Page 70 of Whiskey and Regret
I loved the feeling of her tight, smooth body writhing beneath me while I fucked her hard and deep. I dropped kisses down the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades. Tasting her fresh sweat as I pulled noise after noise from her plump mouth.
“Evander,” she whined before dropping her head to the bed.
“My name sounds so good coming out of your mouth. Say it again.” I dealt a breath-stealing blow to her pussy and she tried to run away. I had her pinned though. She couldn’t move.
“Evander! Oh my fucking god!” I loved listening to dirty words flow from her mouth. I loved listening to her call for God like she wasn’t the center of religion.
I drilled into her with my head bowed, ready to worship.
“I know you’re close, Xari.” I unraveled her stitch by stitch until she was a pile of thread soaked with lust and passion.
She came, wrapped tightly around my cock. Squeezing. Pulsing. Calling my name.
My body reacted to the insane pull between her legs and before I could ease out, I came in Xari again. She was too warm and wet. Too creamy and sweet to pull out. I dropped my head to her shoulder, panting and trying to figure out how to stop her pussy from being so addictive.
I fell over on my side and Xari turned over on her back, scooting next to me. I leaned over and pressed a kiss to her dewy forehead. “I keep expecting your caliber of dick to be a fluke but every time you fuck me, it gets better.”
“We can keep testing out your theory if you want. I’m down. I’ll fuck you however many times it takes.” I slid my finger between her breasts and down to her navel. Her skin was so smooth, I didn’t want to stop touching it.
“I bet you will,” she laughed. I leaned over and playfully bit her cheek. I couldn’t resist her dimples. Her laughter tore through the room like sunshine.
“Can I ask you something, Evander?” Her fingers danced up and down my chest, stopping on each of my tattoos.
“What’s up, beautiful?” She took my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together.
“What are you running from?” Her words caught me off guard, I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know exactly what she was asking me.
“I don’t understand,” I frowned.
“You drink whiskey daily without fail. Not a glass or two but you drink half the bottle. You’re either running from something or you’re trying to drown it. So, which one is it?”
“Can’t I just like whiskey?” I chuckled, kissing the back of her hand.
“Evander, your cum is inside of me right now. Are you really going to try and play me like I don’t know you? I can tell it’s deeper than liking whiskey.”
“Xari, what do you want me to say? I’m covering up childhood trauma or something? That’s not the case. I just…like to drink.”
“You’re just full of shit. So am I though. I get it.”
“I’m not full of shit.”
“You are. You know damn well you drink to ease some kind of pain.” Sometimes I loved how no-nonsense Xari could be. Other times, like now, it pissed me off.
I sat on the side of the bed and rested my elbows on my knees. “I’m going to shower and get ready to write.” She didn’t protest like I thought she would, given how vocal she always is.
I walked into the bathroom feeling heavy. Like Xari unearthed something I kept buried inside and now it was exposed and scraping against my insides. Hot water ran down my skin seemingly peeling away layers of pretty facades I’d accumulated over the years.
I was burying something. Maybe not running from it like Xari first suggested but definitely hiding. I wanted to tell her that she was right but when I got out of the shower, she wasn’t in my room anymore.
Disappointment hollowed my chest as I got dressed. I thought about what Xari said last night about first wanting me when she saw me dressed down in sweats and a t-shirt. She liked me when I was myself. I pulled a blue t-shirt over my head and stared at myself in the mirror. The man looking back at me was disappointed.
I turned my head and grabbed my glass off the nightstand, tipping it up and letting the rest of the whiskey burn its way down my throat. I needed to write.
I needed to open my vein and let my life force spill onto the pages. Even if it was just a poem. I had to write something to free me of my mind.
So I sat in the den and wrote poem after poem. Darkness mixed with regret leaked from my fingertips. I reached down, scooping clumps of earth from six feet deep inside myself. I wrote until my hands buzzed from the raw words flowing. I wrote until the doorbell rang.
I didn’t answer right away because I had to steady my nerves. I couldn’t deal with Alexis while I was a live wire with passion pumping through me. She was a vampire. She would drain me before I even knew what happened.
