Page 23 of Love Bitters

“See ya,” I barely growl through my teeth. That’s the thing about those two. Their good cop, bad cop has no fucking off button. First glances are deceiving. It always seems like Garcia is the bigger asshole of the two, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just more open about being a fucking dick. Mitchell weasles his way into the darkest secrets he can find on you then strikes like a fucking viper, hitting you with his venom before you even know he’s there.

I haven’t even made it to the door before a hand falls on my shoulder.

“How many drinks you had tonight, brother?” Garcia grumbles. “We aren’t gonna have to arrest you for DUI when you get behind the wheel, are we?”

My fists clench, begging to give him one pop right to the face. If I was anything like Thatch, I wouldn’t hold back. I’d just let it fly and deal with the consequences later. Unfortunately, my self-respect won’t allow me to follow through with that desire.

“I’ve only had one, so I’m good,” I disclose.

He laughs practically right in my ear as his hand squeezes. “Just checking, brother. See you next week.”

Ripping myself out of his grip, I stalk the rest of the way out, not stopping until I’ve slammed my car door behind me. Every word from tonight plays on repeat in my head the whole drive home, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly the indentations will probably be there permanently. I drive the speed limit the entire way even when the turmoil causing gut wrenching pain in my abdomen demands for me to put the pedal to the metal and see where it lands us.

By the time I’m at the apartment and opening the door, I’m ready to go to war with the first thing that steps in my path. Just so happens to be the empty beer bottles littered all over the tables of our living room that set me off like a firework on the Fourth of July.

“Goddamn it!” I roar, half out of my mind. “Why is it so hard to clean up after yourselves?!” My rant continues on until the space is spotless of everyone else’s trash. I know who left it like that, which is why my ass strolls down the hall to Thatcher’s room. Pounding on his door, I don’t let up until he opens it wide.

Before I can say anything, he sweeps past me in new gym clothes as he apologizes. “Sorry about the mess, dude. I was going to clean it up before you got home. Won’t happen again.”

There are words I need to say, but they won’t leave my lips because I’m privy to something I never thought I’d see again.

“Where are you going out to?” I ask.

He doesn’t stop or look back as he answers, “Out. I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

A perfect ending to a shitty night, I don’t even try to stop him as he leaves. Dumb shit. He’s never stopped to consider I might give enough of a shit to actually know what goes on with my friend’s lives. I’ve known for years about his dark secret and have turned a blind eye to it. By the time we became friends, it was dust in his rearview mirror. This is the worst time for both of us for him to be getting pulled back into illegal shit. I’d legit lose my job for real, past the point of no return, if he gets caught, and we’re found to be roommates. Fucking shit. How did we mess this up so badly?

Silence fills the apartment, letting me know the others are either off doing their own version of sulking or too scared to come out and risk getting yelled at too. Dropping my chin, I head to my room across the hall. I should probably shower off the smell of the bar, but I blew through the rest of the steam in my engine by getting pissed with Thatch. Doing the next best thing, I strip down to my boxer-briefs and climb into the clean cotton sheets of my bed.

Not that long ago, a pretty woman was here to help warm me up. Solitude is going to be an adjustment, and it’s going to be a long while before I let anyone else into my bed or my heart. This shit can suck a dick.

I wouldn’t be a red-blooded male if that thought didn’t go straight to an image of Imma not so long ago with her sexy little lips wrapped around my cock. The way that long black hair felt as it brushed across my thighs always made my hips jerk in response. Before I know it, the wicked pictures my brain was so kind to save have my hand wrapped around my dick, working it up and down like I’m prepping it to get to work tonight. Even the pathetic voice in my head laughs as I consider that, but I’ve gone this far, so no backing out now.

Closing my eyes, I roll to my back, picturing a certain curvy pale-skinned goddess on top of me, riding us both into oblivion. Every jerk on my cock is Imma working her tight little pussy on me. I’d always loved how full her tits are and the way they spilled over my hands when we were in this position. Then I’d suck on her perky nipples shoving themselves in my face and that sexy ass little O she made with her mouth when I did, making me want to give her something to put between those lips.

After a pathetic few minutes, a stream of warmth hits me in the belly, leaving me both satisfied and empty at the same time. There’s no fighting it. Any of us can deny it, but we miss that woman like our next breath and not just for the sex. She gave us hope, which is a dangerous thing, but it’s not over until all of it is lost. Maybe I’ll hang on just a little longer.

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