The smell of tequila and smoke drift off of him in waves, making me almost gag when he comes to full height, breathing in my direction.
“Did you drive this drunk?” I don’t see his car anywhere, which only makes me more nervous. He has me thinking that he fucking totaled it and is now taking shelter in our home.
“No, I didn’t fucking drive. I’m drunk, not stupid. I called a cab.”
Ash tries to move past me, his intoxicated body swaying as he climbs the stone steps.
“No, no, no. Clean this shit up,” I say, pointing to the mess he made.
His groan echoes loudly on this quiet Saturday afternoon, disturbing the chirping House Sparrows in the tree across the lawn.
Hobbling down the steps, unsteady on his feet, Ash bends low at the waist to grab the hose on the wall behind the bush, proceeding to spray the bile until it melds in with the mud.
“Everything okay?” I hear from a distance.
We lift our heads at the same time, watching Sage slowly make her way toward us. A look of concern etches across her face while she watches Ash spraying a fucking hole into the ground.
I shut off the water as Ash slurs his words, a goofy-ass smile spreading over his lips as he attempts to flirt.
“Everything is damn fine, darling. How are you?”
I know for a fact Sage doesn’t understand one fucking word he's saying, but she smiles just as kindly. “Well, have a great day. Bye, Roman… Ash.”
I watch redness burn the back of Ash’s neck as he gazes at Sage’s departing backside, his eyes remaining on her until she hops into her beat-up truck and drives away.
“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of that girl,” he murmurs, fumbling on his feet as he spins past me to hurry up the stairs.
Ash’s inebriated vow has a deep, throaty chuckle snapping out of my mouth. His out-of-this-world confidence never ceases to amaze me.
“Hey, Ash. You never came back,” Amira says, coming through the hallway, shooting me a pinched glare before returning her eyes to our intoxicated guest moaning on the floor by the couch.
Within the minute, Ash is snoring on the ground, arm thrown over his eyes as the other lays sprawled out to the side.
Shadow comes out of the room, barking jovially on her way to Ash. She gives him one sniff before backing away, scratching her nose with the side of her paw.
“What’s wrong with him?” Amira asks, coming to stand beside me while we gaze at a passed-out Ash.
“Just found him throwing up in our fucking bush, drunk off his ass.”
Amira scrunches her nose in disgust before quietly stepping through the living room, grabbing a blanket off of the couch and throwing it over him.
My eyes take in her outfit. Body-hugging jeans that form around her tight ass, giving me a little glimpse of the black boyshorts she wears underneath. Her form-fitting grey long-sleeve molds against her curves, teasing me with the briefest hint of cleavage as she crosses her arms over her chest.
Amira’s naturally coiled chocolate hair hangs low past her breasts, making me want to wrap it around my hand and drag her to me, guiding her to her knees so she can take my aching cock in her mouth.
Brushing the image away when I catch her odd stare, I make my thoughts once again PG as I open my arms wide. “You want to go now?”
I feel her head nod into my chest while her hands rub against my lower spine. “Just waiting on you.”
I inhale her scent of strawberries and coconuts as I kiss the crown of her head, then lightly smack her on the ass as I walk out of the room to change. Her little yelp heats my blood, but I tone that shit down, needing to control the hunger I have for her.
I slide on a pair of torn jeans and a black crewneck sweater before lacing up my sneakers and springing up from the bed.
Walking into the bathroom, I stare at my reflection once again and contemplate if I should style my hair or not. It’s grown past my ears, my curls constantly obstructing my view, but Amira loves running her fingers through them without the annoyance of gel coating her fingers, so I leave my hair as is and join her in the living room.
“Ready to go, angel?” I ask, patting the pockets of my jeans, making sure I have my wallet and keys.
As I enter the living room, my feet come to a halt. I silently watch Amira stroking the urn her mother rests in, a subtle sheen glazing her eyes as she whispers words I cannot hear.
