No wonder he never really drank anything other than a casual beer here or there. His first drunk story was horrendous.
Bella stirred beside him, trying to get close. She rolled towards him and placed a hand on his chest. Her touch set off a series of sparks in his blood and what do you know, his happy stick really liked that. Which was astounding, given that they’d just- and it was the best of his life- and that he was thoroughly drunk. Wasn’t whiskey supposed to a boner’s worst enemy? Apparently, his cock didn’t get the memo.
His mind whirled as Bella’s raspy breaths echoed in his ear. It was amazing. He’d never seen- or felt- someone come like that in his whole life. Er- from what he could remember. Which wasn’t much. The black holes filling up his mind were dicey at best.
Still, from what he could remember, those few minutes here and there, an image of a hard, dark nipple, the taste of her on his lips, all of her, it was the best he’d ever had. Because he’d been kicked below the belt, because he was at an all-time low, a dark, slithery thought crept into his head. Maybe it wasn’t just that they were drunk. He knew now, in hindsight, that Sarah had faked it. He wondered if he’d given her a real orgasm at all over the past few years.
It didn’t say a lot about his skills.
Or his brains, given that he hadn’t known it until after the fact.
Here he was, bound and determined to stop being so damn gullible. So easily taken. Here he was, with Sarah’s sister. He’d just- they’d just…
He pulled away, more disgusted with himself than anything, as his head cleared. Some of the whiskey induced fog rolled away and he realized what he’d actually just done. His stomach dropped out and rolled and he had to swallow hard to keep all that whiskey down where it belonged.
“Did you just…” he rasped as he rolled away, taking the sheets with him to cover his still hard cock with. “Fake it?”
“What?” Bella’s eyes widened and her kiss swollen lips parted. “What the hell did you just say?”
Rhett shook his head. God, I’m so stupid. “The screaming. The- the- the biting, the over the top hip rocking- the dirty talk… You didn’t have to do this just because you felt sorry for me. I didn’t need a pity fuck. It’s your sister who is the horrible human being, not you.”
“A pi-pity fuck?” Bella stammered. She rolled off her side of the bed and planted her hands on her hips, totally, gloriously naked. What a picture she made, her eyes glaring daggers, her lips parted so she could get angry, rapid breaths out, all that ink glowing in the late afternoon sunlight streaming into the room, her glossy hair covering her breasts, but everything else on full display. “Okay, maybe you’re drunker than I thought.”
Maybe he was too. All he could recall were those snippets, and they were indeed too over the top. Even still, he wanted round two, damn him, and that made him angrier with himself.
With her.
With everyone.
“Yeah. A pity fuck. You obviously faked it. You didn’t have to do any of that. I’m a grown man. I can handle rejection. I can get over it without your help.”
“Help?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and not with desire. “You have got to be kidding me. How drunk are you? Because I would think that even sloshed out of your mind, you should be able to tell the difference between a real orgasm and a woman who fakes it. I’m sorry if I’m not up to your quiet, modest, good girl standards. You should have been able to tell just by looking at me that what you see is what you get. You think that I’m going to behave like my sister and be some little fucking trophy for you? Uh- guess again.”
“That is so far over the line.”
“You’re the one who said it. You think that I- that we’re- that this is because of my sister…” Bella choked. “Well, you might be here because of what she did, but appropriate or not, I wanted to do this from the second I saw you. Actually, I know that’s completely wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. I was obviously so wrong about you. What we did might be regrettable as hell, but I sure as hell didn’t fake anything.” She stalked around the room and gathered up his clothes with far more coordination than he currently possessed. It was like for her, the whiskey had completely worn off. “If that’s how you feel, get your clothes on and go.”
“I’ll get them on,” Rhett promised. He snatched them from her hand, nearly dropped them, fumbled to recover, dropped them again, and picked them off the floor when he didn’t recover fast enough the second time. He almost toppled over and had to sit down hard on the edge of the bed. The whole room was suddenly spinning.