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CHAPTER THREE
Simmi
“Lookfellas.”Iplace my hand against Sven’s chest. “Any other time I’d have been game. But tonight, I’m super tired. I’m gonna call it. I’m sure there’s a girl here dying to share with you.” I try dismissing the eager pair.
“That’s not what we heard.”
Jurgen steps right up against me. I can feel the hard length of his dick press into my thigh.
Desperate to catch one of my friends’ attentions for a bailout I glance around. “I don’t really give a shit what you heard. I said no. Nothing kinky’s going down between us tonight.”
I should have nipped this thing in the bud when Max first introduced us. That most people think of me as the town floozy doesn’t bother me. I love sex. I love lots of sex. It’s the commitment part I don’t like. Tonight, I really wasn’t feeling it.
“Come on, baby. Me from the back, while my boy here eats you…”
Jurgen’s hand strokes my cheek and every alarm bell in me goes off.
“No, and that’s final. Now, you two have a good one without me.”
I try to force my way past, but they block me. I’m about to let rip a screech of expletives when a strong arm wraps around my waist, and I am pulled into a hard chest.
My body reacts instantly, and my insides burst into flames. I know this chest, the feel of that arm and the aftershave hypnotizing my better judgment. And then my sanity returns and I’m about to give them all a piece of my mind when a deep voice rumbles past my head.
“You heard the lady. No is no. Or would you like me to give you the lessons in manners your mom obviously never has?”
I’m both fucking relieved and furious as Jay releases his grip and steps between me and the creeper twins. He stands, fists clenching at his sides, jaw tight, and flames of fury in his eyes. The other two pale, and step back.
“What do you say?” Jay demands.
“Sorry,” they both stammer, then trot off.
“What. The. Fuck?” I say, trying not to give into the overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him, kiss him, and tell him to pick me up and carry me to his bed for a thorough ‘I am in your debt’ fuck.
“Looked like you needed a bailout.”
His words piss me off even more. I needed a bailout, but from one of my friends. Not my boss who’s already fucked my brains out, made it clear he wants more, and scares the shit out of my feelings zone.
Ungrateful, and unnecessarily bitchy, I can’t back down and say thanks. My pride won’t let me. Instead, I stomp past and head home. Fuck. I can be such an emotional retard.
I make my way along the beach and over the small wooden bridge toward the holiday village owned by my family. I rent a small cottage from my folks. It’s no palace, but it’s cozy enough and close enough to soothe my parents whenever they have a falling out. Which is often.
I stumble numerous times, pissing myself off more for behaving like a brat. A few hundred meters from the front porch of my small wooden abode, I find my mom huddled and sobbing on the grass. She’s drunk again.
I glance up. Dad’s nowhere to be seen. Probably passed out inside. I hate it when they drink together. I hate it when they drink at all.
Fuck!
