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I follow seconds later, ribbons of cum dressing my hand and stomach.
Hips dropping back to her mattress, she continues to slide her fingers in and out leisurely as the aftershocks cause twitches along her frame. Finally, her fingers exit her body. I can see her cum dripping from her, stuck to her fingers in pleasure.
She lifts them to her nipples, dragging her orgasm over the stiff peaks on a heady moan.
I watch on as she sits up, lifting her phone to bring her face into view.
Her cheeks are flushed, eyes hooded, and even though I wasn’tthere, I know I gave her that.
Fingertips to her lips, she leaves her climax along her skin before slipping them between her lips and sucking them clean.
“Tastes like Iwantyou.”
Then the video cuts out.
A black screen.
Tastes like I want you.
Fuuuuuuccccck.
Canceling out of her message—which I will be watching again momentarily—I do a quick internet search before the dial tone hits my ear.
“I need a return flight to the Whitsundays, Australia. Flight out tonight if you can manage it. A day on the ground and then back the next day.”
21
HENLEY
“Hen,there’s a solid ten asking for you at the end of the bar.”
I inhale deeply through my nostrils. “Tell him I’m asexual and can’t speak English.”
Jada chuckles, brushing my shoulders as she wanders past me.
This happens at least fifteen times a night. Drunk assholes thinking they’re God’s gift to women attempting to flirt. Attempting being the operative word. Most of the time, they’re downright offensive.
No, I don’t want you to rock my world.
Oh, you want to give me an orgasm. . .
Isn’t that the whole point of fucking? You don’t get a gold fucking star, dickcheese. If your opening line is how selfless you are in bed, then news flash, you ain’t. Here’s the truth—you’re thinking I’ll drop my pants right then and there for you to prove what agiveryou are, and you’ll jab inside me for three half-assed pumps before you blow your load and swear thatthis has never happened before.
Please.
Grabbing empties from the bar, I tip the dregs of beer out, then toss the bottles into the trash can at my feet.
“I tried that.” Jada hands over change to one of three women who take five attempts to drink the shot they ordered, needing the perfect pic for their socials, rather than enjoying the moment. “He said when you attempt to reject him, tell her he’ll carve his name into the bar.”
The bottle I’m holding drops to the floor. I pay it no regard, my body turning fast enough to make me wobble.
Brooks waves, a sheepish smile creeping onto the side of his mouth.
“Told you,” Jada whispers. “Solid. Ten.”
“Can you close up for me?” I ask absently, unable to move.
“What?” she stutters. “He’s hot, but notbail on your mateslevel hot.”
