“Shh. It’s okay.” Meeting her eyes, I smooth one hand over her hair. I hope my voice is more convincing than I sound, because there’s no denying how fucked up this is. My tongue still tastes like Elise’s delicious pussy and her brother is standing on the other side of my door. My unlocked bedroom door.
“Do you want to keep going?” I ask. “I can lock the door.”
She shakes her head. “How am I going to get out of here?” she whispers.
I press my lips to hers. “It’ll be okay.”
Somehow.
I fucking hope.
With superhuman strength, I leave the warmth of her on my bed and stand. I have to adjust myself again, tucking my cock beneath the waistband of my pants because there’s no way my erection is going to fade after what I just experienced.
Fuck, I don’t know how I’ll ever not be hard again.
Elise’s gaze tracking my every movement is not helping matters. There’s still a want in her eyes that’s hard to ignore.
“Stay here,” I whisper.
She shakes her head eyes still wide with worry.
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Stay here. It’ll be okay. Lock the door behind me if you want.”
Understanding registers in her eyes. I’m going to try my best to get rid of him, but if he’s intoxicated, I’m not quite sure how this is going to go.
I shrug on a t-shirt from my closet as Elise quickly puts her panties and dress back on. I’m actually pissed off about the fact that her bra never came off, but I thought we had all night. Vowing to rectify that next time, I swallow my anger and exit the room, heading out into the hall.
Owen’s sitting on the couch, the remote in his hand, some sports highlights show on the TV.
“Hey, dude.”
His head turns toward mine. “Hey.” Then his eyebrows wiggle. “You busy fucking?”
I force myself to laugh, but I actually feel more like throwing up. That’s his baby fucking sister in there. I can still feel the way she clenched around my finger and moaned my name when she came. I am a grade A asshole.
My stomach tightens as I sit down next to him on the couch. Owen keeps talking but I don’t hear a damn word he says. Blood thunders in my ears and guilt swarms inside me.
“You have someone in there?” he finally says, turning toward me with a confused expression.
“No.” I deny it too quickly and I’m sure he’s suspicious.
“I heard … sounds.” He grins.
“Oh yeah.” I thrust one hand through my hair. “I was watching porn.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but what the fuck else can I say?
Owen laughs. “Right on, dude. I struck out tonight too.”
I’m a little surprised, considering he left with a woman, but I don’t press him.
“Then let’s go get out of here, let’s go get one more beer. My treat.” I rise to my feet, hoping like hell he takes the bait.
After a moment’s hesitation, he shrugs. “Why the fuck not.”
It’s not the most genius plan in the world, but I need to get Owen out of the apartment so Elise can sneak out. It’s the only thing I can think of when I still having a raging, and rather neglected, erection between my thighs.
After Owen and I exit the apartment, I shoot off a text to Elise.
I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t think he’d come home tonight.
She replies after a few seconds.
Did you guys just leave?
Owen’s busy on his phone, and so I don’t hesitate I snap a quick reply back to her.
Yes, I thought it best to get him out of the apartment so you could leave. Again, I’m so fucking sorry.
Her reply is just a laughing face emoji.
I release a slow exhale, thankful she’s not pissed off. I just asked her to sneak out of my apartment rather than deal with the situation like a man. It’s not my best moment.
Oh my God thank you. You’re a genius. I’m leaving now.
I don’t feel like a genius, I feel like an asshole. An asshole who needs to blow my load. We exit the elevator and then leave our building, walking toward the little dive bar that’s closest to our place. Tonight feels like the punchline to a bad joke. I’ve waited three months for this and all I get is the taste of her perfect pussy on my lips and the world’s worst case of blue balls. My fingers are busy typing out another apology to Elise.
I feel awful. How mad are you right now?
Her reply comes in just as we reach the front door to the bar. I pull it open and wait for Owen to step through. While he leads the way to the bar, I look down to read her response.
Not mad. I feel bad about leaving you like THAT.
I get the sense that THAT is code for the monster erection that’s still aching in my pants.
I force my thumbs into action.
I’ll live.
I didn’t get to return the favor.
:(
God, this girl. She’s fucking killing me.
I probably deserved it.
Owen and I reach the bar, and we take a seat on two barstools. The place is mostly deserted tonight. I take a brief glance down to see Elise’s reply.
I guess it’s karma for you ghosting before.
I shake my head and chuckle, then type:
Exactly.
“Who are you texting with? You’re so distracted,” Owens asks, eyes narrowing.
“No one. Sorry.” I shove my phone into my pocket so I’m not tempted to look at it again.
“This guy’s paying,” he announces to the bartender with a smirk, then he orders the most expensive whiskey on the menu. Thirty bucks a glass.
I reach for my back pocket and shake my head. Shit.
“I forgot my wallet,” I croak.
Owen rolls his eyes. “Fucker.”
In my haste to get out of the apartment, I’m dressed in a pair of tuxedo pants, a Nirvana t-shirt, and my Vans with no socks. And apparently no wallet. It’s quite an ensemble.
I order a beer on Owen and promise to pay him back, but he just shakes his head. He makes millions of dollars a year. He doesn’t need me to buy him a drink anyway.
As I listen to him give a recap on his night, I find myself drifting away to memories of my own night. Memories of how stunning Elise looked in that little pink dress, of how good she felt in my arms. I’m desperate to pull my phone out and check for more messages from her, but I don’t dare do it yet.
Finally, Owen excuses himself to the bathroom, and I fumble for my phone, fucking up the passcode three times in my haste to unlock it.
I quickly type out a message and hit send.
Just wanted to make sure you got home safe.
Her reply is quick: I’m home now. Thank you for tonight.
Thank you for sharing your gorgeous body with me, I type back.
It’s a little cheesy, but fuck it. I click send just as Owen comes strolling back from the restroom. He sits down beside me and takes a sip of his whiskey.
As I slip my phone back in my pocket, he turns to me and slaps a hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks for bringing Elise tonight so she could hang out with Becca. I know she’s been down since that guy dumped her.”
Guilt churns low in my stomach. “It was nothing,” I choke out the words and take a long drink of the beer that’s been placed in front of me.
He shakes his head and gives me a slight smile. “You’re a good friend.”
He wouldn’t be saying that to me if he knew that I still have the taste of her on my tongue, and that my dick is aching to be inside of her as we speak.
I feel like a huge, lying asshole, and I hate how my choices are either to hurt Elise or to lie to Owen. There’s just no gray area, only black and white about this situation, and it sucks.
Rock meet hard place.
15
Can’t Hold Us Down
Elise
I’m used to the constant feeling of needing to throw up while watching a hockey game. That’s nothing new. My brother, the team’s star goalie, has always been calm under the pressure, but I joke with him that’s only because I’m nervous enough for the both of us. Still, I wouldn’t miss this game for all the money in the world—queasy stomach aside.
My chest tightens as I lean forward in my third row seat, watching the action on the ice unfold. The guys have only been playing for a couple of minutes now, and as nice as it is watching Owen play, my eyes are on someone else tonight.
Justin Brady. Number thirty-six. And my own personal walking, and skating, fantasy come to life. God, he’s perfection.
He and I both had a busy week, and haven’t spent any time alone together since I snuck out of his apartment in the middle of the night after the banquet, but that doesn’t mean he’s been far from my thoughts. I’ve been able to think of little else. We’ve also texted every night. And the last few nights, our texting has been kicking up a notch, turning naughty and sexy.
Our nightly messages are something I now look forward to. He’s funny. And sweet. But of course, I’m still on guard. I know with certainty that I can’t fall for him. This is just for fun. As long as I remember that, I’ll be fine.