t stay in there with them. What if Regg wakes up?”
“Then stay your ass in the front.” Pointing in the direction of the hall, I manage to speak in a calm voice, despite my normally shitty mood that her presence alone has made even more shitty. “Get out.”
“Okay, okay.”
During my quick shower, I come to hate Red a little more when I start to question the worth of the goodness that is pumpkin pancakes. In an effort to embarrass her in public, I make sure to look as homely as possible when I dress. Wearing leggings, a sweatshirt that’s about four sizes too big and a pair of knock-off Uggs, I join her out front.
She doesn’t give my outfit a second glance as she offers me coffee in a Styrofoam cup and a cigarette. “I heard you only smoked in the morning and you make your coffee so strong you can float a fifty-cent piece on it.” Taking the cup and smoke, I lean in and let her light it before narrowing my eyes on her.
“Who told you that?”
“Luke.” She shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “What’s the story between you two, anyway? For some reason, he has a soft spot when it comes to Delilah.” She says my name as if he has some kind of crush on me. I don’t like it. The last thing I need is for her to make Dallas think I’m into her man or that he’s into me.
“Luke is my employer…the club is my employer. You are an extent to the club. Part of my job description entails that I be nice to you. We’re not friends. You want something, and you’re bribing me with pancakes after a sixteen-hour shift, a great lay and three hours of sleep. I’m vulnerable right now. And I’m hungry. So are you driving or am I?” I glare at her, hoping like hell she picks up on the warning in my voice. She doesn’t. She laughs.
“What’s so funny?” My voice is deadpan, but on the inside I’m amused and curious as hell to what’s making her laugh.
“You, Delilah. You’re funny. This.” She motions with her finger between the two of us. “This is funny. Sometimes, I swear looking at you is like looking in the mirror ten years ago.”
Placing her hand on my shoulder, I stiffen but either she doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Take it from someone who knows, life gets a helluva lot better when you stop living inside your own little world and embrace what real life is all about.”
Who the fuck is she to talk to me about real life? I’m as real as they come. Maybe I do live in a bubble, but it’s a wonderful bubble filled with sex, alcohol and excitement. It’s safe, controlled and keeps my demons at bay.