Whiskey Trick Page 10

  “No, keep talking.” I also want her hand back on me. “Tina, I want to know everything you’re feeling.”

  “What happened to Trick?” She uncovers one blue eye and then the other one.

  “Your name is Tina. I’m going to call you Tina.”

  “Uh-oh,” she sings, and her hand wanders back over, this time settling on my thigh. “Is the whiskey affecting you too? Are you trying to sweet talk me by using my name? Do we need to practice things?” she whispers into my ear.

  This is the part where I say, that wasn’t whiskey; it was tea. Except I don’t.

  I kiss her instead.

  His lips pull away from me way too soon.

  “Tina, forget all of this. Forget the fake dating, forget the beta report. It’s over,” he says.

  My heart constricts; the whiskey turns in my stomach.

  “Over?” My voice is small. Confused.

  “Yes. From this point on, it’s all real.” His fingers trace over the fallen strap from my dress and I think he’s going to fix it, but instead his hand travels over to my other strap and tugs it down. Goosebumps prickle my skin. No more confusion. I understand now. This is about sex. He’s saying the right words so we can do the wrong thing. God bless whiskey.

  “Yes, it’s all real,” I say back. Right words, wrong things. I can definitely get on board with this game. “I started falling for you on our second date, and my feelings have only grown since.” Good thing I have an arsenal full of truths at the ready that I can fire off as lies.

  “I think that was the night I first realized it too. I thought about kissing you then and nearly keeled over when we finally did the next time after the movie.” His lips delicately press against my shoulder, causing goosebumps to spread. He kisses my puckered skin between words. “You’re beautiful, smart, fun, appreciative. You’ve made me become a better person. I want you to be mine.”

  Oh God, my heart speeds up, and my vagina swoons. I’ve been fed lines by guys before but not like this. These lines are organic, grass-fed, and farm raised. I reach back for my zipper and tug, loosening the tight fabric of my dress, making me easily accessible.

  “I am all yours.” I reach for his tie, working the knot before he takes over and I switch to undoing his buttons. The tie comes off and his lips crash back down onto mine. There’s a fever, a passion behind this kiss, a neediness. I know it’s just his whiskey-soaked brain but for now, just for tonight, I’m going to pretend that his words are true and this is all real.

  Henry stands up once I reach the bottom button, slowly stretching his arms out and removing himself from the button-down. All that’s left is the undershirt, which he raises slowly, exposing his chiseled abs. I wish the lights weren’t on because the well-lit image of his perfect form is going to be tattooed into my memory forever. A quick glance up to his face tells me he doesn’t know what to do or not do next. He wants me to take the lead. To assert. This is practice for both of us, and I’m eager to comply. I stand up in front of him, my dress slipping lower in the process. The black lace of my strapless bra is visible, showing off my cleavage as I go for the top button of his pants.

  “Tina.” Henry halts my anxious fingers. “This is real.”

  “Of course, it is.” I’m about to unzip his pants and pull out his dick. It doesn’t get more real than this.

  “You’re not drunk. Neither am I,” he says.

  Ohhh, I get it. We’re still playing. He wants the full beta experience. This is real. We’re not drunk. Our feelings are true. And we’re about to have great sex. I can do that.

  “I know we aren’t. I love you,” I say, looking down at his crotch, freeing my hands from his and finally getting the button undone. He doesn’t say anything. I wait for the return declaration, but he doesn’t say it. I pause at his zipper, stunned by how painful it is not to hear him repeat the words. Fake or not, I wanted him to say them back.

  “Let’s go.” His voice is raspy and deep, almost as if he moaned the two words out.

  “Where?” I release a breathy squeal as I’m swept up into his arms, right off my feet.

  “Up to my room,” he informs me, carrying me off. “We’re not doing this here.”

  A smile replaces my disappointed frown. Maybe it’s the whiskey, but I feel like I’m floating, weightless in Henry’s strong arms.

  “Not doing what?” I ask and hold my breath. I don’t know what he’s going to say, but whatever it is, I’m in. All the way.

  “Making love,” he says.

  Turning Tricks

  My room is dark and my bed is soft. Tina’s panties are added to the haphazard pile of our clothes left recklessly on the floor.

  It all lined up. The truth came out and everything fell into place. We’ve fallen for each other. She’s mine. This leg, my hand trailing up the silky skin. Mine. This curvaceous hip. Mine. Smooth stomach, full breast, mine, all mine. My lips and tongue latch on to the taut pink nipple I claim as mine next.

  “Right, that’s very right,” she purrs. She enjoys this. There’s no rushing. I’m not quickly being guided through a list of do’s and mostly don’ts like I had gotten used to with... what’s her name?

  I take my time kissing, licking, sucking, and even give the gentlest of nibbles between my teeth before my lips roam over to the other tight bud.

  “This is all so right.” The fingers tangled in my hair slide down to my shoulders and dig into my flesh, pushing me downward. “Asserting,” she coos.

  Damn right she is. We’ve trained each other well. Only, as my tongue glides its way down, I wonder if I could be in some trouble. Foreplay, this move in particular, has not been part of my repertoire too many times. In fact, my shoulders have never been encouraged down before, only tapped to come back up.

  “Mmm, right.” She sighs into my first sweet taste. Encouragement. It propels a man. Makes him better. My tongue is mighty. Capable. Powerful. My tongue is... “Just a little... to the left.” Her hand pushes me over slightly. My tongue is not exactly where it should be.

  Once guided into the proper place of her preference and with the return of the soft mewls of satisfaction, I use every one of my senses to ensure this euphoric hidden spot of hers is locked into my memory.

  My dick throbs with need, but her satisfying moans and repeated use of the word “right” keep me going. A deep groan buzzes from within, and my tongue makes a bold move inward. Fast and furious. There’s silence. Has my boldness ruined the moment?

  “Henry.” Her voice returns, quivering out my name. There’s trembling, there’s tightening, and so much thrashing I fear she may fly right off the bed. I hook my arms around her thighs dragging her in even closer, holding her in place. I’m deep within, lost in a newfound appreciation for giving pleasure. She lifts up on her elbows, grabs hold of my thick hair, and pulls as her body constricts. “Oh God. That lucky bitch,” she cries out before going limp and crashing back down.

  I move up to lie down next to her. She touches my face, breathing hard and smiling.

  “That was good. So good. Definitely all right.”

  “You mean you…,” I say.

  “I had to.” I’m not sure if she looks apologetic or elated.

  “I didn’t think a woman could come from that.” I was under the impression that cunnilingus orgasms were urban legend.

  “From that, they easily could. Many times.” She closes her eyes, and her curls splay against my pillow. “You were seriously unaware of that talent? Wow. You really did need me.”

  “I do need you.” More than I ever could have imagined.

  I relax down next to her, ready to pull her in and hold her. My cock still stands at full attention. It’s a letdown to have ended things so fast, but I’m patient. I’m sure eventually it will go down. Maybe not while I’m holding her, or in the same room with her, but eventually.

  “Your turn.” She sits up, the blanket dropping down, exposing most of what I just explored. I don’t even have time to ask what she means before
she sidles downward and her warm mouth takes me in deeply with what feels like airtight suction.

  I’ve never. I mean yes. But… holy shit.

  The blood flows and rushes, but I’m able to maintain. I watch in amazement as minutes go by and she continues as if she actually enjoys it. Her lips still wrapped around me, her eyes shoot upward and lock on to mine.

  No asking. No pleading. It’s not even my birthday. And my hard dick gets treated like royalty.

  “Amazing. You are amazing,” I grit out before taking a breath becomes nearly impossible. So much for maintaining. Her hand grips the base of my cock, and I won’t last much longer. But then she stops and pulls away, taking me to the edge but not letting me go over.

  “Condom?” she breathes. I need another second.

  “My drawer.” We both look over to the bedside table, and she gets up to retrieve it. It’s a good thing that condoms have a shelf life of five years, because they’ve been in there a while.

  She hands it over, and I take care of the rest, ready now to make my move. But to my utter shock, Tina makes the move instead. Her leg lifts over my body, keeping me in place on my back. Her hands rest on my stomach, her arms pressing her two perfect breasts together as her hips slowly lower and she sinks down over my shaft.

  This. Is. Incredible.

  The motion begins slow but gains momentum fast. The eye contact remains. Every inch of her luscious body is in full view, and the only problem I have with this position is how far away her lips are from mine.

  “Henry, everything about you is right. You’re so ready.”

  “I am ready.” I groan. Oh, God am I ready. I’m about to go off. My hands are clasped on her waist, my thumbs digging in to her skin. This orgasm building is about to explode, and in its wake change my life forever.

  Life as I knew it no longer exists. My priorities have all been rearranged.

  It now goes, Tina first. Then everything else.

  I don’t come a second time. Instead I memorize every detail of his face as he lets go and his eyes roll back, groaning and letting me know he is ready.

  Task complete.

  No regrets. None at all. But I still want to cry.

  I’m still nestled on his cock when Henry sits up and kisses between my breasts before wrapping his arms around me. He settles back down and encourages me to come down next to him. He wants to spoon or cuddle. But I can’t. Wanting to cry can only lead to actually crying. And he can’t see that.

  “I should shower,” I say, my back pressed up against his hard chest. I try to move, but he pulls me in tighter and kisses my shoulder.

  “That can wait.” He kisses it again.

  He can’t still be drunk. I know I’m not.

  “Really.” I force myself to sound light and airy and even manage to laugh. “I need to shower. Let me up.”

  His arms ease up their tight grip, and I move from the bed and his warm touch. I grab my dress from the floor and slip back into it the best I can.

  “What are you doing? The shower’s right there.” He gestures to the bathroom door in his room.

  “My stuff is in the other room, so I’m going to just pop on down there.” I do my best to roll up my bra and panties and tuck them at my side in case of any hallway run-ins.

  “Okay.” He sits up and runs an uneasy hand through his tousled hair. “It is okay, right?”

  “Yeah. Of course. It’s okay.” I inch my way over to the door. “I’ll see you in a bit.” I make my escape. I hear him say my name. Tina. But pretend that I don’t. Tears are already brimming.

  In the guest room, I lock the door, thankful that there’s a private bathroom of its own in there. I run the hot water, strip out of my dress, and step into the steam. There is no better place in the world to cry than the shower. As the water pours down, my tears pour out.

  We played a game tonight, and it was amazing. But I lost.

  Still, no regrets. I knew the rules going in. I was always aware of the risks. And not for nothing, I always knew it would end like this. Okay, maybe not the spectacular sex part, but I was definitely aware of the broken heart part.

  Only, I don’t know how I’m going to face him tomorrow without giving away how much I allowed this all to destroy me. I’ll need an excuse for my puffy-eyed appearance. There’ll need to be a reason why I can’t string together two words without wanting to cry. The hot water soaks my hair and washes away the tears as fast as they come. I don’t think they are going to stop anytime soon. I wish there was a way I could fake a migraine tomorrow and hide behind my sunglasses all day.

  And just because I have no regrets doesn’t mean that he doesn’t. What if he wakes up tomorrow filled with whiskey regret? Before the drinks, things were tense between us. Even after our amazing night out, we were about to go upstairs... to sleep. The whiskey changed all that.

  Wait. The whiskey. Even though I never felt anything more than a happy buzz, it can still be my excuse. His too.

  The whiskey is our perfect way out.

  You Can’t Trick a Trickster

  I gently twist my hand on the doorknob; it’s still locked.

  The shower ran for over an hour, and the door has remained locked ever since. I’ve checked every hour. I don’t understand. My best guess is she was exhausted after the long day and night and fell asleep in the wrong bed. Unless it’s possible she didn’t want to return to my bed or thought maybe I didn’t want her to, although both those possibilities are ridiculous.

  Already dressed and showered, I head downstairs to make coffee. Hopefully the robust scent will waft upstairs and draw Tina down.

  “Oh, thank God.” My sister stops trying to cram the canister back into place when she sees me. “How does this piece of shit work?”

  “Push it harder,” Remi says with a mouth full of chocolate.

  “No, you need to stop pushing it.” I move my sister out of the way, and it takes me all of two patient seconds to slide the canister into its proper place. I replace the crumpled filter she attempted to use and fill it up with the ground coffee.

  “How was last night?” Now Jenn’s mouth is full of chocolate too.

  “How can you two be eating chocolate this early in the morning?” I add water to the reservoir and press the start button. “And last night was great.” I grin at them over my shoulder.

  “Whiskey never fails.” One of them says, and I hear the smack of a high five.

  “And we’re eating chocolate because Tina made brownies. She gave them to me yesterday when I was giving her the tour.” Jenn slides a plate with a small brownie down the counter to me. “Tell us more about last night.”

  “If you guys get married before me and Adam do, I will be so frickin’ pissed.” Remi pouts.

  “No promises.” I waggle my brows, pick up the brownie made with love by my girlfriend, and take the first bite.

  “Really?” Both girls stare at me.

  “It went that well?” Jenn asks, swallowing down another lump of brownie.

  “Yeah. It’s love.” I chew. Hmm. I love the girl, but these brownies are another story. I set it back down on the plate and slap my hands clean.

  “What about the whiskey trick?” Remi whispers. “Does she know?”

  “Yes. I told her last night that we were not drunk.” She repeated it back to me. I had been worried that might have been an issue too. Thankfully it wasn’t.

  “I’m so happy. You deserve someone so much better than that... person you used to date.” Jenn comes over to hug me. “I’ve wanted you to meet someone and be happy for so long now.”

  “Tina. Hey,” Remi says louder than necessary to get our attention. I break away from my sister with a wide, waiting smile.

  “Morning,” Tina grumbles, holding her head. Her hair is pulled forward, hiding the parts of her face the giant dark glasses she’s wearing don’t. “Sorry. Big hangover,” she announces. “Do you have any aspirin?”

  Jenn and Remi look to me for an explanation I don’t have.<
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  “What are you talking about?” I ask, tilting my head to scratch the side of my neck. I walk in closer. “We weren’t drunk last night. Remember?”

  “Henry, stop.” Tina shifts uncomfortably. “That talk was fine last night, but I can’t do it again today. I’m hungover. I have a headache and…” She stops, lowering her voice, turning her head away from the audience watching us. “I just want to go home.”

  “We’re gonna go.” Remi tugs the arm of my openmouthed sister, and the two hurry out of the kitchen, leaving us alone.

  “Tina,” I say, stepping toward her. This is crazy. I have no clue what’s going on or why.

  “No.” She stretches her arm out to keep from getting any closer. “It’s Trick, not Tina. Don’t call me Tina anymore.”

  “Why are you doing this? Last night was amazing.” It was so right. She had said it herself many times over the course of the night.

  “It was. It was perfect. I told you last night you were ready.” She adjusts her sunglasses. “And you are. So I’m done.”

  “You’re done?” My mouth is so dry, coated in the minty brownie I now realize was not made with an ounce of emotion. “So all that talk last night was…” I leave it open.

  “The whiskey. The game, the fantasy, the beta…, whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

  I’ve never heard her use language like that. This all started from my inability to read a woman, and it seems like it’s ending the same way. Last night wasn’t real at all. I still have no clue what I’m doing. I fell in love with another falsity.