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Half an hour and two-thirds of a bottle of Fireball later, and I’m sliding my hand into my shorts. My dick is throbbing because I can’t get her out of my head. I haven’t been able to this entire week. She always made me feel such peace whenever I was around her, and this week has been anything but.
Now that the liquor is flowing through my system, the thoughts have morphed from missing her essence to memories of being inside her. In the guest bedroom, in the car, in the office… in this very room. I fist my cock, needing the release from these thoughts of her.
It quickly feels like not enough.
I wish I had her in this bed with me, right now, so I could thrust my dick deep inside her while she whimpers and moans. She could tell me how much she likes it while I force her to stop talking by wrapping my hand around her throat.
I’d never truly want to control her; on the contrary, I want to help her release her inhibitions.
But there’s something so goddamn sexy about my hand wrapped around one of her most vulnerable areas…
I groan and leap up, hovering over my empty bed. I stop moving my hand and instead thrust my cock into it, steadily increasing the motion of my hips. Closing my eyes, I imagine her squirming under me as my thrusts get rougher and harder.
Zo, you feel so good. Please, don’t stop.
Her voice in my head is the soundtrack to this unfiltered desire coursing through me, demanding its release. She’s never once called me Zo, but I secretly wish she would. Only those closest to me do.
I shift the hand propping me up to press into the mattress as though it was wrapped around her neck. Her breathy moans fade in my mind because she can no longer breathe properly. My hips move at a chaotic speed, the bed frame banging into the wall. I can’t bring myself to give a damn about anyone hearing me.
My breaths become ragged with my exertion, but I don’t smell the air within my walls. It’s her strawberry scent that fills my mind, regardless of being imagined. I would do absolutely anything to be filled with it again, to have it bottled so I could have it with me at all times.
I cum all over the crumpled sheets, collapsing into the hand that was holding me up. The moment the euphoria passes, her voice whispers one more thing.
I need you.
Fuck. I tumble into the bed, avoiding my cum, and force my breathing to return to normal. Tears prick my eyes. I’m sofuckingangry. This isn’t fair. And while the orgasm was fulfilling in the moment, it’s proving to do the exact opposite of what I needed it to.
I crave her even more now.
Fixing my shorts, I hop out of bed, tearing the bed sheet off the mattress and tossing it into the corner of my room before grabbing a shirt from my dresser drawer. I take a swig from the bottle and wander into the front yard as I order an Uber that will take me to her. With what intention, I have no clue. I just need to see her. I need to explain all of this to her.
Consequences befuckingdamned.
When I arrive at her complex, I race up the stairs and pound on her door. I never should have pulled her address from the database at work, but I won’t regret it when I see her face in a moment. Leaning my forehead on the cool metal, the booze swims through my head, and the effects become more pronounced with every passing second. After what seems to be hours, I pound on the door again.
When the door doesn’t open, I pound on it a third time. Then a fourth time. Then a fifth.
Mid-sixth-pounding, a door opens, but it’s not the one under my fist. I groggily turn my head right, then left, my eyes landing on a brunette woman in the neighboring unit. There’s a child cowering behind her legs, and I instantly think of Santi’s little brother.
“Do you need help?” the woman asks.
“I…” Words are a lot harder to process when you’re drowning in liquor and your own misery. “I’m looking for someone.”
The woman’s eyes linger on Kate’s door before landing on me. “I don’t think she lives there anymore.”
My heart sinks, plummeting to the depths of my own miserable, disgusting body. “Wha…”
I have no words. I slump against the door and sink to the floor, though that may be a result of the drunkenness I’ve now reached. Normally, I would have noticed that I don’t feel her on the other side.Goddamn Fireball.
The lady glances down both sides of the hallway before looking at me again. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Her tone seems worried, but what is there to worry about? Everything’s peachy keen. Great. Fucking fantastic.
“I’m good, ma’am. Give me a moment and I’ll get out of your hair.”
I stare at her until she comes into focus, realizing she looks a little frightened. Is that because of me?
She pushes her kid back into her apartment and follows him, shutting the door. I dig my phone out of my pocket and dial Santi’s number.
