his left. With a look at the blond mass of hair spilling around his cock, he threatened, “I can’t promise I’ll be leaving this bed to let you back in though, if you leave.”
“Hey, Gage…” The lovely topless brunette spoke from a chair where she sat, feet propped on the bed, staring at her phone. “My friend wants to come up.”
Arching his brows, he returned, “Is she bringing a friend?”
“Um…”
“That’s the only rule of this party. Bring a friend.”
“Who brings a friend, who brings a friend.” Blonde Babe stopped playing with his dick long enough to giggle the quotation they’d all heard a few times during the course of the afternoon.
Little Miss Alcoholic forewent a trip downstairs to the bar and returned to the tangle. “You,” he snapped his fingers at her and pointed at Blonde Babe. “Trade places.”
“But I just got here,” Blonde Babe blinked in disappointment over the head of his cock.
“She’s better.”
“That’s just mean.” The lips on his chest mumbled in loyal sisterhood fashion.
“Yeah. It was. Sorry. Tell you what.” He reached down to ruffle Blonde Babe’s hair. “Stay.” To Little Miss Alcoholic he said, “Show her.” Swinging his eyes back to Blonde Babe, he encouraged, “Take turns. Do what she does.” His body melted down the headboard. Motioning, he addressed the woman who was putting her phone away. “You get that friend stuff sorted out? Bring those tits here.” And to punctuate that directive, he put his tongue out.
How many women were there? He wasn’t sure without opening his eyes for a headcount and was slightly ashamed. Reverting back to his old sex ways was the only way to get through his new life with no drugs and no Scar.
He let his mind go blank. Slipped into a world of sensation only. The last mental thought he let himself have was summed up in one sentence. “Remember. Everyone out when we’re done. Immediately. No exceptions.”
He woke alone and freezing. Stretching an arm out, he felt around for the bed sheet but found no covering. When his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the suite, he discovered the bed linens on the floor.
Right. All around him was the aftermath of exactly what he’d sworn to himself to never do again that night in Arrowhead while waiting for Ivy to leave and Scar to return to bed. Treating women like toys felt amazing—until it felt shitty.
…
sometimes it didn’t feel right… threesomes… foursomes… degrading…
Ivy’s depiction of a day in the life had later come up between him and Scar. She’d asked him outright, and remembering the aversion in her eyes when she’d first arrived to his house, he’d all but denied his own orgies.
What a lie.
The thin sliver of light bleeding through the drapery seemed suddenly allegorical. Wasn’t his life lately one dark room with a glimpse of light here and there?
Anxious to escape the bed and shadows of his sins, he jumped to his feet and stumbled straight to the shower before caffeine even. Soaping up, he didn’t fight the blue eyes an inch from his own, the lingering sensation of Scar’s fingers on his dick despite it being forever since. What he did fight was the mental image of her with a faceless Derrick. He’d been in hell since Logan had told him of the other man’s visit.
Grabbing the pen and small spiral from his shaving kit—yeah, he didn’t desecrate hotel showers anymore—he began to scribble.
I dwell in hell.
Winning her back is what he wanted to do. He could. He was sure of it. But would that be right? To pursue her until her name was again tied to his and his shady past?
Air drying beneath the heat lamp, he picked up his phone and typed her name into the search engine. S-C-A-R-L-E-T-T… On the second ‘t’ the correct auto complete suggestions appeared.
The first results were Wikipedia and a Facebook fan page. After that, various headlines—all good. The sex video was almost pushed to the next page by the goodness
“Hey, Gage…” The lovely topless brunette spoke from a chair where she sat, feet propped on the bed, staring at her phone. “My friend wants to come up.”
Arching his brows, he returned, “Is she bringing a friend?”
“Um…”
“That’s the only rule of this party. Bring a friend.”
“Who brings a friend, who brings a friend.” Blonde Babe stopped playing with his dick long enough to giggle the quotation they’d all heard a few times during the course of the afternoon.
Little Miss Alcoholic forewent a trip downstairs to the bar and returned to the tangle. “You,” he snapped his fingers at her and pointed at Blonde Babe. “Trade places.”
“But I just got here,” Blonde Babe blinked in disappointment over the head of his cock.
“She’s better.”
“That’s just mean.” The lips on his chest mumbled in loyal sisterhood fashion.
“Yeah. It was. Sorry. Tell you what.” He reached down to ruffle Blonde Babe’s hair. “Stay.” To Little Miss Alcoholic he said, “Show her.” Swinging his eyes back to Blonde Babe, he encouraged, “Take turns. Do what she does.” His body melted down the headboard. Motioning, he addressed the woman who was putting her phone away. “You get that friend stuff sorted out? Bring those tits here.” And to punctuate that directive, he put his tongue out.
How many women were there? He wasn’t sure without opening his eyes for a headcount and was slightly ashamed. Reverting back to his old sex ways was the only way to get through his new life with no drugs and no Scar.
He let his mind go blank. Slipped into a world of sensation only. The last mental thought he let himself have was summed up in one sentence. “Remember. Everyone out when we’re done. Immediately. No exceptions.”
He woke alone and freezing. Stretching an arm out, he felt around for the bed sheet but found no covering. When his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the suite, he discovered the bed linens on the floor.
Right. All around him was the aftermath of exactly what he’d sworn to himself to never do again that night in Arrowhead while waiting for Ivy to leave and Scar to return to bed. Treating women like toys felt amazing—until it felt shitty.
…
sometimes it didn’t feel right… threesomes… foursomes… degrading…
Ivy’s depiction of a day in the life had later come up between him and Scar. She’d asked him outright, and remembering the aversion in her eyes when she’d first arrived to his house, he’d all but denied his own orgies.
What a lie.
The thin sliver of light bleeding through the drapery seemed suddenly allegorical. Wasn’t his life lately one dark room with a glimpse of light here and there?
Anxious to escape the bed and shadows of his sins, he jumped to his feet and stumbled straight to the shower before caffeine even. Soaping up, he didn’t fight the blue eyes an inch from his own, the lingering sensation of Scar’s fingers on his dick despite it being forever since. What he did fight was the mental image of her with a faceless Derrick. He’d been in hell since Logan had told him of the other man’s visit.
Grabbing the pen and small spiral from his shaving kit—yeah, he didn’t desecrate hotel showers anymore—he began to scribble.
I dwell in hell.
Winning her back is what he wanted to do. He could. He was sure of it. But would that be right? To pursue her until her name was again tied to his and his shady past?
Air drying beneath the heat lamp, he picked up his phone and typed her name into the search engine. S-C-A-R-L-E-T-T… On the second ‘t’ the correct auto complete suggestions appeared.
The first results were Wikipedia and a Facebook fan page. After that, various headlines—all good. The sex video was almost pushed to the next page by the goodness
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