Chapter 11: Mick

Chapter Eleven

MICK

S he’s red, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s turned on or embarrassed. My cock is pushing against the zipper of my jeans. He wants inside of her juicy cunt so bad. And it is juicy. I could hear the wet sounds as she fucked herself with her fingers. Fucked herself and moaned my name. Was that an accident? Like sometimes when you have sleep paralysis, you cry out someone’s name in hopes that they hear you and wake you up. Was that what was happening? Or was she legitimately fantasizing about me fucking her? I have to know.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice rough and low.

She won’t meet my eyes but nods. “Fine. Can you leave now?”

“You want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather light myself on fire.”

I bite my tongue and step back. “I don’t think my renter’s insurance covers those types of things.”

“Good thing that you plan to forget that this ever happened then, isn’t it?” She slips by me and arrows toward the bedroom, stopping outside the door. I follow the direction of her gaze and spot the broken wood trim near the top. She shakes her head and then slips inside the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

I finger the splintered wood. Does this scare her? Did my strength frighten her off? In her dreams, am I more gentle? I drop my hands away from the frame and stare at them, palms up.

My hands are callused, my nails shot to hell. Between the lifting and the punching, there’s not a soft piece of skin still around.

I’m hard and not just my aching cock. I reach down and adjust myself. God, I want to taste her. I could smell her when she ran by. Her fingers bear her scent, her flavor. I bring my fist to my mouth and bite it to stifle the moan that sits at the back of my throat.

We need to get out of this enclosed space. A change of scenery would be good. Two beds even better, because if I spend another night here in this tiny apartment with the single bedroom, I’m going to end up spreading her legs and burying myself inside that creamy cunt.

“Let’s go to L.A.”

“I just got here.”

“I’ve never seen the ocean. Let’s go to L.A., walk on the boardwalk, eat corn dogs, cotton candy and ice cream, get sand in our shorts. That sort of thing. We need fresh air. Or at least I do.”

There’s no response.

“It will make Lauren feel good. She keeps sending me money.” I fumble with my phone and call my sister with the speakerphone on. She answers right away.

“Mick, is something wrong?”

“No. I’m on a break, and Josie is here.”

“Josie? Josie from next door Josie?”

“Yeah. I ran into her in town. Some e-gaming tournament.” I don’t know why I’m making up this story, but it seems better than admitting I flew her out here on a whim. “But anyway, I suggested we go to L.A. and that I use some of the money you’ve been sending me. I told her that you would want that, but she doesn’t believe me.”

“Josie? Are you there?”

“Yes, Lauren.” Josie’s voice is faint because the door is closed.

“I can barely hear you.”

The door cracks open, and Josie’s face appears. “I’m here, Lauren.”

“Gosh, I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you doing okay? I went looking for you the other day because Mick kept asking after you, but then Alfie, the maintenance guy, said you had moved out after your dad passed.”

“Wait, what?” I almost drop the phone.

Josie grimaces.

“I’ll call you back, Lauren.”

“Okay, Mick.”

I click disconnect and push Josie backward until her legs hit the mattress. “Sit and start talking.”

I shut the bedroom door and place my ass in front of it in case she tries to make a run for it.

Josie drags a hand through her hair and sighs. “Dad got real sick a while back and didn’t want to get treatment. He passed away after a while.”

“A while.” I’m dumbfounded. Josie and I were best friends. We saw each other almost every day.

She drops her head into her hands. “I didn’t want to tell you because I was okay, and I thought—well, I don’t know what I thought. Dumb stuff. But he was sick, and it wasn’t sudden, so I had time to adjust.”

“You’ve been alone all this time?” My heart feels like it’s being ripped apart. While I was here in Vegas, punching sand-filled bags, my other half was dealing with death by herself. I get up and plant myself by her side. She doesn’t move, so I pick her up and drop her on my lap. She stiffens, but I push her head onto my shoulder. “Let me hold you. I’ve been alone too.”

I don’t know what it is about my words, but she bursts out crying. I hug her tightly, letting her tears soak the shoulder of my T-shirt. I try not to notice how lush her body is, how her tight ass sits snug against my thighs. I’m trying to comfort her, and comforting doesn’t mean I should be thinking of all the ways I could have sex with her in this position.

“Your dick is poking me in the ass,” she mumbles against my shoulder.

“Ignore it.”

“I can’t. It’s massive.”

“Thanks. Now it’s going to remain erect for another hour. Compliments are not good for its head.”

She chokes. I shift and move her farther away from my hard-on. The friction makes me groan. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.