Page 12 of Traitor

“Hold still.”

The blonde giggled and stuck her ass in the air. Again. It was becoming quite a game for her.

I placed my hand on her back and forced her back down to the floor. “Lay there. Just like that.”

This time she listened. Maybe she heard the frustration in my voice. I didn't know, and to be honest, I didn’t fucking care as long as she stayed still.

I laid out two lines of coke along her spine, taking my time to make sure they were neat and even before grabbing my straw and water glass from the nightstand. I snorted a little water into each nostril, wincing at the burn.

It was going to be worth it—a little pain for a shitload of pleasure.

“Can I move?” She whined, slightly squirming on the carpet.

I shook my head even though I knew that she couldn’t see me. “You move and you’ll be paying me tonight, not the other way around.”

She sighed. “You sure this is how you want to spend your time? I could do other stuff for you—or you could share and then we could both get high.”

There was no way I was wasting good blow on a hooker. And, after my one-night stand with Cam, fucking was out of the question. It didn’t matter how many times I’d pictured Lauren’s face since, my dick had gone on strike.

I snorted the first line and sat back with my head resting against the edge of the mattress. I felt nothing. I’d probably need another seven lines before I felt anything remotely close to euphoric.

It was at that moment that hooker number two strolled into the bedroom and squealed in delight at the line of snow on hooker number one’s back. She’d been passed out on the couch for hours and I’d actually been looking forward to only having to pay one bimbo tonight.

“Now, it’s a party!” She clapped her hands and jumped up and down, her fake tits frozen in place. I stared down at my boxers, but my cock refused to come out to play.

“I get you fake tits and you still can’t rise to the occasion? You might as well call yourself a pussy,” I muttered before snorting the second line.

Hooker number two began pouting when she realized that I wasn’t sharing. “But…but…” she protested.

I rolled my eyes, still waiting on “the best high” of my life. My old man was so full of shit sometimes. “Two, what fucking bills do you pay around here that entitle you to my blow?”

Her nose wrinkled up. “Two? I told you my name isTruand, excuse me, but you promised a party. I don’t see no fucking party around here. Just a sad man in his underwear who can’t even get it up.”

Hooker number one began giggling again into the carpet and I jumped to my feet.

Screw that.

I got up and went back into the kitchen. I knew what the problem was—I was still sober. And I planned on remedying that right the fuck now. I unscrewed the top off the bottle ofPatrónAñejoand tipped it back. Within seconds, my eyes were streaming, but I continued chugging. It was a race to see which was going to fuck me up first—the blow or the tequila.

Hooker number two began a slow clap as she rounded the corner. “Now, this? This is a party.” She reached for the bottle, but I took a step back.

“No, s’mine. I’m the one that had his heart shattered into a million fucking pieces. I need a drink more than anybody.”

Two frowned again. “You wanna talk about it?”

In a move that surprised even me, I nodded. “Yeah...I do. But first, I need another bump.” She followed me back into the bedroom where hooker number one was still lying face down on the floor.

“I haven’t moved a muscle, I swear,” she said in a muffled voice against the carpet and I fought back a laugh.

“You do realize I snorted the blow off of you, right?”

One giggled and rolled over onto her back, spreading her legs wide. “Now that you’re feelin’ good, you wanna?” She pointed down at her bare pussy and I froze.

Two chimed in. “Girl, he can’t. He’s got a broken heart.”

Yep. Gather around, hookers—it’s time for a story.

One immediately sat up, tucking her knees to her chest. “What happened to you?”

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