Mouth open.
“Sorry.” She wrapped a hand around my cock and squeezed. “This won’t work.”
“Are you talking to my penis?”
“Shhhh…” She waved me off with her free hand. “I’m having a conversation.”
I burst out laughing.
We really should not be having drunken sex. Then again, sometimes that was the best kind especially when a hot as fuck girl starts talking to your cock, her mouth constantly touching the tip with her whispers. How’d she know that was a fantasy I had?
I grabbed her hand and moved it up and down.
She locked eyes with me and then very slowly lowered her mouth.
“Y-yessss.” I nearly blacked out as she bobbed her head, cupping my balls and sucking so hard I couldn’t think straight. “Olivia—”
Suddenly she slowed down.
And then stopped.
“Olivia?” Her mouth was still partially on me, and her head was resting against my stomach as her chest rose and fell. “Holy shit, did you just pass out with my dick in your mouth?”
Yup, taking this story to my grave.
I mean, seriously?
A snore erupted between her full lips, and then I laid back down on the carpet and let out a pained laugh.
Sadly, I got her mouth off my cock got to my feet, still feeling the effects of all the whiskey, scooped her up into my arms, and started toward the bedroom.
I stumbled a bit, swinging her body to the side. Her head collided with the doorframe before I winced and tried turning us to the side. “That’s gonna bruise.”
“Hmmmmm?” She opened her eyes. “That was so good.”
“Yeah, the best. I rocked your world.” I smiled.
“We should do that again. Mmmmm, you smell so nice, taste good too for someone I hate.”
“Bad boys always taste better, Olivia, thought every girl knew that,” I teased as I laid her in my bed and pulled up the covers.
“Stay!” She gripped my arm and tugged me down next to her.
So bossy.
So warm, I amended as I ducked under the covers and pulled her into my arms. So pretty.
She tucked her head under my chin and whispered, “Night, bad boy.”
“Night, Olive.”
“Olivia,” she grumbled.
I chuckled softly. Even drunk, she corrected me.
“Olivia,” I said the name reverently, then kissed her on the top of the head, passing out into oblivion and feeling content for the first time in years.
Chapter Four
Olivia
“My heeeaaad…” I mumbled as I reached for my cell, only to hit a body instead. A body?
I jolted up just in time to see Mark open his sleepy blue eyes and groan. “It’s two a.m. Go back to sleep before I strangle you.”
“Not before I strangle you,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Would you be naked?” Mark asked and then frowned. “What are you searching for?”
“An extra fluffy pillow to hold over your mouth,” I said, unable to keep the tired out of my voice.
“Olivia.” He grabbed my wrist and tugged me back down against the mattress. “I plugged your phone in after I got up with a pounding headache at midnight. I also left two aspirin by your nightstand. Oh, and your mom called; I answered and told her that you’d had a rough day and are crashing at Amelia’s house, so not to worry… I’m a serious catch!”
My eye started to twitch. “You talked to my mom?”
He leaned up on an elbow and winked. “Oh yeah, and I also told her about the surprise pregnancy and shotgun wedding. Hope that’s cool.”
I clenched my teeth. “We didn’t even get that far last night.”
He grinned, all nonchalant. “How do you know?”
My memory was fuzzy, but I most definitely did have my mouth on his giant cock at one point, and I imagined it inside me. I’d closed my eyes in a vain attempt to visualize how good it would feel to have that massive thing inside me, stretching me wide and…
I gasped.
“Yes?” Mark smiled up at me. “Memory coming back?”
“Tell me I didn’t.” I covered my face with my shaking hands. “Tell me I didn’t fall asleep on you!” Not to mention his dick. I fell asleep on it. Oh God, had it been in my mouth? Was I a sleep sucker? I could never show my face again!
The room was quiet, and then Mark cleared his throat. “I mean, it was good until you started to snore. My dick may never perform again, went into hiding right after. I mean, if he can’t even get you to stay awake, he needs to really evaluate his life choices.”
I groaned and fell back against the mattress. “I’m a failure at all things.”
“Not all things,” he said simply. “Just…you know…living on your own, getting a good job, not falling asleep during a blow job. Chin up, it’s just a few things. I bet with some therapy and really intense daily practice, you could finally move out of your parents’ basement and have sex without falling asleep on people.”
“I loathe the moment I met you,” I seethed, refusing to look in his direction.
“Too bad.” He flicked my nipple before I could pull the sheet up. “I’ve never been so entertained since meeting you.”
“Oh good, I’m like a comedy of failures. Great. Awesome. Where the hell are my clothes?”
“Somewhere…” he mused. “Did I not mention that I’m very anti-clothing in my apartment?”
“I’m sure you are.” I gritted my teeth and started ripping the sheet from the bed when he tugged it back, causing me to fall across his lap.
His eyes were dancing with humor. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
“Well…” I pouted and looked away. “You’re…mean.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That all you got? I almost feel bad now…”
I glared. “Stop holding me hostage before I scream.”
“Just like you were last night?”
My body went from cold and irritated to searing hot in one point two seconds. “I was drunk.”
“Not that drunk.” He bopped my nose.
Killing him.
I was going to kill him!
I lunged, only to have him move to the side so I nearly fell off the bed. He caught my arm, twisted me toward him then pressed an impressive kiss across my mouth. “There, isn’t that better?”
“That’s the equivalent of patting me on the head and saying ‘there, there,’ you condescending prick!”
“Oh honey, a nickname? This early? I’m touched.” He patted my damn head again.
“Mark!” I yelled.
He grinned. “See, knew you’d yell it again.”
I was going to scream.
Probably would have, but both of our phones went off at the same time.
Weird.
I scrambled away from him and grabbed mine.
He did the same.
And then I swear, in the next minute, we went from playful banter and hate sex to full-on Hunger Games.
“You, uh…” He scratched the back of his head. “Get the text?”
For the love of designer cheese, why the hell did he have to have such nice golden likable abs?