We Shouldn't and Yet... (6 page)

I glance at the clock. Hal shouldn’t take long to get his ass back home. I need to hurry and hole up in my room. I don’t want him to ever see my messy self like that, and I don’t want to lie to his face to the reason why I’m actually planning on using alcohol to fall asleep. For once, I’m not seeking oblivion because of my usual shit. No, this time around I’ve upgraded; I’m trying to forget how much I want to fuck Hal’s best friend. I scoff at myself and slowly walk to the stairs, psyching myself to climb the mean stairs and fall face first on my bed.

Carefully, I take one step at a time and once I’m on the upper level, I take a healthy sip of tequila straight from the bottle. It’s my way of congratulating myself for not falling down and making a bigger spectacle of myself for Aideen’s entertainment.

The liquid burns down my throat and I almost moan at the warmth already softening my edges. I let my bad shoulder support my weight against the wall and I barely feel the sting of pain. My buzz is already coming back with a vengeance and the pain seems like a distant thing, just out of reach but still there nonetheless beyond the alcohol fog. Now, if only my cock would take the hint and actually back the fuck down.

I take another sip and my eyes land on Aideen’s closed door. I can’t hear a thing coming from her room, but I’m picturing her on her bed. Her hair all over her pillow, her eyes bright and drawing me in even more, her body naked under the sheets…

Without meaning to, I take a step toward the door, and another. And one last one to finally knock loudly on the thin wooden-panel. At this point, I’m not thinking beyond what’s going on in my pants and my drive is the horrified look Aideen gave me just before she fled.

“Open the fucking door, Aideen.’’ I knock again, louder this time.

“Just go away.’’ Her tiny voice tugs at my balls. “Please.’’

I put my forehead on the door, the tequila still in my hand hanging down against my my thigh. It’s a wonder nothing’s spilled over yet. “I didn’t want to scare you.’’

From her side there’s a soft bump like she puts her head against the door too. “You didn’t.’’

I pull away, just far enough to bring the bottle to my lips and drink some more. Now, I don’t even feel the burn of the liquor. I’m already hot all over. “The fuck you didn’t. I saw your face, Aideen. I’m a grown man, I can take it.’’ I sigh and recap the bottle. “But I don’t want you to be afraid ‘round here.’’

“I’m not afraid. Stop it.’’

“Stop what? Worrying because I’m losing my fucking mind around you? Blow a gasket because you actually ran away without giving me a chance to explain?’’

She yanks the door open and my heart misses a beat when I see the look on her face. It’s not fear, not anger. It’s confusion. I straighten up and ignore how ill-balanced I am with the alcohol in my blood wreaking havoc on my tight leashed control.

She pushes away some flyaway strands of her pretty hair and briefly glances at the bottle still in my hand. The distaste doesn’t sit well with me, but I don’t comment. As long as she doesn’t either, I’m good.

“Can’t you get a hint? I don’t want to talk about this!’’ She’s breathing hard and fast. Her chest rises and falls, her breasts stretching the light fabric of her top, catching my attention and that’s when I see her nipples pushing through her bra.

I wet my lips when my dick gets harder still. “Yeah? Too bad, because I want to.’’ I run a hand on my unshaved cheek and then tug on the neck of my shirt, trying to find some air, something to quench the fire burning me up.

I take a step toward her, crowding her. I don’t know if it’s my fogged up mind or my dick doing the thinking, but I’d swear she stopped breathing for a second. I breathe in her sweet perfume, something feminine and fresh, just like her. I let my eyes caress her face, stopping longer on her soft full lips before I finally try to push back the walls in her eyes.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re drunk and I’m not.’’

“Then, why are you running in the other direction if there’s nothing to talk about?’’ My voice gets lower, raspier as everything inside me is coiling up, ready to strike if I glimpse an opening. Because I know we shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, yet she’s there, gorgeous, hot and I’m craving a taste of her. Nothing else counts. It should, but I’m a fuck up and fuck ups don’t care about anything other than their base needs. I’ve never had to care about anything else before but to satisfy my damn needs.

I get closer to her and she’s still not stepping back. She’s standing toe to toe with me. She tilts her head upward to look me in the eye.

“Talking about this, you, is going to get embarrassing for the both of us. You’ll thank me once you’re sober. Believe me.’’

“Right this second, Aideen, I’m very much cursing you.’’

Gingerly, she takes the bottle from my limp fingers and brings it behind her back. And takes a couple of steps back.
That
’s why she didn’t put distance between us, then.

“Maybe.’’ She eyes me from head to toe, her eyes bright and intense, but I can’t read her. This woman is a complete mystery and it’s maddening. “Go sleep it off.’’

I don’t say anything else. I’m already the fool in the story. I turn around and open the first door in the hall; my room. I close the door behind me with more force than necessary, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m frustrated, my dick is still hard and the woman responsible for this denied me even a simple kiss. If she only knew that being drunk only made me bolder and more reckless, she’d realize that my craving for one of her kisses had nothing to do with liquid insanity.

But I need to remember that she’s sixteen years younger than me, and Hal wants her for more than friendship. He wants in her pants probably as much as I want in hers. But contrary to me, his heart is in the game too when it’s obvious that for me, it’s all my cock’s doing.

***

AIDEEN

In my room with the tequila bottle in my hand, I sit on my bed. It caves slightly under me, but I don’t pay attention to my cell falling to the floor or the local newspaper I’m sitting on, the paper crinkling under my ass.

I’m shaking, now letting go of my tight control. The tequila swishes in the bottle, my knees quiver now that I’m off my feet. And my heart is beating harder, but so very slowly, as if emphasizing all the beats, carving them in my ribcage. But my blood is boiling vividly in my veins, getting me hotter by the second.

Yann used to get me hot and bothered when we started dating, but it’s been a long time ago and I was so young back then. Even then, I don’t remember feeling so alive and in tune with him. There is something so sexual, so carnal, so intense in the way Jensen looks at me. I know he’s drunk and alcohol for him must shed the very few inhibitions he has, but I’ve never met a man like him.

My core is still clenching, begging for something, for a man, for attention. My underwear is slick, wet. So very much I’m flustered just thinking about it. My stomach is tied into knots. And my skin is hyper-sensitive, ready for any touch from that man across the hall. Even my breasts are heavy and sensitive.

It’s been so long since I’ve wanted sex so much. And for once, guilt isn’t helping me cool off. If anything, it makes me want to get off more because of these few minutes with Jensen, I didn’t think about anything or anybody else, but him and me.

My blood pulses through my veins, drawing out the hot lust weakening me. I take a deep breath and I still smell
him
, Jensen.

I look around my small room, but there’s no one. Yet, Jensen is in the house, just a few feet from where I am. God, what am I doing?

I stand up and undress, biting my lower lip while my fingers get steadier and my clothes leave my burning body. Naked and standing in the room, I let my hands caress my hips, my flat stomach and up my ribcage on each side. I trace my ribs, my beauty marks, and then, I put my hands on my heavy breasts, weighing them, massaging them softly. But it’s not enough. The shivers running down my spine aren’t strong enough. It’s nothing like what I felt in the hall minutes ago.

And I’m dying to feel that again. Just once.

I pinch my nipples between my fingers, hesitantly at first, but with more assurance when sensations zip through my body from my flesh to the deepest parts of me, making my core clench more desperately.

My breathing staggers and a moan almost escapes me. But I can’t make a sound. He can’t hear me, and that thought alone sends another wave of pleasure through me. I back up to the bed and lie down, the fabric of the bedsheets brushes my sensitive skin in a delicious way. Closing my eyes, I can picture his hands on me, rough and calloused and very exploratory. And I follow the lead of my fantasy.

My right hand goes from my breast to my stomach, slowly, exploring my skin along the way to stop just above my wet slit. I open my legs, and close my eyes more tightly, afraid to let go of the pictures I’m conjuring up. I don’t want to feel insane, exposed, and most of all, I don’t want to consider my actions and wonder why and what I’m doing. For once, I’m just feeling. And it’s really good for now.

I imagine it’s his fingers torturing my left nipple, his lips softening the harsh touch and I grit my teeth when I touch my clit. A very soft, barely audible moan leaves my parted lips. I picture his thick finger touching my clit and then fingering me, going deep to toy with me until I wriggle. I imagine it’s his big palm cupping me to better put pressure on my sensitive clit until I open my legs wider, straining the muscles in my already shaking thighs.

I feel sweat coating my skin, I feel myself getting wetter, making it easier to move in and out. But most of all, it’s getting too easy to picture myself squeezing his finger inside of me harder and harder as my breathing gets out of hand. I can’t play with my left breast anymore, instead I’m clutching the sheet to my face, my head thrown back as I open my mouth on a silent moan. I soar up and up as only Jensen’s wicked eyes and smirk invade my thoughts.

I just got myself off thinking of my best friend’s father. How sick is that?

JENSEN

I pour myself a third cup of coffee and grunt when the bitter taste hits my tongue. I’ve got such a bad headache I can barely keep my eyes open. I should be used to having a hangover by now, but it’s still a vicious thing.

“Wow, you really went all out yesterday.’’ Hal chuckles and polishes off his scrambled eggs with a flourish. Apparently, for once he’s decided to wake up early and he’s in a good mood. Too bad I’m not on the same page.

“You shouldn’t mock me. Don’t give me any ammunition for when you ever get drunk,’’ I mumble and gulp my coffee before another sigh leaves me. The thing is, I barely slept last night. I kept thinking of Aideen, and I had to jerk off twice before I calmed down enough to try and fall asleep in the early hours.

Hal shakes his head and puts his dishes in the sink. He turns back to me, runs a hand along his jaw like I always do and opens his mouth to say something, but instead he closes his mouth again.

“Spill.’’

“What?’’ He crosses his arms over his chest covered by a college shirt.

“You have something to say, so spit it out.’’ I lean back in the chair and hope that it has nothing to do with Aideen. One, I really don’t want to talk about her with him. Two, I’m not ready to think of my rebuke and the way I acted with her. Three, I really don’t want to get hard again.

“Aideen,’’ he starts hesitantly, and I have the urge to snap at him to have some balls, ask her out and leave me out of it. At the same time, I want to exile myself if that ever happens. “Do you know what happened to her yesterday? I tried talking to her when I came back, but she said that she was tired and she all but chased me away.’’

I cringe and cover my misstep by massaging my bad shoulder. Hal’s eyes follow my movement. “All I know is that the apartment hunting didn’t go that well.’’

Hal’s shoulders relax and he smiles fondly. “She hates having to ask for help. That girl is too damn independent for her own good.’’

“So it seems.’’ I toy with the empty cup, turning it around and around on the smooth tabletop.

Hal’s eyes keep boring into me and for once, I feel like squirming in front of my son. I hate this guilt eating at me, adding to the shit I already have to deal with on a daily basis. I’ve brought this on myself and I have no excuse. I want Aideen and I’m not used to not getting what I want. But this time, I have to keep it in my pants. Maybe I should give Cassie a call instead of blowing her off.