The frustration with myself begins to take its toll, just like it did every other time I did this. I pull a cigarette out and light it. When I look up at Rookie, he’s already nodding his head. He knows what’s coming, and like the good brother he is, he doesn’t ask questions. He just accepts it.
“Let’s ride.”
The ride to the clubhouse is short, but I’m almost sober by the time we get there. My thoughts have a way of doing that to me. After a cold shower, my buzz has completely faded and I’m wide awake.
Instead of going to a room, Rookie sprawls out on the couch while I take a seat in the recliner. He says he likes being close to the door. But I know it’s because he doesn’t want to leave me alone. And keeping good on his word, Monica walks through the door minutes later.
Like she isn’t already high enough, she stops at the bar to down a shot and snort a line of Sinner’s Creed’s finest. Walking toward me in a halter top and cutoff shorts, she smiles. Monica is pretty with plenty of curves, thick legs, and long brown hair. She’s in her early thirties, but looks over forty. She’s always been good to me and my brothers, and every time I’ve had her, she never disappoints.
“Hey, baby,” she purrs, crawling onto my lap. My hand slides up her thigh, but there’s no reaction to my touch. I’m just another cock to her. “Long night?”
“Something like that.” I smirk, knowing she doesn’t really care about my night.
“Well, you just relax and let me take care of you. Tell Monica what you want.” Fuck. Even her voice is fake. And she’s speaking in third person. But my dick doesn’t seem to mind. He’s already hard with just the weight of her ass on him.
“I want your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”
She beams. Probably because now she won’t have to fake an orgasm. She lowers herself between my legs, slowly unbuckling my belt as she stares at me with her big, sultry eyes. That look is fake too. She’s probably wondering what time her next appointment is. Or if she turned the coffeepot off.
I glance over at Rookie, who lays motionless with his hat over his face. How did he do it? Was Carrie worth resisting temptation?
“Quit looking at me, Shady. It’s fucking weird. You’re getting your dick sucked. Look at her.” I laugh at his words, and Monica takes the time to laugh too. She probably thought I was talking to her. I guess that confirms that she might physically be here, but her mind is somewhere else.
When she eases my cock to the back of her throat, I don’t give a fuck what she thinks. Or who she is. Or where I am. Or who’s watching. This bitch is a whore for this very reason. She pauses a moment, gagging slightly, before pulling me out of her mouth and smiling. Her eyes are watery and she’s breathing heavily, but she doesn’t let it slow her down.
I lean back, closing my eyes and letting the sound of her gurgling fill the room. Everyone can hear it, but nobody says a thing. She pulls my jeans to my ankles so she can cradle my balls in her hand while she sucks. She must be in a hurry.
My phone vibrates in my cut, and I frown in confusion when I realize it’s Zeke’s phone that’s ringing. I start to silence it, figuring it’s a wrong number. Nobody even knows I have this cell. But the caller is persistent and I pull the phone out to see a New Hampshire number flashing across the screen.
“Yeah?”
Loud music blares in the background. Several people are talking. When the caller realizes I’m actually on the other end, the music is turned down.
“This truck is fucking awesome.” I still at the words. My eyes widening as I recognize the voice.
That bitch.
“I mean, seriously awesome. This backup camera is so high-tech that I haven’t even taken it out of reverse.” My hand fists in Monica’s hair. I’d forgotten I was holding it.
“You crazy bitch. Get out—” Monica takes that exact moment to swallow my cock and I groan. I open my mouth to continue, but nothing comes out. I pull back on Monica’s hair until she releases me. “One minute, baby.”
“Wait, are you fucking right now?” Diem’s voice is loud enough for Rookie to hear, and he lowers his cap to narrow his eyes on me. If Monica can hear, I wouldn’t know it. She’s too busy texting.
“If I was, I wouldn’t have answered the phone,” I say, keeping my voice low and even.
“So what are you doing?”
“You don’t want to know.” Tires screech. People yell. The radio is cut off. “If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked.” She sounds pissed. Good. That makes two of us.