11. Broken Tables, Broken Hearts
Sweat slicks my lower back and my pussy throbs. The entire world is soft and dreamy as the alcohol swims in my bloodstream. Grabbing my hand, Luke pulls me down the hallway.
I’m giggling uncontrollably and the more I try to stop laughing, the funnier it is. I’m not looking where I’m walking, so my shoulder slams into his, knocking him forward. The hallway seems like such a long walk tonight, and Luke’s voice is warm and slurry. “Fuck, Carmella, you”re such a lightweight.”
Laughing hysterically, I can’t keep my feet under me and end up sliding down Luke’s body and puddling on the floor in a heap. Luke”s booming laugh fills the air. He bends over me, chuckling with a big smile plastered to his stupidly handsome face. “For future reference, caramel drop, you’re a three-drink girl. Not a six-drinks-and-three-shots girl,” he says.
Catching my breath, I choke out, “It’s your weed. It’s too strong.” Wooziness washes over me, and for a second, I’m weightless. It feels like I’m floating. Luke hauls me to my feet and brushes me off. “Nah, that’s just how you know it’s good. C’mon, hold this.” He passes me the bottle of tequila.
Holding it in both hands, I stare at the label, half expecting it to say, “This shit will fuck you up.” An arm slips around my back, and I’m hoisted into the air as Luke cradles me in his arms. “You’re blushing,” he notes.
“Gah, why do you always got to say something?” A warm sensation that I chalk up to the tequila spreads across my body and settles into my pussy as he holds me and strides across the show floor.
“You’re strong,” I say.
He smirks down at me as we weave around appliances. “You think so?”
“Well, yeah, and handsome... I mean, I’m sure women tell you that all the time.”
This time, the smirk is arrogant. “They do, actually.”
“Ugh, conceited much?”
“You know, I think I like drunk Carmella,” he says.
He deposits me at the end of an oval dining-room table that seats six. I don’t want to leave his arms. The tequila works its wicked games on me, reminding me of how little I’ve been touched and how much I miss it. Taking the bottle from my arms, he unscrews the top and takes three giant swings. “Woah, slow down,” I say. Luke steps up in the chair and onto the tabletop of the dining-room set. My mouth drops open as he stands over me.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing.”
“Not on that table. You’ll fall.” I reach for him and the table wobbles. He steps back and counterbalances the weight on one end. “Luke, get down.” My voice is a little slurry, even to my ears.
He snorts. “No, you get up here.” He takes out his phone and changes the song to “Swoon” by Beach Weather while taking another swig straight from the tequila bottle.
I stare at him. “You’re such a brat.”
He chokes on the clear liquid, a line of it running down his chin as he struggles to swallow. Nodding in agreement, he winks at me. I shake my head in disapproval, which brings on another round of laughter from him.
“Smile, caramel drop. You’re too young to be this serious.” He snaps his fingers and shifts his weight from foot to foot. Setting down the bottle, he rolls his hips and dances to the song, putting some of those earlier moves on full display. Biting the inside of my lip, I watch as Luke closes his eyes and comes alive in the shadows and the flickering glow of the blue neon. Holy shit, I’m in trouble.
I’m transfixed. The lights from the back of the store cast across him softly as he shakes his ass on the table, completely uninhibited. Not an ounce of shame or embarrassment crosses his full smile. When I grow up, I want to have as much fun as Luke does.
His fancy loafers, oiled belt, and necklace gleam in the light as he moves across the table, maintaining his balance. He offers me a heated grin, and his fingers inch up his stomach and pop the top button on his beachy shirt. As his hips sway to the rhythm, he sings along with each verse, his eyes glued to me.
Light-headedness hits me, but not from the party favors. It’s Luke. His magnetism. Being with him in the darkness is like being consumed by the ocean. He is the waves and riptides, stealing control of your body and sucking you into murky, ceaseless waters. I don’t know what’s out there underneath his current, but I am curious.
Part of me wants to be submerged, drowned out, but I want to breathe, too. I bite my lip harder as the air seems to be in limited supply. Full body tingles race along me as Luke undoes another button. There aren’t many left, and the thought that I’ve never seen Luke without his shirt on punches what little oxygen I had out of me.
My gaze flicks down to the gap in his shirt, and my nails dig into the palm of my hands as his abs roll and flex. The tequila and weed have doubled my libido, making my face flame. Taking a deep breath, I shift in my seat and squeeze my thighs together.
Luke unbuttons the rest of the shirt before pulling it from his black linen slacks, revealing a solid chest and just a hint of a six-pack. There is an ornery darkness in his gaze that wasn’t there a second ago. An edge of a challenge lingers in the shadows of his face. “Do you want me to take more off? I bet you do,” he purrs into the darkness.
A black-and-white cresting wave is tattooed on his upper pec and my finger aches to touch it. Even with my untrained eyes, the work is top-notch. Luke only ever puts quality on his body, and I love that. My gaze drinks him in, along with those perfect crotch-hugging pants.
He tsks. “Really? No response? Well, I clearly must not be naked enough.” The jingle of his belt catches my attention. Surely, he wouldn’t. I glance at the large storefront windows that look out into the night, checking to make sure we are alone. My attention snaps back to him as his belt sails across my line of vision and slaps the carpeted floor.
Grinning, Luke steps wrong, and the table wobbles, tipping on one end. I yank it back down as he steps forward. It stabilizes, but he laughs like a madman.
“Luke, get down. You’re drunk,” I say.
“No, you’re drunk. You get up here.”
“I’m not getting up there.”
The challenge is back on his face. Creaking from the wood intensifies as he takes a step back and the table rises. I push it back down with my body. An edge of angry, hysterical energy creeps into my buzz. He is fucking with me, but I’m not going to let him flip this table and hurt himself. Fucker, I am too wasted for this.
The nervous energy has to go somewhere, so I laugh.
“There, now she is having a good time.” The smile in his voice settles across me. Looking up at him, I watch as he pops the top button of his pants.
Thoughts rapidly fire through my mind and it lands on Luke standing on the table naked and me sucking him off. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to dislodge the image.
The song moves on to “Maraschino Love” by EZI and the lyrics swell in my head.
The slow zip of his zipper makes my clit tingle and nipples tighten, and I curse the day Luke was ever born. “KEEP YOUR PANTS ON, SIR!” I shout and scramble onto the table before he is totally naked.
Which puts me within reach of a horny, half-naked Luke, who, as soon as I’m on the table, wraps his arms around me like an octopus.
Satisfied that we are standing in the middle of the table, I relax. “This is probably the jankiest table you have on the floor, Luke.”
His dark, lust-filled eyes roam up my arm as his fingers trail along my skin. “Hmm, don’t worry about it. Dance with me.” He smooths my curls out of my face, his mustache brushing my skin as he kisses me on the forehead and cheek. A soothing warmth tingles where his lips were. At least for now, he has lost interest in taking off his pants.
The smell of smoke and tequila, mixed with his cologne, fills my lungs. It’s a pleasant scent, with a note of what I imagine a seedy bar after a long night smells like. I would almost consider it bad if it didn’t go straight to my pussy and make me want to fuck him on this table. My mind tries to come up with words for the scent: dirty, nasty, naughty. All things very Luke.
Pulling me against him, Luke dances us to the rhythm. “You’re blushing again.” He chuckles in my ear.
“Well, you are half naked and...” My mind goes blank as he grabs my ass, wedges his thigh between my legs, and grinds against my cunt. I gasp and bite my lip.
Leaning down, his velvet voice whispers in my ear, “I want some more pictures, Carmella. I’ve already jerked off on the other ones. You need to stop fighting this and let me between your legs.” I swallow thickly as adrenaline pumps through my body, and my pussy pulses at his words. Whimpering as he presses my hips down on his thigh, I want to say yes, rip the Band-Aid off, and let him pin me to this table with his hips and fuck me into oblivion.
It”s not like I didn’t know what he was doing with the photos, but it’s different when he says it in such a low voice and squeezes my ass. My face falls forward onto his collarbone. Giving into temptation, I press my lips onto his hot, salty skin and lick a line up his neck. He cups my head and sucks in a breath as I press kisses along his jawline.
“Be a good girl and lift your dress for me,” he says, his voice thick with arousal. The familiar cocktail of shame, embarrassment, and desire that’s unique to Luke’s propositions rockets through me. I feel the folded money slip into my hand and I groan in defeat. “Atta girl, lift your dress like a dirty slut. Let me see you,” Luke growls in my ear.
He grinds his thigh between my legs once more, and I can feel his erection pressing into me. The warmth and power of his body vanishes as he kneels in front of me, pulling his phone from his back pocket.
Morally speaking, I only struggle for a moment before inching the dress up my thighs and staring down at his hungry face. The flash of Luke’s camera momentarily disrupts the surrounding darkness, making me feel exposed. I lift the dress higher. Luke squeezes his erection over his pants as his breathing kicks up. The pooling desire in his eyes as he scans my face nearly floors me. I’ve never had a man look at me like that before, not with so much raw hunger. Glancing away, I take a shaky breath as the nervous energy returns.
Luke’s warm hand runs up my exposed thigh, over my hip, and pushes my dress higher as he sucks in a breath, taking all of me in. He stares at my thong, then up at me, not even paying attention to where the camera is pointed as he snaps off photos. “I slipped you a hundred, so don’t be mad.”
Breathless, I ask, “Mad about what?”
“This.” Luke drops his phone and his arm bands across my ass, dragging me forward as his face dips towards the V between my thighs. My hands sink into his hair as I balance myself. His nose brushes against my clit and my body turns into an inferno. A soft, slippery tongue slides along my panty-covered slit. Teeth nip at my pussy lips through the flimsy scrap of fabric.
“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.” I gasp.
He pushes his face against me harder as his tongue laps against the fabric and my clit. I see stars and grind myself shamelessly against his face. His voice is rough when he pulls away. “Yes, give it to me, baby girl. Fucking ride my face.” Moaning, I do as I’m told, wishing he would remove the fabric between us.
He moves under me, stretching his out legs between mine and forcing me to straddle his face as his hand slips up between my thighs, leaving fire in its wake. He yanks my underwear to the side, and cold air swirls across my swollen, exposed clit.
Luke’s tongue slides between my wet folds, and he moans. His breath tickles my skin and sends lightning bolts dancing throughout my whole body. A hot mouth closes over my clit and my hips jerk as he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth. “Oooh, shit.” I don’t even recognize the sounds my voice makes.
A growl rolls from between his lips as his teeth scrape across the sensitive numb. “That’s fucking right, Carmella. Let me taste you. Fuck, I’m so hard.”
Luke lies back on the table, pulling me with him. I end up straddling his face, and he disappears under my dress as his tongue snakes inside of me before returning to torment my swollen clit with long, slow licks. Hands squeeze my tits before diving under the fabric and flicking my nipples. I close my eyes and chase my orgasm as lust singes my body to a fiery crisp.
“I’m going to cum,” I tell him, greedy for more. I want his fingers inside me, fucking me until I scream and drip all over his hands and face. A pinch of pain as his teeth scrape across my sensitive nub nearly undoes me. “Oh, fuck, that feels so good,” I groan out. His hot tongue swirls between my pussy lips and I pant.
Glancing to my side, I can see myself in a dresser mirror, riding Luke”s face while he strokes an impressive-sized cock from root to tip. His hips rise and pump into his hand. His pants are pushed down below his hips, and my mouth dries at the sight. A clear drop of pre-cum leaks from his cock. Luke moans from between my legs. “Ahh, yeah, caramel drop, scoot down and take this dick. I want to fuck you.”
His words, in combination with our reflection, roughly act as a bucket of ice water on my consciousness, cutting through the spirits, weed, and arousal. What the fuck am I doing?
Guilt and shame open up on me like my own personal thunderstorm. Tommy. Ugh, I am a horrible person. I drop the money.
Making a sound of self-loathing, I push up and roll off the table, sliding out of Luke’s arms. “Hey, where are you going? We aren’t done yet. You still need to cum.”
Ignoring his words, I don’t look at him as I fix my panties and right my dress.
“Carmella.” His tone is sharper now.
“I have a boyfriend,” I say with my back to him.
I hear him blow out a breath as he moves around. “No, you don’t.” He laughs. “Now come back here and let’s finish this.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said no. I have a boyfriend and this shouldn’t have happened,” I snap back, turning to face him.
Luke has pulled his pants back up to his hips and sits balanced in the middle of the oval table, legs dangling off the edge. The amused smile on his lips melts away as anger kindles in his eyes. “Oh. We’re being serious.”
He nods as he mulls over my words with a sour twist to his lips. “Okay. I heard your bullshit excuse alright, but I’m calling it like I see it, and this...” He motions to me. “... is bullshit. You don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I do too. His name is Tommy.”
“The fuck you do, Carmella.” His tone slices through the air.
He hops off the table and reaches for his pants. I take a step backwards and he notices the movement. A humorless laugh escapes his lips as he fastens and zips them up. A cruel smile I’ve never seen before smears across his face. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s list all the fucking things you don’t do when you have a boyfriend. I’ll start, feel free to chime in.”
Anger and hurt pulsate across my body. I shake my head and try to block him out.
Luke snatches his shirt and slides it back on. “You don’t work for the man who pinched your nipples and saw you half naked the first time you met him because a boyfriend wouldn’t be down with that. You don’t take another man’s money for sexual favors, and you don’t go on dinner dates with him.” I flinch as he lists my sins by ticking them off on his fingers. “You don’t get naked and flash your cunt at the beach, and you don’t sit on another man’s lap or grind your ass into his cock. You don’t let another man get you into his bed and feel you up as he tickles you. And you CERTAINLY DON’T RIDE ANOTHER MAN’S FUCKING FACE ON A DINNER TABLE IN FULL VIEW OF CAMERAS.” His arm cuts angrily toward the cameras perched in the store”s corner. “ESPECIALLY WHEN THE OTHER MAN YOU’RE FUCKING AROUND WITH IS RUTHLESS ENOUGH TO SHOW THAT CAMERA FOOTAGE TO WHATEVER DUMBASS BOYFRIEND YOU CLAIM TO HAVE.”
My mouth works wordlessly as his words lash me, and I swallow down the lump in my throat. Squeezing my eyes tight, I wish to be anywhere else but here right now. “Luke, please... ,” I beg, terrified he is going to kick me out, terrified he won’t and I’ll keep messing up, and terrified he will show Tommy and he will never speak to me again. I don’t have anywhere else to go. That thought kills me, and a heavy helplessness rises in me.
His voice is less harsh when he speaks next. “I’m not done, Carmella.” My eyes flick up to meet his icy gaze. “I need you to think long and hard about what I’m going to say next because if you have a boyfriend, then he either doesn’t give a shit about you or he’s too much of a fucking limp-dick chump to keep you safe, fed, and off the streets. He’s useless either way, but I’m not. I’m not going to fucking play these stupid, childish games with you and whatever boy toy you’re stringing along. Get your shit together.” With that, he scoops up the remaining tequila.
He stands there and looks at me expectantly, but I don’t know what to say. All the words get bungled and caught in my throat. The unspoken emotions suffocate and drag me under in the worst way, but nothing comes out. I look at the floor as the song changes to “Come Here” by Dominic Fike.
His clipped and final tone forces leagues of distance between us. “Fine, thanks for the evening. Keep the money.”
With that, he turns and walks to the back.
Standing alone in the darkness, the tears come, and I quickly wipe them away. A war between hating Luke and hating myself is short-lived as the sound of jingling keys and the back door opening cuts through my thoughts.
He wouldn’t just leave like that, would he?
Running to the back, I notice Luke’s phone on the counter and snatch it up. I quickly push open the back exit and freeze in the store”s doorway as Luke heads toward his car.
“Where are you going?” I hate the petulant neediness in my voice. He doesn’t stop walking.
“Out,” he says.
“Wait.”
Opening his car door, he turns back to me and waits. The shadows seem to suck at him, and the only reason I can see his face is the motion sensor floodlight. His eyes are flat, and I can’t stand the apathetic look on his face, as if he suddenly doesn’t care anymore.
“What do you want, Carmella?” he demands.
That’s a loaded question, one I’m scared I’ll shoot myself with.The motion sensor light shuts off, and he’s plunged into darkness. Shadows eat up his face and I shiver at the sight of this dark, new stranger staring across the lot at me.
I look down at the phone in my hand and back at him. “You don’t have to leave,” I say. “Come back inside.”
His voice is ominous. “No. You get in the car.”
Fear slithers down my spine as lust pools in my groin.
“Where will you take me?”
He doesn’t answer me. Luke stands there, unmoving in the darkness, as the song behind me cuts off and silence wraps between us.
“Get. In. The. Car.” He grinds out each word between clenched teeth. The light clicks back on as he stalks toward me, illuminating the determined fury etched into his face. I know without a doubt that if I climb into that car right now, I’m getting fucked, somewhere dirty, and it won’t be on my terms and he won’t be nice about it. He’ll fuck me cruelly for fucking with him, and he will probably make me beg for it.
Stepping back, I slam the door closed between us. Fleeing down the hallway, I stop short at the counter and wait as my heart pounds. The back door never opens. Instead, the engine of Luke’s car roars to life and the tires peel out as he flies by the store windows and out onto the road, whipping the Trans Am out of sight.
Misery and confusion make my chest ache as I slide down the counter and onto the floor. Dumbass didn’t even take his cell. I glance down at the smart phone cradled in my lap and realize it’s the wrong color. Luke’s phone is blue, with a stupid dolphin sticker on the back that always makes me smile. This one is matte black on black.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I click the side button. The screen glows. It’s unlocked. There are no apps aside from the basics. I click on the gallery icon. Only two images are there: the picture of me from the first night we met and the video he took. Opening the call log, I see line after line of numbers listed across the screen. I frown. Why are these all unsaved?
The messages leave me even more confused. Two conversation bubbles to unknown numbers are all that are available. Luke sent them about a meeting for brunch on the docks and as a reminder to the receiver to not forget the donuts. I have a creeping suspicion that donuts and brunch are code words.
Sighing, I click the phone shut. How well do I even know Luke, really? I wrack my mind. I thought I did, at least a little. There are things we don’t talk about, and I’m holding one in my hands right now. Fuck me, I’ve basically had sex with him, cheated on Tommy, and he has it recorded. Tears streak down my face as I give into the sorrow and confusion dragging me down. I’ll try to assemble some kind of plan for what I’m going to do when Luke comes back later.
Dragging myself to the bed, I cry until exhaustion carries me away.