Chapter Fifteen
Jackson
June
"Arooooo woooo!" Derrick howls, brandishing a Hand Grenade, The Vortex Night Club's famous green tube drink. "My boy is tying the knot. Again."
He shuffles along the grimy cobblestones, drunk off his ass, just like the rest of them.
"Yeah, he is!" Bennet shouts, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to spill some poor woman's drink as she passes. "Shots!"
"Please. For the love of fuck, no more," Joseph grumbles into the table, where his head has been resting for the better part of twenty minutes, one arm curled protectively around a beer he has absolutely no intention of finishing.
When Bennet told me he'd chartered a casino and pub crawl bus to celebrate my recently announced engagement, I had reservations. Now, watching him and Derrick spin in slow circles together in the middle of the club while Joseph quietly negotiates with death, I'm thinking I may have had a point.
I've been the sober one all night, barely sipping the same Crown and Coke since we sat down.
I guess it just isn't something I feel like celebrating.
It's a business transaction with a tux, but the guys have been throwing everything they've got at getting me into a better headspace without any of them actually saying that's what they're doing.
The bus. The itinerary Bennet definitely overplanned.
Derrick flying in when I haven't seen the bastard in years.
Nobody has asked me one real question all night, and I'm grateful for it.
It's good to see Derrick, anyway. His schedule at the hospital ate him alive around the same time Sullivan swallowed me and Bennet whole, and somewhere along the way a few years passed without us being in the same room.
He's got gray coming in at his temples now and looks like a man who hasn't had a full night's sleep since residency, but he's currently howling at the D.J.
, so the important parts clearly survived.
It's also an excuse to try getting my mind off Rose, which, if I'm honest, is the only reason I agreed to come.
I keep wondering if she saw the engagement announcement last week.
What she thought when she saw Rian beside me.
Whether it hurt.
Or worse, whether she felt relieved.
"You know what your problem is?" Derrick drops into the chair across from me, suddenly and suspiciously coherent. He points the Hand Grenade at my chest. "You're at your own bachelor party drinking like a designated driver."
"Somebody has to get you three home."
"Bullshit. We're two blocks from the hotel, and Bennet has GPS." His eyes stay on mine longer than a drunk man's should. "I've known you since we were teens, Jackson. I've seen you happy. This ain't it."
Fuck.
Then, before I can assemble a lie worth telling, he's back on his feet.
"SHOTS! Joseph, you beautiful coward, arise!"
And the moment is gone.
"Please. I wasn't built for this life," Joseph whines into the table.
I laugh and look around at these idiots who crossed state lines and organized transportation for the sole purpose of getting me shitfaced before a wedding none of them believes I'm particularly excited about.
Fine.
Maybe they're onto something. I down the rest of my drink.
"Fuck yeah, that's how you do it!" Bennet practically growls. "Another round!"
He yells this at no one. Our server is nowhere near us, and Bennet doesn't bother checking because in his world announcing a round is enough to summon one.
***
IT'S RAINING. IT'S... RAINING?
Where the fuck...?
It doesn't rain in Los Angeles. That's the whole thing about Los Angeles.
Three hundred days of sun. That's the brand.
There's an entire song about it never raining here.
Famous song. Good fucking song. You can't just have rain in a place with a song specifically stating that rain isn't part of the package.
That's false advertising. Unless...climate change? Am I witnessing climate change? Right now? Personally?
I hold out my hand.
No. Wait. Ha. Sprinklers.
Sprinklers are a thing. Man-made rain. Los Angeles looked at a place with no rain and said, We're having lawns anyway, bitches. Then they went and got water from somewhere else. A mountain? Colorado? There was a whole thing about it. A scandal. Maybe a movie.
Doesn't matter. Pipes. Rain out of pipes on demand in a city with a song about not having any. We're so brilliant as a species. Always solving problems. Hmm. Problems. Like right now.
Someone please explain why these motherfuckers let me drink four... Five? No. Six? Did I consume six drinks tonight like I've been mystically transported back to college?
Oh, fuck.
Stomach, don't fail me now. We have been through too much together for you to betray me in public.
I must look like a wet fool right now. That makes me laugh. I'm laughing harder now. At nothing. Good talk. I hope I remember where the hotel is. At least the guys are all with me.
I think.
I turn around. There they are. That's good. That's very good.
Why are they all holding hands? Why wasn't I invited to the holding of the hands?
I should ask them. Words. Words, Marcus. Come out of your mouth.
"Why is no one holding my fucking hand?"
Hell yeah. Nailed it.
"So we don't lose each other, fucker." Derrick reaches back without breaking stride and grabs my hand, folding me into the chain. "There. You're in the convoy. Nobody gets left behind."
That's nice. He has very smooth hands. I should tell him. Words. C'mon, words.
"I like this." I nod seriously at our joined hands. "Your hand skin is smooth."
I'm killing this shit.
"Thank you for noticing, Jackson." Derrick squeezes my hand like we exchange this compliment daily. "I moisturize."
"See, that's friendship," Bennet says from the front of the chain.
It is. God, we're so fucking wasted. I can't remember the last time I got this drunk.
We make it into the hotel still linked together. The front desk people, hostesses? Hotel waitresses?
No. Fuck. Lobby people.
The lobby people are looking at us and laughing.
"Are they... are you laughing at us?" I point with the hand that's holding Derrick's, which unfortunately drags his entire arm up with mine. "It's so we don't lose us. It's practical."
The tall redheaded fucker who checked us in snickers.
Snickers. Fuck, now I want a Snickers. I also want to pummel the redhead.
Pummel. That's a weird word. Pum-mel. Punch him. Fist. Go.
Haha. No I don't. God, I love Crown Royal.
We traipse toward the elevator, all four of us concentrating very hard on each individual step down the corridor.
Don’t trip. Do not fucking trip. One step at a…
Bennet's phone buzzes in his pocket and completely fucks my concentration. My foot goes sideways and I'm tipping into Derrick before I know what happened, grabbing his face with my free hand to keep myself upright.
I pat his cheek twice.
"Sorry about that."
"The carpet is comfortable. I'll just sleep here," Joseph announces.
I look down. He's on the floor.
When did he fall? Did I fall? No. I don't think I fell. Why didn't that fucker catch me if I did?
"Hello, this is Bennet Sullivan," Bennet answers, leaning his entire body against the wall. "I'm drunk and am prone to saying stupid things. How may I help you?"
A soft chuckle comes through the speaker.
"Hi, baby."
"Wifeeeeey!" Bennet yells, holding the phone up to his whole face.
"Wifeeeeey!" Derrick and Joseph echo, one from the wall and one from the carpet.
"Hey, boys. Are you all behaving?"
Their conversation starts floating away from me because the lobby has begun a slow rotation that I'm fairly certain wasn't included in the architectural plans.
Then I see a uniformed woman walking toward us with purpose.
I squint.
Belt. Badge. Oooooh. "Handcuffs."
***
Mother of fuck. Rose. Rose is here. Rose's mouth is on my cock, and the ceiling is spinning like a very lazy fan, and I don't care about the ceiling. Priorities. The amount of times I have dreamed of feeling Rose on top of me again, feeling her mouth on me, and now it’s finally happening.
She flicks her tongue along the bottom of the shaft, teasing me between sucks, making me shiver all over. I think I’m having a fucking out-of-body experience. Months. I've waited months for this. How many months? Ten? Math later.
“Oh my God,” I breathe.
I sit up and caress the back of her head. When did Rose dye her hair blonde? Don’t care. I toss my head back, eyes closing again because I never want her to stop. Never want to leave this hotel room. She can keep the blonde hair. I’ll adjust.
She sucks harder and grips my cock tighter at the base, shooting all my blood to the tip. Her tongue swirls; my balls tighten. Her tongue flicks; my hips thrust up. My hands fist the sheets, the pillows, anything I can reach.
“Baby, I’m... fuck, I’m going to come.” My hands make their way back to fist Rose’s long brown hair.
No. Blonde.
Right.
Fuck, I miss her dark wavy hair. But I’ll take her any way I can get her.
“Baby, please. I need you.”
Blissful, eyes closed, I barely register her moving above me until I feel the head of my cock brush her tight entrance.
“Fuck.” I blow out a breath and still as she inches forward. “Deep breaths, let me in.”
She sinks all the way down and I almost die.
Good death. Fine death.
“I need you to move, Marcus. I want you to move. I want to feel you moving in and out of me.”
Why is she calling me Marcus? Don't care. She said move. I move.
She's clenching around me in waves and I'm making sounds I should probably be embarrassed about. I laugh, which feels like bad timing, and she leans down with her mouth coming for mine.
I turn my head. She kisses down my neck instead.
Why'd I do that? Dunno. Body says no. Body must know things.
“Hell,” I grumble and start moving my hips, lightly pumping into her. I hold onto her hips as she meets my slow ruts with some of her own, pulsing with each thrust.
“Christ. I’m not going to last long. Please tell me you’re right there with me.”
I flip her over and bury my face in her neck. Her body feels so different now. Curvy in places I don’t remember her being curvy. Longer even.
Since when is she longer? People don't get longer. Taller? She's been gone for months. Months of... stretching her limbs longer?
Sure. Fine. Don't care.
I thrust into her. Grip her leg. Hold down her hip. “Holy fuck, you feel so good. Different, but so fucking good.”
“Right there,” she gasps as her pussy contracts around my cock, throbbing and squeezing me tight. My pace picks up, pumping harder and harder, hitting her in that perfect spot every time, making her cry out my name.
The wrong name. Don't care.
Her arms wrap around my neck and her mouth finds my shoulder. Then she bites down. YES. There she is. Wait. That was too soft. A polite bite?
It's not nearly as hard as she's bitten before, but it works to push me over the edge.
My hips still. My grunt is guttural as my orgasm takes over, white-hot pleasure tearing through both of us as we ride out the moment with tiny little thrusts until there is nothing left.
We lie there afterward, Rose underneath me, both of us trying to catch our breath, all the buildup of our relationship finally coming to a crescendo.
I lift my head.
"Jesus, that was... shit, that was amazing, Ro—"
Blonde hair is spread across the pillow. Green eyes stare up at me.
No.
No. Fuck.
Not Rose.
The room stops spinning. Funny how fast it stops when the truth walks in. I screw my eyes shut and roll onto my back, laying my forearm across my face.
Rian fucking Fields takes the move as an invitation. She curls into my side and lays her head on my chest, right over the heart still going like a hammer for somebody else.
"That was everything I imagined it would be."
I stare into the dark behind my arm.
I fucking hate Crown Royal.