Authors: N. E. Henderson
So here I am, walking into Level at a quarter to eleven on a Saturday night to drown out the visions of what I’ll never have. The same one’s I’ve tried for year to rid, but never succeed. I could kick Mason’s ass for putting images of Tara and Jared in my head. What the hell is wrong with her? Him? For fuck’s sake. Doesn’t she remember how mean he was to her in high school?
No, of course she doesn’t. Why, because he talked shit behind her back and I dealt with him without Tara’s knowledge of anything. He’s a douchebag. She deserves better. I’m not saying I deserve her because I don’t. She deserves better than me, too. The only thing I’ve ever—or will ever—offer a woman is a quick and meaningless screw. I’m fine with that fact and it works for me.
I walk up to the bar. There are no available seats, but I’m still able to catch the attention of one of the bartenders. I yell over the crowd and live band, telling the guy I’d like a Corona. While I’m waiting on my beer to arrive, a brunette sitting on the stool in front of me turns and flashes her pearly whites up at me. She’s attractive. The woman is dressed like a slut, but definitely not bad to look at. Most importantly, the opposite of the conservative little twat I’m trying to remove from my head.
Yes, she’ll do all right.
“Hello, darlin’,” I flash my own seductive smile down at her. It hooks them on the line every time. Not that I need to, I know I’m quite nice to look at. I take damn good care of my body. Sure I drink a lot, but I also work my ass off in the gym to keep in top shape five days a week. I have ink from my left shoulder all the way down to my wrist. On my inner forearm is an image of a beautiful woman. The art is done in all black except for the female’s dress, which is colored in a deep purple. The masterpiece covering a large amount of my back is a work in progress that I will have done within a few months. I guess I would describe it along the lines of a Jackson Pollock painting. The design is my own and not near as busy as one of his paintings. Currently the only colors I have completed are black and red. Each line is made to look like someone took a paintbrush and started slinging colors in all different directions on the surface of my back. I plan on having my buddy and boss, Adam Manning, finish the design with a dark blue and a little purple.
“I’m Misty Lawrence.” Even her voice is the opposite. Tara breathes out a melody of sweet musical sounds every time she opens her pretty little mouth. This bitch, however, sounds like she is speaking through her nose. With enough alcohol, I’ll be able to drown out that sound.
“Well, Misty, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I reach past her, sliding against her arm as I reach for my beer. I don’t take my eyes off of hers as I lift the bottle to my lips, tipping it back, and swallowing liquid down my throat.
“Don’t I get a name?” She cocks her head to the side and lifts an eyebrow.
“Shawn.” It’s a simple reply and all she needs to know. I glance down to her right hand noticing the stamp indicating she is at least twenty-one. This club allows people as young as eighteen and although eighteen is technically legal, I don’t sleep with teenagers so it’s best to stick with adults that are legally able to purchase alcohol.
“Sexy name on a sexy guy.” Her dark brown eyes glide slowly down my torso, before rising and meeting mine again. This is too easy. I could take her to one of the bathrooms and be done with her within minutes and onto the next chick, but before I can make the suggestion a body bumps into me from behind followed by a strong arm wrapping around my shoulders.
“Hey, bro. Who’s this sweet little thing?” I roll my head to see Mason making the same suggestive eye motions Misty was throwing me a few moments ago. When I look back in her direction, the corners of her lips have lifted high. She likes the attention. And hell, it’s been a good long while since Mason and I have tag teamed a girl. This could be fun. More fun than the five-minute fuck I had planned on giving her.
“Misty, this is Mason.” Now, where to take this party? The bathroom is still an option. My house is not. I don’t fuck in my bed. It’s for me and me alone. Bitches don’t make it that far.
“You, sweet thing, are real cute.” He scoots closer toward her. “Why don’t you let me in on the fun too?” Good, he and I are on the same page. We usually are. Mason doesn’t care for anything long term, either. Unlike me though, he doesn’t mind a bedmate from time to time, as long as they remember upfront, it’s only for one night.
Mason leans in, closers to her ear and whispers something out of earshot.
“I’m down,” she singsongs.
“Hey!” The sound of Tara’s voice draws my attention away from the woman I’m standing in front of her. “Where’s my beer?” I glance over at her glaring at Mason with her arm crossed tightly in front of her chest. Her chest that is very much on display and very much un-Tara like. Had I not clearly heard her voice, I might have done a double take.
“Sorry, I got a little side tracked.” Mason laughs and smiles back at Misty. Tara glances at her then rolls her eyes seeing exactly what distracted him. When I take in her appearance from head to toe, I see no reason why she should be giving Misty an eye roll when she herself is under dressed. Tara’s honeysuckle blonde waves are hanging loosely below her shoulders. She is wearing a strapless, tight black dress that is snug around every curve, stopping a few inches from her knees, accompanying a pair of black heels. Tara is standing damn near at my own sex feet two-inch height.
Fuck, I’m pretty sure I’m getting hard just from staring at her. If there were any blood left in my head, I’d have adjusted my crotch by now.
“You suck, Mason.” She huffs then brushes past him to the bar. The bartender hurries over, looking at her tits while asking her what he can get her to drink. She blushes once she realizes the same thing. She may be dressed confidently, but Tara is anything but. She has been socially awkward since we were kids and she is extremely shy. It takes her a while to warm up to people. Once she does, her timidness vanishes.
“So are we doing this or not?” Mason’s voice booms over the noise.
“Oh, we are doing this. See ya, Tara.” I place my empty beer bottle on top of the bar followed by grabbing the brunette by her wrist, pulling her off her stool and out of the bar without looking behind me. It’s going to be damn near impossible to drown out that body in that dress. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. “Where is your place, Misty?”
“How about we go to yours?”
“How about we not.” Before I’m able to finish telling her why we are going to her place and not ours, Mason chimes in.
“Sweet thing, tonight is about having a fun time, but that’s all it is and it’ll only happen this one time. Are you okay with that?” Mason stops her, making her turn to face him as he waits for an answer.
“I can handle that.”
“Good, now like my friend asked, where’s your place?” He drapes his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as she relays her address to me, which isn’t far from here at all. We all pile into my truck and head to her apartment. After a five minute drive we arrive and enter a small one bedroom apartment, from what I can tell upon my first glance around the living room.
Small hands come up around me from behind, before Misty comes around to my front. She moves her hands up to my shoulders and then goes to stand onto her tiptoes to lean in for a kiss on my lips. That’s not going to happen. I grasp her brown hair at the nape her neck, halting Misty an inch before she reaches my mouth. “I got something you can kiss, but it isn’t my mouth, darlin’.”
Mason pulls her into him and away from me. “Yeah, well I got lips that need to meet hers before her mouth lands on your dick, brother.” He falls down onto her couch, bringing her with him where he immediately seeks out her lips. This is where Mason and I differ. He loves foreplay, and lots of it. I only want the end result. The faster I get there, the better it is for me.
“Where’s your alcohol?” I ask as I head in the direction of what looks to be a small kitchen. When I enter the small space, it is in fact tiny. The room is a galley layout that you would find in your typical apartment.
“Liquor is in the, oh God,” she gasps loudly. “Cabinet above the stove. Beer, oh yes, ahhh. Just like that.” Another gasps follows as I open the refrigerator door and locate a Michelob Ultra. Not my usual, but it’ll do. “In the fridge.” I’m already swallowing the cold liquid when she finishes telling me. Mason can have his playtime and I’ll sit back and wait. I’m only interested in blowing my load.
I finish the beer off, and then grab another and an extra for Mason. “Hey, Misty, what would you like to drink?” I can be nice and bring her something too.
“Wine, please.” Her tone is breathy. Mason seems to be working her over nicely. If I had to guess, I bet his fingers are knuckle deep inside her pussy right at this moment. I sit our beers down on the counter and search for a wine glass. Once I’ve found one, I grab the bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and pour her a generous amount. No need to keep refilling. Might as well use the whole glass. Once I’m done, I grab both beer bottles by their necks and head back into living room.
Sure enough, when I round the couch, Mason has her on top of him, dress pulled down exposing her modest tits and the hem bunched at her waist. Her panties are on the floor and Mason is pumping two fingers in and out of her. “You like that don’t you, girl?” Mason’s own voice has taken on a deep tone.
I pass Mason his beer. He grasps it with his free hand, pulling it to his mouth and tipping the glass bottle back, downing the contents without losing his pace inside of Misty. My right hand goes up to her head where I rest it on the back of her scalp for a moment as I take a sip of my own beer. I watch the scene, allowing my dick to thicken. Yes, I get turned on watching other people fuck. It’s hot; I’m not going to lie. Even though, my friend is only fucking this chick with his fingers, it’s still turning me the hell on.
I fist my fingers around brown threads, tightening little by little until I have a snug hold on her. I tug, pulling her head back little by little as I bend forward, lowering my body and bringing my mouth to her jaw line. My mouth parts and I run my lips up the length of her neck and across to her ear lobe where I take it between my teeth, biting down briefly before pulling myself off of her.
“Oh, God. That feels...ohhh God...good.”
Mason continues his assault on her pussy with his fingers. The slippery sound telling me she is dripping wet. And that brings smile to my face, but not for the reason’s you’re guessing. My reasons are purely selfish and simple really. No man wants to fuck a dry snatch.
Mason raises his back off the couch, lifting up to take her right tit into his mouth to suck. We’ve done this a time or two together so I take the other into my mouth, sucking lightly.
“I’m going to come.” That’s the point.
Her body tenses so I adjust my grip on her and suck a little harder.
“Ahhhh, ohhh my God. Yes.”
When her cries die out, our mouths pop off her nipples at the same time. I right my body upward. Misty now has her palms planted on Mason’s chest and she’s trying to catch her breath or so it looks like she is.
Mason is lying back against the arm of the couch again, drinking his bottle of beer.
“Darlin’,” I whisper next to her ear. “I’m ready to get this show on the road. And tonight, I plan on fucking your ass while my friend partakes in your dirty little cunt.”
“Oh, yes, please.” A smile spread across her face and her eyes light up like a Christmas tree.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” Not that I care, because there is a first time for everything, but I’d like to know what I’m dealing with.
“Yes.” Good. I don’t particularly care to walk someone through the process of how to get my dick inside.
“And do you like getting taken there?”
“Yes.”
“Then point me in the direction to find your lube.”
“Bedroom.” She huffs out. “Down the hall.” Her left arm lifts off of Mason, pointing in the direction straight in front of her. “Bed side table drawer.”
“Darlin’,” I purr out as I walk off.
“Yes?” she asks on a yelp and I know Mason has begun playing with her clit.
“Don’t come while I’m gone. If I return and my buddy tells me you did, well then, I’ll end this party before it starts. You feel me?”
“Uh-huh.” Good little bitch.
As I make my way into her bedroom I pop the button on my blue jeans and side the zipper down. The restriction is starting to get painful. Turning my head to the left, I spot the only bedside table in the room. Once I walk the short distance and open the drawer I see more fun things than just a plastic container of KY. This girl has a small kink streak. There’s furry hand cuffs, what looks to be a cheap flogger that’ll tear apart after one use by anyone that knows what they’re doing, and several short strips of silky material which I’m sure is supposed to be used as restraints. I mumble a small laugh as I take one piece of material out of the drawer, stuffing it in my back pocket before swiping the bottle of lubrication and closing the drawer.
Making my way back down the hall, I see her straining to hold back. She’s biting down on her bottom lip like it’s going to save her from drowning.
As I enter the living room, I retrieve my wallet from my back pocket to remove a condom. Once I have it out, I stuff my wallet back in its place and tear open the wrapper. Tossing the foil pack to the ground, I push my jeans down and roll the latex over my junk. When I reach my playmates, I grasp Misty’s hair into my hand once again. You could say I have a thing for pulling a woman’s hair. I like the control I feel when I do it.
“You ready for this?” Mason already has his pants kicked off at the other end of the couch with a transparent condom covering his own junk positioned under her pussy ready for me to give the word.
“Fuck, yes.” And with that, my fist tightens while I place my left palm onto her bare shoulder. Without warning I shove her down onto Mason’s dick. “Oh my fucking God.” She says on a scream because she wasn’t expecting the force. I smile as Mason grits his teeth. He was expecting it, but it’s always the same reaction with him.