*This contains adult contain and is meant for readers over 18 years old!!!*
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I was being smothered!
I literally could not get air in and out of my lungs. My brain was fuzzy, my head felt like it was
being clenched in a vice and my eyes were having a hard time adjusting in the
pitch blackness.
Where the fuck was I?
I tried to sit up and realized that the reason I was having
such a hard time drawing breath had to do with the heavy, sweaty male form
laying prostrate over me. And did I
mention this male form was NAKED?
Oh God! I was
NAKED!
I tried to roll out from underneath the unidentified man but all I
got for my efforts was to be squeezed even tighter against hot, sweaty, NAKED guy.
I flopped back down on the bed, trying not to freak out at
the feel of a very erect penis digging into my hip. Because it was quite obvious that I had
engaged in drunken, monkey sex with my current bed partner.
And what was even more messed up was I had no idea who he
was.
I couldn’t make out anything about him in the darkness. But his hair was tickling the hell out of my
nose and I was trying really hard not to sneeze and blow snot all over him and
thus making this awkward and mortifying experience all that much better.
The guy mumbled something in his sleep and he nuzzled his
face into my neck. I was a rigid block
of stone. I needed an escape plan. Like two minutes ago.
But one thing was for sure, whoever ambiguous sex dude was,
he smelled good. We’re talking really,
really good. Like smoke and outdoors and
something extremely masculine. But I
could give a shit if he smelled like chocolate and vomited up hundred dollar
bills, I had made a decision last night based on too much alcohol and a bad
case of rebounditis. And that made my
feelings about my current situation bordering on hysteria.
I glanced over at the alarm clock on the small bedside
table. It claimed to be 5:00 in the
morning. Entirely too early to be up
under normal circumstances. But this was
anything but normal. Because I was living in morning after
hell. And that was about as far from my normal as one could get.
Mr. Stiffy rolled his hips, grinding his ever-present
erection into my side again. And Riley
Walker Junior, who had been happily slumbering between my legs, began to stir.
Go back to sleep you
wanton slut! I screamed silently to
my insolent vagina. She and I were not in agreement as to the best way to
handle this.
Because even though my brain couldn’t remember my night of
lust, other parts of my body obviously had clear as crystal memories of it.
Once mystery guy settled back into sleep, I started the
futile process of trying to wiggle out from underneath him. My hands pressed into surprisingly smooth and
hard skin and I flattened my palms against his seemingly muscular chest in an
effort to budge the massive amounts of man pinning me to the bed.
Even in my moment of self-mortifying disgust, I was pleased
that my bed partner appeared to have a nice body. Glad to know that in my drunken psychosis
I could still be called on to pick a guy with a nice set of abs.
Get a grip,
Riley! As if his body really matters
when you’re trying to walk of shame out of here! I scolded myself harshly.
After a few minutes I grudgingly realized I was stuck. My ass wasn’t going anywhere. And now I had to pee. My bladder was being pressed painfully by the
guy’s weight.
Ah, Fuck it!
“Hey!” I yelled,
shoving the dude’s shoulder. He grunted
and tightened his ironclad grip around my waist. If he didn’t get off of me in about
ten seconds, he was going to wake up in a very wet bed.
I leaned in close and moved some hair away from his ear,
making a concerted effort to not notice
how soft and silky it felt between my fingers.
“Wake up!” I yelled and then smacked the back of his head
for good measure.
Yep, that did the trick.
The guy bolted straight up in bed. “What the fuck?” he yelled and leaned over to
flip on the lamp. And it was then that I
got my first glimpse of my one night stand.
“You have GOT to be fucking with me?” I screeched, hurriedly
pulling up the sheet to cover my entirely too naked breasts.
Garrett Bellows, lead guitarist for Generation Rejects and otherwise annoying human being, ran a hand through his shoulder length
blonde hair and blinked at me in confusion.
“What the hell is your problem?” he asked, scrubbing his face with his
hands before dropping back onto the bed.
My eyes drifted down the length of his very toned and obnoxiously nice
body until they stopped and honed in on a very prominent part of his anatomy
that I only too recently felt pressed intimately against me. And Mr. Veined and Throbbing was at attention
and on very prominent display. I
swallowed thickly as images came swimming back through my hazy memory.
Garrett kissing me as though I had been the air he
breathed. Garrett slowly taking off my
clothes and then laying me out on the bed I now found myself in. I closed my eyes and could see him over me as his weight pressed me into the mattress.
I shivered uncontrollably.
Shit, shit, shit!
I opened my eyes and sneered at him, throwing a sheet over
his lower half. “Cover yourself up, will
you?” I snarled, leaning over the side of the bed and finding my shirt from the
night before. I quickly pulled it over
my head and felt better at having a barrier between Garrett and my skin.
Garrett had lowered his arm and was watching me. He didn’t look angry by my attitude. He didn’t appear to be hurt in any way, which
was both a relief and weirdly disappointing.
He seemed only thoughtful.
Curious even. What the hell?
“Where are my pants?” I muttered under my breath. I got out of bed, trying not to die of total
embarrassment as I flashed Garrett a pretty picture of my ass while I bent over
to retrieve the rest of my discarded clothing.
As I finished getting dressed, I muttered, I cursed and I otherwise
fumed at my total idiocy.
And Garrett freaking Bellows didn’t say a damned thing. He just lay there, watching me, as though he
found me supremely entertaining.
“Do you know where my keys are?” I asked him, hating that I
had to talk to him at all. I would
rather have left with my head hung in shame, never to reveal my night as Miss
Skankalicious to anyone…ever.
Garrett pointed across the room. “You dropped your purse when we came in here
last night. I’m guessing you’ll find
them in there,” he remarked dryly. He
stood up and I was treated to another view of his body. And my body
tingled in response.
Time to shut that crap down here and now.
“I just need to get out of here,” I said more to myself than
to him but he heard me loud and clear.
“Why the rush?” Garrett asked, cocking his eyebrow. His blasé nonchalance prickled my already
testy nerves and reminded me of why he annoyed the shit out of me. People that laid back drove me crazy.
“No sense in wasting anymore of your time. I think we’re done here,” I spat out, glaring
at him. I knew I was being a bitch but I
was mortified by my behavior. Riley
Walker does not get so drunk she blacks out.
Riley Walker does not have sex with a guy she barely knows; particularly
when said guy was one she could barely stand.
And apparently Riley Walker was now talking about herself in
the third person. Hello insanity!
Garrett pulled on a pair of sweat pants and lifted my
purse. I grit my teeth as he crooked his
finger in my direction. “You want it,
come over here and get it.” He was
messing with me, trying to make me more uncomfortable than I already was. Well screw him!
Wait...I already did that...Ugg!
I snatched it from him, making sure not to touch him as I
did so. More flashes flooded my brain.
His lips.
His hands. The way he said my
name right before he kissed me.
What I wouldn’t give for another bought of alcohol-induced
amnesia right about now.
Garrett’s eyes heated for a moment, as though he could read
my mind. His gaze slid down the length
of me and then back up to meet my eyes where they cooled slowly. His mouth, entirely too pretty to be on a
guy, set into a firm line and for a second I felt a flash of regret.
Not for our night together, but for the way I was treating
him. He didn’t deserve to be shitted on
because I was feeling like a fuck up. I
opened my mouth to apologize, a Riley Walker first, when he beat me to the
punch.
He opened the door to his bedroom and gave me a cold
smile. “Oh, we’re done here
alright.” Garrett ran his fingers down
the side of my neck and I couldn’t help but notice the way his face softened a
bit before he went in for the kill.
“It was fun, but I won’t be signing up for round two. You can leave now.” He grinned at me and my face flushed red in a
mixture of humiliation and gnaw through his jugular rage.
Screw the apology!
I leaned up on my tiptoes, my hands gripping his
shoulders. My lips hovered near his and
I smirked inwardly at the sound of the hitch in his breathing. “Well it’s a good thing you were entirely
forgettable then,” I whispered, licking my lips slowly and chuckling as
Garrett’s eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Now get the fuck out of my way,” I bit out, moving away
from him. Garrett blinked, his eyes becoming
once again glacial cool and he gestured me out into the hallway and the
proceeded to slam the door to his room behind me.
Well that went well.
I thought as I made my way as stealthily as possible out of the
house. Maysie was nowhere in sight and
hell if I was going to look for her. I
needed to go home, stat!
I started up my car, and chanced one last glance toward the
house. Curtains moved in one of the
second story windows and I could have sworn I saw Garrett watching me.
Crap, there it was again.
Regret.
And as I drove away from Garrett’s
house, I wanted desperately to leave that unfortunate feeling behind but it
took up quiet residence in my heart and I feared it wouldn’t let go anytime
soon.
