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“More time than I need,” I smiled.
“She looks a lot like Hannah,” Bobby said.
“Why?” I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Why do that? Why ruin a perfectly good night?”
Bobby laughed. “I need to keep you in line, man,” he said. “Before you go off with Miss Not-So-Perfect GPA over there, who probably got a scholarship based completely on the size of her rack, I need to remind you that you have a girlfriend. You know, just in case this one decides to spend the night and you need to hide her from Hannah in the morning.”
“One, Hannah is not my girlfriend,” I said.
“Right, friends with benefits, yada yada.”
“Two, I don’t need to hide anyone from her,” I continued. “You know that I do whatever the hell I want.”
“Really?” Bobby asked, looking over at the blonde again. “If you say so. Hannah sure as hell scares me.”
I chuckled and slid out of the booth. “For being an ass, you get to pay for my drink and Alice’s.”
“Who’s Alice?” Bobby asked. “Wait, the blonde? How do you know her name’s Alice?”
I shrugged. “She looks like an Alice.”
Before he could protest, I was weaving my way through the crowd towards my latest conquest, and what I knew was going to be a very satisfying night.
***
Her name wasn’t Alice. It was something else entirely.
Something I completely forgot fifteen minutes after I interrupted the sausage fest that was hovering around her, and ten minutes before her tongue was in my mouth with her hand down my pants.
Everything else about her was pretty much a complete blur the minute I had her in my Nissan Rogue and was driving back to my place. The radio was turned up loud, tuned to some modern pop bullshit that she wouldn’t stop singing along to. For a second, I felt like I was driving a high school drama queen to her first college frat party, especially with all the yapping and ‘like’s’ and ‘oh my god’s’. It almost turned me off completely, and there was an instant when I wanted to turn the car around and drive back to the bar.
But then she unzipped my fly, pulled out my cock and gave me one of the best blowjobs I ever had, all with me trying to keep the car from swerving off the road.
She was on me the second we set foot in my apartment, and it only took me ten minutes before I had her screaming so loud, I was worried the neighbors would call the cops. And she kept coming back for more. No matter how strong her orgasm, no matter how hard I fucked her. She always wanted more.
When we were finally done, she quickly fell asleep, and I had to roll her off me like a deadweight. I looked at her, blonde hair disheveled, arms tucked in between her huge breasts, her legs pulled up so that she was sleeping in a fetus position.
Bobby was right. I needed to get her out of the apartment bright and early.
Hannah really was a scary woman.
Chapter 3: Andrea
Dennis’s car was not in the driveway when I pulled up to the house. I let out a long sigh of relief, a part of me glad that I’d be spared a tongue lashing for being late, but another part of me just a little pissed off, too. No car in the driveway meant he was at the bar, drinking with his coworkers, and more than likely trying to get some girl’s number. Preferably one with daddy issues. He liked those the most.
I thought that, by time, the cheating would stop bothering me. The first time it had happened, he had come home well after midnight smelling like booze and perfume. I had been stupid enough to confront, and he had been quick with the beating.
It hadn’t been the first time he’d laid his hands on me. No. Dennis always had a temper, and it only took us three months into the marriage for him to blow up about some random, insignificant thing. I was raised to be tough, my father a cop who had always told me that if I wanted men to respect me, I had to show them that I was willing to earn that respect.
Dennis, on the other hand, felt otherwise. And my confrontation led to a black eye and cut lip that kept me out of work for three days until the swelling had died down enough for foundation to mask it. I should have walked out then, but I couldn’t. A part of it was shock, maybe. The fact that he could actually hit me came as a bit of a surprise, which, looking back, it shouldn’t have. So, I blamed my decision to stay on shock.
But the truth was completely different.
Dennis had been my high school sweetheart, and even though he was a popular kid back home, my parents had hated him. And they had been very vocal about it. To the point where my dad would actually chase him off if he ever came near the house. Once he had even threatened to arrest Dennis, which I knew was bullshit. But for a kid in high school, that had been a serious threat.
So, when I had finally worked up the nerve to tell them that I was marrying him, my father had given me a long, hard stare, rubbed his stubble and said, “Get out of my house.”
And I haven’t gone back since.
