Alcohol You Later (9)
“For what it’s worth,” Nora says as she backs out of the winding driveway, “this old bat is insanely jealous of your flashy life.”
“Twenty-seven is hardly old, sis.” She’s been so hard on herself since having her second baby last year, and I hate that for her. Nora’s just as gorgeous as ever, even if a tad run down.
“I guess…but kids and marriage have a way of aging you.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Not that I’d trade those little gremlins for anything.” Adjusting the visor, she releases a pensive sigh. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I know mom’s giving you shit, and I could tell the moment you came down those stairs that she had you second-guessing whether you’d made the right decision. But you’re young and unattached and well…you can afford to be a bit reckless.”
“Exactly.” My confidence blooms beneath her assessment.
Millions of women would give their left tit to trade places with me. I mean, let’s face it: Nicholas Potter could have anyone he wanted, and does so on the regular, much to my chagrin. Yet without fail he keeps coming back to me.
That means something…it fucking has to.
So, it’s time to trust in the part of me that’s always belonged to him, because regardless of his actions, deep in my gut I believe there will be a day when he’s finally ready to choose me and only me. Maybe that time is now.
Nora twists her head my way to give me a little wink. “Who knew that irritating pop culture obsession of yours would lead to an actual relationship with a real live rock star?” She huffs out a laugh. “My sister the groupie.”
Her careless words smart like a roundhouse kick to the chest, physically taking me back. The last thing I want is to be lumped in with the rest of his casual fucks. “I’m not…” I groan. “What we have is…it’s more than that.” Thoughts of his nightly hookups break through my buzz, causing my stomach to cramp up. “It might’ve started that way, but I really do care about him, sis. And I’m pretty sure he cares about me… at least to some degree, too.”
“I know.” Nora reaches over to my side of the car to give my knee a squeeze. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”
I fire a dreamy smile her way as she pulls her mom-mobile—complete with car seats and requisite stale fries scattered on the floor mats—to the curb. “Wish me orgasms!”
My sister narrows her eyes at me with an amused quirk of her brow. “I expect you to call and tell me everything, missy,” Nora warns before giving my chin a squeeze and placing a kiss on my cheek. “Go get your man!” Then she stretches across the center console to swat me on my ass before sending me off with a three-toot-salute.
That girl… Those few minutes with her on the ride over were exactly what I needed to get my mind right. I feel a million times better.
After tagging my bags, I proceed to make my way through security and to my gate in a daze, replaying my conversation with Nick the night before last and the vague texts we’ve exchanged in the hours since. He’s going through an awful lot of trouble to keep me in the dark, and no matter how I spin it, I can’t come up with a single reason he’d want me there other than he wants me there.
Me: Made it to my gate.
Nick: Need a little pick me up to ease your nerves before flying?
My cheeks flame as if the entire airport can see my phone screen.
Me: I’m waiting to board, you freak.
Nick: I can get you off in less than five minutes without even touching you.
A pulse starts between my legs and my blood heats. I can’t help but wonder if the people around me can see the changes in my body. Because Lord Almighty, do I feel them.
Me: Maybe just a little inspo pic winky face
I pull my knees to my chest, boots resting on the seat, using my legs to help hide the screen before opening his next message.
“Holy fucking shit,” I grumble beneath my breath. No matter how many times I see it. Touch it. Feel it. The beauty that is Nicholas Potter’s peen is something to behold. Stiff and rigid. Perfectly pink and veiny. Adorned in cool metal.
Jesus, now I’m panting in the middle of a crowded room. I glance around to find not a single person paying me any mind, but I swear I can feel their eyes boring into me.
Me: Not too shabby.
My reply is the understatement of the century.
Nick: Don’t play games, pretty girl. I can’t wait to slide into that warm dripping pussy in just a few hours.
The pulse down below is now a steady vibration rolling through my veins. My breasts swell and I nearly jump clean out of my skin when the metal rings through my nipples brush against the boning in my corset top. One touch to my clit and I’d shoot off like a rocket headed straight for the stars.
Briefly, I consider a mad dash for the bathroom, but the risk is too great that the momentum will be lost, and I’m not one to waste an O, especially not one gifted to me by him.
I give my surroundings another quick scan before burying my head in my knees and slipping a hand into the waist of my patent leather leggings. I don’t bother pulling the lace thong to the side, preferring the friction the course fabric will provide. One…two…three swipes over the swollen bud, and I’m biting my knee to hold back a scream. Wave after wave of the most exquisite torture ripples through me, the intensity seemingly multiplied by the fact that I’m so openly on display. Anyone could look up from their phone at any moment…