Chapter Six
Theo
How to be a horny loser in ten easy steps
I don’t know why I didn’t kiss Joey on the lips.
I pussed out.
I’m kicking myself for not having the guts to do it. All my macho self-talk about turning over a new leaf and taking what I wanted like an alpha was all lies and shit I told myself.
And what did it leave me?
With absolutely nothing but a problematic stiffy and trouble sleeping.
After my great and utterly disappointing kiss on her forehead…her forehead, dammit– I faked a headache from too much wine and went to bed, leaving her to watch me go in disbelief. And she isn’t the only one who couldn’t believe I could be such a loser.
There I was enjoying one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time with a gorgeous, funny and delectable woman, drinking wine and feeling good and I bit the dust.
I choked on my own fears of being a disappointment. My ever-mounting feelings of inadequacy and my Mr. Nice Guy persona returned to the surface with a vengeance.
Goddamn, Alyssa has fucked with my head.
You know where those thoughts left me? I’ll tell you where it left me. It left me sleeping by myself instead of next to a hot, probably close-to-naked woman, in the bedroom next to mine.
And I’m hard as a fucking rock.
I can’t even jerk off because I’m scared she might hear me and will think I’m a fucking pervert.
If only I could turn back the clock two hours and go back to that scene on the balcony. Instead of her forehead, I would have crashed my mouth to hers, tasting the wine flavor that would have lingered on her tongue. I’d bathe in the softness of her lips, nibbling and nipping at her sweet taste. I’d have sucked at her lower lip, mimicking the way I’d fuck her pussy with my mouth.
I certainly wouldn’t have acted like a hesitant teenager, that’s for fucking sure. Now I’m just a horny loser lying alone in his bed contemplating the missed opportunity of learning what she tastes like.
And just like that, my mouth instinctively waters wondering if Joey tastes like wine and berries we had tonight.
My body yearns to feel Joey underneath me, squirming in frenzied pleasure from my touch. I throw back the covers from my sweat-drenched chest, huffing out a disgruntled breath.
I’m hot and horny and still a little drunk and worked up. Why that woman is still single and not snatched up by some guy is beyond me.
We didn’t delve much into our love lives in conversation tonight, but I did mention that Al and I just recently broke up and that’s why I was in need of a place to say. I didn’t expose the whole sordid truth, of course; she doesn’t need to know the beating my self-worth took and what’s happened to my ego since.
It’s deflated and bankrupt. If I don’t get a win in my corner in the near future, I may just jump off this freaking ledge.
Speaking of which, maybe I need to get some fresh air out on the balcony. Although Pat’s apartment has air conditioning, my amped up body is hot and the room is stuffy. Hopefully getting some air will help me regain control of my run-away R-rated thoughts and unexpected feelings toward Joey.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I slip on the pair of kaki’s I discarded on the floor yesterday, and head out into the darkened hallway. It’s relatively quiet, the only sounds coming from the street noises below, the amplified sirens and the constant thrum of Chicago city streets.
I head into the kitchen looking to douse the heat that’s been building inside me with a cool glass of water when a light shining from the balcony catches my eye.
Huh, we must’ve forgotten to turn out the light when we came in for bed earlier. I fill up my glass before padding across the hardwoods, when I notice the slider open just an inch. Now I’m getting a little weirded out, since I know I didn’t forget to lock the door. My heartrate spikes as I stealthily move toward the open door, scanning the vicinity for any sign of an intruder.
It’s then that I see the silhouetted shape of Joey, sitting in the corner of the balcony, knees drawn up to her chin. She’s holding something in her hand and from the looks of it, she’s reading.
My eyes first graze her bare legs. Before she went to bed, I borrowed her one of my t-shirts, which I knew would be oversized and too big for her petite body.
In the position she’s sitting – feet up on her chair, chin to her knees - the shirt bunches up between her stomach and her thighs, and the back of her legs and ass are clearly exposed.
It’s likely that I stare at her in the shadows for a solid ten minutes, my thoughts clearly not in the friend zone with all that luscious, silky skin on display rekindling the fire inside me. I bring the glass to my lips and take a big gulp, swallowing hard to drench the heat.
