Mack Daddy(40)

She looked up at me. Her eyelids were heavy. “God, if you didn’t have a girlfriend right now, I’d…” She hesitated.

I needed to know what she was going to say. I needed more from inebriated Frankie.

“You’d what?” I prodded.

“Never mind.”

The rest of the walk was quiet. My arms were killing me by the time we got back to the apartment.

When I put her down, she lost her balance, so I led her over to the couch.

We sat down, and Frankie ended up laying her head in my lap. The room was spinning a bit, but I was nowhere near as drunk as she was.

Carelessly running my fingers through her hair repeatedly, I bent my head back and stared at the ceiling. A part of me wished she’d just fall asleep while a bigger part of me wanted her to talk to me, to finish her sentence from earlier, to tell me what she would do if I didn’t have a girlfriend. I looked down and could see her eyes were wide open.

“Are you okay, Frankie Jane?”

It was barely a whisper. “No.”

She looked like she was about to cry. I nudged her up, mainly to get her face away from my dick. Moving her was a mistake because somehow she ended up straddling me. I looked up into her beautiful blue eyes and wondered what the f*ck I was doing trying to deny my feelings. Her black mascara was smudged. Her hair was disheveled and yet, she was still the most beautiful girl in the world. I really wanted to know what she was thinking.

“Tell me everything that’s on your mind,” I said.

“I’m drunk. I can’t be trusted.”

“That makes two of us. We won’t remember anything tomorrow. Tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. No one will ever know.”

She leaned her forehead against mine, and it felt so good to feel her breath over my mouth as she panted. I wanted to kiss her more than I’d ever wanted to kiss anyone, but I still managed to hold back. My cock swelled beneath her. She might have been too drunk to notice.

“I want you, and it hurts so bad,” she finally whispered.

This was killing me. Hearing her say that she wanted me caused my control to break.

“I want to f*cking devour you right now, Frankie.”

Her breathing became labored. “Do it.” She laughed a little then said, “No, don’t. I’m so drunk. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

I groaned through my teeth. “I want to. Believe me.”

I knew I wasn’t going to let things go beyond this talking, but I wanted to hear her say it. The dirty, f*cking bastard in me just couldn’t help myself.

“If there were no consequences, tell me what you wish I could do to you,” I asked.

She rested her face on the base of my neck and said nothing. I was expecting her to fall asleep until she said, “I wish that you could f*ck me so hard that I’d feel you for days afterward.”

Holy shit.

My cock was throbbing now. Aching.

Fisting her hair, I pulled her head back to look at her. “I would love to f*ck you right now.”

Even though I’d been encouraging her to tell me what she wanted, hearing those words come out of my own mouth was a reality check in the midst of a drunken fog. I wanted her, but it wasn’t going to happen like this.

Needing relief like a motherf*cker, I suddenly moved myself from under her, repositioning her to the corner of the couch.

Placing something beneath her head, I said, “I’ll be right back.”

Frankie curled into the pillow without saying anything further.

I went straight to the bathroom and shut the door before unzipping my pants. My boxers were wet from the precum that had seeped out of my cock. My dick was excruciatingly hard as I jerked it fast in a desperate attempt for relief. This was a hell of a lot safer than giving in to a drunk Frankie. Replaying her words, I pretended I was f*cking her and not my hand.

“I wish that you could f*ck me so hard that I’d feel you for days afterward.”

After less than a minute, I banged my head against the back of the door as I came hard into my other hand. My palm was barely able to contain the load. Panting, I stayed at the door and closed my eyes, vowing never to drink like this again.

But coming didn’t do shit to take away the longing. I knew it was still going to be a long night and no matter what happened at this point—an awkward morning.

After I cleaned up and returned to the living room, Frankie was passed out on the couch. I decided to carry her to bed. I was hoping she wouldn’t wake up, but when I lifted her off the couch, she looked up at me in a haze.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“You gonna throw up?”

“I think I might.”

Just as we’d made it past the threshold of the bathroom, she gagged and warm projectile vomit spewed everywhere.

I looked down at us. “Shit!”

It was all over her hair, my chest, her shirt. She was way too drunk to clean herself up. Covered in puke, I froze, not knowing how to handle it.

Placing her carefully down on her feet, I said the last thing I expected to actually be suggesting tonight. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”

She simply nodded.

Running the shower to let the water warm, I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I’d turned back around to find that she’d fully removed her pants and underwear, but still had her shirt on.