Page 46 of Emmett
If there’s one thing Logan will do at any establishment where women might be present for a fun time, it’s creeping. I thought I was bad until I started going for nights out with him.The man will pluck a random woman from thin air and leave with her. He works the blue collar angle, and it tends to work in his favor.
I’m not interested in taking someone home tonight, though. I came here for one reason, and one reason only. As my friend leaves to find some poor soul to bother, I flag down another one of the bartenders and hand him a fifty dollar bill. “Is the owner here tonight?” I ask.
“Nah, hasn’t been by in a week,” he shrugs as he pulls the bill from my hand and stuffs it into his breast pocket. “You a friend?”
“No.”
I look down at my phone with my finger hovering over Nash’s number, and I finally decide to dial. Pressing the phone to my ear, I walk through the club to find wherever Logan ran off to, listening to the trilling in my ear until Nash’s voice comes through the speaker.
“You’ve reached Nash Montgomery,” he says. “I’m unavailable to take your call. If it’s important, leave a short message and a contact number, and I’ll reach out to you when I’m able to.”
Asshole.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and clap my friend on the shoulder. “Find anyone?”
“Slim pickings, man,” he tells me. “Maybe the blonde over there.”
Following his gaze, I check out the woman that he’s pointing to; roughly our age, maybe a couple years younger, dancing with another woman who looks to be her friend. The friend is hot, too; a little more meat on her bones than the blonde and her hair is a cherry shade of red that stands out because of her all-black outfit.
Could be fun.
“Alright,” I shrug. “I’m down.”
We approach the two of them, offering to buy their next round, and each of us find a way to work our individual charms on them until they have fresh drinks in their hands and agree to dance with us. Despite dancing with us, the girls try to keep close together; I figure it’s that ‘safety in numbers’ thing our friends do when we go out. I get it. There are some real creeps out there, and I’m friends with one of them, apparently.
An hour of dancing and drinking later, I’m climbing into an Uber with the red-haired girl and trailing my hand up and down her exposed thigh while we cruise toward her place. It’s a small studio apartment that we have to take an elevator to reach; a small kitchen sits on one side of the room and her bed is laid out on the other. She doesn’t have much else in the way of furniture, save a small TV set up and a love seat couch.
We make record time stripping off our clothes before we’re on each other, our tongues tangling together as we climb onto the bed in the open space of the apartment. I lean back onto the massive pile of pillows at the head of the bed as I roll on a condom and she pulls a leg over top of me, straddling me before lowering herself onto my cock with a gasp.
I grab onto her hips, guiding her movements while she rides me like a fucking horse, only lifting myself to grip her nipple gently between my teeth. Her fist tangles in my hair as she holds me there, moaning loudly at the contact, and her hips buck faster against mine.
She feels incredible, and she does this flexing thing with her pussy every now and then that squeezes my dick and makes my eyes roll to the back of my head with a loud moan;but I can’t help myself from glancing over to my phone on the nightstand to see if anyone is calling.
To see ifNashis calling.
He got me to tell him everything; I let him peek in at my darkness, and then he up and fucking vanished, just like Anna did.
I wrap my arm around the redhead’s waist and flip us, pinning her beneath me. I drive into her hard and fast, and she cries out when I don’t let up. Instead, I grab onto the back of the bed frame behind her and use it for support, letting out a growl while I fuck her as if she’s nothing more than an object.
I’m so goddamn angry.
Is he that much of a prick, that he would actually listen to someone’s trauma and do it to them all over again?
No, he couldn’t. He was so pissed at me when he thought I’d hurt myself. He wouldn’t do that to me.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the redhead scratching at my back as she cries out, her pussy tightening around my dick while she comes. I stay buried inside of her, trying to bring myself to just cross over the finish line, but my focus is completely broken. No matter how hard I try to center myself, no matter what fantasy I try to feed my mind, it just won’t come.
I offer her a few lurching thrusts and groan out simulated pleasure, putting on a big display of collapsing next to her afterward and making sure to get rid of the condom before she can see that it’s empty.
This doesn’t happen to me. I’m not the guy who can’t perform. I’ve nevernotbeen able to come.
I don’t waste much time getting my clothes back on and getting the hell out of the apartment, checking my phone one more time to see that I have no missed calls before orderingmyself a ride home. Thankfully, the driver doesn’t talk much when I climb in; only as many words as it takes to confirm who I am and where I’m going.
A sudden panic rises in my chest as a thought comes to mind halfway back to Dad’s house.
What if Nash is like me?
TWENTY