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“No, doll. You're drunk. I'm still as sober as a judge.”
“That's not possible,” I objected. “You drank just as much as me and my brain cells feel like they're swimming in jello.”
“That's because you're a lightweight. I can drink that whole bottle without getting as shitfaced as you are right now.”
“Well, regardless. You shouldn't be happy right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because there's no reason to be happy.”
“I'm sitting here with a a woman drunk off her ass, tellin' me she likes what my 'gentleman bits' do to her, knowing I am going to be balls deep in her sweet pussy before the night is over. So yeah, doll, I think I have a pretty good reason to be happy.”
Even drunk, that did make some kind of sense. So I just shrugged.
“Alex, look at me.”
I sighed, letting my eyes slide to his. “What?”
“You have more to offer than just sex,” he said, his tone oddly serious. “You get me?”
His tone didn't leave much room for debate and my tongue was feeling a little fat and I wasn't sure any argument of mine would come out clearly anyway. “I get you,” I agreed though I wasn't sure I was, in fact, with him.
“Good. Now can you walk without faceplanting or should I carry you to bed to fuck you?”
“I can walk,” I assured him, getting to my feet and my arms immediately flew out wide, trying to balance myself. I took a few tentative steps, realizing that if I concentrated hard enough, I could, in fact, walk. “What is drunk sex like?” I asked, reaching to pull my sweatshirt over my head as I stumbled down the hall.
Breaker followed behind me and while I couldn't see it, I could hear it in his voice that he was smiling. “I have a feeling that with you, it's going to be a whole new experience.”
“Only if I can get these... pants... off,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed trying to struggle out of the legs.
Breaker's deep chuckle rumbled through to my bones as he walked to the edge of the bed, grabbed the ends of my pants and hauled them off me in one swift motion that made me flail out to grab the sheets so I didn't slide off the bed. I looked down to see he had pulled my panties off too. And I hadn't bothered with a bra.
I looked up at Breaker. “This isn't going to work,” I said, brows drawing down as I tried to concentrate.
“Why not?” he asked, still smiling.
“Because I'm naked.”
“I see that,” he said, eyes raking over my body and it sent a rush of wet between my legs. “Don't see that being a problem.”
“You're fully dressed,” I went on.
“There's things I can do to you fully dressed,” he said, moving toward the bed and getting down on his knees at the foot. His arms went up, grabbing my thighs, and yanked me down toward him. Before I could even think to snap my legs together, his face was between them, his tongue sliding up my sex until it found my clit and went at it without mercy.
It didn't take long for me to think that getting drunk had it's definite, definite benefits. Like a body that was somehow numb everywhere else except where Breaker was touching. Because wherever that was, felt like it was electric. It felt pulsing and alive.
He licked me until I came twice.
Then fucked me until I came two more times.
He walked away then came back, making the bed feel like it was suddenly filled with water it wobbled so hard. He climbed in next to me, hauling me onto his chest in a way that was new but still somehow deeply familiar. One arm was locked hard around my hip, the other sifting through my hair.
I felt sleep pulling at my eyes.
“Glenn died today,” I whispered quietly.
“I know, baby,” he said, his arm squeezing me.
“We got drunk and we shared stories and we fucked.”
“Yeah, doll.”
“I think maybe I can move on now,” I said, turning my face slightly to plant a kiss at the center of his chest.
Both of his arms went around me, squeezing me tight.
“Yeah,” he agreed. And I could have sworn I felt his lips at the top of my head before I drifted off.SixteenAlexFour days.
Four days since Glenn died. Since I got stupid drunk and probably admitted way too much to Breaker about god-knew what.
I say 'probably' because the night had a vodka-blanket laying atop of it.
I woke up the next morning with jackhammer splicing into my brain, making me groan and roll onto my side, cradling my head in my hands as Breaker moved off of the bed chuckling.
“'s not funny,” I grumbled, rocking my body to try to ease the ache.
“From where I'm standing it is,” he said, coming back in and pushing me onto my back where he deposited three ibuprofen into my hand and gave me a bottle of water. I threw back the pills with a sip of water and he shook his head, tipping up the bottom of the bottle. “Down it all. You need to hydrate.”
“I need to be left alone to die,” I objected, but I chugged the water. After all, he knew more about hangovers than I did. I threw the empty bottle toward the foot of the bed, pulling myself up until I was seated against the headboard. I chanced a look at Breaker who looked way too amused and un-hungover. “Did I say anything stupid last night?”
“Yep,” he said immediately, looking close to laughing.
“Great,” I said, running a hand through my hair.
“It was cute.”
“Whatever it was,” I objected, “was not cute. Embarrassing? Sure. Cute? No.”
“How do you know? You don't even remember,” he said logically and I glared at him. Which only made him laugh. “I'm gonna go make you some eggs and toast. Heavy on the butter and grease. Go catch a shower and meet me in the kitchen for some caffeine.”
With that, he left.
And I followed instructions.
