Authors: Jennifer Foor
If these girls could only understand that them being easy wasn’t exactly the kind of turn on that guys like me were looking for. The truth was, I liked a girl that I had to try to get, not the kind that pulled down their pants and bent over. The chase turned me on and knowing that also told me that I would never be able to settle down with just one woman. Once I won the chase, I got bored and went looking for something new.
This chick would appease the moment and take care of my most recent hard on but, aside from that, I was already done with her.
Yeah, maybe that would make me an asshole, but it wasn’t like I was giving them false hope. They knew what they were getting into before they started. I never sugar coated anything for
a piece of ass. Girls like this were a dime a dozen and since this was my buddy’s house and not hers, I didn’t have to do shit.
Still, as she leaned in for another kiss, it was hard to resist the growing erection in my pants. One of the flaws of being a man was that if a half descent girl was straddling you, grinding her body against your dick, it was going to get hard.
She wasted no time, tugging at my shirt and pulling it over my head. I think when she saw all of my tattoos, she got even more turned on.
Through my years of traveling, I’d picked up some kind of tattoo addiction. I had almost two complete sleeves on my arms of famous landmarks and mascots. On one arm, I had the Baltimore Orioles logo and the Baltimore Raven’s logo. I had the Natty Bo guy and sexy girl drinking a Coke. My other arm was mainly tribal art of random designs I doodled when I got bored. They were surrounding all fifteen billiard balls that were randomly set going down my whole arm. It was, by far, my favorite piece.
This broad hadn’t gotten to my back. Across the top in tribal letters, it read, ‘It’s all about the Hustle'.
My parents were always against tattoos, so of course it was the first thing I did when I moved out.
As she continued tracing her finger down my arm, I played with a strand of her long brown hair. "So, what should I call you?"
She reached up, took off her top, and tossed it to the floor. "Just call me Jaye. It's what my friends call me."
I reached up and cupped her tits in my hands. "So, we're friends now?"
She grinded into my lap harder. "Something like that."
She leaned back and gave me more arm room to free her tits from her bra. I watched her watching me lean in and take a lick of one of her silver dollar nipples. It became hard as I stroked my tongue over it a second time. When it was wet enough, I blew cold air over it, until it was as hard as it could get. She bit down on her lip and let out a little sound as I repeated the process on the other side. Her hands dug into my scalp as I continued to drag my teeth against her skin. I kissed up to her neck, finally getting close enough for her to lean into my kiss.
Jaye responded to my touch the way I knew she would. I was sure her little panties would be dripping by the time I was
ready to fuck her. I reached around and patted her on the ass. "Hop down and take off your pants so we can get this party started."
I watched her slide down off of me and leaned over as she removed her pants. She squeezed her legs together and waited for me to say something. I reached inside of my wallet and grabbed a rubber. She continued watching me unzip my pants and finally pull out my aching erection. "Lose the panties and get your ass up on this shit."
With her bra still hanging under her breasts, she dropped those little thongs and climbed right onto me. I took my wrapped up erection and teased her entrance. Just like I had assumed, she was already lubricated and ready to roll. I started to enter her slowly, but with her being on top, she took control and let my whole girth slide deep inside of her. I grabbed onto her little waist and helped her to a good rhythm. She picked up the pace rapidly and after just a few minutes, I could tell I was ready to finish. Her pussy felt too good to wait any longer, plus I wasn't about to worry what she thought.
When she felt me tightening up on my grip of her waist, she slowed her movements. After one soft kiss, she got up. "Did it feel good, baby?"
I smiled and held up my thumb. "It's all good."
Like always, I spent the rest of the night in the company of Jaye. It was a good thing it was so late, because it was easy to go to sleep.
I woke up in a strange bedroom, with a naked chick’s arm sprung across my chest. From the way the sun was blaring into the window, I knew it must be morning, or maybe even afternoon. I wasn’t very good about sticking to a schedule.
A little later, Tippy's girlfriend made us all a big breakfast, which was nice for a change.
Jaye was already giving me that look like she wanted to ask if we could hang out again. Usually I'd just lie and tell the chick it would be cool. No reason to hurt their feelings, even if it’s how I really felt.
"So, how long you staying in town?" Tippy asked with a mouth full of food.
I took a drink before answering him. "I don't know, man. I came here to see a friend and found out that he's dead. There ain't much more to do here now."
"I got this friend that wanted to do an eight ball match with him and another guy. They want to do two grand. What do you say? You want to make a few G's before you roll out?"
I wasn't interested until I knew the opponents. I wasn't willing to take risks when it came to a grand out of my pocket. "What's the spot?"
"Straight up, yo. They don't want a spot. In fact this bitch said he and his friend can hang even with us. You believe that shit? There ain't no fucking way that shit is going to happen."
"Are you talking some kind of partners shit? I'm not cool with relying on you to make your shots."
"Hell no, it ain't partners. Him and the other dude want to play me separately, but I ain't into staying up all night for two matches plus, the place they want to shoot doesn't stay open late."
One of my rules was that I never played people in an arranged match if they were being particular about where to shoot. The table could have flaws and they could use those flaws to their advantage. "You dumb ass, the tables probably ain't level."
"It's McNally’s, dickhead. You know there is some serious gambling going on in the back of that place. You ever been there?"
McNally’s, my home for five years, was located about forty five minutes from where Tippy and I grew up. When I lived with Joker, he didn't really announce to everyone that he had a roommate. From the very beginning of our friendship, I'd made it clear that I didn't want my parents knowing where to find me. I just wondered now if that's how Joker got involved with my father. If someone found out that the guy was helping me, he would have a vendetta against him. "Yeah, I been there. They have some killer tables."
"I know, dude. The guy that owned the place was on the pro tour for a few years. He made sticks out of an upstairs shop."
If he only knew how many sticks I made out of that upstairs shop. "Tell them I'll play." I'd shot in hundreds of bars, but my most favorite was the tables where Joker had taught me to be the
player I was today. Plus, it would be nice to make a quick grand before I rolled out of town.
"I'll make some calls, bro. In the meantime you can just crash here. I already noticed you like the amenities."
I mouthed the words "fuck you" before finishing my meal.
While Tippy made the calls to set up the match, I knew there was only one thing that was going to be a problem about playing at Joker's bar. His little walking attitude of a daughter would likely be there and that was a distraction that I didn't need with money on the line.
I was going to have to go make friends with her and I had this feeling that it wasn't going to be easy.
Chapter 9
Charlie
I had just opened the doors when in walked a familiar face. Ever since I saw him chase those guys away, I had been wondering if I'd ever see him again. He approached the bar with a cocky grin on his face. "Look what the cat drug in."
"If I were you, I wouldn't mention pussy unless you’re offering some." My mouth dropped as I stared into his dark eyes.
"In your dreams." He must think I'm crazy to be amused at a comment like that.
"Yeah, I'd take that dream any night." He tapped both hands on the bar in some kind of beat.
"Are you here to drink at eleven in the morning, or did you just come here to piss me off?" I wanted his annoying ass to walk right back out of the door. For the second time, Zach had come to visit me and nothing had happened between us. My body was crying for some attention and the only thing I was getting was hideous pickup lines from a cocky stranger. My life couldn't get worse.
He stuck out his hand. "I'm Jammer."
"What kind of name is that?" It sounded ridiculous.
"It's the name you'll be calling out the next time you’re holding a shower head between your legs and wishing it was my mouth."
I seriously stood there flabbergasted. What kind of asshole would have the gull to speak to someone like he was talking to me? I had to keep my composure. If I let him think he was getting to me, he would keep at it. "I don't need that when I have a boyfriend that does whatever I want."
He finally put his hand down when I didn't shake it. "That's too bad. I could have given you the hottest fuck of your life."
I pushed a menu across the table. "Order something or leave. Five minutes is too long to be dealing with a loser like you."
He looked down at the menu. "I'll take a cheeseburger with everything on it."
I turned around to face the kitchen window. "Shaun, I need a cheeseburger with everything."
I left Jammer sitting at the bar while I started doing other things. I had to go to the grocery store to buy fresh produce for the
sandwiches and I was running out of cheese slices. I started making a list of what I needed when I heard Shaun say the order was up. I grabbed the plate with the burger and chips and turned to see that Jammer was gone.
In the back of the tavern, I heard the sound of a rack of pool balls being broke. I grabbed a bottle of ketchup and walked it back there.
Jammer was bent over at a table in the back corner. He may have been a total asshole, but he was fine to look at. When he extended his arm, I could see the tattoos on his forearm and knew there were probably a lot more all over his body.
He was one of those sexy guys that any girl would want to get with until he opened up his mouth. I saw him catch me looking at him and walked over to sit down his burger on the table. He took one more shot and sunk the ball in the pocket. "You shoot?"
I wanted to ignore him and walk away, but he was spending money in my bar. "Not really."
"How come?" He took a bite of his burger and waited for me to reply.
"Seriously, are you really trying to have a normal conversation with me after you just acted like a complete ass?" I couldn't believe this guy.
"I was just stating the obvious. With me, what you see is what you get, sweet thing. So, how come you don't shoot? I mean, you got some badass tables back here. Most places don't take care of their tables."
"Well apparently my father was big into pool. Some guy randomly showed up and re-felted the tables last week. He claims that every two months they are to be re-felted. I don't see the difference. They looked fine to me."
He shook his head and tossed the balls around on the table. "Trust me, there is a big difference."
"What are you some kind of pool guru, or do you just know everything?"
He laughed at me and started approaching me with a cue ball in his hand. Before I could resist, he grabbed my arm and stuck the cue in my hand. "Put this ball anywhere on the table and tell me which pocket you want me to shoot that eight ball."
Didn't he know that I couldn't stand him? "Why would I even care if you could make the shot? This is a just a waste of my time." I started to walk away, but turned because I had the cue ball in my hand.
"As much as I like seeing you with one of my balls in your hand, I think I'm going to need that back."
I cocked my eyebrow and decided that if I didn't do it, he would continue to harass me.
"Shoot it from here." I hid that white cue ball behind another ball and it was blocking him from being able to see his eight ball.
He smiled and chalked up the tip of his stick. "So when I make this shot, what are you going to give me?"
I put my hands on my hips. "Nothing! It's impossible anyway."
He pointed to the eight ball. "It's actually pretty easy, but since you say it's impossible, I think we should make a wager."
I crossed my arms. "I am not sleeping with you. I don't even know you!"
"After this shot you're going to get to know me." He was so sure of himself that I wanted to punch him, but I was so certain he was lying about being able to make the shot that a wager didn't even matter.