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“No,” Anna whines, but she’s drunk and leaning against Denton’s chest. He licks his fingers that were just inside me, and my pussy clenches.
“I promise we’ll do this again,” I say, reaching out my hand for her. We both stand and hug. Nate is on his phone, likely calling us an Uber.
“I love you,” She tells me.
“I love you more.” I look down at Denton. He mouths a sorry, but I don’t believe he is. He has that smug look on his asshole face.
“We should go. The Uber is about a minute away. It was good seeing you guys.” Nate says, taking my hand.
“See you guys,” I say.
“Goodbye.” It’s all Denton says.
Nate leads me through the crowd, and I feel so much better outside in the fresh air. “I am so drunk,” I tell him.
“So am I.” We laugh as our Uber pulls up. We climb in the back, and the thoughts of Denton and what we did play over in my mind.
“Put the screen up,” I tell the driver, and he obeys. “Unzip your pants right now,” I order Nate.
“Babe, we can do this at home, you know.”
“Just fucking do it.”
I straddle him, reaching down, freeing his cock. He’s hard already. I move my panties to the side and lower myself onto him. He groans in pleasure. I tug the front of my dress down. “Suck my tits.”
I hold onto his shoulders as he sucks my nipples, bouncing on his dick in the backseat of the Uber until I come so hard I see stars. He growls a release soon after.
I climb off him, panting. “Fuck, Bre.” He grins. I pull up the dress and use tissues to wipe myself and Nate, stuffing it in my purse. “We should get drunk more often.”
I laugh, but I don't feel it. I needed to get rid of the frustration. It worked, but the anger. Oh, fuck is it still there.
I’m stuck on the lyrics of a love song. My process the entire morning has been scribble, scratch, scribble. Harrison sticks his head into my office around one. “How’s it going?”
“Go away,” I growl. He chuckles, raises his hands in mock surrender, and leaves. My phone buzzes. I pick it up and frown when I see it’s Denton.
“What do you want?” I growl.
“What’s got your panties in a knot?” he dares to laugh.
“You! What the fuck are you playing at? That is fucked up, Denton, you hear me.”
“I’m sorry. I was drunk. I know it’s no excuse, but I was.” He sounds sincere.
“It’s been six years, and you dredge up that shit again.”
“I apologized,” he reminds me.
“Fine. Just don’t fucking call me again.” I end the call, my breathing ragged. I close my eyes.
My phone pings. I hate texts while I work as much as I hate calls.
Denton: Was it good, though?Fucking unbelievable.
Me: What?
Denton: The way I made you come on that dance floor.Laughing emoji.
Fucking asshole. This is no joke.
