11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Kayla

I step outside the Rusty Mug, greedily gulping in the fresh air, still a little dazed by what went on inside. I had no idea people could get so excited over something as simple as a dart competition, but apparently, Bluebell Springs live and breathe it. Not football. Not baseball. Darts.

It's a sweet quirk, one I'd appreciate much more if Ethan Fucking Bennett weren't a part of the show. A major part, from what I saw. He's a damned celebrity around here and it's no wonder. With how freakishly hot he is, how nice and polite he was to all his opponents, how graciously he accepted the loss… The loss I'm convinced had something to do with me.

Ethan's focus had been crystal clear throughout tonight's competition. He made just a few mistakes, plowing through his opponents like a knife through soft butter. Even in the finals, he'd been focused until he scanned the crowd, and his eyes found mine.

I'd been staring at him. Of course I had. Everyone in the entire building had been staring at Ethan. I mean, the man is absolute eye-candy. It's impossible not to stare at him. And, despite our first encounter, I no longer think he's an arrogant jerk. I might have read too much into our five-second encounter and judged him too harshly for ignoring me. Seeing him tonight, I realize he's probably a nice man. Which doesn't mean I'm suddenly interested in him! No way. Nope.

The thin sheen of sweat on my bare shoulders quickly evaporates in the fresh air outside, and even though the night is warm, I shiver a little. I should have brought a coat or something. And I most certainly never should have worn this dress. God!

Most people I met tonight were wearing simple jeans and T-shirts. I was absolutely overdressed and drawing too much attention. Even now, a group of men smoking nearby is giving me oh-so-stealthy glances, and I don't have to listen to their conversation to know they're talking about me.

Another shiver runs through me, this time from fear. A lone woman in a parking lot in front of a bar full of drunk and rowdy men? It never ends well, does it?

Deciding it's time to go home, I pull out my phone and call an Uber. Watching the game—and ogling Ethan Bennett—was fun, but the exhaustion from last night is catching up with me. I text Michelle to let her know I'm going home, then nervously check my Uber's arrival time.

While I'm focused on my phone, a man from the group nearby gathers his courage and wanders closer. "I can't believe such a beautiful lady like you is out here all alone," he says, stopping a few feet away from me.

He doesn't sound too drunk, but I still bury my hand in my purse, quickly scrambling for the mace I bought just this afternoon. "I'm not interested," I tell him, mustering all the authority I can.

"Even if I asked you if you just fell from heaven, because you look like an angel?" the man asks with a grin.

Against my will, I grin back at him. I don't get any aggressive vibes from him. If anything, he's awkward. "Absolutely not. Has that ever worked on anyone?"

"Not really, no. So—"

Hearing a suspicious sound from around the corner, we both freeze and listen. After a few seconds of silence, the man lets out a laugh. "Huh. Probably a cat or a raccoon."

"Yeah," I mutter, even though I don't think it sounded like a raccoon. It sounded like a growl. An angry, hungry growl, coming from a monster set on jumping on me and devouring me…

Dammit. I shouldn't have had that last screwdriver. The alcohol is messing with my head.

"Do you have a ride home?" the man asks. When I scowl at him, he throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Just asking. I'd hate it if something happened to you."

I cock an eyebrow. "I thought this was a nice town with a nearly zero crime rate?" At least that's what the asshole of a sheriff kept telling me.

"Well, you never know. Sorry, I look like a creep, don't I?" he chuckles awkwardly. "I don't mean to. Anyway, my truck's over there and—" He squints at a truck down the road, then sprints toward it. "What the hell? Hey! Which one of you idiots did this?!" he yells at his friends.

As I wander closer, I see the problem. Someone slashed the truck's tires, all four of them. A shudder of fear runs through me as I remember the growl. The furious growl of a monster ready to rip something apart. Or someone.

The poor truck owner shakes his head in disbelief. "This makes no sense. I was just here like ten minutes ago and everything was fine. Seriously…" He runs his hand through his hair before turning to me again. "It looks like I won't be able to give you a ride after all."

"It's all good," I answer as my phone chimes. "My Uber is here already. Thanks for the offer, though. I hope you find out who did this."

"Mmm," he hums, his attention already on his friends. "Idiots! Who was this?!" I hear him yell as I enter the car.

What a streak of bad luck. I turn him down, and he gets his tires slashed nearly at the same time. It's almost as if…

No. I shake my head, pushing the memory of the growl away. I'm drunk, and my imagination is running amok, that's all. I need a good night's sleep, and now that I have the new top-shelf locks, I can finally rest through the night.

Even though I'm exhausted, I hit the shower first. A deep sigh escapes me as the streams of hot water wash away the tension of the day, gently massaging my shoulders and back.

When was the last time I had an actual massage? Nick wasn't really into it. For him, a massage was squeezing my shoulders once or twice before moving down to my ass, then between my legs. It wasn't bad, sex with him. Wasn't great either, but I guess a woman can't have too high expectations.

I slip my hand between my legs, washing myself a little too thoroughly, my fingers gliding back and forth between my already clean pussy lips. I let out a moan when I graze my clit.

Between all the stress from Nick leaving me, finding a new job, moving… I can't even remember the last time I masturbated, and right now, pent-up desire is coming back with a vengeance.

Resting my forehead against the cool tiles, I let the warm water caress my back. My hand moves faster, my fingers diving deep inside my pussy and curling up to find that right spot. I'm already wet, and not just from the water. I need this, crave this, even if finding release myself is just a poor substitution for sharing the pleasure with someone else. Someone…

My thoughts circle back to Nick, since he's the only one I've been with in the past two years, but I don't want to be thinking about that lying, cheating bastard right now. Another face immediately comes to mind.

Ethan Bennett.

Michelle showed me the famous calendar shot of Ethan Bennet shirtless, holding a damned puppy, and I think I've been wet ever since.

Ethan Fucking Bennett.

I moan again, a shiver of need running through me as I remember the way he watched me. The hunger, the need, the obsession in his eyes… It was like a tidal wave of emotions flooding me, drowning me. Consuming me.

Me. He was watching me, not one of the countless beautiful women who were at the Rusty Mug tonight, screaming Ethan's name and pretty much swooning any time he glanced in their direction. I was half expecting them to start tossing their bras and panties on the stage.

I didn't scream or cheer, and yet, Ethan looked at me. Really looked at me, his heated gaze singling me out in the crowded bar. God, no one has ever looked at me that way before! Like I was the center of the universe, like nothing else existed in the world.

My fingers speed up, sliding out to caress my clit, then right back in, just the way I like it. As the pleasure coils tighter, I arch my back, the streams of water whispering over my skin. With my eyes closed, I can easily imagine fingers touching me instead of droplets.

Fingers sliding down my back, tracing featherlight touches over my sensitized skin. All the way down to my ass, which they would squeeze roughly. I have no doubts Ethan could be rough and tender at the same time, finding that delicate balance that would push me closer to the edge.

He'd knead my buttocks, maybe spank me a little, since I'm being a very naughty girl right now. Then he'd force my legs apart and touch me between them. Rub my clit mercilessly until I'd beg for more.

"Yes…please…" The words mingle with my moans. "More, Ethan."

And he'd give me more. Judging by the way he watched me tonight, he'd give me much, much more, maybe more than I could handle. He'd use his fingers, his long, nimble fingers. Dip them deep inside me, touching and exploring my wet, hot pussy until he'd find that right spot, teasing it until the pleasure became unbearable.

Would he make me come with just his fingers? Or would he give me his cock if I asked for it? Begged for it? "Ethan, please," I whimper, the words breaking into a breathless moan. "I need you. I need your cock inside me."

He'd rip his pants open, grab my hips, and just slam into me, filling me up with his big, thick—

"OH!" The pressure is finally too much, and I shatter, shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over me. Maybe I'm screaming his name. I don't even know myself. It doesn't matter, anyway. Nobody's here to hear me. No one will ever know I came with Ethan Bennett's name on my tongue.