Page 6 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

Her arms fling up, crossing around her chest. “You know what I meant by that, Alec.”

My chest pulls, but I ignore it. She’s not entirely wrong. I knew exactly what she meant. But even if I wanted a relationship, it’d never work. There’s no room left in my heart to even think about loving someone else. I’ve made a promise that I stand to keep.

The handful of times I took women back to my apartment was simply to relieve the tension in my dick. I had always been upfront with them. They got to fuck me. My dick got wet. We go our separate ways.

Samantha scratches between her eyebrows. “Look, fuck who you want. But not her.”

I stare at her longer than necessary.

Who does she think she is? Telling me what to do with my cock.

“Let me ask you this… why do you care who I stick my dick in?”

She laughs. “Oh my god. You have no idea, do you?” My eyebrows draw together. “Real typical, Alec. She’s Officer Raleigh’s daughter.”

My jaw ticks, and I try to drown out the flashbacks that fill my head.

***

Pushing the door open to the most popular bar in town, I maneuver through the crowded booths, not paying attention to the old drunks by the pool table. When I sit on the bar stool, I wave toward the slim bartender and watch as he rolls up the sleeves of his black button-up shirt.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I hand him my ID. I do everything I can to swallow down the nerves clawing inside me.

He takes longer than necessary, glancing at the card and back at me.

Finally, he nods and slides my ID across the bar counter. I stuff it back into my wallet, satisfied that he fell for my fake ID.

I order my drink, and it takes him less than a minute to hand it to me. The glass is cold to the touch. Bringing it to my lips, I savor the potent sting of whisky that hits my tongue.

After today, I needed this.

“Bad break up?”

I turn my head to a young female. My brows fall together as I take her in. She’s no older than I am.

“Excuse me?”

Her shoulders shrug and she gives me a half smile. “It’s not often I see someone underage at my father’s bar sipping Jack and Coke.”

She points to my glass. My eyes follow the movement, and I can’t tell if I’m about to be kicked out for sneaking in here underage.

I tilt my head out of curiosity. “Your father’s bar?” I question.

She confidently repositions herself on the bar stool. By how comfortable she makes herself, I can tell she doesn’t care anymore than I do.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” She reaches her arm over and grabs my glass, bringing it to her lips. After she swallows she looks at me. “How old are you?”

I shrug, watching her place the glass back in front of me. “Depends. How old are you?”

“Is this a game you’re trying to play?”

I shake my head. “No games.”

She hums. “Right. I’m 19.” A low chuckle falls from my lungs, and her eyes narrow. “What?”

“I was right.”

“Gloater and stuck up. Check.” Her fingers tap against the bar counter. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

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