And then I imagined that I swallowed her screams as we climaxed together, our hearts beating in unison as we trembled around each other.
I slammed into Emmie, my hand over her mouth to stifle her moans and grunts and I squeezed my eyes closed as Quinn cried out in pleasure, and then I was grunting as cum exploded from the end of my dick and I rutted into Emmie until her body had squeezed every last drop from me.
Quinn and I hadn’t even touched, but it was the best orgasm I’d ever had.
And all it did was make me want more.
~ 6 ~
Morning sun broke through the curtains, shining right onto my face. I groaned and opened my eyes, wincing as the early morning sunlight burned my retinas and I groaned louder and rolled away from the light.
When I felt around the bed I realized I was alone, and opening my eyes again, I confirmed it. Emmie was nowhere to be seen, thank fuck. I didn’t remember her leaving. Hell, I didn’t even remember falling asleep after coming, but no doubt she’d gone back out into the clubhouse to go on serving drinks and probably ended up in some other brother’s bed for the night.
I sat up, my head banging painfully, and I groaned and grabbed at my hair like I could pull the pain out at the root. I loved whiskey, but it didn’t love me.
“Should have stuck to the beer,” I mumbled to myself before standing up and almost falling back down.
I was barefoot and wearing only my cut and a pair of boxers. I pulled my cigarettes out from the top pocket of my cut and lit one before slipping back into my jeans, which were in a heap by the foot of the bed. I didn’t bother to fasten them and instead I opened the door and headed out of the room. The cigarette hung limply between my lips as I walked barefoot down the hallway and into the main clubhouse in search of aspirin and water. As with any good party, bodies lay everywhere in various stages of undress. Empty bottles lined the tables and ashtrays overflowed.
Smoke filtered up and I closed one eye as I walked, wishing like hell I’d stayed away from the whiskey the night before. It was going to be a long day—hell, a long couple of days if the Burning Eights were sticking around—and the last thing I needed was a damn hangover. I needed to go back to sleep for a couple of hours once I had some aspirin and some water, that was for sure.
The clubhouse was quiet, and I was guessing it was too early for most people to be awake. That was good because it was to early to see anyone and try to hold a conversation just yet. I stumbled toward the kitchen, pushing open the door and walking inside. The light was already on and I blinked against the brightness of it as I reached for the door of the medicine cabinet.
“Please tell me there’s some aspirin in there,” Quinn’s soft voice carried over to me.
I dropped, but quickly re-caught, the box and looked down at the ground where she was sitting cross-legged. She stared up at me pleadingly, her face looking pale.
“You sick?” I grunted, putting the box down on the counter and opening it up. I pulled my cigarette from between my lips and placed it in the ashtray while I popped a couple of aspirin out of the bottle for us both.
“Only from a hangover,” she groaned. “I don’t know why I do it to myself.”
I chuckled and poured both her and myself a glass of water each. Moments before I’d felt ready to fall back to sleep after taking this aspirin, but I was now wide awake and wished I’d brushed my teeth or some shit before going in there. In fact, I turned discreetly and sniffed, realizing that I fucking stunk to high heaven of stale sweat, last night’s whiskey, and sex. I grimaced and looked back to her.
“It’s not funny,” she groaned. “I think I’m actually dying down here.”
I slid down to the floor next to her, handing her the water and aspirin. “I won’t let you die, Q.”
“You can’t stop the natural order of things, Battle, and if my hangover says it’s killing me off, then so be it,” she groaned.
I smirked. “Trust me, I won’t let you die. Nothin’ and no one is getting through me. Promise.” I winked.
She stared up at me, our bloodshot eyes connecting through our hungover haze. “Why do I believe you?” she said, her voice soft like a caress on my black soul.
I gave her a half shrug and threw my aspirin into my mouth, and took a long swallow of water. “I never make a promise I can’t keep.” I looked to her hand where she was still holding her aspirin in her palm. “Take it,” I said with a nod. “It’ll make you feel better.”
She did what I said and swallowed the aspirin and took a long drink like I had before leaning her head back against the wall, and I copied her. We stayed that way silently for a minute or two and I wondered if she’d fallen asleep, but when I opened my eyes and looked at her she was staring up at the ceiling. She eyed me nervously and then quickly looked away.
“So why are you in here and not in bed?” I asked, needing to fill the silence.
“Ripped’s snoring woke me up,” she said hesitantly, and when I looked over she was watching me, her gaze apologetic. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him. I—”
I shrugged again and cut her off. “Nothin’ to apologize for, darlin’. I don’t even know you. It’s not like you owe me anything, right?”
Pain flashed briefly in her eyes and I wondered if it was just the hangover that was making her feel so self-pitying and full of hurt. Maybe it was my hangover making me give a shit about that hurt too.
“You’re right—you don’t know me,” she sighed. “I’m still sorry though. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said with a shake of her head.
“The way I see it, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. You’re young, beautiful, and you got a good man who’s the prez of a good club who wants to make you his wife.” I clasped my hands in my lap and looked away from her, wondering what the hell I was even going on about. “Soon enough you’ll be full of his babies, settled down, and all happy and shit.”
