Hella
Whiskey moves too slow, as if it prefers to torture you on its way down, much like someone else I know. Yet the more I drink, the further away I feel from the world. By the time Beast drops into the seat beside me, arm slung across my shoulders, nothing in my sight holds steady.
His hand tightens, getting my attention. “Wanna tell me why you let them go?”
I tip the bottle again, fire chafing down my throat. “Yeah. I told her to stay. Fucking basically begged for her to keep Olive here.” Words fail to string together. Fuck it. He’ll know what I’m trying to say. “She said no, so that’s that. You know the rest.”
Beast watches me close, as if trying to figure out how he’s gonna approach the subject.
Jessie, the new club girl, lands on my lap.
Her dress hugs her tightly, her tits sprawl out everywhere, and her platinum blonde hair hangs long, about the same length as Melissa's. Only I bet if I pulled that shit hard enough, it'd all come out. Where Melissa’s is natural, this bitch’s hair is only that long because some poor horse is trotting around without a fucking tail.
I drop deeper into my chair, cap shading my eyes, legs sprawled wide open.
“Can I do anything to help you, baby?” Bile rises up my throat. Fuck. Since when did whiskey make me sick?
“Yeah.” I lift my hips to hers, my cock thrusting against her pussy. My hand trails up to the back of her neck before I force her ear to my lips. “You can stay the fuck off my shit.” I throw her to the ground, not giving a single fuck who she lands on.
Beast sits back, silent except for the way his finger traces his mouth. My glass finds my lips again.
He finally snickers. “You gonna scare off every club bitch we get? Brothers not gonna be happy about that.”
“If they try me, yes. And I don’t give a shit about their dicks.”
He holds me in place, unmoving. “And when she comes crawling back? You taking her?”
There’s a pause in my lungs before I answer. “Nope. Only Olive.”