Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Baby
It’s pure joy that has me laughing between his every kiss.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.” It’s really not funny at all.
Logan Matthews blew a load into my mouth, and now he’s licking all traces of it away.
That’s like… a dream come true. Actually, in the annoying instances that reality would creep into my actual dreams, straight-boy Logan would never kiss me after a blowie.
This is better. It’s real life, and it’s so much better.
“Are you still drunk?”
An eruption of giggles has him leaning back, worry marring his stupidly handsome face.
“No.” I’m not. I have a decent tolerance, and mostly it was my needy self that had me begging for dick earlier, not the slight buzz.
I didn’t feel all that wasted then, and feel it even less so now.
With my arms draped around his neck as I’m left looking up at his kiss-swollen lips and love-bitten neck, I sort of feel high.
On him. Weightless in a way that my body interprets as happy.
It’s with another, quieter laugh that I realize that’s what it is. I’m just happy.
I’m not gonna tell him that though.
“Let’s go inside.”
I push against him to move out of his way, the door we need to go through behind me, and before I can feel too disappointed, he’s hoisting me up.
My legs are quick to wrap around him as I tuck my face into his neck, using the moment to ground myself.
It doesn’t work. There’s too much flesh left unblemished, so many places to mark.
But I don’t bite him as he carries me into the apartment. I do have some self-control. My tongue doesn’t, but that’s not my fault. And Logan doesn’t seem to mind. He sighs as I lick at his clavicle, easily carrying me over the threshold. Tasty. Not as good as his cock, but yummy.
I don’t realize that the goal was my room until we’re in there and I’m being gently laid on my mess of a bed as his mouth finds mine again.
My lips feel numb. I’ve never kissed someone like this.
Full on made out with them for ages. I don’t have a lot of experience, but this doesn’t feel normal. It feels more.
This time it’s him moving his way down my jawline, taking much more care with my skin than I ever do with his.
The hand creeping under my shirt feels so good, fingertips barely skimming over my ribcage until a shiver rakes its way down my whole body.
Love it. I fucking love it. It makes me regret ever slapping his giant hand away from me before.
“You smell good,” he whispers against my skin and—
“Wait.” I sit up suddenly, my collarbone knocking into his face as I do. His hand stills as I hold it in both of mine, stopping him from undoing my pants.
“What’s wrong?” He looks confused, once again worried. “Are you—”
“Get out.” Instead of blood rushing to my cheeks like it usually does around him, it runs cold. I can feel my face pale as his only starts to look more and more concerned. “I—” I shake my head.
I can’t tell him what the issue is, he’d laugh at me. I’m not a girl.
He knows that, he has to, so why… what he was reaching for isn’t something I have. I don’t know if he realized what he was doing, or if he was simply caught up in the moment. I also highly doubt that he knows what he was going to do once he undid that button.
“Get out.”
My throat dries, starts to ache in the very back—not as satisfying as the ache his dick had induced earlier. I shouldn’t have done that, any of it. He shouldn’t have let me.
“Baby—”
“Logan, really.” I push gently at his chest and try not to let it hurt too much. It feels like I’m always pushing him away. “I’m tired.”
I don’t want to look at him anymore, not while he’s so focused on me—staring at his experiment and wondering why it’s acting like this.
“I will. I’ll go, but not until you tell me what’s wrong. I don’t know what I did—”
“This was a mistake.” I see that, and it’s possible he doesn’t yet, but he will. He will, and he’ll hate me for it. “You—I got what I wanted, and I’m done now. I want you to leave.”
I don’t watch him as he looms above me, my heart pounding hard enough to feel against my ribs every second he doesn’t move.
I know he’s conflicted, that he’s the stupidly nice kind of guy who doesn’t want to leave a hookup like this, but I don’t want him to be near me when it’s his turn to freak out about things.
“I’m sorry.” He leaves.
Somehow, his parting words make it all worse. I’m the one who should be sorry. I begged him to let me suck his dick. Literally coerced him. He said no, told me to stop.
The guilt is heavy, growing heavier still the longer I sit with it. I’m disgusting. My lips are still tingling, my skin buzzing as self-loathing sweeps any and all sense of arousal away. The rush of it all is making me feel sick. I stand up so quickly that I feel dizzy.
It’s the need to not feel at all that pushes me out of the room, not daring to look down the hall towards his door. It’s without a fully formed thought that I grab the half-empty bottle of vodka we have on top of the fridge.
∞∞∞
I’m convinced that it’s the guilt and not the drinks that have me puking my guts up. It fully hit me after Logan left my room last night, the severity of what I’d done. I still don’t even understand how it happened. He kissed me, and I devolved into some animal.
Logan Matthews called me a good boy.
I sound certifiably insane when I start to laugh. I’ve never been called that before, and for good reason.
But I liked it. Loved it even. Swallowing his big dick and drinking his cum straight from the tap was literally a dream come true. And I felt like a good boy. His good boy.
For a moment. Now that it’s over, I feel like a creep.
A nasty little pervert who possibly coerced a straight dude to whip his dick out and is now—justifiably—left dry heaving over the same toilet said dick pees in. I know Hell exists, because this is it. Has to be.
“Hungover?”
I sit back on my heels and manage a swift look in Cade’s direction, where he’s standing in the bathroom doorway. “Don’t talk to me.”
He snorts. “Wanna go with me to bug Nic at the restaurant?”
This guy. “Do I look like I want to go to Gerty’s fucking Grubhouse right now?”
“You look like you got hit by a car.” He stares for a moment longer, further pissing me off, before he needlessly continues. “And sorta sound like you sucked Hulk’s monster cock all night.”
Yeah. He’s not wrong. Logan’s packing some heat in those work jeans of his.
I don’t have a lot to compare him to, but it’s the biggest dick I’ve ever had in my mouth—long and thick in the way my lusty brain has always imagined.
My achy jaw and a couple of bruises in the back of my throat—and maybe some of the hangover-induced upchucking—have left my voice a bit shredded.
“Go away,” I croak.
“I woke up with you in my bed, Baby.”
He’s right. I was sad and lonely last night. I crept into their bedroom sometime after I’d drunk enough to stop the tears, and since he was lying snuggled up to Nic, I took the free bed.
“Kinda figured you didn’t want to be alone.”
“What I really want is to die,” I groan.
“No, you don’t. You just need some greasy breakfast food served by a sexy Latino dude. Come on.”
“I hate you,” I mutter as he tries to haul my dead weight up off the ground.
“Nah, trust me. You’ll feel way better after eating a pound of bacon.”
The thought makes my mouth water—but more in preparation of bile than excitement.
I don’t want to go, but Logan doesn’t work today, and that means that he’s in his room, so I also really don’t want to be here. The blowjob was bad enough, but how I acted afterward is the real issue. I’m such a bitch. I don’t even know why.
He’s too nice for me. A perfect gentleman, even when he’s got his dick in someone’s mouth. He didn’t deserve the lies I gave him afterward. He never does.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about us having to have shirts on at all times.”
I flip Cade off and make sure to shut my bedroom door quietly.
My hypocrisy is the least of my worries at the moment.
I didn’t have time to go to my room and throw a shirt on when I woke up at the ass crack of dawn—my eyes opened, and I had seconds to make it to the hallway bathroom while Cade showered in theirs.
And at least my abs don’t haunt any of my roommates’ dreams.
Cade waits for me to get dressed and brush my teeth.
When I sit in his car, I’m relieved to no longer be under the same roof as Logan.
As relieved as I can be anyway. I still have a headache, and Cade’s wrong.
I do kind of wish I were dead. I feel a little like I already am.
I don’t know how much of that has to do with the morning nap I took next to the toilet and the hangover, but most of it is probably because of how I sent Logan away.
“How was the… thing last night?”
I have to stare at the sky to avoid motion sickness, and his asking questions isn’t helping.
He chuckles when I refuse to answer him. “I can’t tell if you had too much fun or the worst time of your life.”
I did have fun. There was a lot of bitching and whining as my insecurities ran rampant, but Logan’s cock tasted good, and the fact that I know that means that, yeah. I had some fun. But… “I messed up.” Feels like an understatement.
“What do you mean?”
“That… getting in this car with you was a mistake. Your voice is making my headache worse.”
Logan has a nice voice. That tiny bit of gravel he had thrown in the mix as he moaned had my boxer briefs soaked. I always leak a little too much precum, but the tease that is my ultimate fantasy really amped that up.
And yet, I still told him that I was done with him. My stomach tightens, and I groan. It was rude of me. And a lie, but I really hope I stick to that.