Page 45 of The Worst Guy Ever
“How drunk are you?”
“Drunk enough to back down, unfortunately not drunk enough that I won’t remember you in the morning.”
“You’ll never forget me angel.” I trail my knuckles slowly up the inside of her leg. “You really want this?”
She laughs, that laugh that makes my cock twitch. “Yes Rob, fucking eat me.”
With my eyes locked on hers, I move closer, wet my lips and let the warmth of my breath coast over her. There’s a little tremble at the back of her thigh, and I drag my tongue lazily along the crease of her hip and down the other side before lapping at her clit. She throws her head back and moans so loudly I know she’ll hate herself for it. It’s the most glorious sound on earth. I wrap my arms around her thighs, yank her closer and keep going, watching her lose her mind from my slow, teasing strokes. Gripping the sheets, she is everything I’ve ever imagined and more.
From somewhere beneath her, music blares. Prince’s unmistakable vocals singing about the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Fuuuuuck,” she shouts, thumping the bed with her fist.
I pull away, confused. “Are you soundtracking me going down on you?”
“No, it’s my phone. Get off me.”
“Leave it.” I bark, pushing her thighs further apart. I dive in again, firmer this time, ravenous for her, but she wrenches out of my grasp.
“It’s Megs. I have to answer. Where is it?” She throws the covers back, not giving a shit that she’s flung them over my head.
“How do you know?”
“That’s her ringtone. A-ha!” I hear her answer. “You OK, babe?”
I wriggle out from under the sheets and sit on the floor by the foot of the bed, trying not to be obvious about listening in. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but Megan is clearly upset. Hattie climbs off of the bed and rifles through her bag on the chair by the window.
“Oh shit, yeah, I’ve got them. Don’t worry babe, I’ll be right there.”
My heart sinks when she grabs her dress from the floor and steps into it, giving me a great view of her pert backside. “Are you warm enough? You want to go and knock on Mr Michaels’ door and see if you can sit in with him for a bit? … No fair point, he’s probably asleep … OK … See you soon.”
She throws her phone at me and it lands in my lap, hitting my aching dick square on. If she hadn’t been looking in the opposite direction, I’d swear she’d done it on purpose.
“Book me an Uber while I sort this stupid fucking dress out.”
“You’re going?”
“I’ve got her keys, and she’s locked out.” She fiddles with the straps while I try not to crush her phone in my hand. I book the car and she struggles on, trying to cover her chest and her shoulders, but the fabric keeps slipping from her hurried fingers. Eventually she yanks the skirt part up over her boobs, crosses the straps around her waist and ties a big knot in the middle. I’m almost certain it’s not one of the suggested styles, but she’s still a knockout.
“Will you come back?” I ask, even though I know her answer will destroy me.
“No,” she sniffs. “Saved by the bell. Fuck knows what I was thinking.” Perching on the end of the bed, I watch her hobble through to the lounge and she winces putting her heels back. I don’t want her to go, but I don’t know what I could do to make her stay, either.
“Here, take my jacket.” I grab it from the lounge chair and place it over her shoulders. She won’t even look at me.
“My phone?” She reaches out and I set it in her hand, wishing I could leave mine there with it.
What a mess.I’ve never been so disappointed in my life. I dip my head to force her to look at me, but she’s busy checking her booking, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Seven minutes. I’ll wait downstairs,” she makes for the door. “Bed’s all yours. Enjoy!”
“Hattie, wait…” I say, even though there’s no end to that sentence.
“Bye Knob.”
The door swings shut behind her and I’m left to, what, sleep? I flop onto the bed and scream into a deep, downy pillow. It doesn’t make me feel any better.
Chapter 19
