Page 80 of I Blame the Alcohol

It’s a sight I could get used to.

“Do I get to rub you down now?” Big blue eyes beckon me closer, almost distracting me from the mission at hand.

“Nope.” Tossing the cloth back into the sink, I pick Stella back up and carry her to the dinner table nearby.

Platinum hair splays out beneath her as I lay Stella flat on her back, the surprise on her face putting a smile on mine.

“So, no bed then?”

I grin, “I told you. I like to eat my food properly.”

She moans, lifting her hips to help me pull the skin-tight jeans off her. Her bright pink underwear goes next, and I don’t give her a second to think before I drop down and drag my tongue along her clit.

“Oh my god. You finally found it!” Her laughter turns into gasps as I push two fingers inside of her, sucking her bud between my lips as her slick folds welcome me.

“Yes! Right there, Cody.” Her fingers fist my hair, urging me on.

I obey, following her commands and pushing her to the point of release just before backing off and starting the process all over. Stella writhes on the table, her body bucking in protest when I do it for a second time.

“Stop being an asshole.” She grits her teeth, the grip on my hair tightening to the point of pain. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

I tsk, “Let me finish my meal in peace.”

“You are going to regret this five minutes from now.”

“Five more minutes? I think I can handle that.”

Stella levels me with a glare, and I respond by slipping my tongue inside her. She jerks as my fingers follow suit, and soon I give her the happy ending she’s looking for.

I wipe my mouth with a grin, watching Stella come back down from her orgasm. I’ve lived in this house for two years now, and I don’t think this table has ever been put to better use.

Stella

“Is this why you don’t drink alcohol?”

Cody traces my tattoo with a lazy finger, the bolded letters screaming out from my otherwise pale complexion. We’re lying on top of his comforter, naked except for each other’s company. After the dinner table episode, Cody and I finally made it to bed.

And as Donna would say dot, dot, dot.

“Yes.” I swallow, “If it weren’t for an impaired driver, my mother would still be alive.”

Cody’s eyes soften, “That doesn’t mean you need to punish yourself.”

“I don’t consider not drinking a punishment.” My words come out sharper than I intended but I can’t help it. Cody is poking a wound that never healed properly, triggering all my defense mechanisms.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” The finger tracing my tattoo veers off towards my spine, drawing indecipherable symbols along each vertebra.

I sigh, the tension leaving my body with each soothing touch, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s a difficult subject for me.”

“I understand that, but you shouldn’t keep it bottled up inside.” Cody pauses, chewing on his lip before continuing, “You aren’t going to like what I have to say, but before you go on the offence, just think about it, okay?”

I nod, mentally bracing myself for impact.

“Have you ever thought about seeing someone? To talk about the accident and the panic attacks?”

I feel my hackles start to raise, a snarky comment forming on the tip of my tongue. But instead of letting it out, I exhale, remembering Cody’s request.

To ask for help is to show weakness.

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