Page 3 of Emmett
The place is absolutely packed with a line around the block of people just waiting to get in. Thank god we have a table waiting for us in VIP; I would have been pissed to have to stand in line for this.
“Jesus,” Dad says, looking at the crowd.
“Ah, ours’ll be better,” Davis shrugs as he leads us into the building and up toward our table, where three drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous women meet us, dressed in matching navy blue lingerie sets.
We’re not even here twenty minutes before one of them is straddling my lap on the couch, tipping a bottle of champagne into my mouth.
I’m in heaven.
Out of the four of us, my dad is the only one tied down. I’ve been single for a couple of months now, Logan’s been single for roughly two weeks, and I’m pretty sure Davis has been single for his entire life; so having three women to split between us works out pretty perfectly.
A couple of hours pass, and a couple of bottles right along with them while we drink and those of us whoaren’tmarried dance with the pretty lingerie-clad ladies, touching whatever skin they’ll give us access to touch. Everyone knows how Nash runs his clubs; we all know how fuzzy the idea of consent is in these places, but that’s not how any of us do things. If they don’t want it, we’re not doing it.
With Davis keeping two of our servers for himself, Logan and I trek down the stairs toward the main floor of the club. We slap our palms together, curling at the fingertips before we part, each on our own mission to find someone to go home with tonight. Normally, I’d be pickier or I wouldn’t even care about taking someone home, but this is the first time I’ve been out like this since I broke up with Naomi. I haven’t had sex with anyone but myself since, and it’s time to feed the beast.
I find a beautiful blonde near the bar, and she looks like she’s by herself, so I approach her with a hand resting at hershoulder. “Hey,” I say loud enough for her to hear over the music. “You’re beautiful. My name’s Emmett.”
“Sasha,” she tells me with a warm smile. She moves her hips side to side to the beat of the music while she leans against the bar, waiting for service.
“Some friends and I have a table upstairs,” I tell her, “you should come join us.”
“You’re not some kind of creep, are you?”
“Oh, I don’t have time to be,” I tell her as I lean against the bar, “the schedule would clash with all the ax murdering I do on weekends.”
With a laugh, she grabs her clutch bag and holds onto my bicep, signaling that she’s down to follow me, so I lead her back toward the stairs and up into the VIP section, where everyone else is waiting. Dad arches a brow at me while I walk over with her, my hand resting at her lower back, and I mouth to him, ‘I’m being a gentleman!’
As we pour the next round of drinks, Dad slaps his palms against his knees and stands. “Alright, I’m off.”
“Booo,” Davis taunts, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You’re such an old fuckin’ fart.”
Dad laughs, bringing his wrist up to check his watch. “My daughter has been waking up screaming bloody murder at twelve thirty like clockwork for the past week. I have about twenty minutes to get home before then.” Walking over to me, he wraps me in a quick hug. “Use protection, will you?”
He gave me ‘the talk’ probably twelve different times, in twelve different ways as soon as I was old enough to get what he was saying. I wasn’t allowed to close my door if I had a girl over, but there were still always condoms in the house because he didnotwant me to be a teenage dad like he was. Ifhe knew a girl was coming to the house, he’d remind me about our talks. As soon as she left, we’d have another one.
Be a gentleman, get clear consent, wear a condom, get tested.
I’ve made it to twenty-five without knocking anyone up, so I guess his method must have worked.
Sasha and I do a little bit of dancing together, but we spend most of our time upstairs drinking and flirting, with my hands wandering over the exposed skin of her thigh; a touch which she reciprocates.
By three o’clock, we’re on our way out of the club, and Sasha has her arms snaked around my waist while we stumble toward the Uber waiting for us in the parking lot.
•
My ‘date’ holds onto my belt while we step into my house; I forgot about all of the boxes I still haven’t unpacked or even bothered to put into the right rooms yet. It’s kind of an eyesore, now that I’m really looking at it.
“Did you just move in or something?”
“Yeah,” I laugh, “like eight hours ago.”
I cup her face, meeting her mouth with mine, and she deepens the kiss by slipping her tongue into my mouth while I pull her toward my couch. I sit, pulling her on top of me to straddle my lap as my dick twitches with the anticipation of some long overdue relief courtesy of actual human contact, and she wobbles at the movement.
My hands slide along her thighs to slip under her dress and my fingers hook around the thin straps of her thong. When I move to guide the fabric down her thighs, she falters and crashes into my chest.
“Whoa,” she says, pushing herself back up.
“You alright?”