Page 8 of Hale
God, she’s so fucking dramatic.
Me: You’ll live.
Ignoring my sister, I pocket my phone and rise from the log I was sitting on. Jada stands too. I can’t say the words, but it’s like she knows anyway. With my head down, staring at the leaves covering the earth, I walk to my truck. When I reach the door, I don’t get to open it before two slender arms wrap around my middle from behind. Jada’s fat tits press into my back and I close my eyes. Then, her palms roam south. She cups my erection through my jeans and I let her.
I fucking let her.
“Jada,” I growl. “I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Jada purrs as she turns my body.
I lean against my truck door as she pulls at my belt. My dick has thickened and throbs for attention. Amy and I had sex last time—once—when I was down for my parents’ funeral. It had been rushed and borderline angry on my part. And quite frankly, it was the best sex we’ve had in a long time. Even if I did make her cry.
“It was like you were mad at me.”
Guilt is rattling through me, knocking at every bone in my body. I should push Jada away and call Amy. That’s what girlfriends are for. You lean on them when shit in your life is overwhelming.
“It’s not about you. I’m just upset.”
A groan hisses from me when Jada releases my cock from my boxers. Fuck. I need to stop this. What about Amy?
“I know you’re hurting, Hudson, but you don’t have to be hateful.”
Amy’s selfish words are forefront in my mind as I search for a justifiable reason for what I’m doing. Warm lips wrap around my cock and my eyes close. I try to imagine it’s Amy so I won’t feel so fucking horrible, but all it does is remind me Amy doesn’t give head anymore.
“The taste makes me gag.”
Jada bobs on my dick and I’m dizzied from the pleasure of it. I feel like I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen anymore with my life. One moment my life was all planned out for me. The next moment, it all feels so uncertain.
“When you do it from behind, it makes me feel like I’m a whore.”
Images of the last time I fucked Amy spring back into my mind. After the funeral, I’d taken her to my old bedroom, bent her over the bed, shoved her dress up, and fucked her fast.
Jada runs her tongue along the tip of my cock and I groan, “I’m going to come.”
She opens her mouth and closes her eyes as she strokes my cock faster and more furiously. For a moment, she could pass for a sluttier version of Amy. I grunt as I climax, my semen splashing all over Jada’s pretty face.
I’m relaxed and happy for all of three seconds.
Then reality slaps me in the face.
I just cheated on Amy. I let a bartender with a nice rack suck my dick.
Fuck.
I wake up with my back stiff and my chest hollow. Last night was a mistake. A lapse in judgment. It shouldn’t have fucking happened.
The morning air is cold and Jada shivers beside me. She wasn’t offended when I cursed and then bitched about what a mistake I made. Simply told me to get in the truck and let it out. With virtually a stranger, I let out every damn thing that was bothering me.
My parents’ death.
My nagging girlfriend.
My bratty sister.
I felt like such a spoiled little shit as I griped about people I’m supposed to love and care about. But, fuck, if it didn’t feel good to get it all off my chest. Jada, being the good bartender she is, talked a little and listened a lot.
Thankfully, we didn’t do much more than that.
