Page 3 of Crave Me

I can’t stand her.

My dick doesn’t agree.

Yesterday was Blaire’s launch party. Everyone who works for the distillery was invited and encouraged to bring their families to celebrate. I lasted about five minutes before I bailed. Today is open fucking season and worse than I could have imagined. Seems like everyone within a fifty-mile radius came out to catch a glimpse behind-the-scenes of the mysterious Aspen Ridge Distillery. Knowing I need a way to release this energy, I relent and pull up my sibling group chat.

Me:

Hey fuckers. Dom’s tonight?

I bounce my knee, waiting for one of them to confirm they’re free to meet up. My brothers, Sawyer, Liam, Carter, and I have been boxing together at Knockout since Sawyer and I were teenagers. As soon as our dad realized that our first response to a fight was to react physically, he threw us into lessons. It’s been an outlet for stress ever since, and tonight I’m feeling worked up enough that I know I’ll combust soon if I don’t get it out.

Sawyer:

Would love to beat your ass today but Ivy isn’t feeling well so pass

Liam:

Can’t today.

Me:

Fuck you both. Carter you in?

Carter:

Nah man. Ask Reid or I can meet you at The Night Owl around 9

Reid is Sawyer’s best friend, whom he met in college, and the two of them are as close as brothers. I’m not surprised that Sawyer won’t meet up, he’s had his head stuffed right up his girl’s ass since shit went down with her. In September, I got a tip from Wes, the PI Sawyer hired to keep tabs on Ivy’s ex who was harassing and stalking her. Shit went down hard. The whole thing was enough to make Sawyer act all caveman, protective of her, barely letting her out of his sight. As if he wasn’t nearing that point before she had a stalker.

I’d be the same way, so as much as I want to pummel his face in for the shit he’s causing at work, I get it and respect it. But maybe what Carter has in mind is a better idea. Drinks and pussy. Both foolproof stress relievers that are just as good as using my fists in the boxing ring.

Me:

See you at 9

I park my Audi in the back parking lot of The Night Owl, the only bar in Aspen Ridge, ready for a drink. My brother, Carter, is already at the bar chatting up a pretty little blonde I’ve never seen before. I take a seat on the empty stool next to him and flag down Ruby, the owner and bartender.

“Been a while, Dallas, what can I get for ya?”

“Just a beer to start with.”

I nudge my brother with my elbow, getting his attention. “Hey, lover boy, you invited me and you’re already bailing? Some wingman you are.”

“Can’t help that the ladies flock to me. Why don’t you worry about getting yourself laid and less about me?”

“Fucker,” I mumble. I pick up my cold beer and take a look around. Aspen Ridge is small. I usually head into the city for what I’m looking for and to keep it under wraps. My sexual appetite is on the darker side, and that news would spread like wildfire if I slept my way through AR like my brother.

The beer is refreshing and cool as it goes down, a much-needed drink after a long day. Setting my beer back on the bar top, my eyes scan the room and lead me to the door like a moth to a flame. In walks Blaire with Cole-motherfucking-Barnes right behind her. Her eyes connect with mine, instantly going wide, just as shocked to see me here. Cole removes his jacket and helps Blaire shrug out of her winter coat. My eyes roam her perfect body, and my dick stiffens in my jeans. She’s wearing her work clothes—a tight pencil skirt that hugs her shapely hips and thighs, stopping just above her knees, and a blouse in a light blue that makes her hair look even more red. She’s in fuck-me heels that aren’t practical for the weather, and has gold link necklaces around her gorgeous neck. She’s so fucking sexy.

Her attention darts away as Cole leads her to a booth, his hand planted on her lower back. Cole and I have a history, and it isn’t a positive one. Growing up, he was always trying to one-up me, but never quite had the edge I did. He’s a top-tier douche canoe, and it’s no secret that we don’t get along. The coupling actually makes sense, and an obnoxious snort leaves me as I come to that realization. She looks up at him and gives a genuine smile, her face lighting up at something he said, as I use my palm to adjust my aching cock that’s always standing at attention when she’s nearby.

Fuck this. You know what, a quick fuck wouldn’t hurt. I reach over, grab Carter’s glass of liquor, and toss it back before washing it down with half my beer. I let my eyes scan the room without looking too eager.

Bingo.

Sitting at the end of the bar, is Ava Jones. Cute, petite, not my usual type—I like ’em a little less breakable—but hot enough and giving me fuck-me eyes that can’t be misinterpreted. A little too young for me, but she’s legal and seems down for a night of no-strings-attached orgasms. I lift my beer in her direction and give her a nod. Cheers. Ava smirks before picking up her drink, a margarita by the looks of it, and sashays over to me, sinking down on the barstool on my other side. I lean into my brother and whisper under my breath, “If you’ve already been in this one, for the love of God tell me now. We’re brothers by blood, don’t need to be fuckin’ boner bros on top of it.”

He laughs and glances over at Ava.

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