Page 8 of The Secret
THREE YEARS EARLIER
3
LISS
Friday, December 14, 2018
The glass on the bar swims in and out of focus. What happened to the guy who was sitting next to me? Oh God, I feelgreat. Light and floaty. I swing around on my barstool, sliding sideways with the momentum, and without warning I’m looking at the underside of a counter and dirty wooden floorboards. A large hand appears in my peripheral vision, and when I blink up, all I make out is a mop of hair and a huge chest. The right thing to do is clearly to rest on it as he pulls me up.
“Whoops! I went around a bit fast,” I say.
“Yeah, sure did,” he laughs. “You okay?”
I push my curls out of my eyes and peer at him.Not bad.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he rumbles.
Even nicer.
The next thing I register when my eyes blink open is a stained ceiling. My hand is curled around yellowing sheets. I take in rough walls with holes in the drywall. A muffled buzzing noise is coming from somewhere. Shit. My phone. I groan and turn my head toward a mountainous body stretched out beside mine.Story of my life. He rolls over and I inhale a faceful of stale cigarettes and beer.
“Shut that thing up,” he growls, and I lurch out of bed, completely naked, and rummage through piles of clothes, plates, food, and pizza boxes on the floor.
“Bitch, whatdatellya?”
“Okay, okay, keep your pants on,” I mutter. He’s probably not wearing any. I giggle.
“What the fuck?”
I glance back at him. He’s sitting up now and he’s a huge bloke, covered in tattoos, and hair, hair everywhere: beard, dark mustache, wild long locks. I vaguely remember getting on the back of a bike. Where the hell am I?I was in Brooklyn.He helped me across the street from Duff’s Bar.I couldn’t stand.Shit.
“Bitch. What the fuck are you doing?”
Pulling up jeans and a tangle of T-shirts, I stand on something hard. Fortunately, it doesn’t crack under my foot: one of the better pieces of news I seem to be receiving this morning.
I hold it up in my hand and give him a smile, and he collapses back down on the mattress.
“You need to get the fuck out.”
I have no idea if we slept together, but given we don’t have any clothes on, I’m guessing we must have. But as I comb through the stuff on the floor to find my things and head out, a long arm shoots out and grabs my wrist and he hauls me back onto the bed.
“On second thought, you’re going to keep me happy this morning the way you didn’t last night.”
In seconds I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, hard length pressing into my mound.
“I don’t think …” I try and wiggle out from under him, and he laughs.
“Yeah, baby, keep moving like that. You going to suck me off? You promised me that last night before you passed out on me.”
He rubs against me, his hand scrabbling between us as he tries to find my entrance. What was I thinking? Something gags at the back of my throat at the scent of stale sweat as he presses his cock farther into me and crushes me into the mattress. I lock my legs and shift my hips out of the way.
“Come on, baby, don’t make me force you.”
Force me? What the hell?
“I’ve really gotta go: That was my alarm for work,” I say. It sounds pathetic, and he laughs.
“Na, baby. You promised me last night.”
