Drunk on You Read online

  I wasn't joking when I told Nikki I was no good for her. Every relationship I've ever had turns to shit because the women get jealous-as-fuck about what I do for a living. Lacey being the last and, shockingly, longest relationship I had. Even when I was still stripping, she had been there, but for whatever reason, things at Dirty made her more jealous--but for fuck's sake, my clothes stay on there. Even if I wanted something more than casual, I can't bring another woman close only to have them start their bullshit about my job or them--because if a woman can't support what I enjoy doing, she isn't worth my time.

  My phone chimes from across the room, and I toss the covers back before climbing from my bed and over to where I tossed my pants earlier. Swear to God, this had better not be Libby with more bullshit for me to clean up. Or worse, Lacey.

  Unknown: I just made myself come thinking about you.

  "What the fuck?"

  Me: Who the hell is this?

  Unknown: Ouch. Guess that wasn't as memorable of a kiss as I thought it was.

  Me: Nikki?

  Unknown: Got it in one, starboy.

  My lips form into a smirk at the stupid-as-fuck nickname. I back out of the text and quickly store her number, walking back to my bed before replying to her.

  Me: Didn't think you would be this quick, cherie.

  Nikki: Oh, I wasn't. I made sure and played with myself for a long while before I finally came.

  Me: Jesus fucking Christ.

  Nikki: Yeah, I think I might have said that a few times, too.

  Me: You're playing with fire.

  Nikki: Good thing I prefer my fun hot.

  Nikki: Tell me, what would you say if I had a mutually beneficial offer for you?

  Me: I would still say you have no idea what you're getting into, but I'll hear you out.

  I lean back and watch the stupid fucking dots dance at the bottom of the screen while she types, reading back her words while stroking my hard cock with my free hand. Jesus, I bet she did fucking get herself off too. She had been seconds away from coming in my arms earlier and I hadn't even gotten my hands past her hips and ass. My hand speeds up, and I lean back against the headboard while I wait for her to respond, my mind bringing up an image of her from earlier. Long blond hair cascading down her back, her angelic face free of the heavy makeup most women who come to Dirty wear. The black skirt she had on so fucking short if she would have bent over, I bet I would have gotten a perfect shot of her pussy. Her heavy tits straining the black top she had on, some kind of lace shit that showed her skin and the fact she was only wearing a red bra underneath.

  And those shoes. They had been the first thing I noticed. All I thought about during that dance in front of her had been what those heels would feel like digging into my ass while I pounded into her.

  I was so lost in my mind that when my phone went off, it surprised the fuck out of me, my orgasm just seconds away, retreating briefly.

  Nikki: I'm in the need of some help getting rid of a little problem I have, and judging by the chemistry we so clearly have, I think you're just what I need, Shane. You pretend you can't get enough of me, we enjoy some fun between us, and hopefully that little problem gets a clue. The mutual benefits come in terms of you fucking me so hard I forget what my name is. All I could think about while I came all over my fingers was how much better it would have been with that hard cock I felt earlier. So what do you say? A little role playing?

  "Oh, fuck." My abs clench as I come, thick jets shooting from my cock and all over my stomach from just her fucking words alone. "You've got to be kidding me," I tell the darkness around me as the thick load starts to roll from my body to the mattress. I drop the phone on to the bed and jump up before I get my own fucking come all over my bed. I'm not against sleeping in sheets wet from a release, but only when it's a woman I've been working over for hours, not my own shit stickying them up.

  When I get back from the bathroom, my stomach clean from my release and my cock finally going down, I almost choke on my tongue when I see the numerous texts from Nikki.

  Nikki: Maybe I shouldn't have had that bottle of wine after I left Dirty.

  Nikki: Or the one after that.

  Nikki: Oh, son of a Bieber, you probably think I'm nuts.

  Nikki: Can you just forget ... all of that?

  Nikki: Can you unsend texts? I should just stop. And Google. OMG. I swear, I'm not crazy.

  Nikki: Just one more question. Is your cock as big as it felt?

  Nikki: Oh, holy Hanson. Forget that too. OMG.

  Anddddd there goes my cock again. I look down, seeing it standing at full attention again, and groan. Without thinking about it, not even giving one fucking shit if this is a good idea or not, I turn on the light next to my bed and bring up the camera on my phone, snapping a picture of my cock and sending it to her all in mere seconds.

  Nikki: OMFG. Is that ... if your last name was Princeton instead of Kingston, I could have a lot of fun with the jokes over that piercing. Hey, how do you fit that monster inside your man panties?

  Me: What the fuck are man panties?

  Nikki: Boxers. Briefs. Whitie tighties. Banana hammock. Man panties. Whatever!

  I roll my eyes and laugh despite the corny as shit temptress.

  Me: I don't wear them.

  Nikki: I'm going to die. Scratch that, I think I AM dead.

  Me: Exactly how drunk are you, Nicole?

  Nikki: On a scale of what to what?

  Me: From meaning what the fuck you're saying to me and forgetting this conversation happened until you wake up and read it back in the morning.

  Nikki: Somewhere in the middle, but closer to the meaning what I'm saying. Definitely closer to meaning what I'm saying.

  Me: You want my cock?

  Nikki: Are we sexting now?

  I laugh, deep belly laughter that booms through the silent room.

  Nikki: Am I supposed to send you a picture too now? Is that how this works?

  My cock jerks. God, she's refreshing.

  Nikki: I'm not sure if I can get a picture as good as yours, though. You don't even have to work at it, do you? Just pull that monster out and snap a pic. I have to contort my body to get all my jiggly bits in there and then it's just not hot. You know what is hot, though? Me after I take a million pictures just to get ONE good enough to send back.

  Me: God, you're a nut, Nikki.

  Nikki: Plus, you're an ass man. I can't exactly take a good picture of my own ass.

  Me: I'm a man, cherie; there isn't a single part of a woman I love more than the other.

  She doesn't respond. The little dots don't appear. Shit. I read back my words and realize she might have misunderstood me. I sound just like the slut Nate was accusing me of earlier. She isn't wrong, though; I'm definitely an ass man. But I'm a legs man, a tits man, a sexy brain man ... there isn't a part of a woman I don't enjoy the fuck out of.

  I was just about to text her back when she finally responds. Only, this time she really does suck the wind right out of my lungs. I don't even look at the keyboard as I type back, my eyes riveted on the screen.

  Me: You're getting my cock. Fucking hell. Now I just can't decide if you're going to get it in your pussy or between those tits first. I'll be at your house at lunch, and we'll discuss how much we're going to mutually enjoy these benefits.

  She doesn't respond, but I wouldn't have paid any attention if she had. I was too busy looking at the picture she had sent. Lying against her gray sheets, she has one dainty-as-fuck hand between her legs with her fingers buried deep. Her bare and full tits just begging for my attention so powerfully my mouth waters.

  All I can do now is pray that she meant what she said because, one way or the other, Nikki Clark will be mine.

  "UH," EMBER SPUTTERS.

  "Uh, what?"

  "Did ... uh ... Nikki!"

  "Jonas on a stick, what is wrong with you?" I question, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and starting to climb out of her deep-set couch. Bam, her huge beast of a dog, grunts when I move over him to get off their couch. "Move, you hulking monster."

  Quinnly squeals her happy baby laughter when she sees me from her spot in the middle of the living room surrounded by toys.

  "Hey Quinnie-Q-Moosie-Moo," I sing to her, gaining an adorable smile as she drools all over herself. "How the heck did I end up on the couch when I went to bed in your guest room?"

  "Nikki!" Ember yells in a high-pitched squeak.

  "It isn't normal that you can even get your voice that high! Do you not remember polishing off that bottle of wine last night? Chill yourself, woman."

  "Chill myself? Chill myself?! I just pried your phone out of my daughter's mouth, thinking I was doing you a favor, only to have a dick slapped in my face!"

  "Whoa. I do not need to hear about your and Nate's kinky bedroom games. You can probably get eye infections that way too. You should Google that."

  "It wasn't Nate's dick that slapped me in the face, Nicole Clark!"

  A throat clears behind me. "You know, when I heard you two yapping women, I was thinking I should back away slowly, but now I want to know who is slapping my wife in the face with their dick."

  I jerk my head around to Nate's booming voice, a mixture of confusion and hilarity, and narrow my eyes.

  "Here! I'm sure you've seen it before anyway," Ember says before holding the phone out in his direction, her eyes twinkling with mischief. I'm too busy wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole to do anything to stop her, though.

  His eyes get weird, and he hesitantly reaches out to take my phone from Ember. His eyes search her face before looking down at my phone like it's a snake about to attack.

  "I've got a dick; doesn't mean I want to see another dude's. You know, just because I used to strip doesn't mean I went around staring at other men's cocks, baby. Not my thing, you... motherfucking hell, is this Shane's junk?"

  Oh. My. God.

  My face flames as the early morning drunken-fueled activities come back to me. I see Nate's thumb move at the same second I remember what other picture was sent on the heels of that glorious one from Shane. And if he moves his thumb, he's going to see a whole new side of his wife's best friend. Oh, my God.

  "Don't you dare swipe that screen left, Nate! Son of a biscuit, NATE! Do. Not. Swipe. Left!"

  I'm moving at the same second I realize he saw the picture. His eyes going so wide it looks like they're about to bug out of his head, and his jaw drops. Thankful for any sliver of luck, I almost breathe a sigh of relief that--even in his shock--he doesn't look back at the picture. I catch my phone on a dive as he drops it like it might come to life and bite him. Quinnly laughs her cute baby laugh when I land hard on the ground with a huff.

  "You will forget that happened right this second, Nate Reid."

  "What is happening right now?" Ember asks, no longer frantic about the dick slap to her face.

  "Seriously, nothing seen. Nothing ... Christ."

  "I'm never drinking again."

  "Will someone tell me what's going on?"

  Nate looks at me for a second, and I watch in horror as his eyes give him away. "Did you know your friend got her rack pierced?"

  "You jerk face!" I yell, grabbing a pillow off the couch and smacking him over the head with it. He laughs hysterically, not even attempting to stop me.

  "Well, yeah, Nate. Who do you think took her? She even tried to get me to do it," Ember answers, not even the least shocked that her husband knows about my nipples being pierced. Or how he knows, for that matter.

  Nate stands, to his full height at that, and looks at his wife over my head, ignoring the pillow I'm still thumping him on the head with. "You thought about doing that too, firecracker?" he asks her huskily.

  "Arghh!" I toss the pillow down and stomp over to my purse. "You two ... this never happened. None of it. None! You hear me?"

  "Oh, come on. My wife saw Shane's pocket rocket, so it was only fair I got something out of this morning too."

  "You're a pig," I yell.

  Ember giggles, and I look over at her. She holds her hands up in a mock surrender but keeps laughing. "What? It was a nice penis."

  "Cock, baby. Dick works too, but don't call a man's pride and joy a penis. Little boys have a penis; a man has a cock."

  "You two are the weirdest couple ever."

  "Maybe, but we're also the weirdest couple who now knows what each other's best friend's naughty bits look like. What do you think about that, Nikki?" Nate laughs, reaching for his wife and pulling her into his arms. "I think we need to discuss this piercing thing a little more, firecracker."

  "I'm out!" I yelp the second his hands start to reach for Ember's chest.

  By the time I got back to my apartment, the embarrassment had somewhat faded. Okay, that's a big honking lie. My best friend's husband just literally saw me naked. Not just naked naked, but a picture that might as well have me halfway to Pornville. If it had just been Ember, I wouldn't have even blinked. You aren't friends with someone as long as we've been friends and not seen each other naked a few times or twenty.

  The day I met her--years ago in middle school--had been in the middle of dressing out for gym. A horror story for any teenage girl just discovering her growing and changing body. I hadn't given it much thought to change in the middle of the room. Even at a young age, I didn't care what other people thought of me. Em, my sweet bestie, had been hiding in one of the shower stalls waiting for all the girls to head out before getting undressed. Even now at almost twenty-four and married with the cutest little princess you've ever seen, she's still not one to flaunt what she's got.

  So even though she might be used to my lack of cares when it comes to that sort of thing, that doesn't mean I want her to see me with my fingers shoved inside my body. We've never crossed that line--friends don't masturbate together.

  "Good heavens above, I'm never going to live this down," I grumble to myself, climbing the four flights of stairs to my top-floor apartment.

  Thankfully, none of my creepy neighbors are outside when I get to the top landing. Four other apartments occupy the top level with mine, and each one of them houses a red-zone creeper. I've affectionately named them Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three--the single men living in apartments C2, C3, and C4. I might have known their names at some point, but since I do everything I can to avoid running into any of them, I couldn't tell you what they were to save my life.

  Even with the early morning sun shining bright, my apartment is dark and gloomy when I step inside, locking the door behind me. It's a small place. I don't need much more than a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. When I had been dating Seth, he had been here more often than not, making my tiny little place feel like a cardboard box. But now that he and all his crap are out of my life--it's not so bad.

  I hook my purse on the doorknob of the closet next to the front door and walk the four steps to my living room. I don't even bother to open the blinds of my balcony space before I plop down on the couch. Taking a deep breath, I pull up my phone and read through the texts from last night.

  "Oh, boy." I sigh, seeing that drunk chatty Nikki was in full force.

  With each text, my eyes get bigger and bigger. Then I get to that picture, not mine ... but the one Shane had sent. Hell, I can't blame the wine on my reaction because even if I had been dead sober, I would have said the same thing. He's tan everywhere with a buzzed thatch of dark hair manscaped in a way that only highlights the huge, thick, pierced penis between his legs.

  I lean my head back on the couch, dropping my hands to my lap. Even without the phone in front of my face, I can still see that picture clear as day. I've been with a few men, but never one working with something like that. Hell, I had been with Seth for almost four years, and I'm pretty sure I had grown back my hymen from his lack of endowment--a man like Shane is going to rip me in two.

  God, what a way to go, though. My lips curl in a devious grin at the thought.

  Clearly, he had been into the idea of my stupid, wine-fueled texts. He didn't shoot me down, and if that last message from him is anything to go by, I'm going to find out what being with a man like Shane feels like real soon. The question is, can I go through with it?

  I wasn't kidding when I said it would help me with the Seth problem. Ever since we broke up and he realized the grass isn't greener on the other side of Slutsville, he's been getting increasingly persistent in his attempts to rekindle our relationship--something I have no interest in. He seems to take my lack of dating as a sign that I'm still pining over him. If I could get Shane to play along, there was no way Seth would misconstrue things anymore. Shane turned me on brighter than the sun with just a kiss--I can't even imagine what it would feel like to take things further. All I know is chemistry like that can't be faked.

  "God, Nik. Shake it off and stop worrying about things you can't control." I pull my tired body off the couch, looking one last time at my phone and that beautiful cock. "I wonder if it would be weird to make this my wallpaper?"

  I continue to contemplate the pros and cons of putting his dick pic as my phone's wallpaper when a text comes through. Chiming loudly in the silence around me, it causes me to jump. My phone goes flying across the room before I can stop my arm from moving, and I press my hands against my chest, breathing deeply.

  "I'm going to die of a heart attack, and it's going to be Shane's cock's fault," I complain, walking over to where my phone landed and picking it up.

  Starboy: I'll be at your place in 30. Be ready to talk, cherie.

  Oh, hell.

  In all the craziness of this morning, I had completely forgotten he said he was coming over. I look down at the paint-covered sweats I stole from Ember and groan. I'm sure the rest of me isn't a pretty picture after the amount of wine we polished off. I can't even remember if I took my makeup off last night.

  A burst of excitement hits me when I see his message again, and before I rush to clean up, I move my fingers over the screen to bring back his picture ... then press a few more buttons before I toss the phone down on the coffee table with a smile on my face. Might not be my wallpaper, but at least I can still find it when I want to see it--often. I rush down the tiny hallway into my bedroom, stripping as I go until I'm standing in the shower. Not even waiting until the water is warm, I rush through a quick rinse. I have thirty minutes to make it look like I didn't just wake up, flash my friends, almost scar a baby for life, and proposition a man I hardly know to let us use each other.

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