Page 11 of Emmett

I sidle up next to one of the players and exchange a quick smile with him to let him know that I’m joining the game as I pluck the ping pong ball from the table and turn it over a few times in my fingers. I gently toss it overhand to send it soaring over the table and into one of the plastic cups in the back row, filled with beer.

While one of the players on the opposite end of the table picks up the cup to chug down the warm brew, the other sends the ball back to our side and sinks it into a cup at the center of our layout. Without waiting for my teammate to offer, I pull the cup from the group and suck down the beer in a couple of seconds.

This process repeats over and over again, with cups disappearing from the table as they’re consumed, each shot taking longer and longer to hit as the amount of targets decreases. I consider throwing the game just to finish the drinks, but I decide against it. This is the most fun I’ve had in two weeks; it’s nice to actually feel somethinggood.

Once the game has ended, I pass through the large living room space to find a group of people huddled together on the couch; mostly girls, with a couple of guys sprinkled in between them. I lock eyes with one of the women, the one with her hair cut short just below her chin, and a joint in her hand. When she gives me a small smirk, I incline my head toward the hallway, silently inviting her to come with me; I need to feelmore. I figure that maybe an orgasm will do the trick.

I’ve already turned to walk for the stairs when she excuses herself from her friends and hops to her feet to stumble after me.

“Bathroom,” I tell her. The first word I’ve spoken since my run-in with that Montgomery prick this morning. Afternoon. Some point today, I don’t fucking know anymore.

The two of us quickly wobble up the stairs in hopes that one of the bathrooms is left unoccupied. When we find one, we slide inside and I lock the door behind us while she takes a puff from her joint, which fills the room with its bitter, earthy smell.

I love it.

I set my cup down on the counter and grab her face in both hands as I pull her lips to mine and dive into her with my tongue, earning a soft moan in response.

My hands find their way around her thighs and I hoist her up onto the counter, her legs resting on either side of me.

“You don’t waste any time,” she giggles, biting down on her lip with a grin.

I don’t bother to respond as I reach up under her skirt and pull her thong down her legs, discarding it onto the floor at my feet. It doesn’t take long for me to drop my jeans, and it’s even less time before she’s reaching for my dick. I can’t tell if she’s trying to stroke it or pull me closer to her, so I opt for the latter and slide inside of her with a moan, bracing one hand on the mirror behind her head to keep myself steady.

I’ve never had sex with someone without wearing a condom. From my first time at sixteen all the way up until now, I’ve been meticulous about it, and I’ve had a backup plan in case one ever broke; a plan which definitely didnotinvolve staying inside of her.

She’s warm and wet and feels like she’s made of silk. I bury the rest of my cock inside of her so that not a singlemillimeterof it misses out on this feeling.

As I thrust into her, I pull the joint from between her fingers and bring it to my lips, pulling in a deep lungful of the bitter smoke. I hold it as long as I can stand before grabbing her jaw and putting my mouth on hers, forcing the smoke from my own lungs into hers.

“Oh, shit,” I pant, buried deep inside of her.

Wow, I’m up to three whole words. I’m downright chatty tonight.

The world starts to move in a blurry slow motion around me as the pot meets the alcohol already in my system. Pleasure shoots through my spine and I cum inside of her with a loud groan; It’s like she’s not even here anymore until I hear her cry out just before she buries her face into my shoulder while she comes.

“Thanks,” I tell her as we part ways and I stuff my cock back into my boxer briefs, pulling my pants back up to fasten them around my hips.

“Sure,” she smiles. “You should call me sometime, do you want my number?”

“Won’t use it,” I shrug as I unlock the door and slip outside. “Sorry.”

That was mean. I’m fully aware that that was probably bordering on cruel. I heard it the second that it came out of my mouth, but I couldn’t stop myself.

It’s like it’s not evenmetalking, anymore.

I stop on the stairs to pull out my phone and order an Uber to take me home. Twenty-five years old, and I finally went to my first frat party. I’m pretty sure that I had the full experience, aside from throwing up in the pool, but someone else probably covered that part for me.

Now, I just want to get home before the guilt and the shame set in.

FIVE

Emmett

I wake to the sound of hard pounding against the front door and I check my phone for the time. Eleven in the goddamn morning; it may as well be the middle of the night. I don’t remember ordering anything or making any noise that would bother the neighborhood, so I don’t know why someone would be banging on the door so aggressively, but whatever.

“Fuck off,” I grumble to myself.

I grab last night’s beer from the coffee table and throw a quick swig of it down my throat before trudging over garbage toward the door and swinging it open.